Seasons of Sugarcreek 02. Spring's Renewal (10 page)

For a flash, he imagined pulling away her dress. Examining the skin for himself. Reassuring her that to him, she would always be lovely. Then her words hit home.

“So you’ll have another surgery to repair the damage? When are you going to do that?”

“Not ever.”

Confused, he stopped and looked directly at her. “But you just said the doctors recommended it.”

“We can’t afford it.”

“Not ever?” His mind raced. He’d heard of charitable institutions that helped people who needed treatments. Perhaps if they wrote to one of them, explained her situation, told everyone about how she lived so bravely, but yearned for more…

“It’s almost too late now,” she murmured. “And, well, I suppose my mother was right. It is unnecessary.”

“To refuse you help seems harsh.”

“Perhaps. But I saw her point. Already my surgeries cost the community a lot of money.”

Tim could only imagine. Once his mother had been put in the hospital with pneumonia. That one week stay had been terribly expensive. But then he recalled another bit of information. “But I thought your father had insurance?”

“Oh, yes. He did, thank the Lord. I was lucky, indeed. Yes, but even so, it was thousands of dollars. Then he passed away and money became very tight. My mother was worried that the expense of the surgery for something like vanity wasn’t a good idea.”

“Vanity? Clara, I don’t want to sound mean, but there’s a big difference between helping your skin look healed and a fancy lady’s need for a perfect nose or something.” As soon as he said the words, he regretted them. “I’m sorry. All of this is none of my business.”

“There’s no need to apologize. I don’t mind speaking about the surgeries as much as other people do. They’re part of who I am.”

“I think you should go to the doctor now, just to see. If you want.”

“I used to think about it,” she murmured. “Sometimes I’ve sat and wondered what things would be like if that accident had never happened. Now, though, I think my scars let me see the world a little bit clearer than most others see it. I know people can be harsh. I know that bad things can’t always be wished away. It helps to teach the children that, too.”

It was in his nature to want to fix things. “Maybe one day you can still get the surgery.”

“I don’t think so. I’m almost at peace with it.”

Tim felt humbled. He’d heard her use of “almost” and knew she was being completely honest with him. She knew what she looked like, and she wished things were different.

But she was doing her best.

“I think you’re pretty great.”

“Don’t think that, Timothy. All of us are scarred by life. By things that happen. Mine just happen to be on the outside. Bold enough for anyone to see.”

“But the way you deal with things. You are such a giving person.”

“Some would say the same of you. Here you are, living with your aunt and uncle and helping around their farm. All because they asked.”

“It wasn’t that easy, I’m afraid. I didn’t want to come here at first,” he said again. He didn’t know why he cared, but he wanted her to see all of his faults. To know that he, too, wasn’t near perfect.

“That’s okay. Things are more meaningful when they’re more difficult,
jah
?”

“Yes.” Tim saw her house in the distance. “What will you do now?”

“I’m going to work in my garden. And you?”

“I’ll do some chores. It was nice to walk with you, Clara. Thank you.”

“And thank you, Tim. Goodbye.”

When she walked away, he felt like part of his heart went with her.

Even though they were only friends and could never be sweethearts.

Lilly was kneeling in the middle of her mother’s new garden, trying to figure out which were weeds and which were cucumber plants when Ty and Anson came rushing through the hedge that separated their land from the Grabers’.

As they raced in front of her—almost stepping on something she knew was a tomato plant—she called out to them. “Hey, you two, settle down.”

Both boys stopped. “Lilly? What are you doing?”

“Trying to garden. What are you two running in such a hurry for?”

“We get to have a sleepover tonight!” Ty replied. “Mrs. Graber said I could spend the night.”

“We’re going to sleep in the barn,” Anson added with a cheeky grin. “It’s going to be scary.”

Just to tease, Lilly frowned. “Are you sure you want to do that? You might not be able to sleep…”

“Oh, we’re gonna get scared in a good way,” Ty explained. “So I need my sleeping bag.”

Lilly looked from one boy to the other and tried to imagine what her mother would say. “Boys, are you sure it’s okay? You’ve gotten your signals crossed with our parents before.” As she thought of the many times they’d “accidentally” come home late from each other’s homes or “forgot” to tell both parents that they were going fishing, she figured a little clarification wouldn’t hurt.

Ty impatiently kicked a clump of dirt. “Yes.”

She was just about to tell her brother to watch where he was kicking when Anson stepped in front of her. “It really is okay this time, Lilly. My
mamm
said since it’s Friday night, sleeping out in the barn won’t hurt anything. Plus she said she heard the rains are going to start coming. If we don’t camp out now, we won’t get to for some time.”

She couldn’t help but smile at that. Every moment seemed to be laced with special anticipation with these two. “I suppose not. Well, good luck finding a sleeping bag, Ty. I haven’t seen one in forever.”

“That’s because I put it in my room.”

“Oh. Of course. Well, have fun,” she said as she scooted around to the next row of vegetables and flicked away a grasshopper that had landed on something that looked important.

When it chirped and darted off, she jumped a bit herself. So far, gardening was so not for her.

Anson looked intrigued by her antics. Leaning closer, he said, “What are you doing?”

