Adah struggled to find a response. She hadn’t asked RaeAnne for any of this information. During her rumspringa, she’d had plenty of opportunity to see firsthand the life of Englisch teenagers in New Hope. She didn’t covet what they had. Okay, if she were honest with herself, she did covet, a little, some things, like the freedom to decide for herself. Not about clothes or makeup or schooling or the Friday night football game and the funny little outfits the girls wore when they jumped up and down and did cartwheels on the sidelines. She’d sat in the buggy with Matthew one night and watched it all from the parking lot. It had been fun, but it hadn’t stirred a feeling of want in her. Or need.
Her rumspringa had been…research. Peeking at another life to see if it were the right life or the better life for her. Would she be more content with that other life? No, she was content in the Plain world…for the most part. It was the music. That was what she coveted. The music. She didn’t need to know about Jackson Hart’s social life. Or lack thereof. It didn’t matter. Couldn’t be allowed to matter. “I’m sure Dani Jo is very nice, but maybe your brother spent some time with her and realized she isn’t the right one for him. It happens.”
“It sounds to me like he met somebody else.”
Adah waved the sponge in RaeAnne’s direction. “I need to finish
cleaning. I have to get home. My mother expects me to help with supper.”
RaeAnne didn’t budge. “Are you interested in Jack?”
“We don’t do that.” A true statement. But not the whole truth. “It’s not our way.”
“Do what? Hang out with boys?”
Adah’s community had been living near New Hope for three years now. Some of the folks there still didn’t have a clue about the Plain life and what it entailed. “Your brother is…he’s a nice man, but we keep to ourselves. We don’t mix with Englisch folks when it comes to”—she sought words the girl would understand—“hanging out.”
“You might want to tell Jack that.”
“Why? Did he say something to you?”
“He didn’t have to. He’s got this hangdog look on his face and he’s writing love songs about you.”
“He’s not…it’s not like that.” Or was it?
RaeAnne stood. “I know my brother. I don’t know why, but a lot of girls think his scraggly hair and five o’clock shadow and those big blue eyes make him cute. Dani Jo has had a crush on him since we were in grade school. I keep telling her he’s not worth it, but she really likes him and I don’t want to see her hurt.”
“You need to tell your brother that.”
“He goes through girls like I go through new purses.” RaeAnne’s tone bordered on disgust. “And right now, he has his eye on you.”
“Why?” Adah pointed at her apron and long skirt. “What would he see in a girl like me?”
“All I know is men have barf for brains when it comes to women.” RaeAnne brushed past Adah and slapped her hand on the doorknob. “All I can figure is Jack likes a challenge.”
She opened the door and looked back. “And girl, you would be the ultimate challenge.”
M
atthew slammed the hammer against the nail with a quick
pop, pop, pop
. He pulled another one dangling from his lip, positioned it, and pounded it in. The swing of the hammer against nail felt good. He could do this all day. Had been doing it all day. The frame of the small dawdi haus had gone up in a few hours. Helping hands made a difference. He didn’t even mind the brilliant sun broiling a spot between his shoulders or the sweat rolling down his forehead and collecting in his eyebrows. Hard work felt good. It felt clean. It smelled clean, like woodchips and sawdust. It felt a long way from the conversation he’d had with Adah he’d been playing over and over in his head for two weeks now. The arrival of the Gringriches had kept him occupied along with the start of the harvest. An off-week for services meant they didn’t see each other on Sunday either. He could’ve shone a flashlight in her window, but what for? So she could tell him she wasn’t in any hurry to spend her life with him?
He dropped the hammer, leaned back on his haunches, and lifted his hat so he could wipe away the sweat with his sleeve. The beehive of activity around him soothed him. This community could be counted on.
Unlike Adah.
“I brought you a lemonade.” A voice as light and sweet as angel food cake caused him to swivel. Elizabeth Gringrich sauntered across the
yard, a plastic yellow tumbler so filled with liquid and ice the contents sloshed over the side as she walked. She smiled and slipped an errant curl of blonde hair back under her kapp with her free hand. “You look baked.”
