Chapter Eight
Nora dropped onto her couch, feeling as wrung out as an old dishrag. Could her encounters this morning have gone any worse? As she sat in the big living room that was still strewn with half-unpacked boxes, she felt the overpowering urge to stuff her belongings back into them—to call the Realtor and stick a For Sale sign in the yard and get out of Willow Ridge in a hurry.
But that couldn’t happen. She had nowhere else to go, and no savings left to take her there. And now that she’d opened the Pandora’s box Hiram had talked about, there was no turning back. No coaxing the secrets into hiding again, and no erasing the way she’d disrupted everyone’s lives, thinking her need for reconciliation was noble enough to warrant the pain and upheaval she would cause.
Millie, I’m so sorry I’ve hurt you.
If she sent out that mental message, would her daughter receive it? And if she did, what would stop Millie from turning away again? If she lived to be a hundred, Nora knew she’d never forget the anguish that had puckered Millie’s sweet, innocent face this morning. And she hadn’t anticipated the depth of the torment she’d opened herself to, either, when Millie and Dat had refused to accept her.
“Nora? You in there?”
Nora grimaced. Luke Hooley was the last person she wanted to see, but she didn’t have the energy to send him away. He was standing at the screen door, gawking this way and that to find her in the shadows of the house. It occurred to her that she hadn’t hooked the screen door—that she was already slipping back into the Willow Ridge level of home security. “Yeah. Come on in.”
He entered cautiously, sensing she was in an iffy mood. He was holding a handful of Queen Anne’s lace and black-eyed Susans she’d seen growing along the riverbank. Even clad in broadfall trousers with suspenders and an unironed yellow shirt, Luke possessed a confidence—a trace of class—that set him apart from the Amish guys she’d known as a kid. He lowered himself to sit on the floor in front of her. “How’d it go with Millie?”
“Badly.”
Luke sighed. “For what it’s worth, I was ready to clobber Gabe when he called you Satan and then shoved you aside,” he said in a rising voice. “That whole shunning thing is exactly why I can’t join the Old Order. It’s the most unforgiving attitude in the world, yet the Amish supposedly base their faith on forgiveness and living Christlike lives. Go figure.”
Nora smiled weakly. She really did appreciate his supportive attitude even if she wasn’t in the mood to discuss Amish theology. “Technically, I wasn’t shunned, because I hadn’t yet joined the church. I was only sixteen when my parents sent me away to an aunt’s house to have my baby.”
“But for your father to claim he never had a daughter—and with Millie standing right there,” Luke protested. “That was just
wrong
, Nora.”
She shrugged. “Old Order men stand by their right to be
right
—to dictate the script their families will follow,” she replied with a sigh. “And while I anticipated my father’s reaction, I didn’t realize how crushed I would feel, even after all these years. I’ve been so naive, thinking I could make this work.”
“Will, um, Millie’s father help you out?”
“He’s dead.”
When Luke’s eyes widened, Nora hoped he’d take her unspoken hint and not ask any more about that part of the story. Though her new neighbor piqued her interest, some information just couldn’t be entrusted to a man she’d only known for twenty-four hours—especially considering how the Hooley brothers thought they had dibs because they lived next door.
“So what will you do now?” Luke asked in a low voice. “Not intending to be nosy, understand. Just . . . interested. There’s a lot more to you than meets the eye, Nora.”
She let out a humorless chuckle. Allowing Luke’s curiosity to evolve into a romantic entanglement wasn’t in her best interest. “I have no idea. I’m so drained, I might just sit here on the couch for the rest of the day, surrounded by all this
stuff
, ” she blurted, gesturing at the mess around them.
When Luke smiled, Nora thought she saw a gentle sadness etched around his eyes—not an emotion she’d expected when he’d first introduced himself. “Well, I’d better get back to the mill,” he said as he stood up. “I wanted to be sure you weren’t in the mood to self-destruct, or to give up on reconciling with Millie. She’s a sweet girl—”
“And she’s what—
half
Ira’s age?” The words sounded harsher than Nora had intended, but guys at the Hooleys’ life stage had certain needs.
