At Home in Pleasant Valley (26 page)

His lips trembled, and he pressed them together for a moment. “You're s-s-saying no.”

It was kinder, surely, to make this clear. “I'm saying no. You're my bruder, William. That's how I've always seen you, and you're very dear to me.”

He was only doing this for Ezra's sake, she was sure. But still, he would be hurt by the rejection.

“D-dumb idea.” Tears welled in his eyes, and he knuckled them away like a child would.

“Not dumb. Just very kind.” She smiled at him. “I'm too old for you, William, and that's the truth. I can't take you away from the sweet girl God has planned for you.”

“N-nobody w-w-would have m-m-me.” He turned away, face sulky, his ears red with embarrassment.

“Someone will love you for the gut person you are. I promise.” She patted his hand. She felt about a hundred and two in comparison to him, and in a moment she'd start to laugh hysterically. “Why don't you go on out and give Joseph a hand before he tears down Dolly's pen?”

He jerked a nod, shoved himself to his feet, and rushed out the back door, letting it slam behind him.

She could laugh now, but somehow the impulse had left. Poor William, thinking he could make up for Ezra's death that way. Thinking that marriage to him would solve her problems.

Bless him, dear Lord. He has such a gut heart. Surely You have a girl in mind who will love him for that and will set him free to love her, too.

•   •   •

Rachel
drove her buggy down the road that led to Daniel and Leah's farm a few days later. Brownie, her mare, could probably take her there and back home again without any guidance, they'd made the trip so often.

Letting the lines lie slack in her hands, Rachel glanced down at the boxful of baby things at her feet. She'd had a gut clearing out and
packed up things that Leah might need for her little one. Smiling and sometimes tearing up a bit while she did it, for sure. It seemed incredible that lively Mary had ever been small enough to fit in those clothes.

She tilted her face up so that the sun's warm rays reached beneath the brim of the black bonnet she wore for traveling. Her daffodils grew so fast now that it seemed she could almost see them moving, and even the green spikes of the tulips stood taller each day. Spring was nearly here, and with its coming her spirits lifted.

At worship yesterday it had felt as if everyone seated on the backless benches in the Millers' barn had shared her feelings. Except, possibly, for William.

Her fingers tightened on the lines, and Brownie glanced back over her shoulder, as if to ask what was wrong. Brownie couldn't offer her any advice about the boy, but Leah could. And that was another reason for coming here today.

Brownie turned in at the lane, and in a few minutes the mare stopped at the back porch, lowering her head immediately to snatch a mouthful of grass. Leah, not even bothering with a shawl, came to the door, smiling.

“Wilkom, komm in. I'm wonderful-glad to see you today.”

Rachel slid down and pulled the box of baby clothes out. “You'll be even happier when you see what I've brought. Mary's outgrown things for the boppli.”

“Ach, how kind of you. It'll be another six weeks before I'm needing them, if the doctor is right.” She held the door to let Rachel into the spotless kitchen. “And where is Mary? You didn't bring her with you?”

“Her grossmutter wanted to spend time with her this morning.” She set the box on the table and gave Leah a hug. “That was gut, because I wanted to spend some time with you. And it's never too soon to get the swaddling clothes ready. Your little boppli might surprise you by coming early.”

Leah patted her belly, laughing. “Not a bad idea. I can barely get close enough to the stove to cook now. Sit. I have coffee ready, and I think the young ones have left some of the apple kuchen my mamm brought yesterday.”

“Sounds gut.”

Rachel settled down, nearly as comfortable in the Glick kitchen as she was in her own. Leah hadn't moved far when she married, only to the farm next to the one where she'd grown up, where her parents still lived.

While Leah busied herself at the stove, Rachel began sorting the baby things she'd brought, laying them in rows on the pine tabletop. She unfolded a gown so tiny it seemed hardly likely it would fit a baby doll, let alone Mary. Her fingertips smoothed the fine stitches her mamm had sewn into the soft fabric—smoothed and clung, reluctant to let go. Reluctant to think that Mary would be the last boppli she'd have.

