The Harvest of Grace (19 page)

“From what little your parents told me about you, I didn’t expect you to come back.”

“Me either. But the more time I spent in prayer, the more I knew I had to do two things—come home to face everyone and be a decent son to my parents.”

“Prayer?”

“Hard to believe, isn’t it? Before I hit bottom, the only words I said to God aren’t repeatable. My parents have their faults and all.” He paused. “But they deserve better than what I’ve dished out to them.”

Cara sat down on the other side of Sylvia and lay back on the blanket. “It’s time to stretch out and enjoy the sky with the naked eye.”

Ephraim lay beside her, and soon a long line of folks were lying on the blankets, staring at the sky.

Lori squeezed between Cara and Sylvia. “Let’s sing. Sylvia, do you know any good songs?”

“I bet I know one you’re familiar with. ‘Miss Mary Mack, Mack, Mack.’ ”

Lori bolted upright and sat with her legs crossed. She held up her little hands. “You know the clapping game?”

Sylvia sat up. “I most certainly do.”

“Think you can keep the pace?” Lori bobbed her head, exuding confidence. “Mom says I’m the best!”

They sang the song and changed up the clapping game as they went along.

“Your mom’s right,” Sylvia said. “You can move at this. But can you sing it in Pennsylvania Dutch?”

“I don’t know enough of those words yet.”

Sylvia sang the Pennsylvania Dutch lyrics, and they clapped hands to the rhythm.

Cara moved closer. “Say that first line again—‘all dressed in black’—in Pennsylvania Dutch.”

Sylvia repeated it, and Cara followed suit. Then Sylvia taught her the pronunciation of the next line.

Within a few minutes Cara had the song down pat.
“All
is
all
. And
dressed
is
gegleed
. And
black
is
schwarz.”
She reached behind her, patting Ephraim on the arm. “Songs. That’s our answer to my learning the language!”

He sat up, clearly interested.

“Sylvia, do you know any English songs?” Cara asked.

“A few. Mostly Elvis songs.”

Everyone broke into laughter.

Aaron had a strange look on his face, an expression somewhere between amusement and confusion. “Elvis?”

“I owned a used iPod in my rumschpringe, so I listened to whatever songs were already on there when I bought it—until it fell to the ground during a milking and a cow stepped on it.”

“Stupid cow,” Lori said with a giggle.

“How’d you keep it charged without a computer?” Cara asked.

“The Englischer guy who picked up our milk recharged it for me.”

“Do you know any Elvis songs?” Ephraim asked Cara.

“Oh, yeah. ‘Heartbreak Hotel,’ ‘Don’t Be Cruel,’ ‘It’s Now or Never,’ ‘Jailhouse Rock.’ And you’ll love this: ‘You ain’t nothin’ but a hound dog cryin’ all the time.’ ”

He laughed. “I think I’ve heard that one somewhere.”

“Think you could teach me some more Pennsylvania Dutch words for songs I know?” Cara asked Sylvia.

“Sure. Why?”

“I have to learn the language, and I need help.”

“Oh. I’m glad to try, but when?”

“I go to Dry Lake on church Sundays for instruction class, and I meet with Esther and Alvin on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons to study Pennsylvania Dutch and German. I can easily come to your place on any of those days and other ones too, I’m sure.”

“The hay will still be drying Tuesday, so that’ll work this week. After that we’ll figure out our days week by week.”

“Ever milked a cow?” Aaron asked Cara, chuckling.

“I’m certainly willing to learn.”

“Speaking of cows …,” Aaron said. “Four o’clock in the morning comes awfully early.”

“Just one more game,” Deborah said. “It won’t take more than twenty minutes, and everybody can remain right where they are. Think about the person you walked up the mountain next to tonight, and tell the first thing you remember that person saying when you met.”

“I’ll go first,” Lena said. After a short silence she said, “I’m done, because I didn’t
walk
up the mountain with anyone.”