“Broiled more like it.” Matthew stood, took her offering, and gulped a long swallow. It was icy and sweet and sour all at the same time. Like life. He took his time, inhaling her scent of vanilla and soap, as he set the glass on a plank propped up between two sawhorses and wiped at his mouth with his sleeve. “Danki.”
Elizabeth had a bright, clean look about her that made him think of a late spring morning. All crisp and clear. A wide open smile with nothing to hide. No words milling around in her head, trying to get out. Simplicity.
He could do with some simplicity.
Elizabeth smiled. “I should be thanking you.”
For what? Opening their home? One could expect no less. Even if it meant the girls had been sleeping three to a bed and the little ones were enjoying sleeping bags and pretending to camp out every night. “No need.”
“Your family’s hospitality is much appreciated.”
“Our doors are always open to friends.”
“Anybody with eyes can see you’re crammed into the house. It’s full to the rafters.” She leaned against a stack of sheetrock as if she had all the time in the world for this conversation. “And your groossmammi and daadi aren’t even here yet.”
“It’s fine.”
“Do you always talk so much? I can barely keep up.”
He chuckled and shoved his hat over his eyes so she wouldn’t see his expression. He wasn’t a big talker and he’d been in the habit of letting Adah fill the spaces in the conversation. An occasional joke seemed all she needed to keep her chattering. The girl never lacked for words. She had stories to tell, ideas to share, thoughts she couldn’t seem to contain. It might bother some men, but he liked that about her. He couldn’t wait for the next thing that would pop out of her mouth and send him over the edge, laughing. He rubbed his fingers over the rough stucco
of the drywall to ground himself. “I’d better get busy. They’ll be here by nightfall.”
“With all this help, you’ll be
done
by nightfall.”
“Elizabeth!” The booming voice made them both turn. Enoch Gringrich strode around the corner of the frame that would be the small sitting room. Shaking his head so his thick gray beard bobbed, he held one hand up as if it pained him. “Elizabeth, run inside and tell your mudder I need tweezers. Caught a nasty splinter here.”
Without a word, Elizabeth tossed Matthew a quick, dainty smile, lifted her long skirt, and scurried toward the house. Matthew turned back to his work.
“My dochder is a hard worker.”
Surprised, Matthew paused and looked up at Enoch, who looked like a big wounded bear. He stood wringing his hand, the size of a platter, as if the splinter caused him more pain than his stoic expression would permit. “That’s
gut
.”
“She’s a good girl.”
Matthew saw no need to respond to such a statement. He’d known Elizabeth for many years, but only in small bursts as they visited back and forth. She seemed nice enough. Easy on the eyes. Uncomplicated.
“An innocent girl.”
Matthew straightened. “You’re blessed.”
Enoch sniffed. “I am. Her mudder and I pray every day that she is a good fraa to a good man.”
“Gott is good.” What more could he say? Most likely, Daed had said something to this man. Or with all the moving about, Enoch felt he’d deprived his girl of her chance to forge a special friendship with a suitable man. “His plan will provide.”
As if satisfied by the answer, Enoch swiveled and stomped toward the house.
What had that been all about? Matthew smacked another nail on the head, hammering the plank mercilessly. What had Daed told Enoch? What did Daed know?
“He knows.”
Matthew missed the nail and hit his thumb. He dropped the
hammer and danced around, shaking his hand, and found his sister bearing down on him. A regular parade of people getting in the way of his work. “Molly! You can’t be sneaking up on a man like that. Look what you made me do!”
“
Ach
, poor thing.” Molly scooted between him and the sawhorse where he’d set the glass of lemonade. She scooped a piece of ice from it and held it out. “Here.”
“That was my lemonade.” He took the ice and rubbed it on his thumb. “Aren’t you supposed to be fixing supper?”
