Living in Harmony (40 page)

Nora didn't think she'd ever spent a more uncomfortable three days. They had to endure the Sabbath's Sunday school class, and then a rather somber noon meal at the meetinghouse, followed by an afternoon of quiet reading and meditation devoid of any sociability. Everyone walked on eggshells so as not to strain already frayed nerves. Monday and Tuesday hadn't been much of an improvement. At least laundry, baking, cleaning, cooking, and child care occupied female hours, while John and Thomas managed to stay busy despite fallow fields. Even the Detweiler goats had stopped producing milk during the dullest season of the year. Thomas had to own the tidiest barn in Waldo County, Maine, considering how many hours the men spent out there. Thomas occasionally left on district business or to run errands, but John had to be worn ragged trying to stay out of Amy's way.

Poor John. Nora pitied the man she had so recently held in low regard. His emotional state was painful to witness, yet he sought no consolation from anyone. He arrived promptly for meals, bowed his head to pray and then ate as though ravenous wolves nipped at his pant legs. Amy kept busy slicing bread or vegetables, or suddenly remembering a condiment they needed from the cellar. She didn't sit down to her own meal until John dabbed up the last drop of gravy with a bread crust and left the table. She also appeared lost in a world of isolation but refused to discuss the matter since the morning Sally had disclosed John's misdeeds.

Nora stared out the living room window at snow falling fast and flaky. Soon the brown fields would be covered with an insulating mantle that would remain until spring. According to Thomas, Maine seldom enjoyed a January thaw—a midwinter reprieve to lift low spirits—the way they had in Lancaster County.
Where will I be come spring?
The sound of footsteps soon jarred her from her daydream.

“May I speak with you, Nora?”

She turned to find Amy's former betrothed nearly nose to nose.
“Of course, but I have no news for you. Amy has said nothing to me about her plans.”

John forced a smile. “I've not come to talk about your sister. I want to apologize for my behavior the night of our marriage class. I had no business judging you or threatening you or even speaking in that fashion. I hope you can forgive me.” He clutched his felt hat brim between chapped, reddened fingers and appeared to have lost ten pounds during the last few days.

“You weren't wrong in your assessment of me.” Nora offered an overdue olive branch. “I've spent years trying to avoid chores. My
mamm
said she needed to tether me to a project if any progress was to be made.”

His blue eyes softened. “Whatever your work ethic, I acted cruelly, and for that I am sorry.” He reached out his hand.

Nora clasped it and shook. “The matter is behind us and we won't talk about it again.” She pumped his hand like a well handle.

John shifted his weight nervously, seeming uncertain what to do with his hand once she released it. “
Danki
, Nora. I'll leave you to your storm-watching. The weather is supposed to get worse. I'm glad we have enough food and firewood to last us a while.” He nodded and strode out the door, maybe standing taller than when he arrived.

Nora trailed him as far as the kitchen. With her mouth and throat parched dry, a cup of tea sounded good. Filling the teakettle at the tap, she noticed Elam exit his basement quarters and head for the barn. Suddenly, he halted on the path and glanced back, as though aware he was being watched. Water overflowed the kettle, cascading down her wrist and soaking her sleeve as Nora stared at the man who monopolized her every dream and waking thought.

Elam lifted his hat brim and mouthed the words, “Meet me in the henhouse.”

Nora shut off the water but otherwise froze in place, unable to acknowledge she understood the exaggerated five-word sentence.

Elam repeated the attempted communication and waited with
an expectant glint in his eye. Standing in the falling snow, with large flakes clinging to his hat and jacket, he took on the visage of a winter storybook character.

She peeked over her shoulder before nodding affirmatively to his request.
What am I doing? This isn't exactly atoning for past mistakes while keeping a low profile.

Elam smiled and then sprinted off. Without exception, it was the craftiest, slyest grin Nora had ever seen. The comic snowman vanished, replaced by a handsome temptation a woman would be wise to resist.

Yet, resist him Nora could not. She set the kettle on the stove and then ducked into the bathroom to rinse with mouthwash and add a touch of blusher—a keepsake from her
rumschpringe
days in Pennsylvania. For a fleeting moment, Nora contemplated changing from her hideously drab dress but nixed the idea.
No sense in keeping him waiting,
she thought, forgetting about her notion of sackcloth and ashes. She listened at the door, and when she was certain no one had come into the kitchen, she left the bathroom. With her heart thudding in her chest, she grabbed her cloak and slipped outside.

Snow dampened her face as she closed the door, a chilly reminder that she had forgotten her heavy bonnet. But the sight of Elam's boot tracks heading to the henhouse sent ripples of delight across her skin.

Get hold of yourself. He probably just wants to borrow twenty bucks to buy gasoline.
That sobering thought reined in her imagination before she embarrassed herself. Pausing outside the little outbuilding, she steeled her nerves and ducked her head through the low doorway.

“Nora, so glad you could make it.” Elam leaned against a stack of feed bags—a picture of casual disregard.

She opened her mouth to reply, but the smell of closely confined chickens assaulted her nose. She began to cough and gag.

Her reaction was met with snickers. “I thought you had lived on a farm back in Pennsylvania, not a high-rise loft in the city.”

She pulled a handkerchief from her pocket. “I did, but I refused to enter the henhouse in winter. I only gathered eggs at our outdoor coop, which we moved around the yard on wheels to keep things fresh. I could collect eggs without entering the enclosure, while the chickens roamed free.” She stifled another wretched cough.