The laughter made Sylvia feel lighter than she had in many months. Well, that and Cara needing her. And having a pleasant conversation with Aaron. And having an evening with new friends.

“Ephraim, you’re next,” Deborah said.

“I was twelve and Cara was eight when we met. The first thing I remember saying to her is ‘Are you a boy or a girl?’ ”

Cara cackled. “That was closely followed by ‘Do you fish?’ ”

“Hey, she had on jeans and had really short hair. I was confused.”

The laughter didn’t stop.

“Cara, what’s the first thing you remember saying to Ephraim?” Deborah asked.

“Oh, man, we’re going back twenty years, but I think it was ‘You got a name?’ ”

“And the next time you saw each other?”

Ephraim chuckled. “Fast-forward twenty years, and I didn’t recognize her while trying to get her out of Levina’s old barn and off my property. I remember asking her if she was from around here. I was trying to be polite before insisting she move along. To which my lovely wife-to-be replied.” He gestured toward her with his palm upward.

“ ‘Is that the Amish version of “Haven’t we met before?” ’ You should have seen his face turn red with embarrassment and anger.”

Amid the chortles Sylvia longed to know more of their unusual story.

Deborah proceeded to ask each couple. Jonathan told of Deborah’s early days in school and some of the stunts he pulled on her. Deborah talked of the first time she began to be drawn to him.

“Aaron, what’s the first thing you said to Sylvia?”

“I don’t think that’s such a good thing to talk about.”

Sylvia scoffed. “He’s a chicken because he’s afraid to mention that the first time we saw each other, one of us wasn’t dressed.”

“Not dressed?” an echo of voices said.

“I can’t believe you just shared that,” Aaron said.

Among the hoots and claps, Sylvia stood and gestured for them to quiet down. “I was in a tub with mounds of bubbles the first time he saw me. When he went into the other room, I put on a housecoat, so I was fully covered by something at all times.”

Deborah smiled. “And what’s the first thing you said to Aaron?”

“Get out of my house!”

The group howled and clapped.

“To which Aaron said, ‘Lady, don’t throw that.’ To the best of my memory, the next thing he said was ‘Ouch!’ ”

“She threw a hammer at me!” Aaron’s eyes stayed on hers. “My poor knee hasn’t recovered yet.” He stood, mocking a fresh limp.

The roars of laughter filled Sylvia with a joy she thought had died long ago.

“You all can stay,” Aaron said, “but we have to head home. Sylvia’s usually out cold hours before now. Can we borrow a horse and rig from someone?”

Israel stood. “Not necessary. We need to call it a night too. You can ride back with us.”

Sylvia gathered the blanket, thinking that Aaron made little sense. He pushed her and insulted her—like when he complained about her putting too much fertilizer on the hayfield—but then made sure she was invited tonight, caring very much that she got a night off. And he talked about God as if he’d shared a cup of coffee with Him or something. No condemnation or gnashing of teeth, just trust and faith in Him. How did someone who’d been where he had freely talk to God? And why did Aaron care that she be a part of tonight?

S
ixteen

Aaron rubbed an oversized cotton handkerchief across his face, wiping away the sweat. The horse pulled the hay rake up and down the field. Stirring the hay wasn’t anything like cutting or baling it. He’d been in the field less than three hours, and he’d almost completed the job. He’d stir it again tomorrow. Praying the rains would stay away was a daily thing, much like asking for the strength to stay sober.

Desire for a drink pounded him. Unbridled. Unmatched. Unwanted.

Most days he could ignore wanting a drink. It was like his own shadow. It never went away, but as long as he didn’t try to outrun it or give up because it was always there, he knew he could win the battle.

Today the shadow taunted him, and he didn’t know how to free himself of it. Not one ounce of faith seemed to stir as he petitioned God for help.

“Aaron,” Sylvi called to him, yelling above the creaking and groaning of the hay rake, the swooshing of loose alfalfa, and the racket of the horses pulling the contraption.

