The Guardian (22 page)

D
an Zook and his boys showed up later than planned Saturday, well after three o’clock. Maryanna fidgeted at the tight timeframe, even though she was fine about helping out as she’d promised. Telling Sarah to stay inside, she hurried outdoors and made it clear to Dan how imperative it was for him to return
before
suppertime. The last thing she wanted was for him to drive up when Joshua arrived for their date.

“That won’t be a problem,” Dan assured her, smiling with his light brown eyes and thanking her as he headed back to the horse and wagon. She couldn’t help noticing his teenagers, lean Daniel and shy Willie, sitting in the spring wagon with their straw hats pushed forward on their heads, grinning at her.

Well, for goodness’ sake!

Dan’s younger sons, Yonnie, Jonathan, and Sam, hurried to the barn to find Benny and Tobias. Maryanna watched them go, glad to provide a bit of care for these poor, motherless boys.

Shrieks of laughter commenced once Yonnie pushed open the barn door and his younger brothers followed him in.
Benny’ll assign them chores right quick,
she thought as she headed back to the house, eager to get out of the heat.

On the way she saw Leda still weeding one side of the vegetable garden, thankful for such a willing worker. She recalled her own father joking that he’d planted weeds just for his children to pull, so they’d learn to work hard. Working and obeying were the hallmark of her upbringing, and she hoped and prayed she, too, was as successful with her children.

Maryanna stepped indoors. There, in the middle of the kitchen floor, sat little Sarah in a puddle of tears, cradling her doll and whispering to it. Maryanna held back, observing. It was still baffling to think how in the space of such a short time, she’d bonded so thoroughly with the Englischer. Was that attachment inspired by the Lord God, perhaps? Sighing, Maryanna honestly did not know.

She scuffed her bare feet against the spot on the floor where the linoleum had worn thin as she entered the kitchen, going to the pantry for a box of baby pearls to make tapioca. “It’s awful hot for baking cookies,” she said, glancing down at Sarah, “but I thought we might make some pudding while Leda’s in the garden.”

This brought a look of glee, and Sarah dried her eyes on the hem of her little black apron. Then, getting up, she pushed a chair over to the counter and climbed up, still holding the doll.

“Mamma’s little helper,” Maryanna said, and Sarah slowly nodded her head. “But I daresay you’re much too sad today.”

“Jodi’s not comin’ back, is she?”

“Well now, darling, we don’t know that.” But Maryanna wondered the same herself, what with the week passing and no sign of her.

“I remember the house, Mamma. The one where she’s staying.” The words were forlorn. “I do.”

“I s’pose so.”

Little Sarah nodded emphatically. And Maryanna worried
she might press the issue and want to go out in the carriage and ride all over Lancaster County looking for an Englischer’s house in hopes of locating Jodi.

She handed the measuring spoons to Sarah. If only her sweetheart might forget about the fancy woman, at least while they worked to make the dessert. “Let’s sing now.” Maryanna started the favorite song. “
‘Wo ist Jesus, mein Verlangen, mein geliebter Herr und Freund?’
”

Sarah joined in and sang a little off pitch, but that didn’t matter.

“All right, now the same part in English. Listen to Mamma.”

Little Sarah nodded, her face still gloomy as Maryanna sang, “‘Where is Jesus, whom I long for, my beloved Lord and friend?’”

They sang the hymn in German, and soon little Sarah’s face began to brighten. Maryanna knew firsthand that singing while working had a way of cheering the soul and wanted to pass that joy on to each of her children.

“After we make the pudding, we’ll have some nice cold watermelon,” Maryanna said when they’d sung the song twice through.

Sarah blinked her eyes. “Can we eat our watermelon outside?”

“That’s a very
gut
idea.” She leaned down and kissed Sarah’s cheek. “And we’ll see who can spit their seeds the farthest.” Maryanna laughed, knowing this would please the other children, as well.

A new online posting for a part-time art teacher in Trent’s very school district popped up on Saturday morning. Jodi would have laughed it off if she weren’t so desperate to get another teaching job, but for a moment, she actually considered it.

I’m not qualified.

Jodi rose and checked Gigi’s food dish, then decided to dust and vacuum to clear her head. Should she call her dad and talk things over?

