A Time to Love (6 page)

He shoved a hand through his hair. "Jenny is not broken, she's just—" he stopped, trying to find the words. "She's had to walk through a valley few people have to in life. And from what I saw today, she is getting stronger from it." He stood and started out of the room.

"Where are you going?"

"To tuck the children in. They, at least, accepted Jenny the way they should."

Hannah watched him leave and smiled.

Matthew's children came to visit Jenny two days later, bearing an invitation, carefully lettered and colored, for Jenny and Phoebe to have dinner with them. Annie handed it to her with a big smile, while the other children waited expectantly.

"How sweet. Thank you."

"You'll come,
ya?"
asked Mary.

"I have to ask my grandmother if she has plans, but yes, I would love to."

"Papa will come for you in the buggy."

Jenny started to say she could walk, but after what had happened before, perhaps that wasn't a good idea just yet.

"Okay. I'll see him then."

The children fairly tumbled out the door, and she watched them run back to their house. Phoebe walked up behind her then, and Jenny showed her the invitation.

"How nice." Phoebe smiled. "They're such sweet children. You will go?"

"Yes. I told them I wasn't sure if you had plans."

"I'm having supper with a friend. I prepared a casserole for you to put in the oven but now we will just save it for tomorrow."Her home had many modern conveniences, including a propane-powered refrigerator.

"Then we'll both have an evening out."

"
Ya."

Her grandmother hadn't gone out for the evening since she'd been there, but now perhaps she was feeling she could leave Jenny alone.

The day passed slowly, as days always do when you look forward to something so much. Jenny helped her grandmother bake bread, took a nap, read, did some more of the dreaded exercises, and was ready an hour before she was to be picked up.

She told herself she was worse than a teenage girl with her first date. Only this wasn't a date with Matthew, but one with his family.

Matthew brought the buggy, as promised. They passed Hannah on the way, going in the opposite direction. Hannah waved at them and while Matthew lifted his hand, Jenny saw him frown as his sister passed.

Then Jenny saw the children peering out the window, looking for them, and she smiled.

"They've been talking about you all day," he told her, helping her from the buggy. "They did some of the cooking, with Hannah's help. Don't worry—it's good."

"I'm sure it is," she assured him as they went inside.

Joshua took Jenny's coat and hung it on the peg by the door. Then he seated her the same way he had before—as an honored guest, with manners Jenny didn't think she'd ever seen a child exhibit out in the
Englisch
world.

"We made suppwer," Annie spoke up.

"
Aenti
Hannah helped us," Mary reminded her.

Matthew watched as Mary took a pan of biscuits from the oven and set it carefully on the stove. He smiled and nodded approvingly. Using a spatula, she transferred the biscuits to a woven basket lined with a cloth napkin and placed it on the table. Once his children were seated, Matthew brought the heavy cast-iron pot to the table.

"It's a simple meal," he said to Jenny as he took his seat.

"The best kind," she told him, smiling, and bent her head as he said grace.

Joshua ladled out the stew—big chunks of beef, potatoes, carrots, parsnips, and onions—into white crockery bowls as biscuits were passed around. The stew was the perfect meal on a cold winter day, warm and comforting.

Even better was the warmth of this family meal, even if this was a borrowed family. Jenny looked around the table as the children ate hungrily. They hadn't spent the day inside zoned out on sugary snacks in front of the boob tube. Some
Englisch
children might complain about a day of chores, but these children just considered that a part of their day, their world. They enjoyed being useful doing things for their home.

Now came more questions about the places Jenny had visited. All this was more exotic to them than to
Englisch
children who could turn on the television and see the world. Mary spoke up, asking Jenny about books. Matthew said that of his three children, Mary loved books the most, although Annie had loved them since she was a toddler—even after they convinced her the pages weren't for eating.

Jenny's motor skills had steadily improved since her hospitalization but required complete attention. Concentrating on Joshua, telling her about his horse, Jenny felt her spoon slipping from her grasp. Grabbing it just made things worse—it hit the edge of the bowl, splattering gravy, then fell to the wooden floor with a clatter.

Little Annie is managing better than I am,
thought Jenny, her face flaming. But Matthew simply picked up the spoon, set it in the sink, and brought another for her. Mary used her napkin to mop up the gravy. Joshua continued his story without missing a beat, while Annie sent her a sunny smile.