“Trying to figure out which green things are weeds and which ones are not. Of course, they all look the same to me.”

Anson looked at her homemade sign, then reached down and pulled up a sprig of green. “This ain’t a green bean. It’s a dandelion. You growing those, too?”

Lilly wasn’t sure if he was joking or not. Taking the plant from him, she shook her head. “No. Hey, how did you know this wasn’t a green bean seedling?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “I just do.”

When they scampered off into the house, Lilly leaned back on her knees and sighed. The weed in her hand looked green. So did the other little hundred shoots springing from the rows and rows in front of her. “This is hopeless,” she said with a moan.

“Maybe not,” Caleb Graber said as he walked out of the bushes. When she looked at him in surprise, he chuckled. “Mamm sent me over to tell you that she really did give them permission to sleep in the barn. You know how Anson and Ty get with their plans. They aren’t above fibbing a bit to get their way.”

She stood up. “I just grilled them myself.”

When he stopped in front of her, he whistled low. “Gardening today?”

“That’s still to be determined. At the moment, all that’s happening is I’m getting freaked out by bugs and pulling all the wrong stuff. At this rate, we’re going to have a wonderful garden of dandelions. Caleb, do you know the difference between what’s supposed to be here and what isn’t?”

“I suppose I do.” Rolling up his sleeves, he crouched down. “I’ll help you, Lilly Allen.” Squinting his eyes, he quickly pulled eight or ten weeds and tossed them in her green plastic wheelbarrow. “This here is clover, Lilly. And this is a dandelion thistle.” He touched two of the leaves. “See the difference between them and your beans?”

Finally, she did. With renewed vigor, she yanked and pulled a half dozen more. “Am I doing this right?”

“
Jah
.” His green eyes—eyes the color of the fresh-pulled clover in her hands—twinkled a bit. They reminded her a lot of Josh’s eyes, and how much she’d been drawn to Josh when they’d first moved in. She imagined there was a group of girls in his community who dreamed of being Caleb’s sweetheart one day. She knew she’d be hoping for his attentions if she was a few years younger.

As if feeling her regard, he shrugged. “It’s not hard, once you know what to look for.”

“I’ll try to remember that,” she said dryly.

He looked toward the garage. “Charlie here?”

“Sorry. He’s still gone. He’s visiting some friends and getting registered for the fall semester at Bowling Green. He won’t be back until Sunday night.”

Some of the light dimmed in his eyes. “Oh. Well, thanks anyway.”

“Did you need to go somewhere? I’d be happy to drive you to town. It’s the least I could do after you’ve pulled so many weeds.”

For a moment she thought he would accept, then he shook his head. “I better not. My parents wouldn’t like that.”

Wouldn’t like that? What was going on? “Caleb, are you okay?”

“I am. Just feeling restless.” When she knelt down to pull another weed, he pushed her hand aside and pulled up a completely different plant. “That one there is a strawberry plant, Lilly. Keep that in the ground,
jah
?”

“I’ll try.”

Rolling his eyes, he nudged her aside and finished clearing weeds from the row of strawberries.

As he did so, she balanced in a squat and watched him. “I remember being restless and a lot of other things…especially since they weren’t all that long ago. I think everyone at fifteen and sixteen is restless.”

“My family doesna think so.”

She couldn’t help but notice he sounded bitter. “Trouble at home?”

“Not really. Just some differences in opinions. I’m in my
rumspringa
, so I’m allowed more freedom…but though my parents say I have it, I don’t. Not really.”

“Talking about things helps. Do you have a girlfriend? Sometimes having someone special in your life can help you sort out things.”

“No.”

Recalling Joshua’s talk about Sunday-night singings, a time when many of the teenagers got together to hang out, she said, “When’s the next singing?”

“I don’t go to those.”

“Why not?”

He stilled. “I have my reasons.”

“Which are? I’m not trying to judge you,” she said quickly. “I’m just curious.”

Caleb pulled another two weeds, tossed them in the barrow, then stood up and brushed dirt off his pants. After a moment, he said, “I’m not interested in all things Amish right now. I feel trapped. I want to see new people. I want to experience things.”

“And I bet those feelings aren’t going over so well at home.”

“You would be right.”

“Be careful what you wish for. I got restless and then did some things I wish I hadn’t. Now I’ve had enough experiences for ten or twelve people.”

But instead of grinning right back at her, his gaze hardened. “At least you have done something.”

Lilly knew it was no use to explain that she would have given a lot not to have gone through so much. Even now, she was still finding even the easiest tasks monumental.

“Thanks for your help with the weeds, Caleb.”

“Anytime. Tell the boys to find my
mamm
when they leave here.” He turned and slipped through the hedge again.

Lilly pulled a few more weeds, then couldn’t help comparing his attitude with the man she’d waited on at the Sugarcreek Inn. Both had stared at her like she should automatically know what they wanted.

Who knew? Maybe she did.

Maybe she should have told them that she knew what they yearned for all too well—something new and fresh and different.

And, of course, peace.

With a sigh, she stood up and brushed the dirt from her knees. Overhead, clouds were rolling in. A change was in the air, just like Mrs. Graber had warned the little boys about.

