Sarah's Garden (30 page)
“
Mamm
, we ’ll be back shortly.” Sarah sidled past her parent.
“
Jah
, take all the time you like, child. And stay out of the snow in your skirts.”
“I’ll keep a watchful eye,” Jacob promised. Sarah sighed and waited for him to escort her to the sled.
“You do love to tease,” she scolded when he’d seated her and spoken to the horse.
“Guilty as charged.”
“What’s your horse ’s name? I’ve never asked.”
“Thunder. He ’s a good boy but was a bit hard to handle at first. He’d been badly broke by some Amish man down in Lancaster. I had to talk to him for quite a while to build his confidence back up.”
“I remember you telling me when we were young about how you talk to the horses.”
Jah .
. . and I’ve told no one since.” “
“Well, it’s a gift anyway.”
“I suppose.” He shrugged, and Sarah knew he’d rather not talk about it, that he didn’t like to be the center of attention. They were so much alike, she thought. If only she could have just fallen in love with Jacob, things would have been so much easier. But, then again, she didn’t expect that love on any course was easy.
“Your
mamm
did beautiful work at my quilting,” she praised, changing the subject.
He smiled at her. “
Danki
, Sarah. She loved your quilt. Talked about it ’til I was tired of listening actually.”
She smiled back at him. “Men don’t really have much to do with quilting.”
“Oh, but I’m a good hand with the needle.”
She gazed at him in wonder, finding it strange that he ’d admit such a thing.
He laughed. “You forget that I do leather work, saddles and satchels and stuff.”
“So do my brothers; they’re getting ready for the spring fair in Lockport.”
“I need to do that one year—”
A stray piece of ice flew up and nicked his strong-boned cheek. Sarah gazed at the trickle of blood and used the end of her scarf to wipe it away as he spoke to Thunder and slowed the horse for a passing wagon.
W
hy, there they are,” Ezekiel hissed to Grant, then drew back from the smell. “And in case you’re wondering why I’m so deadset on showing you Sarah and her life without you, it’s because I want you to be sure . . . very sure . . . that it’s Amish that you want to be, not just Mr. ‘I Married an Amish Girl.’”
“Thanks.” Grant’s voice was dry, but his eyes behind the strange dark glasses welled with pain. Sarah was so achingly beautiful in the clear light of day that she surpassed all of his remembrances of her, but she was also gently wiping her scarf against the face of the handsome, dark-haired Amish man.
Jacob Wyse
, Grant thought, a feeling of anger coming over him. How could he be furious with someone he barely knew? Then again, it was easy when he watched the other man clearly enjoy Sarah’s attention.
The bishop pulled the wagon up against the cutter, nearly startling Thunder off the road. Jacob Wyse leaned forward and spoke to the animal, and Grant was quick to see that the horse responded and calmed.
“Hiya,” Ezekiel began in a jovial manner. “Sarah King and Jacob Wyse . . . it’s a pleasure to see you out and about. Sarah, are you feeling better?”
“Yes,
danki
,” came her soft answer, and Grant longed to speak to her so much that his throat ached.
“And you, young man, Jacob. I see it’s true that you have a way with horses.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. Who’s your passenger?”
Grant’s handsome mouth thinned atop the fake bushy beard. He didn’t like the other man’s attitude or knowing grin.
“
Ach
, just a wayward soul I happened to pick up along the way.”
“When the wind drifts wayward then, it’s a smell to offend a lady I think. Perhaps we should drive on.”
Ezekiel looked at Grant as if grasping for the next piece of conversation.
“
Ach
, sure, sure, but I—uh—I’m havin’ a bit of trouble with one of my wagon wheels. Perhaps we could take a look—”
Jacob handed the reins to Sarah and jumped down with a grin. “I don’t mind, but your stranger looks hearty enough to help you if he cared to.”
Grant wanted to growl, and he didn’t like the way the horse was beginning to prance in absence of his master at the reins. Sarah looked nervous.
“Perhaps you’ve a mind to see to your horse before you’ve got a runaway,” Grant said roughly. Sarah looked up then, seeming to study him. Grant could sense Ezekiel holding his breath, then she looked away as the wind carried the smell of manure thick through the air.