She stood at the edge of the field with a picnic basket in hand. He brought the horses to a stop. Until this moment he’d barely caught a glimpse of her today. His Daed had helped her milk the cows this morning, and stirring hay required only one person.

By the time he unhitched the horse and walked to her, she had a blanket spread out and was unloading the basket.

“Your Mamm brought this out to me and asked if I’d find you. Your Daed’s asleep, and she doesn’t want us waking him. She’s on her way into town to get supplies.” She put a piece of oven-fried chicken on a plate. “I gave my word, so tie the horse to some shrub and come eat.”

He did as she said.

She met him with a bowl of water, soap, and a towel. He washed up, dumped the water, and followed her back to the blanket.

She paused, watching him. “You okay?”

“Just one of those days.”

“What’s that mean?”

“You wouldn’t understand. It goes with the territory of once being addicted to something.”

“I might understand more than you think.”

His interest was piqued. “Do you have a poison?”

Innocence radiated in her eyes. She had no clue what he meant.

He couldn’t help but smile. “Never mind.”

He ate while she stared at her plate.

She set the dish on the blanket. “I’m not an addict, but I’ve struggled in other ways—unable to think of anything else night or day. It drives and molds you until you slowly become someone else, someone you don’t like. But it doesn’t matter because you don’t care. In your mind you know it makes no sense to want it, but that does nothing to ease your craving.”

“Ya, exactly.” Maybe she did understand. But he wouldn’t ask her twice what tempted her.

She pinched bits of bread off her roll and ate them. “We can get top dollar for this hay, and we should be able to get three, maybe four cuttings without reseeding, right?”

“Ya, that’s right. If the weather is good all summer, not too dry or too wet.”

“Then wouldn’t we make enough money to end the threat of a lien?”

“That’d get Daed caught up on every bill with some money left over. But we can’t sell everything we plant. We have to store some hay for the winter. The acres of corn in the west field could become a cash crop too, but we have to use it to fill the silos.”

“Isn’t there any way for us to get ahead, even just once?”

Aaron wished she hadn’t asked, wished she’d make his life easier and accept defeat. She wouldn’t abandon the farm with the work that needed to be done to sell the place. He knew that. But if she could let go of hoping for the impossible, he’d feel much better about the situation. “There might be a way. But help just once would not be nearly enough.”

“It might be. What did you have in mind?”

“If Daed asked for enough hay, straw, and silage from other farmers to get him through to next spring, and if the farmers had enough to share, and if we managed to get three harvests of hay to sell—the combination of those things could give you the boost you desire.”

She pursed her lips and sighed. “That’s a lot of
if
s.”

“
If
s and farming are looped together like strands of fiber in a hand-woven basket.” The disappointment in her eyes bothered him. “I don’t want you to get hurt in this, Sylvi. You can help get the farm in proper shape to sell and stay until it sells, but you need to plan to move on when that happens.”

She stared out over the land as if willing it to meet her needs. “I know you’re telling me like it is.”

“No reason not to.”

“I don’t think anyone’s ever done that for me before. My Daed and … other men I’ve known seem to think they need to keep certain things cloaked when it comes to the big picture.”

Her openness unnerved him, making his defenses rise. “Don’t get the wrong idea. I’m not your answer to anything. And I’m not interested in helping you find answers.”

“I know that.” She said it matter-of-factly. “But you seem to be transparent with me. And I want us to be that way for each other.”

If she wanted transparency, he could pull her to her feet and lecture her on getting real about the farm. But just then he noticed someone near the edge of the woods. He stood, watching an Englischer woman with an infant on her hip draw closer.

Frani
.

When he glanced at Sylvi, her doe eyes reflected a genteel spirit of absolute resolve. She had strength, no doubt, but she couldn’t handle what was real for him.

“I need to go. Thanks for lunch.”

He turned his back on Sylvi and headed for Frani.