Seasons of Tomorrow (6 page)

“Maybe I shouldn’t say anything, but then again”—Steven crossed the living room, closing the gap between them—“maybe I should. Would you mind if I share a few thoughts … just out of concern?”

“I’m going to church, Steven. Not to some sinful place.”

“I know, and I want to like the idea, but it concerns me. We live as we do because we believe it’s the community’s responsibility to live as close to the ways of the New Testament as possible.”

“And it concerns me that the Amish may be seeking a fulfilling life through giving up who God has made us to be so we can serve a man-made community.”

“Is Unity Hill less of a man-made community than the Amish community?” Steven stood there, the expression on his face indicating deep humility, but his eyes radiated desperation that she would hear him
this time
. “The Word says to ‘lead a quiet and peaceable life’ and not to be ‘conformed to this world.’ ”

She had no doubts that his concern was genuine. “We agree on what the Word says, Steven. It’s how one accomplishes those goals that divides us. Rather than the Ordnung dictating how I should live, isn’t it possible the decision should be between each individual and God, just as salvation is?”

His gentle smile wavered. “Perhaps. But there is strength in numbers, in banding together against the onslaught of worldliness. What are a few rules when one is surrounded by such a rich culture of faith and unbroken families?”

Steven never went for the jugular. He stayed steadfast and gentle. She knew too many church leaders who would point fingers and sling the phrase “you’re going to hell for …” A lot of things could fill that spot—embracing the Englisch lifestyle or not submitting to her Daed’s wishes, just to mention two.

Steven finally took a bite of his pudding. “You stay safe. I think we’re supposed to get more snow later tonight.”

“We’ll drive slowly.” She slid into her coat. “Bye.”

She scurried to Landon’s truck and climbed in. “Sorry.” She shivered. “I had almost made it out the door when I got held up by Steven.”

“Not a problem.” Landon pulled out of the driveway. “Was it?”

“No. Steven’s as careful with his words as I’m trying to be with mine.”

When time allowed, she and Landon had attended Unity Hill on Sunday nights for nearly a year and a half. A few months back they sat in his truck in the church parking lot, talking about faith and their hopes until nearly midnight. And then they prayed together, giving their hearts and lives to Christ. The prayer didn’t change or solidify anything about their future together. They agreed on that. The prayer meant they were both new creatures in Christ, just as it said in Second Corinthians chapter 5. That night, bathed in the forgiveness and hope of Christ, Leah knew that with a past like hers, she’d already received far more than she deserved.

But she had no clue how to pull away from her family or how to leave the family business when they needed her.

Landon pressed the brakes hard. “Whoa.” He pointed out the window at a large moose crossing the road.

“We spot more moose than anyone I know.”

They started talking and never paused until they were walking through the church doors. They went to the classroom where the young adults met. The topic for the last six months had been discipleship. After that they listened to the preacher teach from the pulpit on the grace of God. This was her favorite topic: “There is therefore now no condemnation to them …” Her heart pounded with excitement. This pastor used numerous historical books and discussed the best translation of words from the original Hebrew and Aramaic. The teachings were so different from those in the Amish church. It fascinated her, and yet she could see how the Word for each—the Amish and the Englisch—was built on faith and had merit.

After the last song they walked to the front steps of the church.

Pastor Weld stood about halfway down the stairs, telling folks good-bye. He held out his hand to Leah. “It’s always good to see you two.”

Leah shook his weathered hand. “We enjoy coming.”

“Good.” He shook Landon’s hand. “Would you mind if I made a home visit one day?”

Landon hesitated. “You could come to my place anytime.”

“Yes, only your place, Landon. I should’ve thought to clarify my meaning.” Pastor Weld lowered his voice. “I understand the complexities of Leah’s family being Amish and the need for discretion.”

“Exactly.” Landon nodded. “Do you need my address?”

A horse and buggy slowed on the main street right in front of the church. Leah suddenly wished she were invisible. Since she and Landon were under the church’s floodlights, whoever was in that rig could see Landon and her clearly. But with it being dark, she couldn’t see who was in the rig.

“You filled out a card about a year ago.” The pastor pulled a pair of leather gloves out of his pocket and put them on. “Do you still live in the same place?”

“Yeah.” Landon glanced at her and then to the road.

The pastor looked in that direction. “Then I’ll use that information.”

As the horse picked up speed, Leah could see the back of the rig. It had
a spot of black paint, a repaired area that she recognized. The buggy belonged to Crist. He was probably joy riding a bit after tonight’s singing. Since there were a few new girls in the settlement, he likely had a girl with him.

Would he cause trouble for her and Landon? Those within her household kept her rumschpringe ways quiet. If her parents realized what she was up to, there was no telling what they’d do to stop her.

“We’d better go.” Landon nodded to the pastor, and then he put his arm protectively around the waist of her coat as if that would somehow shield her from the firestorm that might come her way. But the gesture was sweet and a first, so she slowed her pace, enjoying feeling loved and cherished.

Once in the truck Landon started the engine. “Any idea who was in the rig?”

“Probably Crist. It was his buggy.”

“He might not say anything, but if he does, how much strife will it stir?”

“Hard to tell. I don’t know the new families very well, and what happens depends on how angry people get after they learn I dress like the Englisch when I go to church here.” If the news got back to her parents, they’d try to pull her home, but it was borrowing trouble to worry about that, so why voice it to Landon?

He leaned back against the headrest. “I suppose we knew someone outside Orchard Bend Farms would find out sooner or later.”

“Yeah, but I always opt for later.”

“Me too … for your sake.”