“My hands are clean. There are twenty women in there. The kitchen is so packed, I couldn’t move.” Molly sipped his lemonade, an appreciative expression on her face. “Enoch knows.”
“What?” Matthew turned his back on his sister. “Knows what?”
“I heard Mudder and Daed talking about Enoch and Clara’s daughters. How Elizabeth is of marrying age. How she’d make a good wife for you. Daed says Enoch asked about you special. Daed told him you were having a hard row to hoe with your special friend.”
“How would he know that?” Molly’s love of stretching stories out so she could savor the effect annoyed him greatly. “Courting is private.”
“Anyone with eyes can see. I saw her at the library the other day and she was writing love songs. In English.” Molly sighed, her round face troubled. “She was nice to me and I like her, but I’m worried for you.”
“Why? I’m a big boy.”
“You’re my bruder.”
“Jah.”
“She’s far from the path. You have to see that. Daed does. Mudder does. Thomas does.”
“Did you say something to Thomas?”
“Nee. Not my place to be talking to the deacon about anything. I’m telling you—”
“Everyone should mind their own business.” Matthew picked up another piece of sheetrock and leaned it against the wood frame. “Carrying tales is a pitiful way to pass the time.”
“Nee, it’s not like that.” Molly set the lemonade on the sawhorse and slid a little closer. “You can burrow your head in the sand all you
want, but it doesn’t change the fact that Adah is on a dangerous path and it’s taking her away from you. You have to let her go. Otherwise, you’ll be lost too.”
Matthew studied his sister’s face. He’d never seen her brown eyes so worried behind her thick-rimmed glasses. She was the calm one, the one who always thought the best of people. The one who always prayed that things would turn out but was willing to accept whatever came. Even being alone when all her friends had married.
“You’re exaggerating. Everyone is.” He set the hammer down and straightened. “She’s a little lost, but she’ll come around.”
“Why isn’t she here today?”
“She’s cleaning houses, like always. She works hard.”
“You might give some thought to what else she does at those houses. And with whom.”
“If one of our sheep falters and gets lost, we have to bring her back into the fold.”
Molly’s face softened. “You’re right about that. But maybe you’re not the best person to try to do that. You should leave it to Thomas and Luke.”
“This is what a rumspringa is for.”
“I know, but sometimes what it does is lead a person to where she really wants to go. A place that might not include you.”
“I’m not giving up on her. She’ll find her way back.”
Molly’s answer was lost in a host of shouts and whoops. They both turned toward the road. A van pulled up into the yard and the doors flew open. Daed unfolded his long legs and hopped out. Groossdaadi’s somber, unsmiling face appeared behind him.
Groossdaadi had arrived. He would understand. He’d know what to do. He had a vast store of knowledge and wisdom that never failed.
Matthew laid the hammer on the sawhorse and strode toward the van. Molly flew ahead of him, arms flapping as if she might take off like a bird in sheer excitement. “You made good time,” she called out. “We didn’t expect you until supper.”
“We did. They were packed and ready to go right after breakfast.” Daed brushed past Matthew. “Give me a hand with their bags.”
“I just want to say hello real quick.”
Daed headed for the back of the van without answering. Matthew turned to his grandfather. “It’s good to see you. We’ve got the frame up and we’re started on the walls. Your
haus
will be ready in no time.”
Groossdaadi stared at him. “Who are you?”
Taken aback, Matthew wavered. “It’s me, Matthew.”
Groossmammi hopped from the van with all the agility of a young girl, ignoring the hand Molly held out for her. “I’m fine, girl, fine. No need to hover.” She gave Molly a kiss on the cheek and then stuck her hand through the crook in Groossdaadi’s arm and held on tight. “Joseph, it’s Molly and Matthew. I do believe Matthew’s grown since we saw him last year at Christmas.”
“Nee.” A wave of embarrassment rolled over Matthew. He was too old to still be growing. “It’s the new straw hat. Makes me look taller.”