Leah brought the coffee and apple kuchen, leaning over to touch a baby shawl, letting it run through her fingers. “Your mamm made this, didn't she? Maybe you'd rather keep it for—” She stopped, biting her lip. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that.”

“It's all right, Leah. Really. I'm not upset at that.”

Leah eyed her, still looking a little flushed at her mistake. “If not at that, then at something. Are you still concerned about Gideon Zook and the greenhouse?”

“No. Well, maybe a little,” she said, trying to be honest. “But I'm as sure as I can be that going ahead with it is the only choice. He's coming over later this afternoon to go over the plans with me.”

“No regrets at standing up to Isaac?”

She shook her head. “I surprised myself, I did. But Ezra never let Isaac make decisions for him. And if I once start, I don't know where it would stop.”

“You might be like William, afraid to do anything unless Isaac approves,” Leah suggested.

“William can be surprising, too.” She blew out a frustrated breath. “You wouldn't believe what he said to me the other day.”

Leah's hands paused on the tiny nightgown she was folding. “Tell me.”

“He offered to marry me, that's what.” She could feel the color come up in her cheeks at the thought of it. “Oh, it was kindly meant, I know. He thinks that with Ezra gone, I need someone to take care of me. And since he loved Ezra, I suppose he feels it's his duty. I turned him down as gently as possible, hoping he would understand.”

“Did he?”

“I thought so. But then at the Millers' yesterday for church, he wouldn't even look at me—just scuttled off every time he saw me heading his way.” She shook her head, still upset when she thought of it. “It has me downright ferhoodled, trying to see how to deal with William, and Isaac, and my folks pressing me to sell the farm and move back home with them. To say nothing of Gideon, all set on helping us whether we want it or not.”

Leah leaned across the table to clasp her hand. “It sounds as if you have too many people thinking they know what's best for you.”

“That's it exactly.” She could count on Leah to understand. “Ezra always said you couldn't hurt Isaac's feelings with a two-by-four, but William is a different story. He's so self-conscious about his stuttering, anyway. Ach, I must have handled it badly, for him to be that eager to avoid me yesterday.”

“I don't know what you could do other than make it clear to him.” Leah's tone was practical. “You certain sure don't want William walking around imagining that you're going to marry him. You're old enough to be his—”

“Don't you dare say I'm old enough to be his mamm.” She smiled, realizing she felt better about it already. “Big sister, maybe.”

“Maybe. But I think you've missed something about him. Don't you know that William is stuck on you?”

She stared at Leah as her words penetrated. “William? Me? That's silly. He only did it because of Ezra, because he thought Ezra would want him to. He doesn't—”

“He does.” Leah shook her head, lips quirking a little. “Do you really not know that?”

“No, and I don't believe it.” But the words didn't come out sounding as convinced as she expected.

“That's because you don't see his expression when he watches you, times you're not looking at him.”

She still shook her head. But if Leah was right—

“Leah, what am I going to do?” She nearly wailed the words. This was the last thing she'd expected to have to cope with. “It's impossible.”

“Why is it impossible? William is at the age of looking around for someone to love, and he sees how lovable you are.”

Her stomach twisted in protest, and she pressed one hand against her middle. “I'm not. I mean—of course Ezra loved me, but I've never thought of anyone else . . .” Her voice trailed off.

“If you haven't thought of it, you should. It'll soon be a year since Ezra passed, and folks are already thinking to match you up with someone. I bet more than one man has been looking your way, and you haven't even noticed.”

“I don't believe it. You're making that up. No one is thinking about that at all.”

Leah shook her head, green eyes dancing. “Ach, Rachel, you are ferhoodled for sure. Don't you remember how set you were on matching me up with Daniel when he came to the valley? Well, now it's your turn to feel like the target.”

She stared at Leah, sure that the consternation she felt was written on her face.

Chuckling a little, Leah started to get up. “If you could see your face right now—” She broke off with a gasp, clutching the chair, and doubled over.

“Leah!” Rachel was there in an instant, putting her arms around her friend, her heart beating a wild rhythm of love and fear as she helped her sit down again. “Are you all right? Is this happening often?”