Dessert was a cobbler made with peaches canned last summer. Annie helped scoop ice cream on top. Jenny wasn't sure if the cobbler was still warm from the oven or if the amount of time Annie took making sure she did it just right caused the ice cream to melt so much. But they all laughed together.

After dinner, no one rushed from the table, leaving a parent with dirty dishes. Jenny was told she was a guest, and as such she was to sit and enjoy her tea. Each child had an assigned task, and before long the kitchen was sparkling clean again. She found herself drawing out the time drinking her tea, not wanting to leave.

Hannah returned and said hello, but hurried to her room, saying she was tired. Matthew paused in the act of hanging up a dishcloth and frowned after her, then turned to Jenny. "Can I get you more tea?"

"No, thanks."

He poured himself a cup of coffee, then, with a brief glance at the kitchen window, sat at the table again. "I should get you home soon."

"I could—"

"No."

"—walk home," she finished.

"No," he said more firmly. "Now you remind me of Annie," he laughed as she pretended to pout.

Jenny grinned. "All your children are precious, but there's something about Annie."

He nodded. "She's so much like Amelia, and yet she was just a baby when her mother died."

Jenny's smile faded. "She must have been wonderful. Not that you couldn't have raised such sweet children yourself."

"Her loving hand is surely on them," Matthew agreed.

"It must have been so hard to lose her," Jenny said quietly. She wished she knew what Amelia had looked like, but the Amish don't believe in having their pictures taken. "What did she look like?"

"You have only to look at Mary to know," he said simply.

"She must have been beautiful."

Annie ran back into the room. "
Daedi,
can I go wif you to take Jenny home?"

He hesitated. "Well, since you did all your chores, I suppose you may if you bundle up."

Shrieking with happiness, she ran to tell Mary her good news.

"It's not that she wants you to leave now," Matthew assured Jenny. "She's just afraid she'll miss out if she doesn't ask now. I wouldn't let her come with me to get you because she didn't take her nap."

"Gee, I was a reward for taking a nap. Now I feel even more special than you all made me feel tonight," Jenny told him, feeling yet another tug on her heartstrings.

"Jenny? There's something I've been wanting to ask you—"

"Papa? I—I'm sorry to interrupt."

"Trouble with homework?" asked Jenny, seeing the paper clutched in her hands.

"I have to write an essay. I'm stuck. Can you help me?"

Jenny looked at Matthew as he nodded. "I'm going to look in on Joshua and Annie."

"Mmm," said Jenny, absorbed in what Mary had written.

When Matthew returned a few minutes later, Mary was bent over her essay, busily writing.

"I showed her a trick I use when I get stuck writing," Jenny told him with a smile. "She knew what she wanted to write after that."

Mary looked up. "I'm almost done." She gave Jenny a shy smile. "
Danki."
She left them to return to her room.

"You're sure about the tea?" Matthew asked, pouring himself more coffee and taking his seat again at the table.

He'd said they should go, but here he was sitting again, drinking more coffee.

"I'd better not, or I won't sleep tonight."

"I never have that problem."

"You work harder than I do." She pushed the sugar toward him. "Matthew, you started to ask me a question before Mary came in. What was it?"

"Why did you never marry?"

M
atthew wondered which of them was more surprised by his question.

Jenny stared at him. "Well, you don't say much, but when you do, you certainly don't hold back, do you?"

Feeling color creeping up his neck, Matthew ran a hand through his hair and swallowed. "I shouldn't ask such a personal question."

"It's okay," she told him. "I've been asked many more personal questions. Sometimes people stare, sometimes they ask about my scars, my difficulty walking. Talking."

She saw that even though he seemed embarrassed, his eyes were directly on her. All those summers ago she'd had a crush on him, and she'd thought he returned her feelings. But after her father had come for her, Matthew had never answered her letters.

Whatever his reason for asking, she didn't think that he had any romantic interest in her anymore. She told herself that it was just that he had the same curiosity about her as an
Englischer
that his children did, that he was seeking to understand her since she was different from the Amish women he knew.

Fiddling with her empty teacup, she found herself thinking about his question. "I've had time to think about that," she said slowly. "During my stay in the hospital, you know? I had been too busy going to college, doing an internship at a TV station. Then, suddenly, I got the opportunity to go overseas, and time just slipped away."

She sighed. "It's hard to meet someone when you're on a plane going, coming, going, coming."

The only men she saw were soldiers who were concentrating on their job. Or they were men from foreign countries who considered American women to be too forward.

