Seasons in Paradise

by Cameron, Barbara;

  “You won’t believe it. They have stuff for Christmas on some shelves,” he said, sounding disgusted as he climbed inside the truck with his hands full of bags with sandwiches and soft drinks.

  “Tourists like to shop for Christmas while they’re here,” she reminded him. “We put up a lot of crafts for the holidays at Sewn in Hope, remember?”

  “Just seems like people rush things along so fast.” He stuck his key in the ignition.

  “If you like slow, why aren’t you driving a buggy?”

  He glanced at her. “The horse would have to share John’s room. He wouldn’t like that.”

  “John or the horse?”

  He chuckled. “Either. You’re in a good mood.”

  She took a deep breath and sighed. “Fall’s coming. You know it’s my favorite season.” Then she frowned. She shouldn’t say such things. It reminded them both of all they’d shared in the past.

  “I thought we could eat the sandwiches in the park like we used to.”

  So if she wasn’t reminding him of the past he was doing the same thing, she couldn’t help but think. “Schur.”

  The park was empty. Families were probably at home having supper and then getting their kinner ready for baths and bed. They took their subs and drinks and picked a wooden table under the shade of a big tree.

  Mary Elizabeth checked the wooden bench for splinters before sliding onto it. She didn’t want to risk tearing her favorite everyday dress.

  “You got me a foot-long,” she said, glancing at his sandwich to make sure she had the right one. But his was a foot-long roast beef and hers was the turkey she favored.

  “I can always finish it off for you,” he said, grinning before he took a huge bite of his sub. “Or I can take it home to John. It’s his night to cook so I’m sure he won’t mind having it as a snack later.”

  “So you’re eating with me rather than eating his cooking?”

  He pretended to shudder as he opened his bag of potato chips. “He’s on this kick of making things with ramen noodles. Apparently one of his Englisch friends told him about them.”

  She’d seen the square, cellophane-wrapped packages in the store. “I’ve never eaten them. What do they taste like?”

  “The way he makes them? Soggy and tasteless. Kind of like spaghetti. That’s what he serves them with sometimes—spaghetti sauce. Then other times he mixes in chicken or vegetables. It’s the only thing he seems to know how to cook. At least it’s fast. And cheap.”

  A thought struck her. It was his second reference to saving money—he’d mentioned the expense of gas in the truck. “I meant to give you the money for my sub. My purse is in the truck.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I can afford this.” He frowned and lapsed into silence.

  They ate and put the half of the sub in the truck and walked around the park. Once they would have held hands. Today they didn’t.

  And then Sam took her hand and drew her closer and touched his forehead to hers in a familiar gesture. “Mary Elizabeth, I know it’s asking a lot, but do you think we could see each other again?”

  “See each other?” she repeated, uncertain what he meant.

  “I don’t know where my life is going,” he said. “I don’t think it’s supposed to be in town. But I don’t know what it is. I can’t offer you anything—”

  She pulled back a little. “I never asked you to.”

  “Oh, a man can’t help wanting to when he looks at you.”

  Ben had said he was going to offer marriage. She’d had the feeling he might want to, but she just hadn’t been interested.

  She’d loved Sam for years, and it didn’t look like she was going to stop anytime soon.

  “We could be friends,” she offered.

  His eyes were full of emotion as he stared at her. “Gut,” he said, reverting to the Pennsylvania Dietsch he’d used all his life. Lately, she’d noticed he hadn’t spoken it around her.

  He reached for her hand. “Friends can hold hands, ya?”

  She smiled. “Ya.”

  * * *

  Sam drove by the farm on his way home. He supposed some would call it stalking. Every chance he’d gotten since Peter had shown it to him, he’d driven past it. He knew the place well, but he felt compelled to see it one more time.

  He still didn’t see how he could buy it, but he was trying not to be negative. Peter had let him use his cell phone to call the widow who owned it, and when he reached her answering machine, he left a message that he’d like her to call back one afternoon when he knew he’d be with Peter. Not having a cell phone made things a little harder sometimes, but he didn’t want the expense right now. He was saving every cent he could.

