She frowned. “You didn’t.”
“You said ow when I nudged you awake.”
“I did?” Her eyes widened under the lamplight. Snow caught on her long, thick eyelashes, and she blinked it away. “I don’t remember.”
He could stare at her all night, he realized, but it was too cold for that. He almost offered to walk her to her front door, but he pulled back. This wasn’t a date, although it was starting to feel like one.
“It’s getting colder,” he said, at a loss for words—at least any that wouldn’t make him sound like an idiot.
“Danki for the ride home.” She started to turn, then looked at him again. “What made you come up with the idea for me to tutor Johnnie?”
He shrugged. “I just remembered how gut you were at schoolwork. You used to help the teachers grade papers during recess, which I thought was a little seltsam.”
“You remember that?”
“Ya.” He suddenly remembered other things, like how happy she was the one time she’d hit a home run while they were playing baseball during recess. Little did she know that he had whiffed catching the ball on purpose while playing shortstop, knowing she was fast enough to run the bases. That had been in fifth grade, and now he remembered she’d started staying inside during recess the following year. Was she always grading papers? He didn’t know.
“You have a gut memory.”
“Sometimes. Other times I can’t remember where I put mei shoes.”
She smiled, sharing that sweet little laugh of hers. Then she gazed up at him. “I’m glad you suggested it. I’m happy to tutor Johnnie.”
“You might change yer mind after next week.”
She started to walk away. “Or I might change his. You never know. He may end up liking reading.”
“He’s a Kline. None of us like reading.”
“We’ll see.” She waved at him but didn’t turn around as she made her way to the front door, taking the porch steps slowly. He knew she was tired, and the fall couldn’t have helped.
He watched until she was inside. It wasn’t that late, but Fern’s father was a farmer, and their whole family were early risers. When the light in the picture window went out, he finally climbed into his buggy but didn’t leave until he had one last look at her house.
Dan shook his head. Something strange was going on with him. First, he agreed to help his brother with the Stanley Steamer, something he normally wouldn’t do, and now he had these inexplicable feelings for Fern. That bothered him the most. He’d been set on not getting involved with another woman after Miriam. Now it was clear his mind was changing . . . along with his heart.
Chapter 3
“Okay, spill it.”
Fern looked at Clara as they were peeling apples in her kitchen. Her two nieces and three nephews were at school, and her brother-in-law, Joseph, was at work, so the usually bustling household was quiet. But leave it to her sister to spoil the silence.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Fern said, sliding the paring knife through a juicy Gala apple. “How many bushels of these did you guys pick, anyway?”
“Only ten.”
“Ten?”
“Joseph came with us, and you know he can pick apples faster than anyone.” Clara dropped her freshly peeled apple into a large bowl. “Now, stop dodging the question.”
“I don’t recall you asking me a question.” Fern smirked.
Clara shook her head. “How about this, then. Fern, will you please tell me why you are so happy this morning?”
Fern picked up another apple, unable to keep from beaming. Dan had driven her home two days ago, and while she was annoyed with herself for falling asleep in his buggy, she still savored the short interaction they’d had when he pulled in front of her house. She couldn’t believe he noticed that she liked school and remembered that she used to stay inside at recess and grade papers. At the time, she’d felt self-conscious about missing so many recesses. That was also around the time she and her mother had started pursuing a diagnosis for her symptoms. Since she had enjoyed helping their teacher during the last few years of school, she hadn’t missed going outside too much. But she never imagined Dan would have paid attention to anything she did in school.
Meanwhile, that Dan would trust her to help Johnnie meant a lot. He was close to his family, and anyone could see how much he loved and doted on his nephews.
“Fern?” Clara tapped her on the shoulder. “Are you in there somewhere?”
She blinked, then looked at her sister. “Ya. I’m here,” she said, aware her tone was a little too dreamy.
“Oh brother.” Clara sat back in her chair. “Who is he?”
“Why do you automatically assume I’m thinking about a mann?”
“Because the only other time I’ve seen you like this was when you were crushing on Dan Kline.”
Fern started peeling another apple, refusing to look at her. “How would you know anything about that? You were already married by then.”
“Just because I was married didn’t mean I wasn’t paying attention.” She got up from the table, then rinsed off her hands before pouring two glasses of fresh apple cider. She put one in front of Fern. “Besides,” she said, picking up the conversation, “a little birdie might have mentioned it to me a time or two.”
Sighing, Fern began peeling her apple faster. “I should have never said anything to Mamm.”
“She only told me,” Clara said, sitting back down. “Nee one else. But let’s get back to what we were talking about.”
Fern scowled. “Let’s not.”
“I haven’t seen you this distracted since Dan . . .” Fern looked up just in time to see Clara’s eyes widen. “It is Dan, isn’t it?”
Fern trained her eyes on her apple and didn’t say anything.
“You still have a crush on him?” Clara chuckled. “Talk about loyalty.”
“What’s wrong with loyalty?”
“Didn’t he have a steady girlfriend at one time?”
Why did her sister have to bring that up? “Miriam,” Fern said, her tone tight.
“Right. Miriam Lapp. She moved away around the same time they broke up, if I remember correctly.”
