Plain Admirer (3 page)

“We don’t go that far,” Andrew said under his breath.

“It won’t hurt us to go a little out of our way.” Roman ignored Andrew’s put-upon sigh and waited as Joann rounded the buggy and opened the door on the passenger’s side. Maybe he could find out why she disliked him.

* * *

Joann wasn’t sure what to make of Roman’s unusually kind gesture. He’d passed her dozens of times when she was walking along this road without offering her a lift. What was different about today? Did he know she was being fired in order to give him a job? She didn’t believe Otis would share that information, but perhaps he had.

Was Roman feeling guilty? If so, then it was up to her to grant forgiveness and get their working relationship off to a good start.

She leaned forward to look around his brother, determined to overcome the shyness that had gotten ahold of her tongue. “Congratulations on your new position.”

“What new position?” Andrew demanded.

She caught the annoyed glance Roman flashed at her. She sat back and looked straight ahead. So much for a good start.

“
Onkel
Otis offered me a job at his publishing office,” Roman admitted reluctantly.

“Why?” Andrew looked incredulous.

Roman didn’t reply. Joann immediately felt sorry for him. The answer was so obvious.

The reason finally dawned on Andrew. “Oh, because of your arm. You didn’t take it, did you?”

Joann hadn’t considered that possibility. Hope sprang to life in her heart. Was her job safe after all? She waited anxiously for his reply.

“I’m considering it,” he said.

Considering meant he hadn’t said yes. Was there some way she could convince him to turn down the offer? She had to try. “I’m sure the job wouldn’t be to your liking.”

“Why do you say that?” he asked.

She racked her mind for a reason. “The work is mostly indoors.”

“Not working in the hot sun this summer sounds nice.”

She chewed the corner of her lip as she tried to think of another reason he wouldn’t want the best job in the world. “It’s very noisy when the presses are running.”

“I seriously doubt it’s noisier than a sawmill.” His amusement brought a flush of heat to her face. How silly of her.

All that was left was the truth. She took a deep breath. “It requires hours of reading, excellent comprehension and a firm grasp of writing mechanics as well as an inquisitive mind,” she said.

He pulled the mare to a halt and turned to face her. Andrew looked from his brother to Joann and then leaned back out of their way. Roman’s brow held a thunderous expression that rivaled the approaching storm. “You don’t think I possess those skills?”

She swallowed hard. The truth was the truth. Just because he was upset was no reason to change tactics now. Her chin came up. “I doubt that you do.”

“Is that so?”

Joann was tempted to tell him his uncle only offered the job out of pity, but she wisely held her tongue. Nothing good could come from speaking out of spite. She tried to match his stare, but her courage failed. She dropped her gaze to her clenched hands. Why had she started this conversation? It was up to God to decide which one of them was best suited for the job.

In the growing silence, she chanced a glance at Roman’s face. His dark expression lightened. Suddenly, he burst out laughing.

“What’s so funny?” Andrew asked.

“She’s right. I’m not a fellow who enjoys reading or writing.”

Joann’s hopes rose. “So you don’t intend to take the job?”

Roman slapped the reins to get the horse moving. “We’ll see. I can learn a new thing if I set my mind to it. Do you always speak so frankly, Joann Yoder?”

Embarrassed, she muttered, “I try not to.”

“And why is that?” he asked.

Did he care, or was he trying to make her feel worse? She repeated the phrase her brothers often quoted. “Silence is more attractive than chatter in a woman.”

“Says who?” he asked.

“A lot of people.”

He wasn’t satisfied with her vague answer. “Who, specifically?”

“My brothers,” she admitted.

Andrew nodded sagely. “I have to agree.”

“I think it depends on the woman,” Roman replied.

She glanced at him and thought she caught a glimpse of humor shimmering in his eyes, but she couldn’t be sure. Was he laughing at her? Most likely he was. He held her gaze for a long moment before staring ahead again.

Raindrops began splattering against the windshield and roof of the buggy. Joann was every bit as uncomfortable inside as she would’ve been out in the rain but for a very different reason. Being near Roman made her feel fidgety and on edge, as if something important were about to happen. Thunder cracked overhead and she jumped.

“How long have you worked for our uncle?” Roman asked, looking up at the sky.

“About five months.”

“He said that you’ll be my teacher if I take the job.”

“That’s what he told me, too.”

“What kind of things would you teach me?”

Andrew interrupted. “I don’t know why you’re considering it.
Daed
and I need your help in the sawmill. We can’t do it all alone.”

“I didn’t say I was taking it, but I need to know enough to make an informed decision. What things would I have to learn?”

“Many things, like how to set type and run the presses and how to use the binding machines. Eventually, you will have to write articles for the magazine. Many people send us stories to be printed. You’ll have to learn how to check any facts that they contain. We don’t want to hand out the wrong advice.”