Leah gasped a little, leaning back in the chair, her face taut with pain. “Not—not too often. That was the worst one yet. But all the books say—”

“I don't care what the books say.” Now it was her turn to be the practical one. “If you have a pain bad enough to make you turn white and double up with it, you need to talk to the doctor. Where's Daniel?”

“In the barn, I think. I'm sure I'm all right. It's just a muscle spasm.”

“Maybe so. I hope so. But Daniel had best take you to the doctor now, and I'm going to tell him so.”

Without waiting for an argument, she hurried across the kitchen and out the back door, her heart pounding in time with her feet.

Please, Lord, please. Let it be nothing at all. Let Leah and her babe be safe. Please.

A
nyway,
the doctor says that Leah and the boppli are both all right, but she has to start taking it easy, getting off her feet more every day if she doesn't want to be stuck on complete bed rest.”

Rachel's brother, Johnny, looking out of place sitting at Rachel's kitchen table in his buttoned-down shirt and khaki pants, stirred his coffee with an absent frown. “If I know Leah, she won't like that. She always has to be up and doing.”

“This time she'll do as she's told. Daniel and I made a pact to see to that.”

She had gone to the doctor's office with Leah and Daniel, knowing that her mother wouldn't mind staying with Mary, and feeling that her friend needed her support. Daniel had been as happy at her presence as Leah. There were times when only another woman would do.

“I'm glad she's going to be all right.” Johnny's voice had a strained note, and he bent his head over the tax forms she'd asked him to look at for her, as if to avoid the subject.

When Johnny had come back to Pleasant Valley a year ago to work at the medical research clinic, he'd tried to renew his friendship with Leah, the girl he'd promised to wed before he'd run off to turn English. He'd ended up imagining himself to be in love with her again, but Leah had chosen to marry Daniel.

Johnny seemed to have adjusted to that, but Rachel wasn't sure how much it bothered him. Once she'd have said that she knew her twin's every feeling, but that had been a long time ago. Now she was just happy to have a relationship with him, knowing they could never go back to what they'd been.

When Leah had first helped bring them together, they'd met once in a while on neutral territory, usually at the home of a friend who understood. Ezra, seeing how important it was to her, had encouraged her to talk the whole situation over with their bishop, Mose Yoder.

Bishop Mose, who saw those kinds of situations more and more as the years went on, had been helpful. As long as she kept to the letter of the bann, not eating at the same table with Johnny, not taking food from his hand, not riding in a car he was driving, the bishop saw no problem.

The outside world probably thought their rules silly. But the rules, the Ordnung, agreed to by every baptized member, spelled out how they remained Amish. How they lived in the world but not of the world.

Rachel's gaze lingered with affection on the dark gold of Johnny's hair as he bent over the papers. It was such a joy to be in the same room with him after all those years apart. And how much Mammi must long to see him, touch him.

For just an instant she toyed with the idea of setting up an “accidental” meeting. But that would be foolish, causing more harm, putting her mother in a position of choosing between husband and son. As long as Daadi held to his determination not to see Johnny, she could do nothing.

Johnny finally pushed the forms back and tapped the yellow pad on which he'd been figuring. He looked up at her, shaking his head a little. “Almost anyone would probably do this better than I can, Rach. I do my own taxes, sure, but a dairy farm is a different matter.” A smile flickered across his face. “Would you believe that some people think the Amish don't pay taxes, just because they rely on themselves instead of the government?”

“I hope you straighten people out if they say that to you. ‘Render unto Caesar . . .'” She didn't finish the Scripture, because Johnny would know it as well as she did.

He shrugged slightly, as if to evade answering the implied question. She didn't press him. Maybe not correcting people's misconceptions was one of the compromises he made to live English.

“Even if you can just give me a rough figure,” she said, “that will help me to plan.”

“I might be missing something important. Why don't you have Daad do it?”

“He would, for sure. But I'm trying not to depend on Daad and Mammi too much. If he knew, he'd insist on paying the taxes for me. As it is, he and Mamm are pushing me to sell the farm and move back in with them.”