  And miracles could happen . . . somehow he had a second chance to see Mary Elizabeth. It might only be friendship, but he’d missed her so.

  He’d missed so much. Living in town felt like exile. Even with John. Maybe especially because he was living with John. His younger bruder had turned his time away from family and community into his rumschpringe. And Sam just didn’t feel like exploring the world of the Englisch even while he lived in the midst of them.

  He was jerked from his thoughts when Peter’s cell phone rang as they were driving to the new job of renovating the Smith house.

  Peter answered it and then looked at Sam. “Just a minute, I’ll have Sam pull over and talk to you.”

  Sam pulled off the road and took the phone. It had been quite some time since they’d seen each other but Sarah Fisher remembered him. It was a tight-knit community, and they’d seen each other at church and schul activities. He expressed condolences for her mann’s passing, and she asked how his mudder was doing. She didn’t ask about his dat. He’d always gotten the impression people didn’t like his dat as much as his mudder. He asked about her family and how she liked Ohio.

  He listened as she chattered happily about her grosskinner.

  The Amish seldom rushed when they talked about family with each other . . . or about any subject for that matter.

  Peter sat patiently waiting, scribbling notes in the small notebook he always carried with him on a side job.

  “So you’re calling about the farm?” she asked when she ran down. She named the price she was asking, and Sam tried not to gasp. “Can you meet that price?” she wanted to know with her usual brisk manner. An Amish fraa was as good at business as her mann.

  “I—haven’t got that in cash,” he said, his heart sinking.

  “Have you talked with the bank?”

  “Not yet. We just saw the farm up for sale the other day.”

  “So you’re still living in town? How is your dat?”

  “The doctor says he beat the cancer.”

  “Like he did his sohns.” She paused for a moment. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “He only did once,” Sam felt compelled to say. But it wasn’t true.

  “Because some of us spoke to the bishop.” He heard the righteous indignation in her voice.

  “He turned the farm over to David. He and Lavina—they got married before you moved away, remember—live there now.”

  He heard her gasp of surprise. “So does John live with you in town?”

  “Yes. We share an apartment.” He looked at the clock on the truck dashboard. They’d been talking ten minutes, and he and Peter needed to get to work on the Smith house.

  “It’s gut you have each other. Well, you go to the bank and see what you can arrange. And remember Jason, at the agriculture office? Heard he was very helpful with explaining financing farms and such. He’s Englisch but very helpful with the Amish farmers.”

  “I hadn’t thought to talk to him.” Sam reached over and took Peter’s pencil and notebook from him. He jotted down the man’s name. “I’ll call you in a couple of days.”

  “It was gut to talk to you. Say hello to your mudder for me.”

  He said goodbye and hung up.

  “How much does she want?”

  W
hen Sam told him, Peter winced. He went on to say she’d suggested contacting the agricultural agent.

  He started the truck and drove to the Smith house, and the two of them continued the measurements and notes they’d begun the day they’d met the couple. Randy had left a key hidden on the porch for them since he wasn’t sure he’d be there in time to let them in.

  Sam worked methodically and tried not to think of the widow’s asking price.

  The Smiths arrived a short time later, and Randy flicked a switch and lights came on inside the house.

  “Wasn’t the electricity on when you got here?” he asked. “Power company said they’d have it on this morning.”

  Sam and Peter looked at each other. “We didn’t think to try it.”

  “Guess you’re not used to having it, huh?” Becky asked. “I couldn’t live without it. Or my car.” She wandered off into the kitchen.

  “We’ll let you get back to work,” Randy said. “I’m going to poke around in the basement. Hoping to use part of it for a man cave.”

  Sam looked at Peter. “Man cave?”

  Peter shrugged. “Never heard of one. But whatever the customer wants, we’ll give him.”