“Such clever girls, you King sisters. Care for a feed sack or an upturned bucket for a chair? I apologize for the amenities, but this is the only spot where we won't be interrupted. Sally gathers eggs in the morning, always at first light, like a windup toy. You can count on her routines.” Elam fastened his coal-black eyes on her and didn't look away.

Nora concentrated on breathing through her mouth. “What, no cigarette dangling from your lips?”

He laid a hand across his heart. “I would never endanger the lives of my poultry friends with a stray spark. Lately, they are the only friends I seem to have.”

She clenched her hands into fists deep in her pockets and whispered, “You have me.”

One of his dimples deepened and then the other. “I was hoping you would say that.” Elam waited as though for some dramatic effect. “Because I have a favor to ask you.”

Nora stifled another sneeze and forced her expression to stay neutral. “Sure, how can I help?”

He held up both hands. “Wait, you'd better hear me out before you agree. This favor involves sneaking around, freezing your tailbone off, possibly foregoing a good night's sleep, and driving my buggy at night. I take it you're still unfamiliar with Waldo County roads, but could you control my Standardbred? I can't waste time with one of Thomas's old nags.”

She inhaled a steadying breath, finally ignoring the odor of
chicken manure. “I know how to handle a buggy horse. And I proved the other night that rain, snow, and frigid temperatures don't deter me. Miss some sleep? I've slept so much since coming here that skipping a few hours will probably do me good.” Nora fluttered her eyelashes.

Elam reached down to pet a hen that pecked corn near his boot heel. “Wow, you are ready for some adventure and intrigue before settling in for a long winter's nap.”

Nora shook off the image of deathly quiet Harmony, buried under several feet of snow for months. “What do you have in mind?”

He sauntered to the building's sole window and rubbed a patch in the frost. “I listened to the weather report on my radio. This snow will dwindle to flurries by six o'clock and then stop altogether, but tomorrow we're supposed to get a nor'easter down from Canada bringing along a major blizzard. We might be snowed in for days. The state highway workers will clear main routes first, so it could be a week before these back roads are dug out, depending how bad things get.” He tucked a lock of hair behind his ear. “I need to go tonight before I lose my chance.”

Nora waited as tiny hairs stood on end at the back of her neck. She ignored them. “I hope you don't expect me to guess the destination,” she said after a moment.

He laughed with abandon. Several startled hens ran for cover in their nesting boxes. “Waterville, my lovely Miss King. In case you haven't studied a map of Maine, it's a city past Thorndike, which is five miles or so beyond Harmony.” He lowered his tone to a whisper, even though chickens weren't known to spread local gossip. “I bought a car from a guy on the outskirts of town. I had a mechanic check it out for me. Everything's been tuned up and ready to go—decent tires, plenty of antifreeze in the radiator, and the radio and heater are in good working condition.” Elam's eyes nearly danced out of his head. “It might not be one of those cream
puffs in a magazine, but it'll get me where I'm headed.” He slicked his hair back with a callused hand.

“Congratulations on the purchase,” she murmured politely.

“Thanks. I'll pay him the balance of cash tonight. He'll sign the title over, and I'll take possession of the car.” Elam leaned against the post. “The seller promised to fill the gas tank to the brim.”

“Where do I come in?” she asked.

“Use your head, Nora. The
Englischer
won't take my horse and buggy in trade. I need some way to get them home while I drive my new car.” He rubbed a stubbly jawline. “Unless, of course, you would prefer to drive the Chevy.” He lifted her chin with one finger.

Though his touch electrified her, she batted away his hand. “No, thanks. Fast cars upset my stomach. I'll drive the buggy. What do you plan to do with this car? Show Thomas after breakfast tomorrow and then take him for a spin?” She matched his sarcasm with her own.

He snorted. “My friend said I could store it in his barn for a while. They don't use the building anymore because his
daed
gave up farming. I'll cut across back land to get home—the same general path you took the other night.”

Nora needed to exit the crowded henhouse, not because of chicken odor—she'd grown accustomed to that—but because of his proximity. But Elam caught her sleeve before she reached the door. “We probably won't be home until almost dawn, and there's a chance you might get caught. I want you to understand what I'm asking you to do.”

She spent no time pondering her decision. “What time do we leave for Waterville?”

“That's up to you. Whenever you can slip away from Amy and leave the house unseen, I will be ready. Just tap lightly on the cellar door. The buggy will be hitched with warm blankets inside.”

She nodded, dry mouthed and a bundle of raw nerves.

He took hold of her face a second time. “Thank you, Nora. I'll
owe you a favor—a big favor.” Then, without warning, he leaned over and kissed her on the lips.

Nora savored the kiss, and then she fled the coop as though the chickens had all decided to attack at once. She didn't stop running until she was inside the kitchen, belatedly brewing her cup of tea. But the taste and sensation of his kiss would remain fixed in her memory for an eternity after that.

Amy dressed by the window and gazed across fields glistening with reflected sunlight. The diamond brightness hurt her eyes. The storm six days ago lasted forty-eight hours, dumping several feet of trouble on the residents of central Maine. Her cloistered period of contemplation grew only more claustrophobic as the women remained housebound. Finally, Thomas, John, and Elam shoveled paths to the barns and sheds, and then to the street so they might receive mail and view an occasional passing car or buggy.