by Jan Drexler
Her eyes narrowed as she turned to him. “What do you mean?”
“We’ll take a picnic for a lunch we can eat at the park in town. And then if I get done at Vernon’s early enough, maybe we’ll take a drive down by Emma Lake before we come home.”
“Why?”
He shrugged, wanting her to agree to the outing, but refusing to force her into it. “We’re friends, aren’t we? And I don’t want us going on the way we did yesterday.”
“So we’re just two friends spending the day together?”
Samuel grinned. “Maybe I’ll make you climb up Vernon’s windmill tower with me.”
“I won’t climb any tower, but I’ll go with you. Who knows? We might even have a good time.” She started toward the kitchen. “I have to clean the eggs and pack a picnic first.”
Samuel watched her skirt swish around her legs as she went down the hallway.
“I’ll wait.”
* * *
The drive to Vernon Hershberger’s farm, just a mile or so south of Shipshewana, was enjoyable. Mary had sold four dozen eggs and a pound of butter. At this rate, she would have her debt to Mr. Holdeman paid off in only a couple months.
Samuel didn’t speak much as he drove, but when they went by a pasture with some mares and foals, he pointed them out to her.
“There are a bunch of new work horses for someone.”
One of the youngsters trotted along the fence as they passed, nose in the air.
“They are very cute, aren’t they?”
He nodded. “They look fine. The dams are in good shape, which means the foals should be healthy and strong.”
Mary remembered the empty stalls in Samuel’s barn. “Do you think you’ll ever have a team again?”
He was silent as they went past the horses and came to a field filled with growing corn. “I haven’t thought much about it. Horses cost money, and there isn’t very much of that for anyone these days.”
Samuel turned Tilly into the next farm lane. Mary didn’t have to look for the windmill. The contraption creaked and groaned from the top of the tower next to the barn.
“This is the Hershbergers’?”
“Ja. Are you ready to climb that windmill with me?”
Samuel jumped out of the buggy and reached for Mary’s hand to steady her as she climbed down. His grip was firm, but tender.
“I think I’ll visit with Myrtle and the children while you’re working.”
He grinned. “If you’re sure you want to.”
Mary spent the time visiting with Vernon’s wife while Samuel worked on the windmill. Vernon could get around with his crutches and had gone outside to watch Samuel.
“What can I do to help?” Mary asked. She picked up Myrtle’s toddling one-year-old who was about to fall into the table leg.
“If you can just hold her while I get this bread in the oven, that would be wonderful-gut.”
Myrtle slid five loaf pans in the oven and closed the damper to keep the heat regulated. Just as she straightened up, a crash of wooden blocks came from the front room, along with a crying voice.
“It never ends,” Myrtle said.
Her smile kept Mary from being too worried as they went into the front room, where Troy and David, two and three years old, were playing with blocks. Troy’s face was red with anger as Myrtle sat next to him and took the little boy on her lap.
“See?” she said, pointing at the blocks. “David is setting them back up again. There isn’t anything to cry about.”
“He cries because I knocked his tower over,” David said.
“Why did you do that?”
“Because he knocked my barn down.”
“Did pushing his tower over help you fix your barn?”
David sat back on his heels, shaking his head.
“You both need to put the blocks away. It’s nap time.”
The boys obeyed and then followed Myrtle up the stairs.
“I’ll be right back,” she said.
“Don’t hurry.”
Mary held the little girl, Rosie, in her arms, rocking her gently. The baby settled in against her shoulder and grew heavier with every minute. Soft breathing told Mary that the little girl was asleep.
She stood in the middle of the room, swaying slowly. She took in the two comfortable chairs, the heating stove along the wall, the toys set neatly on shelves, and the table between the chairs with a copy of the Good Book and the Christenflicht, the book of prayers. The aroma of baking bread drifted in from the kitchen, and from the stairway came Myrtle’s soft voice as she helped the boys into their beds for their afternoon naps.
Tears welled in Mary’s eyes and she buried her nose in Rosie’s curls. This had been her dream. The home, the children, the husband...a man who cherished her and their life together. Lately she had felt the pull of that dream again, but she pushed it away. A man like Martin would never be part of her life. And Samuel...if he knew her secret, he wouldn’t want to go beyond being friends. She breathed in the little-girl scent and closed her eyes. Somehow she would have to learn to be content loving other people’s children.
After Myrtle took Rosie into the downstairs bedroom to lay her down, she came back to join Mary.
“Ach, nap time is my favorite part of the afternoon,” she said, dropping into a chair. “Sit down and we can have a nice, uninterrupted visit. I miss the weekly quiltings, even though I didn’t make it very often this winter. I was glad to meet you and your sister at the last one, though. How are you getting on with Sadie?”
“We’re adjusting.” Mary took the other chair and relaxed. “Sadie usually doesn’t need much care at all, but we’re there in case she does need us.”
“I’m happy you came today, but I was surprised to see you with Samuel Lapp.” Her face turned bright red and she laughed. “I guess Samuel is the one I’m surprised to see. When Preacher Jonas stopped by yesterday and told Vernon that Samuel would help him with the windmill, I had a hard time believing it.”
