Seasons of Sugarcreek 02. Spring's Renewal

by Shelley Shepard Gray

  Tim shook his head. “No.”

  “That’s not what we talked about last night, Tim,” Ruby corrected. Looking almost triumphant, she said, “I’m afraid I filled Tim’s ears with so many stories about home that he became homesick. His place is in Indiana. It’s where he belongs, of course. He needs to be near his parents and the people who know him best.”

  “I can imagine that would be the case,” Clara said quickly. “For me, it would be hard to leave Sugarcreek. It has everything I have ever thought I wanted.” As soon as she said the words, she glanced at Tim, then shyly looked away. Hopefully, he hadn’t read her mind. Hopefully, he had no idea that until he had arrived, she’d given up hoping for a husband.

  But now she knew that wasn’t the case. Now she knew that there was one man who could make her feel like a woman. Like a person who was more than a scarred schoolteacher.

  No matter what happened, she’d always be grateful to him for that.

  Sympathetically, Ruby looked her over. “You have a lot to be thankful for then, jah?”

  “Why is that?”

  “Well, it is a blessing that leaving Sugarcreek will never be something to worry about. I mean, you have no reason to leave, do you?”

  Ruby’s words were true. And they’d been guilelessly said. And filled with sweetness.

  So why did it feel like there was a certain edge to her words? Against her best efforts to think otherwise, Clara felt hurt. Gritting her teeth, she forced out a pleasant response. “You are correct. I doubt I will ever have a reason to leave.”

  Tim’s lips pursed. “We had better get going. I promised Ruby here I’d take her to some of the shops around town.”

  Moments later, they left the store. Clara knew she should leave, too. After all, she had been in the store for almost an hour. But unlike Tim and Ruby, she had nowhere special to go to.

  The realization filled her with despair. How could it be that she could have lived all her life in one place, yet have no wide circle of friends?

  Feeling her eyes prick with unshed tears, she hurried to the counter. It would be best for for her to scurry out of the shop to the sanctity of the fields around her home. Then, outside with nature, she’d feel accepted once again.

  “Oh, that girl,” Judith said when Clara set her basket on the counter. “She is absolutely the wrong person for Tim.”

  Gretta joined them. “Oh, I’m so glad to hear you say that,” she whispered. “Ruby Lee and her clinging ways bother me.”

  Clara looked from one girl to the other. “Neither of you think they are a good match?”

  Gretta frowned as the three of them watched, beyond the store window, Tim clasp Ruby’s elbow as they joined a crowd of boisterous young men clambering down the sidewalk beside them. “Of course not.”

  Her friend’s comment made her spirits lift. But she was too afraid to share her real emotions. Tim was Gretta’s family. “They seem…happy together.”

  “Happy? Do you think so?” Judith continued to gaze out the window. “They might be, but I’m not so sure. There’s something between them that doesn’t ring completely true.”

  “She is a lovely person,” Clara said. “I mean, she’s pretty.”

  “She is,” Gretta agreed, “but I don’t think a person’s looks matter all that much.”

  Clara knew different. People might say looks didn’t matter, but they did. And because of that, and because she was so fond of Timothy, she did her best to stay positive. “I hope they do find peace together,” she said just as Mr. Graber approached. “Everyone needs a partner in life.”

  Gretta held out her hand. “Clara—”

  “Ah, Clara,” Mr. Graber interrupted with a pleased smile. “Do you have a moment? I wanted to ask you about Monday’s lesson.”

  Judith giggled.

  Suddenly, all thoughts of love and friendship dissipated into dreams as a feeling of fierce dread washed over her. “Yes, sir?”

  “Do you have a moment to spare now?”

  “Of course.” She steeled herself to hear his displeasure. Perhaps she deserved it. And this was not a surprise. She had known that there would be consequences.

  Leaning on the counter, Mr. Graber said, “I’m curious as to why you didn’t hide the postcard.”