Plugging in the hose for the central vac, she saw Gigi run for cover, squeezing her fluffy body under the low antique sofa table at the end of the living room. She could hardly blame the cat. Loud noises—and lately life itself—had a tendency to make
her
want to run and hide, too.

When her cell phone vibrated, Jodi fished in her jeans pocket and saw a new message from Karen’s husband, Devin. With no siblings and only Jodi as a sister-in-law, he usually copied Jodi and her parents when he sent out email updates to his parents and a few close friends. So what was this?

Thought you’d like to know, sis,
he’d typed.
Karen’s headstone is engraved and set in place now. Next time you’re in town, we can go to the cemetery together … if you’d like to.

Jodi trembled—she hadn’t even managed to attend Karen’s burial service after the funeral. Why would Devin think she’d want to actually see the gravestone?

Later, when the vacuuming was done, she put away the hose and its attachments in the hallway utility room, thinking the place looked better, despite the fact there was no real need to clean this much in the first place. Maybe a little cat hair, but the effort was more about her need to focus on something other than her life.

Letting Devin’s text simply float, Jodi decided to call her dad, needing a new distraction and feeling bad about not checking in more often. She also needed to give him an answer, as it wasn’t fair to keep him guessing.

While she was talking with him, she noticed a book on the shelf in the living room titled
The Amish Way,
and pulling it
out without knowing why, set it aside. She felt tugged back to Hickory Hollow.

“I can’t hold the position much longer,” her dad said, sounding uptight and unlike himself. “You interested or not?”

“I understand, Dad.” Sighing, she was at a loss for words. Besides, it might come across as a slap in the face for her to turn down a sure thing. “I just can’t decide,” she fibbed.

“You’d be foolish to turn it down, honey.”

“I know.” She held her breath. “But I need to.”

There was a horrid, awful pause; then he said, “Well, how’s everything going there?” Was he ignoring her decision?

She pressed onward. “I met some Amish people recently … even jogged with a few of them.”

“Trent mentioned that, yes.”

He talks to my parents more than I do,
she thought. Any other time she would’ve found this to be rather sweet, but on the heels of Trent’s difficult visit, she kept her thoughts to herself.

“You guys doing okay? Trent said he’d been by to see you.”

She didn’t like what she was hearing. “It was a short visit,” Jodi said, grimacing. Surely, he hadn’t unloaded on Dad!

“We’re praying for you, Jodi.”

She really didn’t know what to say. “Tell Mom hi for me.” That was the best she could do.

“We love you, Jodi … and Trent, too.”

And if you don’t pull yourself together, you’re going to mess up a good thing—is this what he’s saying?

She scratched her head literally and figuratively, scanning the flyleaf of the Amish book and wondering if she’d made a mistake by calling. “I love you, too, Dad. We’ll talk soon.”

“Sorry the job isn’t going to work out.” His voice was stronger now. “Nice to hear your voice, honey.”

“You, too, Dad. Good-bye.” She hung up, not sure what to think.

Opening the book to the table of contents, she scanned the four parts, her interest piqued by the third section: “The Amish Way in Everyday Life” and the chapters on children and family.

Dare I read this?

Joshua Peachey had only savored such a fine, tasty meal a handful of times in his life. Ida Fisher had seen to it that he was exceptionally well fed at her table, which was laid with china and good silverware.

When he’d first arrived, Ida made complimentary statements about how nice things looked at his place for last Sunday’s Preaching service, including his
“pretty flower bed.”
She’d even noted how well-groomed Buster always was, and did not bring up the sermon-stopping chaos his parrot and cat had caused. By all signs he was certain she was as lonely for companionship as he. And a bit too eager to let him know, he was beginning to discover as she removed the dishes and offered a slice of fruit pie, her face aglow. She stood behind her chair waiting for him to decide, her eyes twinkling.

He was restless now and uncomfortable, too, as in that moment he not only chose the strawberry-rhubarb pie, but his mind sped back to his first impression of her immaculate house. Goodness, it appeared to be scrubbed down like she was hosting Preaching service. So Ida was a fine housekeeper, as well as an incredible cook.

“Whatever you’d like, Joshua,” she said, all smiles.