  Becky came and got them to answer some questions about the kitchen. She had a notebook in her hands and it was stuffed with magazine photos of what she called her dream kitchen. They looked at cabinets and backsplash tiles and countertop materials. She wanted granite, but Randy had told her it might be too expensive. Was it too expensive? What about less expensive materials that looked like granite? She wanted to know. Did she have to settle for something cheaper?

  Sam listened to her, nodded now and then, and let Peter answer her questions. He knew more about the cost end of things.

  And his thoughts kept drifting back to the conversation with the widow. He thought about what he wanted. The farm. Mary Elizabeth. A home and kinner and a future.

  And wondered if he was getting his hopes up just to get them dashed.

  * * *

  Ben had complained that she didn’t have enough time for him. Mary Elizabeth found Sam had even less time for her in the weeks to come.

  Working two jobs wasn’t easy. He and Peter had their day jobs, and when they were through there, they spent many evenings and Saturdays working on a renovation for an Englisch couple named Smith.

  When they were able to get together, he told her funny stories about how the work was done and how Becky, the wife, was obsessing over her kitchen.

  “It’s nice you told her the kitchen’s the heart of the home,” she said as they shared a dessert and drank coffee in the little shop they loved. “My mudder always says that.”

  “Mine, too.” He used his forefinger to trace a pattern in a spill of sugar crystals on the table. “She wants her dream kitchen, and he wants a man cave. He told me that’s a place where a man hangs out with his friends.”

  “Man cave.” She laughed. “That’s a new one. Although if I think about it, isn’t a barn a man cave for an Amish man? They love to hang out there.”

  “They work there.”

  “I don’t know . . . I catch my dat spending time out there when he isn’t doing chores. He reads—”

  “Seed catalogs.”

  “Other things, too.”

  “Farming magazines.”

  “Books, too. I caught him reading a book out there once, too.”

  “Oh my, call the police,” he said in a mock, horrified voice.

  “Stop!” She giggled.

  “Anyway, the other day when we were working on her kitchen, Becky told me that she and her husband agreed Peter and I should get the work because we understood what they wanted, how they needed our help to make the house the home they want for their family.”

  He grew quiet then, seemed to draw within himself. Then he looked at her with a serious expression. “What is it you want, Mary Elizabeth?”

  “What I’ve always wanted. I’m a simple woman, you know that. I want a loving mann, some kinner. However many God sends. Work I love. Family and friends. Oh, I guess after seeing your dat so ill this year, I’d add in gut health. Sometimes we take that for granted.”

  Mary Elizabeth paused and sipped her coffee. “I guess that’s quite a list.”

  “I didn’t hear many things in that list.”

  She shrugged. “A place of our own.” She colored. “I mean, when a woman marries, she just hopes to have a place of her own with her mann. It doesn’t have to big and fancy or new. So many couples we know live with the bride’s parents for a year or so after they marry until they can afford to buy or build their own place. That works most of the time, but every once in a while you hear that there’s some . . . tension between the women having to share a kitchen, that sort of thing. There’s just not as much privacy.” She hadn’t thought about the privacy thing until Ben brought it up.

  The shop clerk came over to ask if they wanted their coffee topped off. Both of them nodded and thanked her.

  “You said the Smiths are staying with his parents until their house is renovated.”

  He nodded. “Peter asked them to make a list of what was most important to them, you know, what they wanted done first. Then they can move in, and we can work on the other stuff. They picked the kitchen, the master bedroom and bathroom.”

  She grinned. “Not the man cave?”

  He chuckled. “No. He told us if she’s happy, he’s happy, so the man cave can come later.” He yawned. “Sorry. Long day.”

  Mary Elizabeth nodded and finished her coffee. “Let’s go. Your days start early.”

  They drove home in his truck. As they passed the farm, he seemed to slow the vehicle and look at it.

  “I thought I saw your truck parked outside this place one day when Mamm was driving us home from town.”