The years had slipped away. But it was more than being overseas or being so involved in her work. Because she'd found a way to go on camera, people thought she was outgoing, that she was career-driven. That she wanted to be "modern" and pursue a man or just be independent. But Jenny was pretty traditional—or, as a few people had teased her, "old-fashioned."

Feeling his gaze still on her, she looked at him. "Why are you asking, Matthew?"

"It is so obvious how much you love children. And you look like you enjoyed being at home with us."

"Oh, I have," she agreed with a smile. "Thank you for letting me be with you and your family, Matthew."

"We enjoyed having you," he said with that touch of gravity, of formality, in his tone and speech that was ever-present in the Amish world.

"You know, things are changing in the
Englisch
world," she said slowly. "Young men and women are waiting longer to get married. They feel they have to get a foothold in their career. And sometimes the—" she couldn't think of the word—"the broken marriages of their parents make them wary. When they marry, they want so much to make sure that the marriage will last."

Divorce—
that was the word she hadn't been able to remember. Divorce was so unheard of in his world she wondered if she'd have to define it for him. But he nodded.

"My grandmother told me that many Amish marry young but all the marriages last a long time," she said.

"Our faith in God, our marriages, our families are not only important to us, they are everything to us," he said simply.

"But—" she stopped.

"But it does not mean we're guaranteed there will be no challenges," he said, as if he knew where her thoughts were going. "And it does not mean we're guaranteed our spouse will be with us for fifty years."

He glanced at the window and stood. "It's getting late. I should take you home."

Nodding, she pushed her chair back and used the table and her cane to lever herself up. She'd sat too long and was stiff. The first few steps were always tricky.

Moving carefully, she reached for her coat and was relieved to find that she didn't waver on her feet.

"Let me help you." Matthew took the coat and held it so that she could slip one arm in, then the other.

He called his
kinner
and they came running to say goodbye.

Annie jumped up and down, excited that she was going with her father to drive Jenny home.

"Maybe you can come again?" Mary asked shyly.

Matthew laid a hand on Mary's shoulder as he looked at Jenny. "We hope that she'll visit us often."

Jenny nodded. "I would love to. Thank you all again for the wonderful meal and company."

Her grandmother was in the kitchen, stirring something in a pot, when Jenny got home.

"Mmm." Jenny sniffed the air. "Is that hot chocolate?"

"I knew you would be home soon. I made enough for both of us."

"Great." She hung her coat on the peg.

"Did you have a good time?" Phoebe served the chocolate in thick white pottery mugs.

"I had a wonderful time."

Taking a seat, she took a sip of the chocolate. "This is so good on a cold night."

A memory came to her of Matthew fixing her hot chocolate after he'd carried her to his home to warm up. She'd felt so taken care of that day.

She came back to the present, conscious that her grandmother was looking at her, waiting for her to continue.

"Matthew's children are so sweet. They cooked the supper with Hannah's help, before she left."

"I am sure their mother looks down on them with pride."

Chin in hand, elbow propped on the table, she studied her grandmother. "Funny, I thought that too. Now I know where I must have gotten it. I remember one summer, when I was visiting, you found me crying about my mom being gone. I was so sad, and you said something like that. It made me feel better, made me feel she was still close by."

Now wasn't the time to tell her grandmother that she'd felt her mother very, very close when she was injured. But maybe one day—

"I'm glad you remembered. You understand how hard it is for them to be without their mother."

"Yes. Maybe that's why we have sort of a bond."

"It was very hard for Matthew to lose his wife, too."

Jenny nodded.

"But it's been almost three years," Phoebe said. "Time for Matthew to think about marrying again. He's a good man who deserves to be happy. And his children deserve a mother."

"Has he been seeing anyone?" Jenny asked, hoping she sounded casual.

"Courting, you mean?"

"That sounds so charming," mused Jenny, taking another sip of her chocolate. "Some of our customs must seem oldfashioned to you."

"Well, my coworkers sometimes teased me that I was oldfashioned," she confessed. "I happen to think I just prefer tradition, you know?"

Phoebe reached across the table to take Jenny's hand."Sometimes it's hard to remember you're not Amish."

"Well, I'm sort of half, if you think about it. Even though Daddy left, I think he still considered himself one of the Plain People." She sighed as she glanced around the kitchen, always her favorite room of her grandmother's house. "I always loved it here. It felt like my second home."

Her grandmother nodded. "It's good to hear you say so."

Smothering a yawn, Jenny rose. "I'll wash up, and then it's bed for me."