Luke looked her straight in the eye. “He’s never taken advantage of her innocence, if that’s what you’re thinking. Maybe having Millie’s mother next door will make him quit sitting on the fence and commit. They’ve been dating for a long while.”
Nora sensed Luke was the sort of big brother who thought it’d be right for Ira to follow the rules—to remain sexually honorable—even if he himself showed no inclination to settle down. But she wouldn’t raise that issue while she had so many other emotional fires to put out. “Thanks for the wildflowers. That was sweet of you.”
His lips curved. “I’ll stick them in water and get out of your hair. Take care, Nora.”
“Yeah, you too.”
She heard water running in the kitchen and then the closing of the back door. Nora let her head fall back against the couch. She hadn’t felt like chatting with Luke any longer, but the silence of the house closed in on her after a few minutes of being alone. What
would
she do now? How could she possibly believe anything positive would come of the fiasco she’d caused this morning?
When you’ve been knocked to the bottom of the pit, the only way is up.
Nora chuckled glumly. Miriam’s words had rung with the staunch belief that all things worked out to the good for those who loved God, but Nora wasn’t setting her heart on a happy ending. Not anymore. Her original good intentions had gone so wrong she didn’t see any way to reclaim them or to start her reconciliation efforts again.
Figuring it was better to move than to remain mired in her defeat, Nora went into the kitchen. If she emptied a box of towels and moved a bunch of gadgets from the table into the drawers, she would have the satisfaction of a single room that looked settled. She gazed at Luke’s bouquet of wildflowers, sitting by the sink. If only the beam of light shining through the window, making the water glow in the drinking-glass vase, could be a ray of sunshine for her soul, as well.
Luke’s not as shallow as I thought
, Nora mused. But she knew not to count on him. She’d be better off getting some sort of business established in that huge barn, creating a badly needed income—
“Nora? The men will be here soon to remove my Bishop’s Ridge sign from your driveway,” an all-too-familiar voice said through the screen door.
Nora scowled.
You forgot to hook the screen door—again!
This morning’s scene in the Sweet Seasons had rushed past her in some ways, but she hadn’t missed seeing Hiram Knepp in the doorway, smiling smugly when Dat had shoved her aside. And then Hiram had helped Dat go home. Who knew what he might have told her parents about what she’d paid for the house, or what other damning details he’d shared with them?
“All right, fine,” she called out, hoping that was the end of the conversation. She had nothing more to say to the former bishop.
She slit the tape on the box of kitchen towels with a paring knife and then stiffened. The screen door creaked. Footsteps echoed in the entryway.
Hiram poked his head into the kitchen. He smiled slyly as he took in her Plain attire. “It’s good to see you’ve not let the incident at the café defeat you, Nora,” he declared. “I figured you’d handle it—that you’d lick your wounds and try again. You’ve always been a survivor.”
Where does this guy get the nerve to just walk in ?
Nora nearly told him to leave, but she sensed it was a bad idea to unleash her frustration. She’d heard that Knepp was adept at using incriminating evidence when it would most affect the person he was trying to control. “Yeah. Thanks.”
Hiram walked toward the sink, as though the wildflowers were a magnet. “You should be careful of the company you keep, however,” he continued in a sinuous voice. “You don’t realize it yet, but the Hooleys have taken over this town. Ben’s gotten himself selected as a preacher, while his aunts, Nazareth and Jerusalem, have insinuated themselves into two bishops’ lives—Tom’s, as well the fellow from Cedar Creek.”
Nora frowned, thinking back. “Tom’s wife died? Her name was Lettie, wasn’t it?”
“She ran off with an English fellow, and then got killed in a car crash,” Hiram replied. “Nazareth Hooley was waiting in the wings to latch on to Tom, just as Ben wasted no time in claiming Miriam. But more to the point, the younger brothers who live next door to you came here from Lancaster County under . . . suspicious circumstances,” he went on with the rise of one eyebrow. “They left a couple of young ladies in the lurch. And if Ben had to finance the building of the mill—for men of Luke’s and Ira’s age—their ability to run a business seems doubtful, as well.”