The way she said it embarrassed him.

Then he remembered his manners and thanked her for the jam she’d left at his house last weekend. “It was yours, jah?”

Ida nodded, her cheeks pink at his remark. “Ever so glad ya liked it. And there’s lots more where that came from.” She kept looking at him, eyes blinking several times, her hands resting lightly on the back of the chair.

If I didn’t know better, I’d say she’s smitten.

At last, she turned to go tend to the slicing of the pie, and his neck muscles began to relax a bit.

For pity’s sake, is that how I act around Maryanna?

If so, Joshua decided then and there to change his ways, starting right after he left here and headed for his second date of the evening. But with the wonderful-good thought of sitting next to Benuel’s lovely widow—in the relative privacy of his carriage—came pins and needles that prickled his feet. How was he ever going to suppress his affection for
her
?

M
aryanna paced in her kitchen, waiting for Dan Zook to return for his sons. She was making herself perspire needlessly when she’d taken care to enjoy a longer bath than usual first thing. Tonight would mark her first date since her courtship days with Benuel.

She paused to check on the children—Turkey Dan’s and her own. All seven youngsters were sitting in the gazebo telling stories, having worn out the game of hide-and-seek. To her amusement, Tobias was doing most of the talking.

Turkey Dan had guaranteed he’d return before suppertime. But supper dishes were already cleared, washed, and put away, thanks to Leda and even little Sarah, who’d looked surprised when Maryanna said she must run upstairs for a while, leaving them with the stack of work.

So just in case Joshua Peachey showed up before Dan, Maryanna hurried next door to speak to her mother, all the while peering down Hickory Lane, hoping it wasn’t her neighbor’s carriage she’d see first. Thankfully, thus far there was no sign of either him or Dan.

She poked her head inside her mother’s kitchen and asked,
“Would ya mind going out to sit with the children awhile?” She felt breathless.

“Where are
you
headed, all dressed up for church?” Mamm’s eyes were slits.

Maryanna paused. Should she say?

Mamm pressed. “You’re not …”

Maryanna nodded right quick. “I took your suggestion. Yours and Daed’s.”

Her mother’s face broke into a surprised smile. “Ach, well, isn’t this—”

“Jah, and that’s all I best be sayin’.” Maryanna glanced toward the gazebo. “I’d also rather the children not be told.” She didn’t reveal that a collision of male suitors was about to take place, either. “I need to leave right now, just so ya know.”

The collective laughter of youngsters came through the open back window, and Mamm gave Maryanna an inquisitive glance before looking out. “Well, I
thought
I heard more than just yours out there. I see a few of Turkey Dan’s boys. It appears you’ve got yourself in a jam, ain’t?”

Maryanna shrugged, feeling silly. “Their father promised to be prompt.” She shook her head. “Should’ve known, since he was late arriving here, too.”

Her mother’s eyes were serious. “
Gut
thing your Daed’s not here. He’d be out there greetin’ both men, welcoming them. You know how he is.”

“Well, I’m just putting my toe in, I guess, seein’ what courting might be like,” Maryanna said. “This doesn’t mean I’m ready to wed, so please don’t misunderstand.”

Mamm’s sober expression was difficult to read. Maryanna could not determine what her mother, typically an open book, was thinking.

“Best be headin’ out if you’re going,” Mamm urged. “Gott be with ya, dear.”

Maryanna hugged Mamm and thanked her.

“Anything I should say to Turkey Dan?”

“Tell him Sam spit the watermelon seeds clear to the woodshed.”

“Sorry?” Mamm’s eyebrows lifted.

“His sons had a very
gut
time here, is all.”

Mamm nodded, still eyeing her. “You never know, Maryanna, you just might enjoy yourself tonight.” Her expression softened. “Please try, jah?”

She didn’t promise. “I won’t be late.”

Mamm chuckled. “All right, then.”

Rushing back to the main house to get her shoulder bag, Maryanna smiled at the peculiar exchange just now. Her smile actually evolved to laughter as she slipped out the front door and down the driveway.

Last night, I did not dream of Benuel… .

It had been the first day in three years that Maryanna hadn’t awakened with the memory of her husband’s light cologne on her mind … or the memory of his strong arm curled around her as they slept.