Johnny turned to face her more fully, his face grave. “Nobody knows better than I do how stiff-necked Daad can be, but maybe he's right about that. How long can you keep on trying to run a dairy farm with people volunteering to help you?”

If Johnny was telling her to take Daad's advice, the tax news must be bad. She clasped her hands together. “How much do I owe?”

“I could be wrong. Probably am. Why don't I take these to a regular tax preparer for you?”

He was being kind, but his kindness just seemed to make things worse.

She took a breath, steeling herself for the worst. “I'll need to do that, I guess. But first I want to have at least an idea of what I'm getting into. I won't hold you to it, Johnny, but tell me what you think.”

His blue eyes, so like hers, darkened with concern. “Okay. It looks to me as if you're going to owe around ten thousand, give or take a thousand.”

She leaned back against the counter. “That much.”

“I'm sorry.” He pressed his fingers to his forehead, massaging, as if his head ached over giving her such bad news. “Look, I could be wrong. I might be missing some big deductions. Maybe it's not as bad as that.”

“Maybe it's worse.” She forced herself to be practical. It wouldn't do to let Johnny see how upset she was. “Don't worry. I do have money in the bank. Probably enough to make the payment.”

“And then what will you have to live on?”

“We'll manage.”

They could manage on very little, living as they did. Johnny, with his English standards, had probably forgotten that.

Still, she would find it difficult, just keeping up with the normal expenses of the farm. If she could find some additional source of income . . .

Or maybe everyone else was right. Maybe she was making things harder by clinging to the farm, not just for herself but for everyone who helped her.

“I don't make much money as a research assistant, but I can get by on a couple hundred less a month. Let me give you that much.”

Her heart was touched. But it was impossible; surely he saw that.

“I can't. Thank you for offering. It is so kind.”

He moved back, his face tightening. “You mean you won't accept it because I'm under the bann.”

“I love you for offering to help me, but I need to do this on my own.”

“Don't try to sugarcoat your answer for me, Rachel.” His tone hardened. “I'm not one of your children. You're willing to see me, but you won't take money from me no matter how much you need it.”

Johnny was getting that mulish look that meant he had his back up, and she knew only too well how that would end. As dearly as she loved him, she wasn't blind to his faults.

She took a breath, trying to be patient. “You know I love you. But keeping my covenant with the church is important. Don't ask me to do something that would cause problems for me with the other people I love.”

He shrugged, reaching for his jacket. “Some things never change, do they? I'd better get out of here before I say something I'll regret.”

It seemed to her that he already had, but she wouldn't make things worse by telling him so.

“Denke for helping with the taxes. Komm again soon.”

He gave her a quick peck on the cheek. “I'll see,” he muttered. “We're pretty busy at the clinic just now.”

Rachel watched him leave, trying not to feel upset. Johnny's attitude would be understandable if he really was English, but after eighteen years of being Amish, he ought to know better.

The truth was that he and Daadi were too much alike—both too stubborn and too proud to see beyond their own opinions.

•   •   •

Rachel
dug her hand spade deep into the moist earth, loosening the roots of the weed that was already taller than the thyme uncurling its
leaves delicately in the herb garden. This end of the bed was shady and moist, and the mint loved it here. She was eager to see how the variety of lemon thyme she'd planted last year had survived the winter.

“Weed, Mammi.”

She grabbed Mary's hand just before her daughter could uproot the tiny plant. “Not that one, Mary. See, look for ones like this.”

She showed her the weed she'd just removed, and Mary nodded solemnly, intent on doing it right. If taking pleasure in digging in the dirt was any sign, little Mary would turn into the gardener of the family.

The air was still chilly, but the sun felt warm on Rachel's back. Already the rhythmic movements and the scent of fresh-turned earth relaxed her. She might be tired and aching after her first hours in the garden, but it would be a happy tired. She glanced at Mary, smiling at her daughter's intent face as she worked away with her own little spade.

Rachel's heart warmed with the sun. This was what she'd longed for throughout the long, lonely winter. This was where healing would come for her.

I know You love gardens, Lord. I feel as close to You here as I do when we're in worship. That's not wrong, is it?

