The Harvest of Grace (21 page)

A rig pulled into the driveway and headed for the barn. Her Daed was home. She couldn’t wait to tell him about her job interview. She wished she and Grey could talk, but she’d write him later tonight.

“Lena?”

Nicky bolted from her bed in the corner of the kitchen, wagging her tail as she went to greet Daed.

“In the kitchen.”

She put a thick towel over her cast and grabbed a hot pad with her other hand, then opened the oven door. She pulled out the casserole dish and, by balancing it on her towel-covered arm, moved it to the top of the stove. “Daed, where have you been?” She dumped a loaf of freshly baked bread out of its pan.

The familiar screech of Daed’s turning on water in the mud sink near the back door echoed through their home. She wondered how long she’d live in Grey’s home before it carried any of the wonderful sentiments that this one did.

“I had an errand to run,” Daed answered.

“Well, I have good news, and you weren’t here to share it with.” She spoke loudly while setting the chicken spaghetti on a hot plate on the table. “You won’t believe this.” After grabbing two goblets containing his favorite gelatin salad out of the refrigerator, she turned.

“Try me.” Grey’s voice caused joy to skitter through her.

She broke into laughter. “Benjamin Graber! What are you doing here?”

“Your Daed came and got me. Seems he intends for me to do the work I didn’t get done last Friday.”

Her Daed entered the room, grinning. “It is perfectly respectable for me to be seen bringing him here to do some work. We can’t get away with it often, mind you.”

She wrapped her uninjured arm around her Daed’s neck. “You’re the best.”

He didn’t make a retort of any kind, which wasn’t normal. When she pulled away, he looked sad in spite of his smile. “I don’t know why I encourage this relationship. I can’t imagine what it will be like once you’ve moved out.” Behind his jesting, there was a flicker of raw pain she hadn’t seen since her mother had passed away.

She hugged him again, but words failed her.

A little unsure whether to embrace Grey in front of her Daed, she motioned for him to take a seat.

Grey removed his hat. “You have a new cast.”

“I do.” She held it up. “It’s called a short cast, and it’s definitely more comfortable than the last one.” She wiggled her fingers. “But my hand tingles.”

“What’d the doctor say?” Grey asked.

“It’s normal, and he gave me instructions for new exercises that will strengthen my shoulder. He’d like me to start walking without the medical boot for a few minutes each day and work up to a couple of hours, but never if it causes pain.”

“Everything is healing as it should?” Her Daed studied her, as if trying to be sure she was telling them the whole truth.

“Ya. I have to keep going back for routine checkups, but he thinks I’ll be out of my cast and boot by the end of the summer.”

“I know you’re tired of seeing the doc so often, but it makes the two of us feel better.” Grey winked and moved toward the stove. “Can I help?”

“Slice the bread for me, would you?” She poured them each a glass of icy water.

After everything was on the table, she and her Daed put their hands on the table. Grey seemed unaware they were waiting on him to do the same.

“We hold hands during prayer,” Lena said. “That is, unless Daed has frustrated me to the point that I won’t hold his hand.”

“A word to the wise,” Daed said with mock sincerity. “Don’t come home for dinner when she gets that way.”

Grey chuckled and enfolded her hand in his, and she didn’t want the silent prayer to end. Little in this world seemed as perfect as praying with Grey, but it lasted only a minute before Daed shifted, ending the prayer time.

“What’s your good news?” Daed scooped chicken spaghetti onto his plate.

“I have a new job.”

Mild alarm took over Daed’s expression. “Without talking to Grey?”

“As you know, it’s extremely difficult to talk to him.”

“Ya, but, Lena, you could have written to him and waited for an answer. I know you’ve been raised without a mother most of your life, but not even to communicate with him about it is unheard of.”

She studied Grey. “Do you mind?”

“Not at all. I trust your judgment.”

Her Daed got up from the table and looked for something in the refrigerator. “Still, Lena, right is right.”

“Israel.” Grey held up the bowl of freshly grated Parmesan.

Her Daed returned to the table and took it from Grey’s hand.

