At Home in Pleasant Valley (4 page)

An hour later, the substantial array of food Mamm considered appropriate for a family supper was spread on the long table and the house was crowded with people—all, it seemed, talking at once. Mamm sank into her chair.

Leah, taking her place next to her, frowned slightly, her gaze on her mother's face. Even when she closed her eyes as her father began to pray, the image of her mother's face lingered.

Mamm had aged since her bout with cancer, there was no doubt about that. Her brown hair, pulled tightly back into a bun from its center part, seemed to show more gray all the time.

But it was the strained tiredness on her mother's face at the end of a long day that worried Leah. Nothing would convince Mamm that she couldn't do all the things she used to do.

When the prayer ended, Leah leaned across to murmur to her mother under the clatter of cutlery. “Don't you get up again, Mamm. If anything needs fetched for the meal, Anna and I will take care of it.” She glanced at her younger sister. “Ain't so?”

Anna's bright blue eyes registered understanding, and she nodded quickly. “Ja, that's right, Mamm. You cooked, so we'll serve and clear.”

Leah smiled. The baby of the family, at eighteen Anna could be unpredictable—sweet and happy one moment, distracted and short-tempered the next. That was natural, wasn't it? When she'd been that age, she'd probably been the same.

When she'd been that age, she'd been in love with Johnny.

She shoved that thought away again, trying to focus on her sister. She couldn't help but worry sometimes that Anna's job, working at a Mennonite bakery in town, brought too many temptations into her life.

Still, Anna was gut at heart. She'd soon settle down and turn her flightiness into falling in love with a suitable young man.

“You have some new scholars at the school, Leah, ain't so?” Barbara, her brother Levi's wife, turned from spooning a dumpling into baby Sarah's mouth to look at Leah inquiringly.

“The Glick children started today,” she said. “There are three of them—six, eight, and ten. The other children are making them welcome.”

“It's gut for all of us to do that,” her mother said. “Poor man, a widower alone with three young ones. We must do all we can for them. I've invited them to supper tomorrow night.”

Leah's heart sank. Not that her mother wouldn't be welcoming even if she didn't have two unmarried daughters in the house, but still—

“A widower with young children needs a wife. Maybe a fine opportunity for our Leah, ja?” As usual, Barbara burst out with something the others might be thinking but not be ready to say.

“I'm not looking for a husband,” she said, with no hope that would end the topic.

“Every woman is looking for a husband,” Barbara insisted. Her face beamed with such happiness that Leah couldn't find it in her heart to be annoyed, though she did sometimes wish that Levi had found himself a wife who wasn't quite so eager to run everyone else's life. Mamm's matchmaking intentions were enough to deal with.

I shouldn't think that of Barbara
. A quick prayer formed in her mind.
She is a gut soul, I know, and she makes Levi happy.

Across the table, Anna put her fork down and leaned forward to glare at Barbara around Levi's bulk. “Every woman is not like you, Barbara.”

Leah landed a gentle kick on Anna's ankle, and Anna transferred the glare to her. Anna should know by now that the best way to take their sister-in-law's pronouncements was to ignore them.

“Every woman wants a home of her own,” Barbara said, her good humor unimpaired. “You'll find that out when you're a little older, Anna.” She beamed around the table. “And now is a gut time to tell you that Levi and I will have an addition to the family, come December.”

Under cover of the flood of congratulations from Mamm and Daad and brother Mahlon, Leah exchanged glances with Anna. Another young one coming, with Sarah not out of diapers yet and the little boys only two and four.

Children were a blessing to any Amish family, but where were Levi and Barbara going to put them all in the small house they rented on the
Evansville road? She rose, pressing her cheek against Barbara's and murmuring her good wishes.

Daad cleared his throat, and everyone turned toward the head of the table. Daad exchanged glances with Mamm, and Leah saw a faint nod.

“Your mother and I have something to tell you also.” Her father's lean, weathered face was as solemn as if he were at prayer. “We feel it is time for us to move into the daadi haus and let Levi and Barbara take over the farm.”

Leah felt it like a blow to the stomach. Levi taking over the farm? Was Daad really ready for that now?

But the past two years had been hard on him, too. Though he seemed as strong as ever, his beard was completely white now, and he didn't move as fast as he used to.

She'd known it would come sometime. That was the way things were done. She just hadn't thought it would be so soon.