“You do.”
Clara grinned. “He’s been single for a while, then.”
Fern rolled her eyes. Her sister had a mind like a steel trap, and she rarely forgot anything. “Ya. He’s single. Which doesn’t matter.”
“It does if you still like him.”
She knew it would be foolish to deny how she felt to Clara. Besides, she didn’t like lying to her family—or to anyone else. Then there was the fact that Clara would pester her until she got an answer. “I don’t have a crush on Dan. It’s more like . . . a passing interest.” Okay, maybe a little downplaying was required, because if her sister found out how she really felt about Dan, she would never leave her alone about it.
“Uh-huh.” Clara gave her a knowing look. “Passing interest doesn’t last ten years.”
“Eleven.” Fern winced. So much for downplaying.
Clara smiled. “So, tell me all about it. Are you two serious about each other?”
Fern scoffed. “Of course not. All he did was give me a ride home.”
“I see.” Clara beamed.
“And the reason I’m happy is that I’m going to be tutoring his nephew starting next week. Johnnie.”
“You are?” Clara’s smile widened. “That’s wonderful. Are you reconsidering becoming a teacher?” When Fern shook her head, she added, “Why not? You’d be a wonderful teacher.”
Fern placed another peeled apple in the bowl. They would be making applesauce and apple butter when they finished preparing the rest of the fruit. “You know why,” she mumbled.
“Because of yer arthritis?” Clara shook her head. “I thought you have more gut days than bad.”
Fern didn’t respond. It was easy for Clara—and anyone else on the outside looking in—to think she was fine. And while her si
ster was right, that often she was okay, when a flare hit like it had at the Klines’ the other day, it hit hard. And that was the reason she couldn’t be trusted to oversee a classroom full of children. That wouldn’t be fair to the students.
“Fern?”
She looked at her sister. Gone was the teasing and the smile. Clara’s dark-brown eyes, the same shade as her own, were filled with concern. Although she was nine years older than Fern, and three siblings had been born between them, she had always felt closest to Clara. “I’m not going to be a teacher,” she said. “I made that decision a long time ago, and nothing has changed.”
Clara pressed her lips together. “I just thought . . . Mamm said you were on a new medication . . .”
Fern would have to talk with her mother about keeping things to herself—although she knew she wouldn’t think mentioning medicine or Fern’s condition would be gossiping or revealing a secret. The entire family knew about Fern’s diagnosis of RA, and they also knew not to discuss it beyond immediate family. Still, Fern would like to keep a few things to herself. “The medicine is helping, but not enough to where I could run a classroom.”
“Maybe you could be an assistant?”
She shook her head. “I’m too unreliable.”
Clara nodded. “I continually pray for yer healing. You know that, ya?”
“I do.” Just like everyone else in her family. Just like Fern did, every day. And every day she woke up hoping that was the day God would heal her completely. But that hadn’t happened, and while she said the prayers, she also had come to terms with the reality that she might not be healed. God had a plan for everyone, and it was possible that his plan for her was to have RA for the rest of her life. Having a chronic illness was difficult, but it wasn’t the end of the world. Just the end of mei teaching career . . . before it even began.
“That’s great that you’re tutoring Johnnie.” Clara took a sip of her cider. “I take it that was Dan’s idea?”
Fern nodded and told her what happened.
“And then he took you home.” A twinkle appeared in Clara’s eye. “Sounds romantic to me.”
“It was dark and cold and snowing,” Fern replied. “Dan’s a courteous mann. Of course he would offer me a ride home.”
“What did you talk about?”
Fern’s cheeks warmed. “I, uh, fell asleep.”
“You fell asleep? The mann you’ve had a crush on for over a decade takes you home, and you fall asleep?”
“I was tired. Really tired.”
“Oh.” Clara nodded, ceasing her teasing. “Still, maybe there’s a chance he’ll show up at Alvin’s again and offer you a ride home.”
“You’re assuming he’s interested in me.”
“Why wouldn’t he be? You’re pretty, smart, sweet, and unattached.” She placed another peeled apple in the bowl. “Most importantly, you like him.”
“But I don’t know if he likes me.”
“One way to find out.” She grinned.
“Clara, I can’t tell him how I feel.”
Clara scoffed. “I’m not saying that. Just invite him out for kaffee or something.”
She shook her head. “I’m not like you, Clara. You basically asked Joseph to marry you.”
“Because he was dragging his feet.”
“I thought it was because you were impatient.” Fern smiled.
“That too. Anyway, you’ve nursed this passing interest for a long time. Maybe it’s time you found out if there’s anything between you. Or maybe it’s time to move on.”
Fern didn’t say anything, and fortunately her nieces and nephews arrived home from school. That saved her from Clara’s continuing lecture. But as she walked home after supper, she thought about what Clara said—and what she didn’t say. Was Dan the reason she was still single? Other single men lived in her district, although none of them had shown any interest in her. But she hadn’t made herself available either. She didn’t attend singings, and when she went to frolics and fellowships after church, she stayed close to her girlfriends or to her family. Were her feelings for Dan keeping her from dating other people? Or was it her illness?