But she knew he also wanted to protect Rhoda. If Leah got in trouble, Landon would too, and Rhoda could be forced to let him go.

There were so many reasons they needed their relationship to remain as private as possible. So many people they both cared about might pay an unfair price. As much as they tried to act as if their future would work itself out, their lives were entangled with the strictness of the Old Ways, and there wasn’t anything anyone could do about it.

SIX

Jacob’s breath formed white clouds as he drove the wagon of lumber through the darkened back streets of town. It wasn’t a very big town, and it closed up tight before seven on weeknights. Even the diner served only the breakfast and lunch crowds before locking its doors.

But he had too much restless energy and too little social life to stop work because of nightfall.
Without any family or real friends around …
The half thought threw darts at him, and he refused to finish it. But he couldn’t get free of how he felt.

Something on the sidewalk more than a block ahead caught his eye. He focused on it and could make out a silhouette of a black bonnet on someone who was crouched, perhaps messing with a crate of some sort on the ground. Other than this woman the streets were empty of cars, rigs, and people.

But even if they were filled with folks, he’d be just as isolated. Still, the worst of the hurt from the breakup had been behind him for months now. The problem was that, unlike heartache, loneliness couldn’t be fixed by time passing. It actually grew wider and deeper and darker—like an unattended sinkhole, he imagined.

Distraction seemed to be the only pardon granted from the depth of his loneliness. So he’d started attending singings a couple of months ago. How else would he find the right person? He’d even gone on a few dates. But—

The shadowy woman stood, grabbed the box, and hurried toward the crosswalk. Apparently she wasn’t going to stop at the curb. Couldn’t she hear the
clippety-clop
of his horse?

“Whoa.” Jacob tugged hard on the reins, trying to halt the rig quickly. The phone in his coat pocket vibrated, but he couldn’t look right now to see who was calling.

Maybe the woman’s problem was her black bonnet, which seemed to serve like blinders on a horse. The horse whinnied in protest as Jacob pulled
the brakes on the rig. The woman looked up and stopped abruptly, remaining on the curb. He motioned for her to go. She nodded and stepped onto the street. Once she was directly in front of him, a nearby siren blasted.

His horse jolted.
“Begreiflich.”

A few seconds later blue strobe lights pierced the darkness, and a police car slowed as it passed him.

His horse lunged forward.

The woman tried to retreat to the curb, but his horse broke into a gallop.

“Whoa!”

Everything blurred. The woman screamed. Metal rattled and plunked. The horse whinnied. Jacob kept yelling
whoa
.

Finally the rig stopped some thirty feet down the road. Complete silence filled the air. Had the horse trampled her? It’d all happened too quickly for him to be sure.

He jumped down and saw the woman sprawled flat on the asphalt, faceup. What appeared to be old doorknobs, handles, and rusty hinges were in disarray around her.

He ran to her.
“Bischtdu allrecht?”

“Ya.” She grimaced and blinked. “
Ich bin ganz gut
.”

He doubted that she was quite good, as she’d said. But Jacob recognized her. She was the woman who’d come to the construction site four months ago. What was her name? His cell phone buzzed again. “Just stay still. Did the horse trample you?”

“I don’t think so.” She inhaled deeply, frowning. “I think its shoulder knocked me out of the way and the breath from my lungs. I just need a minute.” She placed her hands on her stomach and drummed her fingers. Within seconds her brows knit. “Jacob?”

For four months he’d been glad they weren’t in the same church district and relieved they hadn’t bumped into each other, in part because he’d been rather abrupt with her and extremely rude to his uncle in front of her. But most of all he did not want to have to turn down her salvaged goods again. And now he’d run over her. “Ya, it’s me.” Should he assist her in getting up,
or should he keep her right here in the road while he waited for help? “I’m going to call for an ambulance.”

“Why? So they can help you and the police finish the job?” Her whispery laugh surprised him, and then she gasped as if in pain.

His phone buzzed again. The third call in the last five minutes. He’d like to see who was repeatedly phoning him, but it was probably Sandra having a meltdown for one reason or another. Helping her wasn’t much fun, but he had no rocks to throw. What was it like for her to deal with bipolar disorder while being a single parent? “Are you hurt?”

She sat upright. “Only my knee, and it was injured before this.”

Jacob remained kneeling beside her. What
was
her name?

She stood up, wobbling a bit, but Jacob didn’t offer her a hand. Married women didn’t take any man’s hand except their husband’s.

“She girdeth her loins with strength … She has no fear.”

“What?”

“That passage was going through my head when you ran over me with your horse.” She shook the dirt off her skirt, standing a little straighter. “Of course the next thing that went through my head was ‘Grandma got run over by a reindeer.’ ”

Did she have a concussion? Why else would she crack jokes? He stayed right beside her as she moved like a snail toward the curb. “How bad do you hurt?”

“About as bad as getting hit by a horse while crossing a street.” She paused, looking up at him. “Really? None of my quips even get a smile?”

If his sense of humor hadn’t died, it was on life support.

She continued walking. “Apparently you don’t understand that being run over is probably the most entertaining event to happen to me in a while.”

If she was trying to help him feel better about the incident, it was working.

“I’m Esther Beachy.” She sat on the curb, rubbing her knee. “We met a few months back.”

“Ya, you had salvaged goods.”

She nodded. “Speaking of, while I wait for my head to stop spinning and my knee to feel better, would you mind getting my things?”

“Oh. Sure.” He grabbed the wooden crate she’d dropped and gathered the old doorknobs and hardware from the asphalt. Once he had the items in the crate, he set it in the gutter beside her feet and sat next to her. She ran her hands over the items, but despite her sense of humor, she was trembling.