The Englisher (20 page)

Annie nodded sympathetically, feeling awkward at Esther’s too-familiar remarks about God. ‘‘Would you want me to say something to Daed? Have him break the news of his mother’s death to Zeke?’’

‘‘Jah, in fact, Julia says your father’s takin’ Zeke to the mud sale tomorrow. Maybe Preacher Jesse’s the best one to tell Zeke. But it’s in the dear Lord’s hands, that’s for sure.’’

Annie rose and kissed the sleeping baby’s forehead, then touched Esther’s back lightly. ‘‘Take good care, Essie.’’

‘‘You do the same.’’

Moving slowly toward the door of her old sanctuary, Annie turned and looked back at her friend with her darling baby. She stood in the doorway a moment longer, her old yearnings building with each breath as she allowed her eyes to take in every inch of her former art studio.

I miss this place!

She let her gaze linger in the far corner, and something welled up in her as she spotted her framed painting all wrapped in brown paper, part of her secret still secure.

‘‘ ’Bye, for now,’’ she said, turning to leave.

Louisa made good use of her time while Annie did her regular Friday work routine at Julia’s. Making herself scarce in a private corner of the sunroom area, adjoining the kitchen, she plugged in her laptop and began catching up on email. First her art students with more than a few questions, then other friends who continually bugged her about ‘‘coming back to civilization,’’ and one lone message from her mother, who urged her to ‘‘come home for Easter, won’t you, dear?’’

Cringing, she felt as if she could actually hear her mother’s voice.

I still haven’t been gone long enough.

Caught up on her email, she sat and stared out the window at the snow-covered yard and trees, wondering if she dare contact Trey. Her response to his repeated overtures was definitely overdue, so when she checked to see if he was online, she was relieved that he was. ‘‘Better this way than by phone,’’ she whispered.

Louisa knew now that continuing their relationship was pointless. Not only had she begun to feel differently about Trey and his interest in her, she was in the process of reformatting her view of the world, her life in particular.

Clicking on his screen name in her IM buddy address book, she got the conversation going.

Hey!

Hey back!

I’ve been thinking. . . .

Yikes! That’s scary, Louisa.

I’m serious. I can’t meet you either here or in London
.

She waited a full minute before she saw the indication that he was writing a response. She leaned forward to read it:

Come on, girl, you know you want to.

I thought I made that clear on the phone last time.

Well, reconsider.

Don’t be mad. Just please understand
.

She felt stronger than ever. This was the right thing . . . letting him know once and for all.

Trey again:

You’re kidding, right?

No.

I want to see you again. I can change your mind. . . .

No. Gotta go.

Wait . . . got power where you are? I’ll call your cell
.

She had power all right. She’d recharged again here at Julia’s and was using her Palm to connect her laptop to the Internet. But she didn’t want to hear Trey’s voice. Was this Sam’s influence? Had she fallen for him like Annie said? No, she merely looked up to Sam . . . and looked down on her past. There was no questioning her resolve where Trey was concerned. He was not in the landscape of her future.

Don’t call me. Bye!
She typed it quickly and signed off.

All guys aren’t like this
. She thought of Sam again, hoping she was right. Yet how could she possibly know? She knew one thing: she was weary of the modern dating scene. The Plain culture had it right. You courted. You married, settled down . . . had a bunch of kids.

Whoa, Mamma, am I losing it or what?

The realization that she had just slammed the door on her first romantic interest overwhelmed her. And, of course, there was no going back to Michael. She was guy-less for the first time in years.
At least, not a man out in the real
world
. . . .

Suddenly sad, she heard Julia’s voice. ‘‘Louisa, are you in there?’’

‘‘Uh-huh,’’ she managed to say, through her sudden tears.

Julia appeared, looking prim as always, her long-sleeved white blouse open slightly at the neck, and her navy blue corduroy jumper brushing her legs at midcalf. ‘‘Aw, Louisa . . . what’s-a-matter?’’

She couldn’t speak now. That always happened if someone paid too much attention when she was losing it.

‘‘Well, bless your heart.’’ Julia tiptoed over and pulled up a chair.

‘‘It’s not my heart . . . just my dumb head.’’ Louisa wiped her eyes, glad for zero mascara. She sputtered, ‘‘I admit to being foolish—I’ve made some stupid mistakes. That ever happen to you?’’ She doubted she was making sense.

‘‘Oh my, yes.’’ Julia seemed to understand.

Louisa looked at her and saw the depth of compassion in her eyes. She felt as if she’d come to a fork in the road, made the turn, and refused to look back.

Julia’s only a year older than me, but much wiser. . . .

‘‘I wish I’d come to Paradise earlier . . . when I was, oh, sixteen. I might’ve spared myself many things.’’

Julia nodded. ‘‘Plenty of folk have said the same. There
is
a kind of peace here. Some want to soak it up but return home unchanged. Others attempt to box it up, only to lose it along the way. Others embrace it—not only the peace, but the Peacemaker himself.’’

‘‘Who?’’ She knew all too well whom Julia was referring to. She had heard similar statements from her deceased aunt Margaret, who talked about Christ as her ‘‘dearest friend.’’

Julia tilted her head, a glow of a smile on her face.

‘‘Well, some call Him the Light of the World, others call Him Redeemer and Friend.’’

‘‘No more
male
friends would be great,’’ Louisa said. She didn’t consider Sam just any male, of course. He was the cliche
d special person. One of the most important to her at the present time, aside from Annie.

‘‘You’ve been hurt,’’ Julia said, extending a hand.

‘‘More than once. . . .’’ She sighed. ‘‘I’ve been wanting to talk to you about God and . . . just stuff.’’