Still, the daadi haus, connected to the farmhouse by a covered walk, had been ready for new occupants since Grossmutter died five years ago. Levi was already doing much of the farmwork, and everyone in the community knew this was his place.

But what would the change mean for her and Anna?

Mahlon took the news happily enough, as would her brother Joseph. They were already settled in jobs, Joseph with his farm machinery repair and Mahlon as a carpentry apprentice.

Joseph and his wife, Myra, were probably thinking of starting a family soon, too, and everyone knew that Mahlon was courting the youngest Miller girl, with an eye toward a wedding in November, the traditional time for Amish weddings. Their lives would not be changed by this, but Leah's and Anna's—

“What about Leah and me?” Anna's voice rose above the chatter before Leah could administer another kick. “What are we supposed to do? Do you expect us both to crowd into that small spare room in the daadi haus?”

“I'm sure we'll be fine—” Leah began, but Levi was already shaking his head at his youngest sister.

“We would not put you out of your rooms, no. You and Leah must
never think that. The boys can share, and the new babe will come in with us for a while.”

And she and Anna would live in a house run with relentless cheerfulness by Barbara. Barbara would change things—it was only natural that she'd want to do things her way in her own house. Leah managed to keep a smile on her face, but she feared Anna wouldn't hold on to her temper long in that situation.

“Of course if you did decide to move,” Barbara added, “we would put the baby into your room.”

Anna drew breath, and Leah managed to connect with her foot.

“I'm sure we can work all the details out later.” She picked up the platter of smoked sausage surrounded by dried apples and dumplings, and handed it to Mahlon. “Who is ready for more? Mamm made enough to feed half the county.”

Anna subsided, but the dark look she sent her sister declared that she wasn't finished with the subject.

•   •   •

By
the time the dishes were washed, Levi and Barbara and their children had gone home. Leah hung up the tea towel and glanced around the kitchen to be sure all was as pristine as her mother expected.

The wooden cabinets had been wiped down, and the countertop and long wooden table shone. The only decoration on the wall, a calendar from the feed store in town, was a bit crooked, so she straightened it.

She frowned slightly. Her parents were in the living room, Mamm knitting and Daadi reading the latest issue of the
Budget
newspaper. Mahlon had hurried off in his courting buggy as soon as the evening chores were done, plainly headed toward the Miller farm and his sweetheart. Where was Anna?

A quick walk through the house didn't turn her up, and her bonnet and cape were missing from their usual place. Leah slung a shawl around her shoulders and stepped outside.

It was dusk, and a damp April chill permeated the air. Soon it would be May, and the lilacs and roses would perfume the night. Even now, the rhubarb in Mamm's garden had begun to unfurl its wide green leaves.

Across the fields, yellow light glowed from Daniel Glick's windows. The farmhouse had stood empty for months, and seeing lights there again felt right.

But that didn't answer the question of where her sister was. If she called out, Mamm would hear and be disturbed.

Standing there, undecided, she heard a faint jingle of metal from the stable. She clutched her shawl around her against the cool air and headed across the yard.

The stable door stood slightly ajar. She slid it open. Sure enough, Anna was there, harnessing Ben to Mamm's buggy. She swung around, startled, at the sound of the door.

“Going someplace with Mamm's horse and buggy tonight, are you?”

Leah kept her voice light, having no wish to get into a squabble. Still, she had to talk some sense into Anna over the changes that were inevitable, and this was a chance to get her sister alone.

Anna flushed guiltily. “Mamm won't mind. She lets me take it every day for work. Tonight I want to meet some of my friends.”

“Amish friends or English friends?” Leah crossed the wide planks of the barn floor and stroked Ben's smooth neck. The gelding nuzzled her, as if to complain about this extra excursion in his day.

Anna shrugged impatiently. “Both, I guess. Does it matter? You and the boys did what you liked during your rumspringa, ain't so?”

Somehow she had the feeling that Anna's ideas of what to do during the traditional running-around time of Amish youth were a bit more adventurous than hers had been. But then, she'd had Johnny, with things already settled between them.

“It doesn't matter if you have English friends, I suppose.” She could see that Anna was in the mood to take offense at just about anything. “I just think it's late to be setting out.”

“It wouldn't be this late if Barbara hadn't insisted on going all over the house, as if she hadn't seen it before.” Anger showed in Anna's quick movements as she fastened the harness and gathered the lines. “She even looked in my dower chest, as if that was any of her business.”