  “At first I thought I might. But then I realized all had already seen the postcard. I decided it would be a worse thing to pretend it didn’t happen. Sometimes, difficult things need to be talked about.” When his eyes widened, she hastened to explain herself. “That said, I really am sorry if your children were upset—”

  Laughter interrupted her apology. “Not at all! I was merely going to ask if those dancing ladies were as flashy as Anson said they were. Are they really wearing feathers in their hair? Red feathers?”

  “They are, indeed. Their outfits are like nothing I could have ever imagined.”

  Across from her, the other girls giggled.

  But Mr. Graber patted her arm. “Good for you for reminding them that they shouldn’t judge by what’s on the outside. That is an important lesson in life, jah? All of us need to remember from time to time that the Lord has made us all different for a reason.”

  “Yes, I agree. Our world would be a terribly boring place if we all were the same.”

  “Or looked the same. Or thought the same.” Pure kindness laced his words. “You are a fine teacher, Miss Slabaugh. I thank you for that.”

  Clara was stunned. “I…I thank you for the compliment.”

  By this time, Judith had finished ringing up her order. “Here you go, Clara. Twenty-seven dollars, please.”

  “Oh, yes, here.”

  As soon as she paid, Clara hurried out to the sidewalk—her mind spinning all the while. Seeing Tim and Ruby had been difficult, but then Judith and Gretta’s words had made her feel better about herself.

  Then, of course, had come Mr. Graber’s compliment. Clara knew she should concentrate on his words the most. After all, being a schoolteacher was what she was most proud of. But the other parts of her…the feminine, girlish parts, could only seem to focus on Tim.

  Giving up the struggle, she prayed to the One who could help her the most.

  Father, give me direction. Am I supposed to only think of being a schoolteacher? Is it wrong to want a friendship with Tim? To covet him? To wish that I had a chance of happiness by his side?

  Or, dear Father, have you already given me guidance and I’ve been too blind to see?

  She pondered that one for a moment. Now that would be a difficult thing to realize. That she’d been so wrapped up in her own desires that she hadn’t been leaving herself open to the Lord.

  Just as she reached her buggy, Clara looked at the sky. Once again, the clouds were darkening. Yet another storm looked to be heading their direction. Clara didn’t know if that was a sign of the things to come, or simply a message that she best stop fussing and pick up her pace. All she knew was that she was about to be soaked to the skin.

  Chapter 19

  Overhead, the clouds were gathering and the wind picked up. As Tim drove his uncle’s buggy down the hilly side roads, past a small pond and a thicket of woods, he wondered if they’d make it home before the clouds broke and the rain came. Clicking the reins a bit, he pushed Jim to pick up the pace.

  “Tim, perhaps you could slow or stop for a bit,” Ruby murmured, interrupting his thoughts. “I think we should talk.”

  “Now? The rain is coming.”

  “We won’t melt. Plus, at least here we’ll get a bit of privacy. We won’t get any time alone at your aunt and uncle’s house.”

  She was right. There was no chance for private conversation around all of his cousins. Gently, he slowed the horse and turned right into an empty lot. When Jim was nosing at the tender spring grass, Timothy looked her way. “Is this all right?”

  His question had come out a little sharper than he’d intended.

  “It’s fine. Well, as fine as things could be, I suppose.”

  “W
hat do you mean by that?”

  She crossed her arms across the black apron on her chest. “First of all, you were being mighty friendly with that schoolteacher.”

  He was tempted to tell her that she had been far less than friendly toward Clara. Though, of course, if he were honest, he knew there was not one single thing she had said that was rude. It was the tone that had overtaken her. “We were merely being neighborly. Is there anything else you wanted to discuss?”

  She turned her body so that her knees touched his thigh. “Us, of course.”

  “Yes?”

  “I want to know when you are intending to come back home to Indiana.” Before he could reply she tapped her foot. “Next week? Next month?”

  “You know I can’t come back so soon.”

  “Whyever not?”