Jacob grasped the bridle of the dark horse and spoke to it. Then he looked up to Ezekiel. “Your wheels look fine, Bishop. It must have been the road; we’ll be moving on to enjoy the afternoon.” He was back in the cutter, the reins in his hands, and the last Grant saw of Sarah’s beautiful face was a passing profile, for he could not turn around to look without arousing more suspicion.
“Well, there we go. And here ’s your lesson question for today. Could you live in this community and see Sarah married, perhaps to another?” Ezekiel sounded grim, and Grant swallowed.
“I know how the Lord has been calling my heart these many months to ask to become Amish. I lost my parents and have never felt that secure sense of belonging in life since, not until I came here and felt like I was observing it from afar. It’s a way of life that brings peace to my soul—with or without Sarah.”
The old man glanced at him through squinting eyes. “Then you’ve answered well.”
Grant nodded. “It was a pleasure, though, to see her face.”
“
Ach
, you’ve got it bad.”
“Thanks—that’s helpful.”
“Don’t be touchy; it’s not my fault you smell like manure.”
Grant resisted the urge to wring the good bishop’s neck and concentrated on breathing the air, free and clean. He ’d become too used to taking his exercise late at night, when no one was about, and he longed to pull off the beard, which was beginning to itch.
“If you don’t like the airplane glue, just wait until it’s your own hair growing in. Marry a girl, and it’s a beard you’ll have as your wedding ring.”
“I know that.”
“Good, that means you’re studying to some purpose, then.”
Grant repressed the urge to show him how much he’d been studying by uttering a few good oaths in Pennsylvania Dutch and instead flapped his coat in the wind. The bishop nearly gagged.
“What are you tryin’ to do, boy? Kill the driver?”
“
Jah
,” Grant answered with some return of his good humor. “I think I am.”
T
he land was wide awake following a hard spring. The last weeks of April were the best time to plant pumpkins, and Sarah added each seed to the earth in the predawn light. She then went inside to wash her hands, surprised not to find
Mamm
awake. Instead, by the light of a single lamp, Father was sitting at the table with his Bible.
“Father, where ’s
Mamm
?”
“
Ach
, she spent a restless night, so I convinced her to have a lie in for once.”
He turned to her, looking tired and wan himself, and Sarah feared for his heart once more. She knew that she had been distant from him ever since he ’d told her the truth about his telling Grant that he did not favor a relationship between them. She felt ashamed and went to lay her hand on his aged shoulder.
“Father, I’ve been like a foolish child, crying for the moon—ever since you told me of what you spoke of with the doctor. I owe you an apology and much more. Please forgive me.” She bent to kiss the work-worn hand that had always treated her with love, and Father stroked her hair with his other hand.
“
Ach
, Sarah, my little woman, now. There ’s nothing to forgive, and you must keep your faith in what
Der Herr
can do, even when we least expect it. He is in control, not me. He is in control in your life as well, though you may not always see Him working.”
“I know, Father. I will try to know better.”
Gut . . . gut
. Now, how can I help you with the food?” “
Sarah smiled at him. “I can do the food, Father. Please just relax a few minutes.”
She hurried to scramble the eggs and grill the toast, then set tomatoes to grill as well and added mushrooms and slices of cheddar cheese to the bread. She’d just set the last plate, and Father was in his place when the boys came trooping down, asking about
Mamm
.
“I’ll take a tray up to
Mamm
,” Sarah announced. “And make it a true holiday of a morning for her.”
Sarah knocked on her parents’ door and entered, offering her
Mamm
the treat of food she hadn’t needed to prepare herself.
Her mother patted the edge of the oversized feather bed. “Come and sit for a minute, Sarah.”
“You are okay, right?”
Mamm
smiled. “Yes, I was just having a bit of extra prayer time. I want you to know, because it was for you.”
Sarah smiled and leaned forward to lay her head on her
Mamm
’s shoulder, breathing in that familiar and timeless scent of mother and comforter. “
Ach
,
Mamm
, thank you so much. I’ve needed extra prayer, extra wisdom these past weeks.”
“I know.”
Mamm
stroked her hair. “I’ve got eyes to see.”