Her grandmother patted her hand. "See you in the morning."

Jenny washed the mugs, dried them, and put them away. It had been a very long time since she'd done any housekeeping. She realized she liked the feel of doing such a chore instead of letting the dishwasher do the job.

Standing here in her grandmother's kitchen felt very homey to her in a way that her own never did. And it wasn't just that a modern kitchen made it feel sterile. Working so much, she'd seldom been home enough to really enjoy any part of her apartment, she realized. And the kitchen had been merely a place to nuke a frozen dinner or eat takeout.

Maybe while she was here she could try cooking some of her grandmother's recipes. After all, she had the time to stop and enjoy the simple pleasures of home-cooked food.

Now she'd had time to smell—the hot chocolate!

"Jenny!" Annie cried as she ran up the walkway a few days later.

"Annie, be careful!" Matthew called after her.

The child stopped a few feet before Jenny. "Rweady to go?" she asked with a big smile.

"Yes, I was just waiting for you." Jenny maneuvered the steps carefully.

Matthew waited beside the buggy. He helped Annie up, then held out a hand to Jenny.

"It's very nice of you to give me a ride to the speech pathologist."

Annie bounced on the seat. "I like it!"

"You're sure it isn't too much trouble?"

Matthew climbed in and started the buggy moving. "None at all. You're seeing a different speech therapist than Annie's, so we don't even have to wait for each other."

The receptionist appeared surprised when Jenny walked in. She looked from Matthew to Annie and then back at Jenny. She handed over a clipboard with a new patient form for Jenny to fill out but didn't say anything.

Naturally speech therapy was less physically taxing than physical therapy, but Jenny was disconcerted when Carol, her therapist, told her she needed intensive speech therapy several times a week.

"It's going to take that much to get you where you want to be. But we can get you there." She paused. "What is it? What's wrong?"

Jenny sighed and shook her head. "I wanted to be away from the hospital, but at least it was easy to do the therapy there. Here, it means asking someone to drive me in each time—and in bad weather, too."

Carol tapped her pen on the desk. "You told me you're living with your grandmother. Do you think she would be willing to do some of the verbal exercises with you?"

Jenny nodded.

"What if I stop by her house and work with the two of you once or twice—show you what you can do at home? If you follow my plan faithfully, I think we could have you come into the office less often and see how you do."

"You'd do that?"

"Sure."

"I would appreciate it so much. I mean, I feel terrible having you take the time—"

"It's no problem." Carol checked her calendar. "I'll do it on my way home from work. How about 5:30 tomorrow?"

"That would be great." Jenny breathed a sigh of relief and felt a weight lifting from her shoulders. "It would help so much. Thank you!"

When Jenny emerged from her session, Annie was just coming out of hers.

"See?" said Matthew.

"Okay, I see," said Jenny, smiling.

"See what?" Annie wanted to know.

Matthew and Jenny laughed. Annie tugged at his coat, and he bent down to let her whisper in his ear.

"Annie wants me to ask you to eat with us in town."

"Annie?"

"I would like it, too," Matthew admitted with a smile.

Jenny looked at the little girl, then her father. "That would be very nice."

They went to a restaurant that Jenny remembered from her previous visits, one the tourists didn't seem to know about.

Annie didn't need to look at the menu. "Grwwied cheese and Fwench fwies, pwease," she told the waitress who called her by name.

"We eat here sometimes after her appointment," Matthew explained. He ordered the buffet.

Jenny hesitated. The buffet was loaded with so many foods, and while her appetite had improved, she didn't think she needed more than a sandwich.

"Try it," Matthew urged, seeing her glance at the buffet.

She nodded. "Okay. But just to balance out how much you eat. They can't be making much money off you if you still eat as much as you did years ago."

Although his manner was more formal than other men in her world, she saw the twinkle in his eyes.

He stood and helped her to her feet. They made their selections, and then, when it came time to take their plates back to the table, he took hers for her.

Annie was absorbed in coloring on the paper placemat used for the kiddie menu. She smiled as her father and Jenny sat down but returned to her coloring, content to wait for her sandwich.

As they ate, Matthew asked Jenny how her session had gone.

"I'll take a hundred of those sessions compared to physical therapy," she told him as she buttered a biscuit hot from the oven. "Sometimes I wonder when I'll see the end of this."

She sighed and set the biscuit back on the plate. "Sometimes I wonder when I'll feel normal again. . . . I'm sorry. I'm complaining."