But what was really hard was that she was in no hurry for any more changes at all.

Frankly, she thought she’d been through enough.

On Thursday afternoon, Tim stood by his horse and buggy at the train station and double-checked the time with the information in Ruby’s last letter.

Anson noticed. “How much longer?”

“The clock and letter say ten minutes.”

“Then I guess we’re gonna have to wait a while longer.”

Tim chuckled. It had probably been a sign of weakness to drag Anson with him, but he’d wanted the company, and he’d wanted a buffer between him and Ruby when she first arrived.

Though his aunt and uncle had looked at him curiously when he’d asked if he could bring Anson along to the train station, they’d agreed readily enough.

Anson, being Anson, had been eager to leave school a little bit early and eye the trains.

“Miss Slabaugh said sometimes mail rides on the trains. Do you think maybe my postcard will be in one of the mail sacks?”

“I don’t know.”

“When do you think I’ll hear from my pen pal? It’s been a week.”

“I don’t know that answer either.”

“James thinks he’s going to hear first because he wrote to a fella in Indiana, but I don’t know about that.”

“I’d say it’s anyone’s guess.”

Anson nodded. “We’re not supposed to bet, but I bet James a fishing lure that I’ll hear first.”

“Probably wasn’t a smart decision. You’re parents will not be pleased to hear you’re making bets like that. Especially not in school.”

“I couldn’t help it. James always acts like he knows everything. Sometimes I get tired of it.”

“I hear what you’re saying, but two wrongs don’t make a right, you know. You should learn to ignore his boastful ways. That would be a better way to go. There’re people who want to be right everywhere, and that’s the truth.”

“I suppose.” Anson rocked on his heels, shifted the straw hat on his head as a pair of
Englischers
smiled his way, then looked right and left down the train tracks. “I hope she comes soon. I’m getting tired of waiting.”

“I hope so, too.”

As people congregated around them and a couple nearby hugged and kissed, Anson glanced his way again. “So, are you going to kiss Ruby hello?”

Tim looked at Anson in surprise. “Why in the world would you ask such a thing?”

“Because I’m curious. Everyone around here is kissing. They’re kissing a lot.”

“They’re English.”

“Amish kiss, too,” Anson retorted. “I know that.”

Tim was beginning to regret bringing the boy along. “I know that, too.”

Warming to the topic, his little cousin continued. “Once, I saw my brother Joshua kiss Gretta when they thought no one saw them.” He wrinkled his nose. “It lasted forever.”

“They are married. And, you shouldn’t have been spying on them.”

“I couldn’t help it. They were in the hall outside the kitchen. What else was I supposed to do?”

“Turn around.”

Anson rolled his eyes. “There was nowhere else for me to go. Anyway, they stopped as soon as I walked over to them and said I didn’t think they should kiss so much.”

Tim could only imagine what that scene had been like. “Anson. That was rude.”

“So was kissin’ in the hallway!” He looked at Tim sideways. “But later, after Joshua told me I shoulda been minding my own business, he said there was nothing wrong with kissing.”

“There’s not. As long as there are genuine, loving feelings involved.”

“Oh, I think Joshua felt loving all right.” Before Tim could chastise him again Anson pulled his jacket. “So, will you kiss Ruby? Do you have genuine, loving feelings for her?”

This had to be why the good Lord had made him an only child. There was no way he could have dealt with such intrusive questions time and again, day after day.

Especially since he didn’t know what his feelings were for Ruby any longer. Did he still feel loving toward her? A knot settled in his stomach as he worried about the answer.

“Are ya?” Anson nagged.

“No. Now stop asking me so many questions.”

“But all I’m asking is—”

The train whistle blew just in time.

“Quiet, now. I need to look for Ruby.” Tim wasn’t sure how much Anson heard over the roar of the train whistle and the steady pulse of the powerful engines.

Time seemed to stop as the massive structure pulled to a stop next to the platform. Anson giggled as another whistle blew, a door opened, and a conductor called out, “Depart quickly. This train will leave in ten minutes.”

Around them on the cement platform more people joined them, awaiting the disembarking passengers. Other men in uniforms and baggage carts pushed their way to the front.

Anson reached for his arm and held on tight as a man on a cell phone almost knocked into him.

Tim craned his neck to try to see Ruby. Through the tiny windows, he saw several people standing near the train doors, impatiently waiting for them to open. None of them looked like her, though.

And then with a metallic whoosh, doors on several of the cars slid open and passengers started piling out. When he’d arrived by train, both the train and the station had been far less crowded. Today, there seemed to be at least twice as many people shuffling around, each as impatient as the next to escape the station.

Still holding his arm tightly, Anson hopped a bit, attempting to see over the heads of the men in front of him. “Can you see anything, Tim? Do you see Ruby?”

“Not yet.”

“What if she didn’t come? What would we do then?”

“She came. We just need to be patient.”

Anson sighed. When he started hopping again, Tim moved them to the left where the crowd had thinned.

However, nowhere did he see an Amish woman.

Though less than ten minutes had passed, already the station was emptying and the train’s engines were growling impatiently to continue.