“Does that mean I’m ready for this date, just maybe?” she whispered, suddenly feeling terrified.

As she hurried along a cluster of trees near the road, Maryanna was careful to conceal herself from the familiar carriage presently coming from the west. She made her way toward the
other
carriage she saw moving up Hickory Lane from the east.

“Ach, no!”

––

Joshua slowed the mare, aware of a distant carriage coming this way. Reminiscing about the exceptionally nice supper
and overly animated Ida Fisher, he felt uneasy as he held the reins. Going from one woman’s house to another on the same evening was never a smart idea. Yet there he was all the same.

Slowing even more, he was astonished to see Maryanna step out from the trees to walk briskly on this side of the road. She looked mighty nice dressed in her plum-colored dress and matching apron. The sight made his pulse pound, and he pulled to the side and stopped the horse.

Quickly, he got down and greeted her with a smile and a “Hullo, Maryanna”—but not too warmly, as he’d promised himself. “Out for a short walk?”

She nodded, an anxious look on her face, and he assumed her feelings were similar to his own.

To his pleasant surprise, Maryanna let him help her into the carriage on the left side.

When he hurried around to jump back inside, she looked much more relaxed, and it wondered him. “Busy day?”

“And hectic, too.” She kept her hands folded securely in her lap.

Joshua clicked his cheek to urge the horse forward. “Did ya have plenty of time for supper, then?”

Maryanna nodded and offered a brief smile. “Did you?”

The last thing he wanted to discuss was his meal with Ida. So he merely dipped his head to concur. Then he raised his eyes to the sky. “No rain in sight.”

“Seems so.”

He filled his lungs slowly. “Benuel used to say the Lord would send us rain when He’s
gut
and ready. That most of the time, the answers to prayer come at the eleventh hour.”

She smiled. “To teach us patience, jah?”

He nodded.

“Benuel had plenty to say ‘bout many things,” she added.

“I’m sorry … didn’t mean—”

“Nee. Not to worry,” she kindly replied.

“Benuel was the best friend I ever had,” Joshua confessed. “In every way, he was an encouragement to me.”

“And he always spoke kindly of you.”

“Suzanne said the same of you, too,” he said. “She’d hoped to be as sweet a mother as she observed you to be.”

“Well, I know she would’ve been a loving Mamma.” Then Maryanna seemed to catch herself. “Suzanne liked to spend time with my children, I remember. Did ya know she gave little Sarah a big needle once with some thread and showed her how to sew a little stitch—her very first?”

“Did she, now?” He couldn’t help but chuckle. Things were going along more than a mite better than he’d hoped. “Suzanne enjoyed sewing, too. I kept the baby blankets she pieced together … but never got them quilted.”

“You saved them?”

“It seemed the right thing to do. I missed her so… .”

“Did ya sort through her clothes with her sisters, or—”

“Tellin’ the truth, I couldn’t part with them right away,” he revealed, feeling surprisingly at ease. “Did you, with Benuel’s things?”

Maryanna shook her head. “Guess I needed to hold on to what belonged to him for a while, ya know.”

Joshua knew all too well. And when she sighed, he hoped he hadn’t caused her unnecessary pain.

“It was a full year before I could part with them,” she went on. “Never told a soul, other than Ella Mae.”

“It’s certainly no one’s business how another person grieves, or for how long.”

“Jah, Ella Mae said as much.”

“You surely struggled. I know I did when Suzanne passed
so suddenly.” He was opening his heart much too wide, and too quickly.

“The way of sorrow can be ever so thorny.”

“‘Specially with children, I would guess,” he said, thinking of her four.

Maryanna explained there were days when she would have preferred to sleep away the day, yearning for sundown. “But then when it did come, I’d stay up late, so the nights weren’t so long.”

“I feel the same way.” He directed the horse to turn at the next intersection, not paying any mind to where they were headed. Just being with Maryanna was enough … for now. “Suzanne wouldn’t have wanted me to pine so, I can tell ya. And Benuel would have felt the same ‘bout you.”

Maryanna looked surprised and she unfolded her hands and touched her neck. “I ‘spect you’re right.”

“One fall, when we were out small game hunting, he said he worried you might mourn too hard … if somethin’ ever happened to him.”