  Torn between frustration and confusion—he really had thought she’d understood the time frame—he said, “I’ve told you, I canna leave until my uncle Frank says he no longer needs me. I promised I’d stay through spring and summer at the very least.”

  “That is too long, Timothy.”

  “It can’t be helped. I can’t go back on my promise.”

  “But what about us? What about our promises to each other?”

  “Ruby, the only promises we made to each other involved this separation. We said we were going to give each other some space.”

  “I said those things before you were gone forever. Now I want you back.” Reaching for his hand, her expression softened. “I’ve been missing you.”

  Her touch wasn’t soothing. Instead, it felt clingy and possessive. “I’ve missed you, too.”

  “Then don’t you think you should come back now? Come back with me when I go? We could tell everyone that we didn’t want to be apart any longer.”

  “No.”

  She blinked. He knew she was at a loss for words. He knew she wasn’t happy with what he was saying. But it couldn’t be helped. Sometimes it didn’t matter what a person wanted. All that mattered was what a person could do.

  He would have thought she knew this. He would have thought that she would have tried to see his point of view. “You knew I was going to live here. It’s not a surprise. Besides, we even mentioned we’d try to open our eyes to other people. And other relationships.” Ironically, that had mainly been for her benefit, since she was two years younger than he.

  She jerked her hand away. “Is that what you’ve been doing, Timothy? Seeing other people?”

  “No.”

  Hazel eyes flashed. “I think differently.”

  Warning bells went off in his head just as the clouds broke and pelted the roof of the buggy. Jim neighed a bit and stomped his right hoof as lightning cracked over their heads. “Who do you think I would be seeing?”

  “That teacher, of course.”

  “Clara?”

  “Of course that’s who I mean.” With a sigh, she scooted a bit to her right, giving them space. Giving her the ability to glare at him.

  “Clara and I are friends. Nothing more.”

  “It seems like there is much more going on. You and she went walking the night before I came.”

  Tim didn’t care for the way she was making the most innocent visits seem like things to be ashamed of. “And what do you think is wrong with that?”

  “Everything. You and I have an understanding. You need to stop having anything to do with her or else you’re going to have to let me go. There’s other men in our town, too, you know.”

  “I see.” Tim almost welcomed the ultimatum. He didn’t care to be lectured. He didn’t care to be forced to do things he wasn’t ready to do.

  And he certainly didn’t care to have his relationship with Clara analyzed. Especially when he had a suspicion that there was much truth to Ruby’s words. Ever since he’d first met Clara, he’d felt a strong connection to her. He hadn’t been able to ignore it anymore than he’d been able to ignore the rain falling from the sky.

  Now, as that rain was coming down even harder, soaking the roads, he felt almost peaceful. A decision had been made. “I think it would be best if you left.”

  “So you can be with her?” she snapped.

  Instead of matching her tone, he shook his head wearily. “I don’t know. But I do know we should stop writing to each other. I do know that we each need to move on.”

  “I can’t believe you’re treating me this way.”

  Feeling helpless, he reached out for her hand. “I don’t want to hurt you, Ruby. But I don’t want to hurt you one day in the future, either. And it’s become obvious we won’t suit.”

  “Once you get home, everything will be like it used to.”

  “I don’t think so. Maybe I’ve changed. Maybe I’ve changed too much. But we can’t go back to how things used to be.”

  Tears pooled in her eyes. “This isn’t what I thought was going to happen.”

  “I know. And I’m sorry.” Quietly he added, “But you know that all our arguing can’t be good.”

  “And you don’t think we’ll get better?”

  He shook his head sadly. “No. I don’t want to fight with you, Ruby. And I don’t like making you sad. But I’m not going to change my mind…or my heart.”

  For more than a few seconds, she stared at him, then she finally nodded. “All right. If we can find out the train schedule, I’ll make plans to go back as soon as possible.”

  Two tears ran down her cheeks. He felt terrible. The last thing he’d ever want to do was make her cry. But her tears were not enough to take back everything he’d just said. “If you would like, I can ask Caleb or Anson to take us to their neighbors, the Allens. They’re English. We can call the station from their house…or use the Internet.”