Barbara had only too obviously been measuring the rooms for her own furniture. “I know she can be a little too enthusiastic at times, but—”

“Is that what you call it? She's a busybody, and why Levi wanted to marry her and be bossed around all of his life, I don't understand.”

“None of us ever understands what makes someone fall in love.” She touched Anna's shoulder, but her sister shrugged it off. “She is his wife, she makes him happy, and they are moving in. There's nothing you can do about it, so you'd best accept it with good grace.”

“And if I don't want to?”

The patience she had with her sister was wearing thin. As the baby of the family, Anna had not been spoiled, exactly, but she'd certainly been treated with more indulgence than the older ones.

“You don't have a choice,” she said firmly. “The decision to move into the daadi haus is Mamm and Daadi's, and they've made it. You're not going to make them unhappy over this, are you?”

Anna paused, hand on the buggy rail. “I wouldn't do that.” She swung herself onto the buggy seat, the full skirt of her rose-colored dress flaring out. She picked up the lines and then paused, face sobering under the brim of her black bonnet. “Leah—do you think Mamm is really all right?”

“Of course she is.” Her response came quickly, and she could only hope she sounded as sure as she'd like to feel. “Go along now and have fun with your friends.” She smiled, relieved when Anna smiled back.

“All right then. I won't be late. I promise.” She clucked to Ben, and the buggy moved off.

Leah stood watching the battery-operated lantern on the back of the buggy disappear down the lane. What was behind Anna's attitude?

For some reason she saw again Daniel's indulgent look at the mention of his youngest. Maybe it was human nature to be lenient with the last child.

It was too late now to go back and redo anything about Anna's rearing. Leah could only trust her sister's warm heart and common sense to get her through the changes that were coming in their lives.

And she suspected she'd need a measure of common sense and patience for herself, too.

D
aniel
and his children came for supper the next evening, as her mother had said, and Leah found herself on pins and needles throughout the meal, wondering if Daniel would mention the visit of an Englischer to the schoolhouse the previous afternoon.

He didn't. Because he knew it would make her uncomfortable? She wasn't sure, but she was grateful. Her family would know about John Kile's return soon enough, but it didn't seem right to talk to anyone else before telling Rachel.

By the time everyone went out to the backyard after the meal, her tension had eased. Daniel leaned against the corner of the porch, deep in conversation with her father about planting times in the area. His strong face was intent, and he apparently was soaking up advice.

He showed an appealing deference to the older man's opinion that she appreciated. Daadi might think he was ready to retire, but he still knew more about farming in Pleasant Valley than just about anyone.

Rachel and her family were coming for dessert, so surely she could find an opportunity to talk with Rachel about Johnny. Then perhaps she could stop feeling as if she carried the burden of his return all alone.

She'd have to be careful about the telling of it, though. Rachel's sweet face showed every emotion she felt, and this was going to be difficult news both to give and to receive.

Sunlight still slanted across the yard, making the yellow trumpets of the daffodils at the corner of the house glow as if they were made of gold. She drew in a breath, loving the mingled scents that said spring was here at last. Every season had its own beauty, but this time of rebirth and growth surely must be close to the Creator's heart.

Her brother Mahlon, still as enthusiastic as a kid about games despite his twenty-two years, had put up the croquet set, and the moment Rachel's family arrived, he recruited all the children to play.

Daniel's six-year-old, Jonah, seized a mallet. Mahlon put his big hands over Jonah's small ones to help him hit the red ball through a wicket, and Jonah laughed with pleasure.

“I see that your brother is wonderful gut with children.” Daniel's voice startled her, and she swung around to find him behind her.

Had Daniel sought her out to talk about John's visit yesterday? As the parent of children in her care, he certainly had a right to be concerned about who visited the schoolhouse.

“Ja, he is. We tease him that he'd best be sure his intended wants a big family.”

She'd spoken lightly, out of nervousness probably, and as she looked up at Daniel, she caught something—a tightening, maybe—in his face. The look disappeared as quickly as it had come, though, so maybe she was imagining it.

Sun lines crinkled at the corners of Daniel's deep blue eyes, as if he dismissed whatever had caused the reaction. The color of his shirt echoed that blue, making his eyes even more vivid.

“Mahlon's bride will be a fortunate woman, it seems. Is he keeping company with someone?”

“He and Esther Miller have it already settled between them, I think. At least, folks say that Esther's father is planting a long row of celery this spring.”

“Gut, since they'll want plenty for the wedding feast come November.” His eyebrows lifted. “And is your father planting much celery this year?”