“Give me an example.”

She thought a moment, and then said, “People send in home remedies for us to publish in our magazine all the time. Sometimes they are helpful, but sometimes they can be harmful to the wrong person, such as a child. When in doubt, we check with Dr. White or Dr. Zook at the Hope Springs Clinic.”

He glanced her way. “Have you written any articles?”

“A few.”

“What were they about?”

“I wrote a piece about our history in Hope Springs. I’ve submitted several tips for the Homemaker Hints section that were published. I’ve even done a number of poems.”

“Interesting. What else would my job entail?”

Andrew rolled his eyes. “I can just see you writing homemaker tips and poetry,
bruder.
”

Roman paused a moment, then said, “Roses are red, violets are blue, pine is the cheapest wood, oak is straight and true.”

Roman chuckled and smiled at his brother. Andrew grinned and said, “That’s not bad. Maybe uncle will use it.”

The affection between the two brothers was evident. Joann wished for a moment that she could joke and laugh with her brothers that way. They were all much older than she was. She had come along as a surprise late in her parents’ lives. Hebron, the youngest of her brothers, had been fifteen when she was born. They were all married and starting their own families by the time she went to school. Her brothers pretty much ignored her while she was growing up. It was only after their parents died that they decided they knew what was best for her.

Roman clicked his tongue to get Meg to pick up the pace. “Tell me what else I would have to learn.”

“You would have to proofread the articles that Otis writes or that others send in to be published. You’ll have to attend special meetings in the community in order to report on them, such as the town council meetings and school board meetings. We report the news weekly as well as publish a monthly magazine.”

“Sounds like a piece of cake.”

“Do you think so?” If he didn’t value what they did, how could he do the job well?

When he didn’t say more, she leaned forward to glance at him. His face held a pensive look. Was he thinking about taking the job or rejecting it? If only she could tell.

Finally, her brother’s lane came into view. By the time they reached the turnoff, the rain had slowed to a few sprinkles. “I’ll get out here,” she said. “Thanks for the lift.”

Roman stopped the buggy. Joann bolted out the door into the gentle rain and hurried toward the house. Once she gained the cover of the front porch, she watched as he turned the buggy around and drove away. At least she could draw a full breath now that she wasn’t shut in with him.

What was it about being near him that set her nerves on edge? And how would she be able to work with him day in and day out if he did take the job?

“Please, Lord, let him say no.”

Chapter Three

R
oman sat at the kitchen table that evening with his parents after supper was done. His conversation with green-eyed Joann earlier that day hadn’t helped him come to a decision. He wasn’t sure what to do. What would be best for him? What would be best for his family?

Although he lived in the
dawdy-haus,
a small home built next to his parent’s home for his grandparents before their passing, he normally took his meals with his family. He waited until his younger brother left the kitchen and his mother was busy at the sink before he cleared his throat and said, “
Daed,
I need to speak to you.”

“So speak,” his father replied and took another sip of the black coffee in his cup. Menlo Weaver was a man of few words. Roman’s mother, Marie Rose, turned away from the sink, dried her hands on a dish towel and joined them at the table. Roman realized as he gazed at her worried face that she had aged in the past months, and he knew he was the reason why.

He took a sip of his own strong, dark coffee. “I spoke with
Onkel
Otis today,” he said.

“And?” his mother prompted.

“He offered me a job.”

There was no mistaking his father’s surprise. Menlo glanced at his wife. She kept her gaze down. Roman knew then that it hadn’t been his father’s idea. That eased some of his pain. At least his father wasn’t pushing to be rid of him.

As always, Menlo spoke slowly, weighing his words carefully. “What was your answer,
sohn?
”

Roman knew his father well. He read the inner struggle going on behind his father’s eyes. Menlo didn’t want his son to accept the job, but he also wanted what was best for Roman. “I told him I’d think it over.”

His mother folded her dish towel on her lap, smoothing each edge repeatedly. “And have you?”

“Of course he’s not going to take it,” Menlo said.

Roman knew then that he had little choice. His father would keep him on, but the cost to the business would slowly sink it. If Roman had an outside job and brought in additional money for the family, they could afford to hire a strong fellow with two good arms to take his place and make the sawmill profitable again.

He looked his father square in the eye. “I’ve decided to accept his offer. I hope you understand.”

Menlo frowned. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

Roman didn’t answer. He couldn’t.

“You’ll come back to work with me when your arm is better,
ja?
”

Roman smiled to reassure him. “
Ja,
Papa, when my arm gets better.”

Menlo nodded. “Then I pray it is a good decision and that you will be healed and working beside me soon.”

Roman broached the subject weighing heavily on his mind. “You will have to hire someone to take my place. Andrew and you can’t do it all alone.”

“We can manage,” his father argued.