The bucket of weeds was nearly full when Mary sat back on her heels. “Look, Mammi. Onkel Isaac.”

She followed the direction her daughter pointed, and her peace fled. Sure enough, it was Isaac, walking across the field that separated their farm from his.

It was unkind to feel that his coming tore up her peace as surely as she had torn the weeds from her garden.

Forgive me, Father. Help me to be patient with him and to remember his good heart.

Even as she prayed, she couldn't help hoping that Isaac would conclude his business quickly. Gideon was supposed to stop by with the final plans for the greenhouse, and life with Isaac would go more smoothly if he were not reminded of that.

Besides, she found the whole business stressful enough, without having Isaac there looking on while she tried to arrive at some conclusion with Gideon.

She rose as Isaac approached, brushing the earth from her hands and shaking out her apron. “Wilkom, Isaac.”

“Onkel Isaac.” Mary, seldom shy, threw herself at his knees.

He caught the child, lifting her skyward, and tossed her in the air. His stern face softened into a smile at her giggles.

Warmth flooded Rachel's heart at the sight. Isaac, having only sons, had always had a soft spot for her two girls. Whenever she became exasperated at his bossiness, she should remind herself of how kind he was to her children.

“There, now, little Mary, that's enough flying for today.” He set her on her feet and patted her head gently.

“I'm afraid she'll never think it's enough.” Rachel steered her daughter back to her spade before she could demand more. “You know she loves it when you play with her.”

“Ja.” Isaac's face was soft as he watched her daughter. “She's a gut child.” He turned to her. “And how is Leah Glick? We heard she's been ailing.”

“Doing much better.” The relief she felt sounded in her voice. “I went over this morning to help a bit with the kinder and make sure she's resting.”

“Gut, gut,” he said, a bit absently. He gazed past her, toward the barn, as if his mind were elsewhere.

“Did you want to talk with me?” she nudged, mindful that Gideon could show up at any minute.

“Just wanted to check on you and the little ones.”

“That's kind of you. We're doing all right, thanks to everyone's help.”

He nodded. “I didn't want to bring this up until after you'd had some time to get used to the way things are now, but have you been giving thought to the future?”

The way things are now.
He meant her life without Ezra, but he was making an effort to be considerate.

“I think about it all the time. Making decisions, that's the difficult part.”

“Ja. Ezra always took gut care of you. It's hard, a woman on her own.”

Tension crept back along her nerves. Surely Isaac wasn't suggesting that she remarry, was he?

“I've been considering the situation. You know, Caleb's nearly nineteen now.”

Caleb, Isaac's oldest, was actually a month older than his Onkel William, a thing that wasn't so surprising when families were large and spread out in age.

“He hasn't given you much worry during his rumspringa, has he?” Some youngsters did, especially the boys, taking their freedom to extremes, but Caleb had always seemed too serious and responsible for that.

“No, no, he's too wise for that. Thing is, he's ready to take a wife.”

A suggestion that she consider marriage to Caleb, coming after William's proposal, would drive her to hysteria. “Is he?” Her voice sounded strangled.

“Ja, ja. He and Ellen Stoltzfus have decided between them, and we're agreeable, though we're not telling anyone but family yet, of course.”

She could breathe again. Really, she was being ridiculous, having such thoughts. “I'm happy for them.”

“Ja, so are we, but having five boys to get settled isn't an easy thing, you know. In the normal way of things, Caleb would take over my farm, but I'm nowhere near ready to move to the grossdaadi haus.”

He chuckled, to show that was a joke. Naturally Isaac wouldn't want to give up the reins yet.

“I'm sure Caleb is willing to wait until you're ready.” That seemed the proper answer, although she had no idea why Isaac would be talking to her about it.

“Well, and that's just what we don't want him to do. A young couple like that, just starting out, it's a gut thing to have their own place. Helps them to be steady-like, knowing what they're working toward.”

“I see.” She was beginning to, actually. “Are you talking about my farm?”

He looked a little nettled, as if he didn't care to be rushed toward the point he wanted to make, but then his face smoothed out into a determined smile.