The question's implication startled her. “I think our Anna is enjoying her rumspringa too much to settle down just yet.”

He glanced toward her sister, who was chasing Jonah around the edge of the croquet lawn, heedless of the way the breeze tossed her hair loose from beneath her kapp.

“Anna is a lively girl. But she is not the only unmarried daughter of the house.”

His gaze came back to her face, and the question in his blue eyes
startled her. For just an instant her breath seemed to hitch before she got control of herself.

“I don't think Daad will be planting any celery for me. I have no plans to marry.”

Then she realized that his intent expression and his words might well refer to John's visit to the school yesterday. He wasn't expressing interest in her. He was wondering if John was courting her. She could hardly deny it without bringing up a subject she had no wish to discuss with him.

“Your family has made us feel so welcome.” He changed the subject, perhaps seeing that he'd embarrassed her by his comment. “The children were happy to eat someone else's cooking tonight. I'm not very handy in the kitchen.”

He was trying to make it easier for her, but he couldn't. No one could. The timing that had brought Johnny to the schoolhouse when Daniel was there had forced Daniel into the secret, like it or not.

She took a breath, trying to find the right words to acknowledge the situation. She had a quick look around to be sure no one was within earshot.

“Daniel, about John Kile's visit to the schoolhouse yesterday—it's obvious you haven't said anything to anyone. I appreciate that.”

His face sobered. “I don't know people to exchange gossip with. But I would not like to think that my children's teacher was being influenced by her English friend.”

“He's not—” She stopped, trying to organize her thoughts. Naturally he'd assume John was there out of interest in her. “John Kile was Amish once.”

He nodded, his gaze serious on her face. “I thought that when I saw him.”

“How could you tell?” She had thought John typically English herself, with his fancy car and his blue jeans.

“Something about the way he looked at the school, maybe. As if he'd belonged there once.”

“He attended school there for eight years.” Sorrow swept over her, taking her by surprise. “I didn't let him go inside.”

Had she been unkind? She'd thought only that she didn't want to be alone with him, not that he might have feelings about the place.

“He gave up that right when he left the church,” Daniel said, his tone uncompromising. “Still, I'm sorry if his visit upset you.”

It had. Rachel, not knowing that she had something huge to face, was helping Mamm put two rhubarb pies and a cake on the picnic table under the trees.

“He's Rachel's brother,” she said softly, her heart aching for her friend. “Her twin. He came to me because he wants me to be—well, a go-between, I suppose. I must talk to her about whether the family is willing to see him.”

“I see.” His expression was veiled. “So he's just the brother of your friend.”

Her chin came up at that. “Have you listened to gossip about me already, Daniel Glick? If so, you may as well hear it from me. John and I planned to marry once, but he chose to go English instead.”

For a moment he didn't speak, and she had no idea what he was thinking. His face had tightened again. In disapproval? She wasn't sure of his emotion, but it was something dark.

“I see,” he said at last. “No, I didn't know, but I'm sorry for your loss.”

The sincerity of his tone was so intense that she couldn't doubt he meant it. His sympathy wiped away her irritation and made her ashamed that she'd spoken so abruptly.

“I'm sorry. I'm the one who should apologize.” She took a deep breath, trying to ease the tightness in her throat. “It's just— People will talk about it again, once they know he's back.”

“You could be careful, not give them anything new to talk about.”

“Like meeting him at the schoolhouse?” Her temper, always so controlled, flared.

Daniel's strong face was impassive. “You are my children's teacher, an Amish schoolteacher, chosen for the position because of your faith and your character. What you do, who you see—that matters to all the children who are your responsibility.”

Before she could say a word, he walked off toward the croquet game.

•   •   •

Leah
stood at the end of the picnic table, setting out forks and napkins while she rehearsed all the things she should have said to Daniel. Unfortunately, he'd spoken nothing but the truth. It was too bad that he seemed to have the ability to bring out the emotions she usually kept under such careful control.

Rachel slipped an arm around her waist. “Why so deep in thought?”

Leah shook off the fear that there might have been a veiled threat in Daniel's final words. Time enough to worry about that later. Now—now she had to tell Rachel about Johnny.

“I must talk with you, Rachel.” There was no easy way to break this news. She'd just have to come out with it. At least at the moment everyone else seemed occupied, either with the game or with their own talk. “I've seen Johnny.”

Rachel's breath caught. “Our Johnny? Seen him? He's here in Pleasant Valley?”