“You’ll manage better with more help. Ben Lapp is looking for work. He’s a fine, strong young man from a good family,” his mother countered.

Menlo glanced between his son and his wife. He nodded slowly. “I will speak to him. I thought you were going to tell us you had decided to wed Esta Barkman.”

Roman had been dating Esta before the accident. He’d started thinking she might be the one. Since the accident, he’d only taken her home from church a few times. It felt awkward, and he wasn’t sure how to act. He didn’t feel like a whole man. He avoided looking at his father. “I’m not ready to settle down.”

“You’re not getting any younger,” his mother said. “I’d like grandchildren while I’m still young enough to enjoy them.”

“Leave the boy alone. He’ll marry soon enough. The supper was
goot.
”

“Danki.”
She smiled at her husband, a warm smile that let Roman know they were still in love. Would Esta smile at him that way after thirty years together? He liked her smile. Her eyes were pale blue, not changeable green, but it didn’t matter what color a woman’s eyes were. What mattered was how much she cared for him.

He wanted to wait until his arm was healed before asking her to go steady, but his mother was right. He wasn’t getting any younger. Now, more than ever, he felt the need to form a normal life.

Menlo finished his coffee and left the room. Roman stayed at the table. His mother rose and came to stand behind him. She wrapped her arms around him and whispered, “I know this is hard for you, but it will all turn out for the best. You’ll see.”

If only he could believe that. Ever since he was old enough to follow his father into the mill, Roman had known what life held for him. At the moment, it felt as if his life had become a runaway horse and he’d lost the reins. He had no idea where it was taking him. He hated the feeling.

“Are you worried about working for my brother? Otis is a fair man.”

“It’s not
Onkel
Otis I’m worried about working with. It’s his employee, Joann Yoder. She’s taken a dislike to me for some reason.” It was easier to talk about her than about his self-doubts.

“Nonsense. I can’t imagine Joann disliking anyone. She’s a nice woman. It’s sad that no man has offered for her. She has a fine hand at quilting and a sweet disposition.”

“Not so sweet that I’ve seen.”

“She is a little different. According to her sister-in-law, she spends all her time with her nose in a book or out roaming the woods, but it can’t be easy for her. Be kind to her, my son.”

“What do you mean it can’t be easy for her?”

“Joann gets shuffled from one house to another by her brothers. I just meant it can’t be easy never having a place to call home.”

“I don’t understand.”

“She’s much younger than her brothers. When her parents died, her brothers decided she would spend four months with each of them so as not to burden one family over the other. I honestly believe they think they are being fair and kind. I’m sure they thought she would marry when she was of age, but she hasn’t. She’s very plain compared to most of our young women.”

“She’s not that plain.” She had remarkable eyes and a pert nose that matched her tart comments earlier that day. Why hadn’t he noticed her before? Perhaps because she seldom looked up.

His mother patted his arm. “She’s not as pretty as Esta.”

“
Nee,
she’s not.” He rose from the table determined to put Joann Yoder out of his mind. He had much more important things to think about.

* * *

“Joann, we’re going fishing. Come with us.”

Looking up from her book, Joann saw her nieces come sailing through the doorway of the bedroom they shared. Ten-year-old Salome was followed closely by six-year-old Louise.

Joann didn’t feel like going out. Truth be told, all she wanted was to sit in her room and pout. Tomorrow they would all travel to Sunday services at the home of Eli Imhoff, and she was sure to see Roman Weaver there. She had no intention of speaking to him.

On Monday, she would learn if she still had her job or if she had lost her chance to buy a home of her own. Last night she prayed to follow God’s will, but she really hoped the Lord didn’t want Roman to take the job any more than she did. She had tried to find pity in her heart, but the more she thought about him, the less pity entered into the picture. He seemed so strong, so sure of himself. She’d made a fool of herself trying to talk him out of working for Otis.

Why couldn’t she stop thinking about him?

Because he was infuriating, that was why. And when he turned his fierce scowl on her, she wanted to sink through the floor.

“Come on, Papa is waiting for us.” Louise pulled at Joann’s hand.

She shook her head and said, “I don’t think I’ll come fishing today, girls.”

“You love fishing,
Aenti
Joann. Please come with us,” Salome begged.

Louise leaned on the arm of the chair. “What are you reading?”

Joann turned her attention back to her book. She’d read the same page three times now. “It’s a wonderful story about an Amish girl who falls in love with the Amish boy next door.”

“Does she marry him?” Louise asked.

Joann patted the child’s head. “I don’t know. I haven’t finished the book. I hope she does.”

Louise looked up with solemn eyes. “Because you don’t want her to be an old
maedel
like you are?”

Joann winced. Out of the mouths of babes.

“That’s not nice, Louise,” Salome scolded. “You shouldn’t call
Aenti
Joann an old maid.”