Hiram paused to let all these details sink in. “I phoned some of my family in that area of Pennsylvania, as part of my responsibility to the souls I was shepherding here in Willow Ridge at the time,” he explained matter-of-factly. “What my kin said about the Hooleys wasn’t very complimentary.”
Nora’s thoughts whirled faster. She found it ironic that Hiram was coming down on the Hooleys, yet he’d been relieved of his position as bishop—which had never happened in any other Amish settlement that she knew of, because bishops were ordained for life. Hiram’s insinuations didn’t have a lot of bearing on
her
, but what if Millie was unaware of Ira’s past?
“And your point would be?” she asked archly. For all she knew, Hiram was making this stuff up. She was getting more annoyed with every tick of the kitchen clock.
Hiram smirked. “I’d hate for Luke to pull the wool over your eyes while you’re in such a vulnerable state, Nora. I was aghast when he began dating my Annie Mae—she was only seventeen while he was pushing thirty. As a parent, I’m sure you’re just as concerned about Ira being alone with your naive young daughter. You’re well aware of how
that
can play out,” he added quickly.
Nora’s cheeks flared. Hiram was insinuating that someone she’d been dating had caused her fall from grace—but no one knew all of those details, because she hadn’t revealed them. The man who’d taken advantage of her had promised she’d go straight to hell if she told his name, and she’d been terrified enough to believe him. In the years that had followed, she’d learned that hell wasn’t necessarily a place where lost souls suffered torment after they died. They could experience hell every waking moment, every day of their lives.
At the sound of machinery revving up, Nora glanced out the window. “Your sign guys are here,” she said, pointing toward the front door.
Hiram plucked a stem of Queen Anne’s lace from the water glass and tickled her nose with its airy white bloom. “Takes more than that to get rid of
me
,” he teased. “I’ve made it my mission to be sure you succeed here, Nora. When I learned it was
you
buying this house, I cut the price considerably.”
As Hiram walked out the front door with the flower he was whistling, which irritated Nora even more. Where did he get off, thinking she’d feel beholden to him for supposedly lowering the price of this house? Or thinking she’d appreciate the information he’d shared?
Snake in the grass. Like another man you knew.
But which of the details Hiram had given about the Hooleys were fact and which were fiction? Nora went back to her unpacking. It wasn’t even noon yet, but such mindless tasks were all she had the energy for.
She was arranging the last of the folded towels in the drawer beside the sink when a movement caught her eye. Nora leaned closer to the window. A girl dressed in a
kapp
and a pale peach dress was walking awfully close to the river’s edge—and then, thank goodness, a fellow came out of the mill to capture her attention.
Nora nipped her lip. Millie and Ira were clasping hands like a couple who’d known each other for a long while.
Better choose your battles carefully
, her thoughts warned. She felt uncomfortable about their age difference—about Ira’s intentions—but this was no time to further alienate her daughter by expressing her disapproval of the relationship.
Some things you can’t control—as you’ve found out the hard way. Get used to it.
Through the window of the gristmill’s main workroom, Ira had spotted a solitary figure walking along the bank of the Missouri River. He’d immediately engaged the brake on the big mill wheel and left the dried corn he was grinding into meal. With her head bent low and her shoulders sagging, Millie had been the picture of dejection, walking so near the rushing current on the sandy riverbank. He’d had a sudden vision of her being sucked underwater by the pull of the mill wheel—maybe knocked unconscious when one of the paddles struck her head. He could not let that happen.
He’d rushed down the stairs and out the back door, then slowed down so he wouldn’t startle Millie into falling in the river when jumping in hadn’t been her intent. “Millie!” he called out. “It’s
gut
to see you, sweetie. Can I walk with ya?”
Millie raised her head. “I’ve just been walkin’ and walkin’ with no idea where I’m headed. Maybe sittin’ a spell would be the better idea.”
Millie seemed more sad and confused than distraught, so perhaps he’d overdramatized her mood. Or maybe he cared about her more than he’d admitted to himself. “Let’s sit on the rock under this tree, in the shade,” Ira suggested. “It’s gotten awfully hot.”
“
Jah
, you can say that again.”