“He came to the schoolhouse yesterday, wanting me to talk to you for him, to tell you why he's back.”

Sudden hope blossomed on her friend's face. “He wants to come home? To repent and be one of us again?” Her voice lifted in joy.

It hurt Leah's heart to destroy that hope, but it was best to do it quickly, since it must be done. “No. I'm sorry, Rachel.”

The hope faded, and Rachel's eyes filled with tears. She turned, hiding her face from the playing children. Leah gave her time, her arm encircling her friend's waist. She longed so deeply to help her, but some pains couldn't be soothed by even the most comforting words.

Finally Rachel managed a feeble smile. “Ach, I never really thought that would happen. Johnny always wanted the outside world too strongly.”

“You couldn't stop hoping he'd come back to us,” Leah said softly.

Rachel shook her head. “Why is he here, then? What does he want if not to rejoin the community?”

Leah picked her words carefully, feeling a flicker of anger toward John. He should be explaining this himself instead of putting it onto her.

“He's working with that doctor who's doing the research on genetic
diseases that affect the children. He said he'd be here for six months, at least.”

“Six months?” Rachel bit her lip. “It will be hard, having him near that long but not one of us.”

“Did you have any idea of what he was doing?”

“No.” The sidelong look seemed a little guilty. “Just that he'd gone to college for some kind of science.”

“You never told me that.” She'd thought that she and her closest friend shared everything.

Rachel's gaze slid away from Leah's, and she fiddled with the forks much as Leah had done, as if her hands needed to be busy. “You seemed like you'd forgotten him. I didn't want to bring it all up again and make you feel bad. Did I do wrong?”

“No. It's all right.” But she hadn't forgotten. She'd just learned to hide her feelings.

“What does he want from us, then?” Rachel's eyes went dark with misery, hurting Leah's heart. “Why did he come to you?”

“He wants to see you and the rest of your family. He asked me to tell you. He's coming to the schoolhouse tomorrow to hear your answer.”

Her friend's eyes widened. “But I can't tell him anything, not so soon. Not until I talk to Mamm and Daadi about it. And how will I do that?”

“I know it's hard.” She thanked the Lord that she'd never had to face that particular burden with her parents. “But you should tell them right away, before they hear about him being here from someone else.”

“But if no one knows but you—”

“Daniel Glick saw him at the school,” she said quickly, before Rachel could imagine this secret would keep. “He hasn't said anything, but anyone could see John, could start talking about his coming back. You know how fast that news would spread.”

“You're right. I can't be a coward about it. I'll talk to them tonight.” She shook her head, worry darkening her eyes. “I don't know what to say. I don't want to hurt them.”

Leah squeezed her in a quick hug. “They haven't forgotten about him. Maybe they'll be relieved to know what he's doing. Anyway, it must be done.”

“Oh, I know that. It's just so hard. I want to protect them from hurt. You'd feel the same, wouldn't you?”

Leah glanced at her mother. Mamm sat in a lawn chair, watching the children play. She was smiling, but her face seemed thin and tired.

“Ja, of course I would. I do. It's strange. All these years we've relied on our parents, and now we need to care for them. It seems we're changing places, doesn't it?”

Rachel nodded in quick understanding. “How is your mamm?”

“She says she's doing fine, but fighting the cancer has taken a lot out of her. She and my father have decided to move to the grossdaadi haus.”

Rachel's face expressed all that she might be reluctant to say. “So your brother and his family will be moving into the house. What about you and Anna?”

“That's what Anna wants to know.” It was a relief to pour it out to someone who would understand and keep it to herself. “Levi and Barbara say that nothing will change, that we should keep our own rooms, but she's expecting again, and—”

“And it's only a matter of time until she wants those rooms for her family.” Rachel shook her head. “Even if she didn't, you know how hard it will be to live in another woman's house.” Now it was Rachel's turn to give a comforting hug. “What will you do?”

“Nothing for a bit. I haven't had time to think it through. I knew it would come sometime, but I didn't think it would be so soon.”

Rachel nodded, eyes clouding. “I know. It's odd, isn't it? One day life seems settled and routine, and the next it's turned upside down, as if a storm came and tipped us all on our heads.”

“Ja.” That was surely how she'd felt lately. She took a breath. “Well, we can get through it. Somehow.”

Rachel shot her a sidelong glance. “I saw you talking to Daniel. It looked as if you were finding a lot to say to each other.”