She shook her head as she turned into the driveway. While she had come to terms with her RA and her decision not to pursue teaching, she still grappled with dating and marriage. It would take someone special to understand that some days she wouldn’t be able to do much but get out of bed and take care of herself. That sometimes she would be in a lot of pain. What man would want only half a wife?
No, she wouldn’t take Clara’s advice. Even on the outside chance that Dan felt something for her—which she doubted—she wouldn’t pursue a relationship. It wouldn’t be fair to him.
* * *
The next Monday, Dan showed up at his brother’s house, ready to work on the Steamer. Their mother and father had already left for Sarasota, and a part of Dan wished he was going with them. He enjoyed swimming in the cool, salty waves of the ocean and feeling the hot sand between his toes. He thought of that as he got out of his buggy and a blast of cold air hit him. Maybe next winter he would take a vacation to Florida. But right now, he had promised to help his brother with the car.
He entered the workshop, where Alvin was already at work, slicing the torn upholstery from one of the seats. He had removed the wheels from the car, and the chassis was standing on blocks high enough that Dan could wiggle underneath if he needed to. “Are we taking this entire thing apart?” he asked, removing his coat before hanging it on a peg on the wall near the door.
“Ya. I’ve done a drawing of the car, so I remember where the pieces are supposed to geh.” He walked to his worktable and then brought a single sheet of paper to Dan.
Dan reviewed it. “Gut job. You might have missed yer calling as an artist.”
Alvin chuckled and took back the paper. “I don’t think so. Besides, I’d miss out on doing projects like this.” He turned and looked at the car with a satisfied expression.
While Dan had never driven a car, he knew Alvin had before he joined the church. “Do you miss driving?”
Alvin touched the Steamer’s dented body. “I’d be a liar if I said I didn’t. But when I was baptized, I made a promise to the church and to God to live a simple life.” He turned to Dan. “Working on cars is enough for me.”
Dan nodded and turned to a large toolbox to look for a regular wrench and a socket wrench too. As he shuffled through the tools—Alvin and Daed weren’t tidy when they worked—he heard more ripping of fabric behind him.
“What made you think about Fern tutoring Johnnie?” Alvin said above the cutting noise of the knife.
Wrenches in hand, Dan returned to the car. “Just an idea I had.”
“That doesn’t answer mei question.”
Dan slipped under the front of the car. Just as he thought, the nuts were rusted. They would be either too difficult to remove or they’d crumble as soon as he started turning the wrench. He said a little prayer asking that they would come off decently, then went to work. “If I didn’t think she would do a gut job, I wouldn’t have suggested it. Can you give me a hand here?”
Alvin walked over and knelt in front of the car, putting his hands on the bar connecting the two wheels. “It seemed so out of the blue.”
“What did?” He twisted the wrench. Nothing, as he feared. Well, at least he didn’t have to worry about the bar crashing down. He tried another nut, and this one moved a bit.
“Fern. Yer tutoring idea?”
Dan quickly twisted off the nut, then shimmied out from under the Steamer on his back. He flipped over to his knees, then took the bar from Alvin and gently released it before turning to his brother. “It’s been a while since we worked together. Do you always talk this much?”
Alvin smirked. “Only when mei wife wants me to be nosy.”
“Ah. I should have guessed. What does Iva want to know?”
“If there’s something between you and Fern.”
Dan paused. There wasn’t, but
he hadn’t been able to get Fern off his mind since he took her home the other night. They hadn’t had church this past Sunday, which meant he hadn’t seen her since, and when he wasn’t thinking about her, he was trying to figure out why he couldn’t stop thinking about her. He’d never been this preoccupied with Miriam.
“I’m guessing ya, there is, since it’s taking you so long to answer.”
Before Alvin could notice that his face was heating, Dan jumped to his feet. “Do you have any WD-40?” He strode to one of the workshop walls, where a tall shelving unit stood with cans of paint, turpentine, oil, mineral spirits, and other chemicals.
“Wow,” Alvin said, moving to stand next to him. He handed him a can with the label missing. “You really are interested in her.”
“Look,” he said, about to deny it. Then again, maybe his brother would have some good advice when it came to his feelings for Fern. “I . . . I might be interested in her . . . as more than a friend. But,” he said, holding up his hand, “that’s not why I suggested she tutor Johnnie. She was always a good student in school, and I think she can help him.”
“She can’t make things worse.” A shadow passed over his brother’s face.
“Johnnie will be fine.” He clapped Alvin on the shoulder. “We made it, didn’t we?”
“Drove Mamm and Daed ab im kopp in the process.”
Dan laughed. “I guess you’re getting a taste of yer own medicine, then.”
“Yer time will come.” Alvin snickered.
“Not anytime soon, that’s for sure.” But the words rang hollow this time.
Alvin nodded. “I’m just glad you’ve finally moved on from Miriam.”
Frowning, he looked at his brother. “I moved on from her a long time ago.”
“Oh. I just figured the reason you hadn’t dated anyone else was that you were still hung up on her. She did move away.”
“Ya, but we had broken up by then.”
“You never mentioned her after that.”
He turned and faced Alvin. “She was out of mei life. What was there to talk about?”
Amish Generations Page 3