Slowly, she nodded. “We talked about it at times, too … how it would be for each of us if the other passed. Honestly, though, I’m glad it was me left with the children.”

“For their sake …”

“Jah, ‘specially for Leda and little Sarah,” she said.

A catch was in his throat, and Joshua didn’t know how to move ahead with this tender exchange. It had gone down a track all its own, delving deep into his heart. And hers, it was obvious.

“You don’t feel sorry for them, do ya?” she asked out of the blue. “That Benuel’s gone.”

“Well, sure I do. We all do.”

She looked at him with a frown. “But that’s not why ya asked me out riding.”

“No,” he was quick to say. “Truth is, I want to get to know ya, Maryanna.” He turned slightly.

She smiled so broadly, he didn’t know what to expect. “All those years, livin’ neighbors to you and Suzanne and spending time together as couples—making homemade ice cream and eating it out on the porch, the four of us—doesn’t that count? Seems to me we’ve known each other for quite a while.”

“‘Tis true,” he replied, completely surprised by her response. Did she want him to pursue her now, when before she’d given him such bleak hope? “But our spouses’ deaths have changed us in every way.”

“That’s for sure.” She sounded sad.

“What I meant is, I’d like to get to know you as Benuel’s widow, not as his wife. Do you understand?” He felt like he was holding his breath as he spoke the words. “I find you … well, beautiful, Maryanna.”

He’d never seen a flush of color look so becoming. “Oh, goodness,” she whispered.

“I certainly do.” This moment had plagued him, the thing he’d kept in his mind and heart for the past few months, letting it grow and flower. All the times he’d seen her with her youngsters, going somewhere past his house in their family carriage, or out hanging clothes with Leda and Emmie. All of it had warmed his heart toward her. But, no, he’d promised himself he mustn’t scare her off.

“Guess I should say Denki to ya, Josh.” She laughed quietly. “I mean,
Joshua.
”

“Denki back.” Now he was the one chuckling.

“You’ve always been Josh to me,” she admitted. “Ever since our school days, ya know?”

“I recall.”

“Doesn’t it fit anymore?”

She was looking at him now, and if he wasn’t mistaken, she’d somehow managed to slide closer to him.
Must’ve happened when we turned the corner,
he guessed, secretly enjoying it. “I was most definitely Josh then. I’d like to think I’ve grown up since that time, though.”

“Well, in some ways, maybe.” She actually giggled a little.

“Oh, I know what you must be thinkin’.”

She was nodding her head insistently. “I’ll give ya one hint.”

“Let’s see. Is it about something furry that lives in a cage?”

“Could just be,” she said coyly.

“Well, on that subject, I’ve thought of givin’ Shadow to Tobias, maybe. What would ya say to that?”

“I’d say no.”

“Ach, that’s mighty quick.”

“If you were payin’ attention all the years you and Suzanne came for supper, you’d know
I
don’t have indoor pets. The Lord God meant animals for the barn and the meadow.”

Joshua chuckled. “According to what Scripture verse?”

“Well, you have me there,” she said, smiling.

He felt inspired by a newfound joy. Maryanna spoke so freely and seemed downright spunky. And to think he’d vexed himself into a near stew.

She continued, “I won’t tell Tobias ‘bout your idea, though … it would break his heart.”

“Well, then, why not reconsider?”

“Change my mind about an overgrown critter in my house?” She’d stopped smiling.

“I think your son would enjoy having Shadow. Such a clean and quiet pet.”

Maryanna looked away.

“Won’t ya think about it?” he asked, hoping he wasn’t pressing too much. “For Tobias’s sake, at least?”

Now she was frowning. “I said no pets.”

“So then, I guess I’d better not ask you to marry me, is that it?”

“Not if you’ve got yourself a houseful of animals, no.”

The exhilarating atmosphere fizzled right then and there. Instantly, a dreaded silence took its place between them. Maryanna sat tense and unmoving. So she’d turned him down flat. And didn’t he deserve it, having made himself worse than a fool? How ironic that after Joshua’s earlier resolve to guard his heart, Maryanna Esh already knew he wanted her for his second wife—all within the space of this jubilant, then miserable hour.