Sarah pulled back and looked at her.
“I’m sorry that I’ve been moping around so much.”
“Now,”
Mamm
interrupted. “None of that. You just tend to your garden like you always do and things will turn out all right. You’ll see.”
Sarah kissed her aging cheek, which was still rose-petal soft, and thanked the Lord that she had the parents He ’d seen fit to give her.
W
ell, your time’s nearly up, Son. Do you still want to go through with the baptism?” The bishop forked down his eggs while he talked. The deacons had all agreed that, providing his studies of the
Ordnung
and the language went suitably well, Grant might “coincidentally” be free to go out among the community dressed as a young Amish man on the day that Sarah opened the roadside stand. It seemed appropriate, being a year out from when he had first moved to the community. His baptism would then take place on the following Sunday.
“I’m surer of going through it now than I’ve ever been. It’ll also be good to be able to practice again without skulking about. I shudder to think of the animals that have met with bad ends because of the drive to Lockport.”
“There now, enough of that. You can’t save the world; you’re doing something to serve
Der Herr
. Now which is more important?”
“I know.” He munched his toast with a sigh. He had to study the translation of the baptismal questions and ceremony today. “Listen, may I go out to the barn loft to study today? It’s a bit stuffy up in that room.”
“Ha! You’re spoiled! Missing your air-conditioning?”
“
Jah
, I guess I am. Although I’ve enjoyed thinking up ways to use alternative power to perform surgery and the like.
The bishop laughed. So, becoming Amish means you’ve had to exercise your brain a bit more?”
“To some extent, yes. You’re right.” He didn’t say more because he didn’t feel like sparring today; he felt exhausted, like he’d run a long race and now, seeing the finish, didn’t have the energy to end. He also knew part of him did fear the depth of relationship that Sarah might have developed with Jacob Wyse in his absence. He couldn’t blame her; he’d left so abruptly. And that note he’d written . . . He’d gone over it a thousand times in his mind, wondering if he might have been more forthcoming, but he’d done the best he could.
“What’s wrong, Son?” Ezekiel burst into his thoughts.
“I’m just tired.”
“Listen to me, then.” The bishop straightened in his chair and Grant looked at him, catching a glimpse of the great leader he had to be in order to keep the community at peace and in line. “You’re tired because it’s normal. Don’t give in to despair. Have faith in what
Der Herr
can do, even if you feel that you have done all you can. That’s where He gets His space to work, when it’s at the end of what you are.”
Grant looked at his plate and considered. His faith was being tested in more ways than one, but there was a lot of sense in what the old man said. “I’ll try to give
Der Herr
His room to work, then.”
“
Gut
, and go to the barn loft, by all means.”
Grant rose to scrape his plate, and the bishop laid a hand on his arm and cleared his throat. “I—I will miss you, Son, when you’re gone.”
Grant put his plate down and enfolded the old man in a tight embrace. He hadn’t hugged another man, except Bustle, since his father had died.
“There, there.” The bishop patted his arms and cleared his throat. “I’m just glad you finally got the manure smell off.”
S
arah found that her
mamm
was right, and focusing on her garden proved a balm to her spirit and soul. She also took to walking with Jacob in the afternoons for an hour each day, mainly because he persisted and because she sensed he was deeply lonely despite his banter and teasing front. It was when he tried to kiss her again, though, and she turned aside, that she knew she had to speak seriously with him. It was not fair to let him think there was hope for them. So now she skirted a mud puddle and cleared her throat.
“Jacob,” she began. “There ’s something that I have to talk to you about . . .”
He looked at her from his keen eyes and smiled. “Definitely sure you’re not interested in spending your life with this Amish man?”
She blushed. He always had her words two steps ahead. “No . . . I mean, yes. That sounds awful. I wanted to say it differently.”
“No harm done, Sarah. I assure you, my heart will survive.” He pounded himself stoutly on the chest, but she caught the slight edge in his voice. She ’d hurt him.
“Jacob, don’t joke. I was wrong to let you think. I mean, I didn’t mean to . . .”
“Ask yourself, though, Sarah—will you stay in love with the past, with a dream that doesn’t exist anymore? Can a dream give you your own home? Children? A life?”