Seasons of Tomorrow

by Cindy Woodsmall

  Jacob could see her feet underneath the fabric barricade.

  “We built the privacy screens for her when she was a teen. That way she didn’t need to be self-conscious while concocting weird stuff, as she called it.” Bailey chuckled. “See the flooring in the entryway and office areas?”

  “Yeah.” That flooring covered everything that led up to the cement floors where the workers’ shop area began.

  “Shark Bait did that—salvaged and laid it. And if it needed sanding, staining, or shellacking, she did that too.”

  “Really?” Jacob went toward the foyer and office areas. The flooring was laid out in segments of nine square feet, each section showcasing a different type of floor—oak, pine, hickory, brick, and slate. The four corner sectors were a combination of wood and stone. Jacob spied what he assumed were her first stabs at laying flooring. Kneeling, he eyed the floor as the sunlight fell across it, divulging every flaw.

  Not bad.

  He was no expert when it came to laying flooring. However, it was his job to line up the subcontractors who installed what the buyers ordered, and he had to make sure the owners were pleased. So he inspected a lot of floors before doing a walk-through with the buyers.

  “She used this as her practice area, but it also gives potential buyers of the loose boards and bricks a place to get a visual. Not that she has a lot of customers, but she’s diligent about the business she does have.”

  Jacob picked out two favorites and wondered how the owners of the houses Kings’ Construction was building would feel if they could see this.

  Bailey pointed at a desk. “I’d better get busy.”

  “Thanks.” Jacob stood and walked to the brick-and-wood section. He crouched again and ran his hand along the area where the brick abutted the pine. The repurposed flooring had far more aesthetic appeal than he’d imagined. As a carpenter, he’d always gravitated toward the newest products on the market. Maybe that’s what owners wanted because, like him, they didn’t realize they had an option or know the aesthetic appeal of old wood and brick.

  “Hey.” Esther’s voice caught his attention.

  Jacob remained crouched as he looked her way. “These are beautiful.”

  She smiled, nodding, as if pleased that he finally got it. “Ya, old wood and stone make for beautiful floors, but there’s more to it than that. There’s something wonderfully rich about standing on a floor where people stood a hundred or two hundred years ago, isn’t there? As if we’re touching history while becoming history.”

  He nodded. “True.”

  “Some of the sections were my first stabs from five years ago, so I should redo those, but there hasn’t been time.”

  “I can imagine.”

  She’d had four children within probably six or seven years of marriage. She ran a home for unwed mothers and earned money as a do-it-yourself hobbyist of repurposed goods. He was impressed.

  He stood. “Do you install flooring?”

  “Not really. I’ve done a bit of it out of necessity on repairs at home. And I laid this as a display, but I’m not skilled enough to put it in for someone who’s paid a premium price for the supplies.”

  “You could probably get really good at it with a little practice.”

  “Maybe, but the timing to complete a project on a new house is too precise to fit a schedule like mine.”

  The word schedule hit him hard, and he realized he needed to step up his pace. As interesting as she was and as much as she could use a hand on the shutter contraptions from a carpenter, he had a lot of his own work to get done. He had to finish two houses, including talking to the owners about installing some of her flooring, before he left town in a few weeks.

  Still, he could show her how to connect the shutters. Since she could lay flooring, it probably wouldn’t take him long to teach her how to put the accordion-style shutters together.

  Jacob dusted off his hands. “We should get started.”

  She pointed a thumb toward the back of the shop. “How about some coffee and breakfast first? If I read you right when Bailey mentioned food, you’re hungry.”

  The aroma of coffee, bacon, and cinnamon wooed him. “I am.”

  “Kumm.”

  Once in the kitchen, he couldn’t believe the spread of food sitting on warming trays. “I think Bailey wants to own a mom-and-pop diner when he grows up.”

  “You won’t find a nicer guy anywhere.”

  His phone pinged, indicating he’d received a text message. He pulled the phone from his pocket, touched the screen a few times, and stared at a new image of Casey. He chuckled. “How cute is she?”

  Esther held out a plate to him, studying his phone. “Extremely.”

  Another ping registered, and a private text message from Sandra flashed over the image: Casey sends her love, and she’s counting the minutes until Dad comes home.

  Dad? Casey never called him that, and he didn’t recall Sandra ever using that term before, but true to Sandra’s nature, her timing couldn’t have been worse. Unsure whether to try to clarify it with Esther, he slid his phone into his pocket, and they fixed their plates.

  Once across the table from each other, she bowed her head for a few moments of prayer and then looked up. “I understand you’ve been staying with Noah and his family. Barb is a fantastic cook, isn’t she?”

  Esther didn’t seem a bit put off or uncomfortable with Jacob because of the text message, but he wanted to explain.

  “I didn’t lie about Sandra.”

  Esther studied him. “I appreciate what you’re doing for me today. And with you leaving in a few weeks, just let it go at that.”