‘‘Well, I’m here . . . whenever.’’

The house seemed unusually quiet for as many young children as were present, though Annie and Esther were no doubt keeping them occupied.

‘‘What about right now?’’ asked Louisa.

Julia folded her hands. ‘‘Sure,’’ she said softly.

‘‘So . . . let’s see. How do I start?’’

The room was still. ‘‘Just speak your heart’’ came the gentle words.

Even though Louisa had been waiting for this moment, she felt nearly tongue-tied, so many thoughts swirled through her head. ‘‘To begin with, what’s your take on faith exactly? How does it start . . . and where does it lead?’’

Julia straightened in her chair. ‘‘I can tell you what I’ve learned . . . what I know in the deep of my heart. Faith is trusting in a person.’’ Julia stopped a moment. ‘‘Take, for instance, when my little girl wants to jump off the back step and into Irvin’s arms. She knows instinctively that he will catch her. There is no hesitation in her mind. But she has to make the jump . . . take the first step in making that happen, I suppose you might say.’’

‘‘So faith depends partly on you . . . not just God?’’

‘‘Yes, Louisa. Faith is a divine gift, but it is also based on evidence.’’

‘‘Found in books like the Bible, right?’’ Louisa recalled Aunt Margaret’s comments on this.

‘‘I’d say the Bible is the best source.’’

She wished she might have been more exposed to religion while growing up. Margaret’s belief system and life was such a shadowy memory. ‘‘Do you think there is any correlation between faith and love?’’

Julia turned at the sound of her children coming into the room. ‘‘Why, sure,’’ she said, pausing to give her attention to Molly, who was pointing to an ‘‘owie’’ on her thumb. She scooped the two-year-old into her arms and carried her back to where she had been sitting. ‘‘Simply put, faith is trust in a person, and love is a plan of action. It may be described as a feeling, a commitment . . . a decision. But in the end, it’s a person you belong to . . . a person you are devoted to, through thick and thin.’’

‘‘So love and faith are similar?’’

Julia kissed Molly’s hand. ‘‘The power behind creation is really very personal. You are aware of this, Louisa, being an artist. God’s power and His infinite love go hand in hand. We matter to Him. Our lives have meaning. I’ve chosen to live in recognition of this amazing power . . . this love.’’

‘‘You make it seem so clear,’’ Louisa said. Just then Esther’s two boys burst into the sunroom accompanied by Annie.

Louisa was careful not to signal to Annie that she’d bared a corner of her soul to Julia. But it was past time to open up about Sam Glick with Annie. They’d lost some closeness lately, and Louisa missed it.

‘‘Time to wash hands for lunch,’’ Julia told the children. She turned to Louisa momentarily, offering an encouraging smile as if to say,
we’ll continue another time
.

Louisa nodded back, to let Julia know she understood. She watched her carry Molly to the kitchen. Julia’s confidence was more than appealing.

What would it take to live like that?

It was not easy for Annie to approach her father with the news of Mary Hochstetler’s death, not since her derogatory remarks about his treatment of Yonie. But Daed surprised her by verifying that Mary Hochstetler had died of a brain aneurysm, slipping into unconsciousness instantly. ‘‘We can be glad she suffered very little, if at all.’’

‘‘How’d you hear?’’

‘‘Your grandmother received word from a grandniece in Canada, is what she said.’’

No wonder Mammi wasn’t well enough to attend the quilting.
She loved Mary Hochstetler so. . . .

‘‘Mary was on the young side, ain’t?’’

‘‘Early forties, if I recall. Too young to be dyin’, I’d say.’’

Annie sighed. ‘‘I saw Essie—Esther, I mean. She hadn’t heard and doubted Zeke had, either.’’

‘‘Well, I’m sure he knows by now,’’ Daed said.

‘‘One would think so . . . but if he doesn’t, will ya break it to him?’’ She wondered how she would feel if Mamm were to pass on at her present age. She would sorrow for her, no question on that, and she’d feel cheated out of the years ahead.
Just as Zeke will . . . and has
.

Daed’s jaw was rigid. ‘‘Zeke’ll be beside himself. Could push him over the edge.’’

‘‘I think Esther fears as much.’’

Daed rubbed his pointer finger under his nose. When he did speak, his words were sharp. ‘‘Why on earth can’t Esther break this news to Zeke herself?’’

Annie wouldn’t say. It was perfectly clear why not. Fact was, Esther and the children were out of harm’s way at Irvin Ranck’s—best not to have Esther interacting with Zeke just yet. The bigger question loomed: Would Mary’s death soften or further harden Zeke?

Annie made a stronger determination to protect her dear friend.
If need be . . .

Chapter 17

A
ll Zeke seemed interested in talking about on the way to the mud sale was his growing-up years in Honey Brook. He pointed out the street where he’d once walked to a corner store to run errands for his mother, even asking their driver to take them past the small brick house where he’d lived with his parents till he was courting age. ‘‘Till Esther came into the picture.’’

Zeke said this so halfheartedly, Jesse turned to look at him.
He’s not too fond of his wife
.

‘‘I’ve often wondered why your parents just up and left,’’ Jesse said much later, as they made their way across the grounds at the firehouse.

‘‘Honestly, I think they were opposed to Esther. And Dat wasn’t happy I’d taken up with the Paradise church district.’’ Zeke twitched his nose. ‘‘I never knew why, not for certain.’’

Jesse figured as much, although he’d never breathed it to a soul. He wondered how long before Zeke might say something about his mother’s death—if he knew at all, which seemed unlikely. He didn’t want to spoil the day by telling Zeke too early.
Then again, if I tell him late, the poor man
might not sleep tonight
.