  “Very well.” And with that, she faced the front of the buggy, obviously waiting for him to take her back to the house.

  He complied. Jim clopped along the road and the rain poured around him, and Tim knew things between him and Ruby were over.

  The moment he stopped, she hopped out of the buggy and hurried into the house—just as if the rain would make her melt after all.

  Feeling like a failure, he watched her go. Surely there had been a better way to break things off. A way to honestly discuss what was lacking in their relationship. He wished he’d had the knowledge to handle things better.

  Slowly, he got out of the buggy and walked Jim into the barn. Rain splattered on his hat and the already muddy ground sloshed under his boots. Next to him, the horse neighed his irritation with the weather, with the mud on his hooves. Tim had a feeling Jim was complaining about the whole wet, muddy, miserable situation they were in.

  Patting the soggy horse on the rump, he smiled grimly. “I feel the same way, horse. I feel exactly the same way.”

  The moment Clara walked in the door, she immediately sensed something different in the air. The rooms were darker than normal. None of the candles that her mother liked to burn were flickering. “Mother?” she called out nervously. “Mamm, are you here?”

  “I’m in here. In my bedroom.”

  Clara rushed in, thinking all the while that things were mighty irregular. Though her mother was prone to relaxing on the couch, never did she stay in bed all day.

  That is, unless she was terribly ill. “Are you sick?” she asked, then stood in silence when she saw how pale her mother was. “What happened?”

  “I don’t know,” she said helplessly. “I woke up feeling out of sorts, then things seemed to get worse. My head and my stomach hurt. I’ve gotten a sore throat, too.”

  “But you never said anything when I stopped in to tell you goodbye this morning.”

  “I had thought I’d get better, but instead I feel worse. Today was a bad day. I feel so dizzy, all I want to do is sleep.”

  Clara worried her bottom lip. For years, her mother had suffered from declining health. The doctors who had treated her never seemed to find anything specific wrong. Because of that diagnosis, she’d gotten into the habit of imaginin
g that very little was actually wrong with her mother…beyond a constant state of depression.

  This seemed different, though. “Mamm, if you feel dizzy and sleepy, then you should try to rest.” After helping her mother smooth the sheets around her, Clara put the kettle on. But by the time the water had boiled, her mother was fast asleep.

  Still reeling from the conversation she’d had with Tim and Ruby, Clara was too restless to begin preparations for supper.

  Feeling at odds, she picked up the checkbook and few bills that her mother had obviously been trying to pay sometime that day.

  Though she’d always done her best to bring home a paycheck, the finances were the one area of their life where her mother had always been in charge.

  Clara had always appreciated that. But now, she thought it was perhaps time to take on that responsibility as well.

  Sipping the chamomile, she opened the ledger and pulled out a pen.

  First she paid the mortgage, then a few other minor expenses. After entering the totals, she became curious as to how the bills compared to the years before. She flipped through the book, eyeing her mother’s neat handwriting and skimming over assorted entries.

  Something felt a little off. Just as Clara was trying to figure out just what was wrong, she spied a plain brown envelope peeking out of her mother’s things. The flap was open, and inside was another savings book.

  One she’d never seen before.

  Clara pulled out a pencil, and attacked the numbers again. Flipped to their saving account, just to make sure of things.

  But what she read caused her eyes to widen. No, this couldn’t be right. She flipped back through more pages. Found a bank statement and carefully unfolded it.

  And felt her heart sink.

  Her father had left them very well off, financially. They were very far from being the poor pair of women Clara had always imagined they’d been.

  No, that wasn’t putting it correctly. They were far from the poor pair of women her mother had always told her they were. For the last five years, her mother had lied to her. Lied to her about everything.

  Her father had left her money. There also had been funds set aside in case she’d needed another operation. She could have been hiring someone to help with the cleaning once or twice a week, when things at school were especially hectic.