  Jacob shrugged. He wasn’t very good at building friendships. Even though it was his nature to be warm and friendly, he struggled with his sense of personal privacy. It was easy to help and care for people, but to actually let someone inside his life was hard. That was part of the reason Samuel’s betrayal had cut so deep. Jacob had been close to only two people in his life—and they fell in love with each other. Even when sharing with Samuel and later with Rhoda, Jacob had told only what he had to—most often confessing the bare minimum needed to avoid hurting the relationship. “I’ve never been more than friends with Sandra. Barely even that a lot of the time. But I have been like a dad to Casey, albeit one who doesn’t get to visit all that often.”

  She ate a bite of scrambled eggs. “It’s difficult to get a man to own up to the responsibilities of his own child if he doesn’t love the mother. Would you mind if I asked what caused you to care enough to stay involved in her life?”

  “I can tell you what led up to it”—Jacob dug his fork into the biscuit and gravy, cutting a bite—“but it’s a long story.” He put a forkful of biscuit into his mouth and then took a sip of coffee. “When I left the Amish at barely nineteen, I worked at various construction jobs until I found this one company and went to work for a man named Blaine. We really hit it off, so I lived with him and his wife, Sandra, and while I was there, she learned she was pregnant. To make a long story short, the night Sandra went into labor, Blaine was nowhere to be found. She didn’t want to go to the hospital too early and asked me to stay up with her. We watched a weird movie on TV, one I can’t even remember the name of.”

  Esther set the salt and pepper in front of him. “Go on.”

  He sprinkled salt on his eggs. “In the movie a guy is able to travel back in time and change what happened. He realizes two of his childhood buddies were traumatized from events when they were young, and as adults, one is suicidal, and the other has become a predator.” He ate a few bites of food. “So the guy goes back in time on numerous occasions, changing different events, trying to help both of them have a better future. He finally realizes if he can get them under the influence of one good adult—someone who loves, sacrifices, and makes good decisions—they will grow up to be happy and fulfilled.”

  “Sounds like a disturbing movie.”

  He nodded. “Sandra had a really rough childhood, and sh
e deals with bipolar disorder, but she had such high hopes for her baby. When I saw that movie, I felt as if God were saying to me, With your help Sandra can be the good adult she longs to be.”

  “That was a lot of responsibility to take on.”

  “I’ve hardly watched a movie since. I mean, if TV is going to saddle me with lifelong responsibilities, I’d just as soon avoid it.”

  She stared at him with those expressive brown eyes that he couldn’t read.

  “That was a joke, Esther. You were supposed to at least smile.” But she didn’t.

  “What happened to her husband?”

  “Not long after Casey was born, he disappeared. We’re still not sure if he’s alive or dead, so I’ve tried to be there for her—emotionally and financially. But at times I feel like an idiot for going out of my way to try to stabilize a home life for Casey.”

  “Then, by all means, choose to be an idiot all day long for the rest of your life.”

  He laughed. “My parents would not appreciate that advice.” But he did. “Let’s talk about something besides me.”

  “But I’ve had one question since you talked to Sandra on the phone the night I was on the curb regaining my wits. Do you mind?”

  “Probably not.” He hadn’t minded anything else she’d asked. “What is it?”

  “How do you get away with being gone from home so long and spending Christmas with an Englisch person?”

  “Did you overhear the whole conversation?”

  “I think so. Sorry, but it was really quiet except for your voice.”

  “Not a problem. I was just curious. About how I spent Christmas, see … I was in the middle of joining the faith when the breakup occurred. I left Maine and went to work for my uncle in Lancaster.”

  “He’s the one I talked to on the job site?”

  “That’s him. He’s a preacher, and he was really worried I wouldn’t join the faith or stay connected with my family, so he went to the bishop and got some concessions for me.”

  “Oh, I’d say he got more than just some.”

  “True.” He ate another bite of eggs. “Your turn. How did you get into salvaging goods?”

  “Ah, I fell in love with it while visiting my Mamm’s parents, who live in Lancaster, Pennsylvania.”

  “Maybe my uncle knows your grandparents.”

  “Maybe so. They don’t live in his district, though, or I would’ve seen him at the few Sunday meetings I’ve been to over the years. So my grandparents were taking down their grandparents’ old, abandoned house. It had been considered unsafe, so until a week before the demolition, I hadn’t been allowed to step into it. Once I got inside, I begged to be allowed to get the doorknobs and anything else a young girl could dismantle and carry away.”

  “What is it with you and doorknobs?”

  “When one of those knobs is on a door inside a home, and you use it to open a door to a room, it’s like using a portal from the past to enter your future. Where was the first house you helped build?”

  The conversation never slowed, even when he returned to the warming plates for seconds. It was a complete surprise to discover how much they had to talk about. Apparently there was no end of topics between someone who helped build houses and someone who helped deconstruct them.

  He ate the last bite of biscuit and gravy. “So you’re contacted by various historical societies to give your opinion on the value of raw materials in old homes?”

  “Sometimes they want my thoughts. Mostly I’ve become friends with people on the committees, and they know I love looking at old houses. So they tell me when one is being assessed, and I get to tag along. It’s like offering free drinks to an addict.”

  He laughed. “That’s how I started out feeling about construction work. Then I made some stupid mistakes, and I couldn’t pick up a hammer for a long time.”

  “I could not handle losing my love for salvaging goods. Do you mind telling me what happened?”