Grey wiped his mouth on a napkin. “You seem concerned that Lennie was raised with just a father. Maybe you’re afraid she’s too independent and more set in her ways than your other daughters were because she’s several years older than they were when they married. I like her the way she is, Israel. She won’t be a perfect wife. And I won’t be a perfect husband. I don’t want perfect.”

Lena knew what he did want: friendship—the deep, mysterious kind that only happened between a man and woman who loved enough to marry.

Daed cleared his throat. “I guess I was out of line. I suppose that means I’m not perfect either.”

“You’re close enough for me,” Lena said. “And Ada too, I think.”

One corner of her Daed’s mouth lifted, revealing his pleasure in what she’d said. “So tell us about this new job of yours.”

“I found an ad in the newspaper from an Englischer woman who teaches her children at home. I went to see her. She’s expecting her seventh child this fall and would like help with both teaching her children and running her house. We’ll take turns. One of us will teach while the other tends to the littler ones and meals.”

“You like this idea?” Daed asked.

“It’s perfect for me. I can teach and hold babies, and my hours will be really flexible. She will pay me almost as well as my position at our Amish school did. And I can continue helping her throughout this year even
if
I were to marry.” She didn’t like using
if
, but any talk of marriage with someone other than Grey was improper at this point.

“It sounds like a good fit for you.” Grey said the supportive words, but was that concern she saw in his eyes?

They discussed the weather and how business was going at the cabinetry shop. When the sunlight waned, Lena lit a kerosene lantern.

Grey got up and began clearing the table. “We need to talk, Lennie.”

Her Daed stood. “I’ll leave you two to chat.” He clicked his tongue, and Nicky hurried toward the door. “I’ll be in the shop whenever you’re ready to discuss the cabinets I need built.” Her father’s footsteps faded, and soon the screen door slammed shut behind him.

“He’s struggling with the idea of letting you go.”

“I know. It’s weird. One can never tell how a person will feel when faced with new circumstances.”

“Speaking of facing new situations, I … we …”

She waited, but he didn’t continue. Instead, he set a pile of dishes in the sink. She’d seen him this way a few times since they’d fallen in love but never before that. They’d been friends forever, but when it came to the intimate side of sharing, he struggled to talk to her.

“What’s the topic?” she asked.

“Us.”

“That’s my favorite subject.”

He folded his arms and leaned against the sink, facing her. “It won’t be tonight.”

“I doubt that. So what’s up?”

He stared at the floor, and she could feel the war going on inside him.

“Grey,” she whispered as she moved directly in front of him. Hope for their future danced inside her. She placed her hands on his face, drew him close, and kissed him. “Tell me what’s bothering you.” She caressed his beard. “Whatever it is, I care about you more than
it.
”

His silvery blue eyes bore into hers as if looking for the strength to tell her. He took her hands into his. “Remember when I told you last month that my marriage was troubled and that Elsie and I had taken a few steps toward a second chance right before she died?”

She nodded.

“One of those steps involved medical tests. See, it’s possible that.” He stopped again.

When she realized how burdened he was, she led him out the back door and sat on the steps. This had been their place to talk years ago. “When I was a young teen, we talked for hours. You were my confidant. I was so smitten with you I couldn’t stand it.”

He sat beside her and propped his forearms on his legs. “Lennie.”

She looped her uninjured arm through his and laid her head on his shoulder. “Whatever it is, we’ll deal with it. Now, take a deep breath and spit it out.”

He jerked air into his lungs. “There might be something wrong with my DNA. It may not be possible for me to have healthy children.”

Fear jolted her body, but she held on to his arm and didn’t lift her head. The desire for children had always been a part of who she was. Her need to nurture children was why she had become a teacher. She had a list of children’s names in her hope chest. Silently she cried out to God.

He’d told her that his marriage had been difficult. He hadn’t wanted to betray Elsie by telling others about their struggles, but he also didn’t want any secrets to come between Lennie and him. Apparently he’d held on to this one.

“I had tests run last fall, ones that would confirm if there are certain hereditary issues.”