Louise stuck out her bottom lip. “But Papa says she was born to be a
maedel.
”

Joann was well aware of her brother’s views on the subject of her single status. Perhaps it was time to admit that he was right. A few months ago, she had cherished a secret hope that Levi Beachy would one day notice her. However, Levi only had eyes for Sarah Wyse. The two had wed last Christmas. Joann was happy for them. Clearly, God had chosen them for each other.

Only, it left her without even the faintest prospect for romance. There was no one in Hope Springs that made her heart beat faster.

She closed her book and laid it aside. “Salome, do not scold your sister for speaking the truth.”

Joann wanted to know love, to marry and to have children, but if it wasn’t to be, she would try hard to accept her lot in life. When did a woman know it was time to give up that dream?

Salome scowled at Louise. Louise stuck her tongue out at her sister and then ran from the room.

Salome turned back to Joann. “It was still a rude thing to say. Never mind that baby. Come fishing with us.”

Joann shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

“But your new fishing pole came. Don’t you want to try it out?”

Joann sat up. “It came? When?”

“The mailman brought it yesterday.”

“Where is it?”

Salome pointed to the cot in the corner of the upstairs bedroom. “I put it on your bed.”

“It’s not there now. It wasn’t there when I went to bed last night.”

“Maybe Louise was playing with it. I told her not to,” Salome said, shaking her head.

Joann cringed at the thought. If the younger girl had damaged it, she wouldn’t be able to get her money back. She’d foolishly spent an entire week’s wages on the graphite rod and open-faced spinning reel combo. In hindsight, it was much too expensive.

Oh, but when she’d tried it out in the store, it cast like a dream. Maybe she should keep it.

No, she gave herself a firm mental shake. She couldn’t afford it now. If her hours were cut, she would have to make sacrifices in order to keep putting money in her savings account. Otherwise, she faced a lifetime of moving her cot from one household to another.

Salome dropped to the floor to check under the other beds in the room. Finally, she found it. “Here it is.”

Joann breathed a sigh of relief when Salome emerged with the long package intact. Taking the box from her niece, Joann checked it over. It bore several big dents.

“Did she break it?”

“I don’t think so.” Joann carefully opened one end and slid out the slender black pole. The cork handle felt as light and balanced in her hand now as it had in the sporting goods store. She unpacked the reel. It was in perfect shape.

From the bottom of the stairs, Joann heard her brother call out, “Salome, are you coming?”

“Yes, Papa. Joann is coming, too.” She ran out the door and down the stairs.

Joann stared at the pole in her hands. Why not try it out once before sending it back? What could it hurt? It might be ages before she had a chance to use such a fine piece of fishing equipment again. She bundled it into the box, grabbed her small tackle box from beneath her cot, exchanged her white prayer
kapp
for a large black kerchief to cover her head and hurried after her niece.

On her way out of the house, Joann paused long enough to grab an apple from the bowl on the kitchen table. Outside, she joined the others in the back of the farm wagon for the jolting ride along the rough track to a local lake. It wasn’t far. Joann walked there frequently, but she enjoyed sitting in the back of the wagon with the giggling and excited girls at her side.

The land surrounding the small lake belonged to an Amish neighbor who didn’t care if people fished there as long as they left his sheep alone and closed the gates behind them. Joann had been coming to the lake since she was a child. Joseph Shetler, the landowner, had been friends with her grandfather. The two men often took a lonely little girl fishing with them. Occasionally, Joann still caught sight of Joseph, but he avoided people these days. She never knew why he had become a recluse. He still came to church services, but he didn’t stay to visit or to eat.

The wagon bounced and rumbled along the faint wheel tracks that led to the south end of the lake. It had once been a stone quarry that had filled with water nearly a century ago. When they reached the shore, everyone piled out of the back of the wagon and spread out along the water’s edge. The remote area was Joann’s favorite fishing place. She knew exactly where the largemouth bass, bluegill and walleye hung out.

She’d spent many happy hours fishing here peacefully by herself, but each time served to remind her of the wonderful days she’d spent there with her grandfather. He had been the one person who always had time for her.

If she closed her eyes, she could still hear his craggy voice. “See that old log sticking out of the bank, child? There’s a big bass right at the bottom end of it. Mr. Bass likes to hole up in the roots and dart out to catch unwary minnows swimming by. Make your cast right in front of that log. You’ll get him.”

Joann smiled at the memory. It had taken many tries and more than a few lost lures before she gained the skill needed to put her hook right where she wanted it. Her
daadi
had been right. She caught a dandy at that spot.

She was always happy when she came to the lake. She kept a small journal in the bottom of her tackle box and made notes about of all her trips. She used the information on weather conditions, insect activity and water temperature to compile information that made her a better angler.