Mary’s mind went back to her first Sunday in Shipshewana, when Martin bullied Samuel about helping Vernon with his plowing.
“The men got the fields plowed and planted?”
“They did it all in one day. It is such a blessing to be part of a close church like ours. With Vernon’s injury, we would never have been able to get all the work done.”
Myrtle sat up and looked out the window. “There’s Samuel climbing down the tower.” She stood up. “Let’s go see if he’s done.”
Mary followed her friend out into the barnyard, where Samuel and Vernon stood, watching the wind wheel spin in the breeze without any squeaking or moaning. Vernon turned as his wife came to his side.
“Listen to that quiet,” he said. “No more shrieking during storms.”
Samuel stood with his arms crossed, and Mary could tell he was pleased.
“You could have engaged the brake if it got too bad.”
Vernon shook his head. “I thought about it, but we need the pump to keep working. Myrtle couldn’t spend her time out here pumping water, and I have been in no shape to get around, either.” He hobbled the two steps over to Samuel and put out his hand. “Denki, Samuel. You have a gift for working with machines. I had no idea.”
Samuel shook Vernon’s hand. “Neither did I, until I tried to repair my own wind pump.”
“I appreciate everything you’ve done.”
Mary watched Samuel’s face as his expression flitted from denial to acceptance and then to irritation as his brow lowered. Was it so hard for him to accept the thanks of a friend?
Samuel finally nodded and turned to get in the buggy, pushing Mary ahead of him.
“Goodbye, Myrtle.” Mary waved as she stepped into the buggy. “I enjoyed our visit.”
Myrt
le waved as Samuel slapped the reins on Tilly’s back and headed down the lane toward the road.
“We left awfully fast.”
Samuel still didn’t say anything, but drove with his gaze set on the road ahead.
“That was a good thing you did, using your skill to help Vernon and Myrtle. But why did we leave so quickly?”
“I don’t like it when folks start thanking me like that, as if I’m something special.” Samuel hunched his shoulders. “I suppose you’re used to it.”
Mary let his words sink in as Tilly trotted south. Samuel was right. There were things she did well, and she helped others whenever she could. But she never thought about it beyond knowing that was the way the people of the community lived together.
“That feeling you get when you help others might be new to you,” she said, laying a hand on his arm, “but I think you’ll learn to like it.”
Chapter Thirteen
Samuel kept driving south until they reached the county road leading to the little town of Emma. As he turned Tilly at the corner, he dared to glance at Mary. She had been silent for the last two miles, ever since she said he might learn to like helping others. With a sigh, he concentrated on the road ahead again.
She couldn’t know how wrong she was. He was a Lapp. He had seen the surprise in Vernon’s eyes when they arrived at the farm. And then the man had been so suspicious that he had watched Samuel’s every move. Nothing had changed. He still lived in Daed’s shadow.
“It’s such a beautiful afternoon,” Mary said.
He nodded.
“Look how green everything is. Summer is getting close.”
“It’s green because of the rain we’ve had, and the warm nights. It makes the grass grow.”
She nodded, smiling at him. “That’s what I said. Summer is getting close.”
He felt a grin coming in spite of his sour mood. “Emma is just ahead. Do you want to stop at the store for a soda pop?”
Mary stiffened. He felt it in her elbow that brushed against his as they sat next to each other in the buggy seat.
“There’s nothing wrong with a soda pop, is there?”
She took a deep breath, her eyes closed.
“Mary?”
Her eyes flashed open and she stared at him. “I...I guess we could have a soda.”
He pulled Tilly to a stop outside the general store. “What flavor do you want? Grape? Orange?”
Her hands shook. “Not orange. Grape. Or strawberry. Anything but orange.”
Samuel hesitated before taking the bottles of pop from the cooler on the store’s broad front porch. Something was wrong. Mary sat in the buggy seat, staring at her lap. Her lips were moving as if she was reciting something to herself, or...counting. She continued her strange behavior as he used the bottle opener on the outside of the cooler.
He went into the store and laid a dime on the counter, nodding to the clerk, then hurried back to the buggy.
“Here you go.”
She stared at the bottle of grape soda he handed her.
“I chose grape. It’s my favorite.”
Mary finally took it from him, but she didn’t drink it. He turned south and drove out of town to the little lake that lapped against the shore, just yards from the road. He slowed Tilly to a walk. Mary still hadn’t taken a drink of her soda, and she still hadn’t said a word.
She startled when he drove Tilly off the road into the grass where someone had set up a bench under a tree. He pulled the hitching weight out from under the buggy seat and fastened it to Tilly’s bridle. The short rope would allow the horse to graze in the shade while he and Mary talked. He went back to the buggy and held Mary’s pop bottle while she climbed down, then he led her to the bench. It was time to find out what was going on.
“Now,” he said as he handed the bottle back to her. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
She stared at him. “Who said anything is wrong?”