“What did the results show?”

“I don’t know. I burned them.”

She fought to keep her voice from faltering. “Why?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“So we don’t know
if
there’s a problem.” Tears threatened, not just for herself, but for the heaviness Grey had been carrying. This gentle, loving man lived inside a prison. “But the doctor will have a copy of the results. After you contact him and learn the truth, we can go from there.”

“It sounds easy enough, doesn’t it?”

The grief in his voice pressed in on her until she finally understood. Learning the truth had a finality to it that he didn’t want to embrace. He’d ignored and repressed his concerns until he no longer had the strength to do so.

“Grey, we can work through anything. Where is your faith?”

He removed his arm from hers and interlaced his fingers. Staring into the distance, he said nothing for several minutes. “You don’t understand. You’re young and full of ideals about what marriage will be. But I can tell you, the inability to have children has the power to destroy us.”

“No it doesn’t. I’ll never, ever regret falling in love with you.”

“You’re starry-eyed and in love.” His shoulders slumped. “But time could change that. You were lugging around baby dolls before you could walk—and every year after that until you turned thirteen and started baby-sitting. It’s a part of your makeup.”

Sitting up straight, she gazed into his eyes. “You can’t honestly believe that if the tests come back with disappointing results, it’s the beginning of the end of us.”

“I didn’t know that’s what all my reservations boiled down to until this moment. Either I lose you now or years from now.”

She knelt on the step below him. “How can you talk to me as if we’re doomed because we may have serious problems to face? Life dishes out what only God can get us through.” As the words poured forth, she knew it was more than just her speaking. She felt His Spirit moving in her. “About two months ago we were standing on opposite sides of the creek where the bridge is now. We hadn’t talked for weeks because I wasn’t sure you really loved me. Remember?”

He traced the birthmark across her cheek and down her neck. “I’d been bearing my soul through letters, and finally you came to look me in the eyes.”

“While we talked, I saw an image in my mind’s eye. I believe God Himself was showing me how you really felt, encouraging me to accept as truth what you’d said and written to me. To finally believe that you loved me.”

The gentleness in his eyes warmed her. “What did you see in that vision?”

“Us. Married and in your bedroom. Moonlight painted the room with a silvery glow. You were leaning against pillows, and I was lying across the foot of the bed while we talked. We were so happy, and in that snapshot I felt what could never be seen with the human eye or understood by logic—the magnitude of our friendship. It was rich and deep and beautiful.” Even now she could feel the power she’d experienced when she saw that image. “Only you or I have the power to take that from us, Grey.”

He held her hand, stroking it but saying nothing. The summer evening sounds of crickets, June bugs, and frogs surrounded them.

She hurt for all he’d been through and his worry over their future. “I will grieve for a season if we can’t have children. But my dreams will break for all time if I can’t have you.”

“It’s not that we can’t have children. It’s that we mustn’t. If the DNA tests confirm there’s a problem, we could conceive child after child with severe handicaps.”

Heat prickled her skin at the image, and she thought of Ivan, who’d been born missing part of one arm. Ivan was quiet like his Mamm had been, but having tested him last year as a forerunner to starting school this fall, she knew he was brighter and more of a problem solver than most.

“Earlier tonight you said you didn’t want us to be perfect. But you want perfect children?” she asked.

“Not perfect, but at least with a fighting chance to be whole.”

“Special children are a blessing, and I trust God with those things. Always have. And once we’re married, you’ll be by my side too, protecting, strengthening.”

“Lennie, full-term babies die with the kind of issues we’re talking about. I can’t protect you from the brokenness that will take place.”

She remembered his and Elsie’s grief-stricken faces when they buried their stillborn son. “Grey, you’ve been through so much in the last six years. Has it caused you to forget how to trust God?”

He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it. “I should have seen this before, but it’s clear now that it’s not God’s ways or this fallen planet that I’m afraid of.” He caressed her hand. “It’s losing you.”

“Think about who I am. Is that really possible?”

An unsure smile slowly grew more confident. “Are you saying it’s not?”