  “Really?”

  “Ya.”

  “I heard it was for sale. Sarah Fisher moved to Ohio to be closer to her dochder, you know.”

  “Yes, I heard that.”

  “I guess news gets around even when you don’t live in the community,” she said.

  “They were a nice family. I was sorry when she moved after her mann died. But now she’s in Ohio and has grosskinner to spoil.” She was silent for a moment. “I wonder how much she wants for it. The farm, I mean.”

  “Too much.”

  “Oh? How do you know?”

  “Land’s expensive in Lancaster County.”

  “True.” He sounded so noncommittal, and yet his tone had been so decisive about the price. She decided she was just imagining things. Why would he be interested? He’d helped David with the farm but didn’t seem to love it as much as his older bruder.

  Or was that because their dat had criticized them so much, had driven the bruders from their home?

  He yawned again and looked so tired in the dim light of the truck she didn’t have the heart to ask him.

  She wanted to reach out and hold his hand but driving the truck seemed to take so much more attention than driving a buggy where the horse knew the direction and your attention could wander.

  Too soon, he was pulling into the drive of her home, and they were saying good-bye. That was the trouble with trucks, she couldn’t help thinking as she stood on the porch and watched him drive away. She stood there until the red taillights winked out and then she walked inside slowly.

  Her parents were sitting in the living room reading. They looked up and greeted her. “Did you have a gut time with Sam?”

  She nodded and sat on the arm of her mudder’s chair. “We just went for coffee and dessert.”

  “Have either of you heard how much Sarah Fisher is asking for her farm?”

  “Nee, why?” her dat asked.

  “I don’t know. I got the funniest feeling that Sam is interested in it. I’m probably just imagining it. Don’t say anything to him or anyone.”

  “We wouldn’t. A man’s business is his own.”

  “Oh, speaking of a man. You’ll never guess what Sam an
d Peter will be doing at that house they’re renovating.” She told them about the man wanting what he called a man cave. “I told Sam Amish men use their barns for a man cave.”

  “Nonsense,” her dat said.

  “You do, too,” Linda spoke up. “I’ve caught you stealing some time to yourself out there many times, Jacob.”

  That led to some good-natured bickering between them. It reminded Mary Elizabeth of the way she and Sam had debated the topic earlier. She realized they’d probably sounded a lot like a married couple then.

  On that note, she decided to go up to bed.

  “Home already?” Rose Anna called as she passed her bedroom.

  Mary Elizabeth walked into the room and sat on the other bed. “Ya. Sam was tired. He’d worked his job and then a few hours at the Smith house.”

  “John said they asked him if he wanted to work some hours for them. He’s thinking about it. He said he could use the money.”

  “Do you think they’re hurting for money?”

  Rose Anna nodded. “John said Sam’s been complaining about money and turning out lights and such, fussing at him about the electric bill and wasting food and things. So John’s been trying to save on groceries and cooking cheap things.”

  “I heard about the ramen noodles.”

  Rose Anna laughed. “Me too. He said they’re not bad.”

  “So you saw him recently?” she asked casually as Rose Anna picked up her hairbrush from her bedside table and began giving her hair its nightly hundred strokes. After it, she’d use a length of silk to rub over her hair to make it shine. It was one of her schweschder’s little vanities.

  “I bumped into him one day when I was in town. We talked for a few minutes.” She frowned. “A woman walked up to him and acted a little too friendly with him like I wasn’t even there. Asked if he’d be at a party later. She works in the coffee shop.”

  Mary Elizabeth knew who she meant. The woman had asked about John once when she and Sam visited the shop.

  “So, did Sam say anything about Peter?” Rose Anna asked with studied casualness.

  “As in how?”

  Rose Anna shrugged and continued to brush her hair. “You know, about how the renovations are going.”

  “Nee, sorry. See you tomorrow.” As she walked to her room she wondered if Rose Anna would be able to forget about John. She hadn’t been able to forget about Sam.