  He took a drink of his coffee before setting the cup on his plate and taking them to the kitchen sink. “I don’t mind. We can talk about it while we’re working.”

  Her eyes met his, and she smiled. His heart skipped a beat.

  Who was this woman?

  Moreover, was he making a mistake to open up to her like this when she was married?

  TWELVE

  Leah tried to pull air into her lungs, along with some hopeful and fresh perspectives. Her body demanded oxygen, but the simple act of breathing deep seemed too difficult.

  Moving like an old woman, she hung another wet dress on the line. It was only Monday midmorning, yet since arriving on Friday, her Daed had somehow, rule by rigid rule, managed to strap three hundred years of the Ordnung onto every part of her: Her limbs. Her back. Her shoulders. Her eyes. Even her skin prickled. All of it was a side effect of what he’d done to her heart—confused her.

  Who was God, and what did He expect of her? When she and Landon had prayed together months ago, she’d been so sure she knew Him.

  She shoved the basket with the toe of her shoe until it sat under an empty line. How had she so quickly forgotten what it was like to be trapped inside a life she had no control over? Only this time even sleep didn’t bring relief. Whispers filled her dreams, saying she’d lose more than a piece of her soul and her self-respect—she’d lose her mind—if she didn’t get free. What would she do if her Daed continued to insist she return to Pennsylvania with him?

  What could she do?

  Thoughts of her old life in Pennsylvania haunted her. She used to drink and party, at least until Rhoda found her passed out in her fruit garden. Not long after, at barely seventeen, Leah thought she was pregnant. The memory of that awful time made her cringe. She couldn’t tolerate the idea of having to go back. There were too many humiliating memories … and people to face.

  Dozens of scenarios ran through her mind, but short of breaking all ties and running away, she couldn’t come up with one solution. If she did run away, it would allow Landon to continue working the farm, and she could return when things cooled off. Unlike the times she’d thought of running away as a minor, if she chose to leave now, she had money in the bank, job skills, and a reasonable knowledge of how the outside world worked.

  What was she thinking? Even she couldn’t be so selfish or rash as to hurt and worry everyone while trying to live without any support system. Not only would she be gone from here, but so would Landon and others who would search for her.

  “Hallo.” Her father’s voice crackled through the two-way. “Meeting in the kitchen in twenty.”

  Now what? More talk of her returning to Pennsylvania with him?

  “Oh.” The two-way pulsed again. “The meeting is to include Landon also.”

  Leah’s head spun, and her stomach knotted. Her Daed wanted to talk to Landon?

  A cold wind made the strings to her prayer Kapp flap across her face. She pulled them away and stared off into the distance. The God her Daed described was very different from the God in the Scriptures she studied while at the local church. Her Daed talked of God as One who criticized how women wore their hair or what color shoes people wore or how they traveled to others’ homes, meetings, or stores.

  Did God hold people to those things? Her Daed certainly had Bible verses that said He did.

  “Leah.”

  The whisper from somewhere drew her from her thoughts.

  She saw Landon slowly walking toward the house. With her Daed staying by her side until she came to hang out laundry, this was her first glimpse of Landon. He held up something shiny for just a moment and nodded toward the front door. She pinned the last garment onto the line and grabbed the laundry basket.

  They met on the path to the porch steps, and he slid something into her coat pocket. “This way, no matter what happens, you can text me during the day and call me when you’re in your room where no one can see or hear you.”

  She felt in her pocket. “A phone?”

  “Yeah. Granny picked
it up for me yesterday.”

  She and Landon had been trying to respect the rules in this Amish district as long as it didn’t clash with their faith, but apparently drastic times called for drastic measures. “Thanks.”

  Landon grabbed her hand. “Be patient.”

  The door swung open, making them jolt and separate.

  Isaac ran between them. “Daed!”

  Iva’s eyes moved from their hands to the kitchen. Apparently, Iva had seen them holding hands. She gave Leah a warning look.

  “Isaac,” Iva called, “geh zu die Scheier.” After telling Isaac to go to the barn, she hurried Leah inside, putting space between her and Landon. Iva or Phoebe must’ve seen Steven heading for the barn and was letting Isaac join him there.

  Leah’s Daed entered the room, studying Leah and then Landon. Daed pursed his lips and nodded at Landon. “There’s coffee on the stove.”

  Leah passed the basket to Iva and scurried into the bathroom. Once the door was locked, she grabbed the phone from her pocket. A quick look through the contacts indicated he’d added several numbers: his, the farm’s, his grandmother’s, and Jacob’s. She went back to the home page and realized there was already a text message from Landon with a time stamp of five that morning. It read: Good morning, Leah. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to respond to this message the moment you read it.

  Should she? She’d messed with his phone enough to know how, but he was in the house with her Daed. One thing she knew about Landon: he was skilled at hiding his phone when he needed to. He’d proved that a few times while they were sitting in Sunday evening class or sharing a meal with everyone in this home—before her Daed arrived, of course. Landon could slide his phone out of hiding, text someone, and make his phone disappear again without anyone seeing him do it.

  She smiled and keyed in a response: Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to respond while in the house with you know who. She hit send and waited.