“As soon as I mentioned getting some soda pop, you changed. You haven’t even taken a drink.” He tipped his own bottle up to drain the last of his grape soda. Just as he thought, she was going to deny that anything was amiss.
She passed her bottle from one hand to the other.
He leaned toward her. “Whatever it is, it’s making you into someone other than the Mary I know. I’ve suspected for a long time that someone has hurt you, and now it’s time for you to tell me about it.”
She shook her head. He took the bottle from her and set it next to her on the bench.
Samuel tried again. “My mamm was a wonderful, gentle, kind woman.” Thinking about her made his eyes itch. “But she was the victim of Daed’s temper.”
Mary looked at him.
“She never told anyone, but we children knew.” He cleared his throat. “I wonder how different her life would have been if she had confided in Sadie, or her parents or someone.”
Mary sniffed. “I’ve told Ida Mae about it.”
He was right. There was something wrong.
“I’m glad you told your sister, but it’s still bothering you, isn’t it?” He scooted closer to her. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”
She nodded.
“You can tell me anything. I want to help you.”
“Ida Mae said I should tell you, but you’ll never want to see me again.” Her voice was raspy, almost a whisper.
He slid so he was next to her on the bench and took her icy hands in his. “I don’t think you could say anything that would cause that.”
She glanced at him. “It’s terrible.”
“I thought it would be.”
She chewed on her bottom lip.
“Why is the soda pop a problem?”
“He...he bought some for me. Orange.”
He? Samuel’s head started pounding, but he kept his voice quiet.
“Orange soda?”
She nodded.
“Who is he?”
“A man...a boy I met when I worked at a diner back home.”
“An Amish man?”
She shook her head. Samuel squeezed the cold fingers and sat back a little, relaxing. She was only embarrassed because she had let an Englischer buy a soda pop for her. The way she had been acting, he had thought the problem was much worse.
“There isn’t anything that bad about sharing a soda pop—”
“We didn’t just sh-share a soda.” She took a deep, shaky breath. “He...took advantage of me. He forced himself on me.”
She pulled her hands from his grasp and walked down the grassy lawn to the edge of the lake, but Samuel couldn’t move. Could he have heard her right? This wasn’t about sharing a soda with an Englischer.
Ice filled his arms, his legs, his core. Everything was frozen as he watched her stand on the shore of the lake with her back to him. He sank his head into his hands and a moan escaped. What could he say to her? How could she live after experiencing that... The ice fled as quickly as it had formed and the anger came roaring in. His fist slammed on the bench, knocking the soda bottle off, spilling the grape pop onto the ground, where it disappeared into the grass.
Never to be recovered.
Mary still stood looking out over the lake as he walked up behind her and grasped her shoulders with both hands. He pulled her back against him.
“It wasn’t your fault.” He whispered the words, close to her ear as his cheek brushed her kapp.
A tear dripped from her chin as he put his arms around her.
“You don’t have to be nice to me. I can guess what you must think.” She stepped away from his embrace, but he grasped her hand.
“I don’t hate you.”
She sniffed. “But now, every time you look at me, you’ll think about what happened. What I did.”
&n
bsp; A stone dropped in Samuel’s middle. If he ever needed the Good Lord to hear his prayers, now was the time. He needed to say whatever she needed to hear.
He turned Mary around and tipped her face toward his. “Ne, that isn’t true. Every time I look at you, I’ll think about what a strong woman you are. You have suffered, and survived, and you will never suffer like that again. I promise.”
She buried her face in his shirt and he held her close, tucked under his chin.
* * *
Mary kept her arms folded tight as she rode in the buggy, her knees pressed together and as far away from Samuel as she could get. If they were closer to home, she would get out and walk the rest of the way, but the only thing worse than sitting in the same buggy as Samuel would to be alone. Vulnerable.
Why had she told him her secret? Mary chewed her lower lip. She knew why. The soda pop had brought back such strong memories. Memories that clamored for release. And in a way, she felt better. A tight knot inside her had loosened and she could breathe easier.
But things would never be the same between the two of them. Samuel would never feel relaxed and comfortable around her again.
Thunder rolled from the west, and the breeze gusted, rocking the buggy. Samuel urged Tilly to a faster trot and glanced at Mary, the creases around his eyes showing that he was concerned. Even worried.
“A storm is coming, but I’m going to try to make it home before the worst of it hits.”
Lightning flashed in the distance and Tilly’s ears went back. Samuel kept a firm grip on the reins and paid attention to his driving instead of her.
Tilly jumped at the next crack of thunder, and Samuel leaned forward, concentrating on his driving.
“That storm is getting closer. Will you roll down the rain curtains? I don’t want to risk taking my hands off the reins with Tilly as skittish as she is.”
Mary untied the rolled curtain on her side and lowered it, snapping it into place all the way down. But to reach the other one, she would have to get past Samuel somehow.
“Do you want me to drive while you do your side?”
He shook his head, his gaze on the road ahead. “Here.” Samuel lifted his arms so she could climb over him, under the reins, but she hesitated. “Come on, scoot over there before Tilly gets spooked again.”