Seasons of Sugarcreek 02. Spring's Renewal (8 page)

“Guder Mariye
, Miss Slabaugh,” Anson said brightly on Friday morning, almost a full week after she’d dined at his home. “It’s a nice day out,
jah
?” he asked as he set his lunch pail on the bench with a clatter, hastily pushed his coat on a hook and then raced to his desk. The moment he stopped he dropped his books on the wooden top with a thump.

Clara watched it all with some misgiving. Anson was a very enthusiastic boy, that was true. But never in the two years that she’d been teaching him had he ever been so…exuberant. “Good morning, to you, too,” she said slowly. “You seem to be in fine spirits today.”

“Oh, I am.”

“Is it because it’s Friday?”

He blinked. “Oh, I don’t know.”

“I see.” She turned away from him and pulled out her notes for the day’s lessons. Actually, she didn’t understand what was going on with him at all. But if there was one thing she’d learned during her two years it was that children’s thoughts didn’t always make the most sense.

And that sooner or later they’d say what was on their minds. It wasn’t in their nature to hold secrets for long.

As she’d half expected, Anson started talking again. “Me and Ty tried to fish yesterday afternoon but we didn’t catch nothing.”

“Where did you go?”

“To the creek. There’s some fish there, but not always.”

Their creek fluctuated in water levels very much. “There will be more fish when the rains come, I imagine.”

“Yep. That’s what I told Ty. Then we’ll be able to bring home dinner one night for our families.”

Because he was so cute, she couldn’t resist teasing him. “You’re going to need a lot of fish for your family, Anson.”

“Don’t I know it!”

“Well, perhaps you’ll get luckier next time?”

“Maybe. Cousin Tim said he thought the water was so cold, the fish didn’t want to bite.”

Even hearing Tim’s name from her student’s mouth made her pulse jump a bit. “I imagine your cousin might be right about that.”

“I bet he is. Cousin Timothy is a smart man.”

“Yes, he is.”

“He’s nice, too.”

“I thought so as well.” She looked at him curiously. “Anson, you are here awfully early today. Was there something you wanted to speak with me about? Perhaps you forgot to do your homework?”

His eyes widened to saucers. “Oh, no, teacher. I did my report. I wrote it out neatly before Ty and me went fishing.”

“I am sorry I doubted you. And truthfully, I am very glad to see you. I like talking with you.”

He brightened. “I like talking with you, too.”

“Since you are here, perhaps you could help me prepare for today’s lessons?”

“What? Oh, sure.”

He answered agreeably enough, but something was not quite right, Clara thought. His feet were sluggish as he walked by her side to the table in the back. “Anson, we will begin studying states and capitals today. I have postcards for everyone. Please put one on each person’s desk.”

As she’d hoped, the new assignment brought a renewed interest. Looking at the stack of bright postcards in her hands, he looked at them in wonder. “Are these
real
postcards?”

“Of course they are. And even better, there’s one postcard from every one of our fifty states.”

“Even Alaska?”

She couldn’t resist smiling. “Even Alaska. Hawaii, too.” With a little bow, she handed them to him.

He clutched them eagerly. “How did you get so many? Have you visited all these places?”

“Of course not. I’ve never been farther than Columbus.”

“Did you order them?”

“Oh, Anson. You are such an impatient boy. Look on the other side of the top one.”

When he flipped one over, his mouth opened in surprise. “Miss Slabaugh, this person wrote you a letter from Wyoming.”

“Yes, he did. From Cheyenne, I believe.”

“How do you know him?

“Only a little bit. He’s a pen pal to me. I have some friends who passed on my postcard to him. Other places, I simply wrote a city’s chamber of commerce and they passed on my note to someone. It was exciting to see who all received my postcards.”

“Wow.”

“Soon, you will have a pen pal, too.”

“From where?”

“From whatever state you write to. I want you to pick one of the states and place that postcard on your desk.”

“I can choose?”

“Indeed you may. That’s your treat for getting here so early.”

Clara pretended not to notice that Anson strode over to his desk and carefully slapped the Wyoming postcard in the very center. “Pass them out as quickly as you can, Anson,” she said. “I see that the rest of our class is on their way in.”

With a renewed determination, he set card after card on the desks. She was just about to greet the other students when he called out.

“Miss Slabaugh, I think my Cousin Tim fancies you.”

Hope and embarrassment crashed into her. Struggling to keep those emotions to herself, she looked at the boy sternly. “That is not appropriate conversation for school, Anson.”

“That is why I came early, but I was
neahfich
—nervous about telling you.”

Gently, she went to his side. “You were most likely
neahfich
because Tim’s business is not yours to tell.”

He shook his head. “No, that’s not why. I was just anxious to tell you. You should visit us again.”

Hesitantly, she ventured, “Someone told me that Tim might have a sweetheart already, and that they write to each other often.”

“Oh, they do, but Tim wasn’t too happy about receiving Ruby’s last letter.”

So her mother’s information had been true. “I’m sure he was. Everyone enjoys getting mail,” she said brightly. “Besides, we don’t know what his mood about the letter has to do with me.” She neglected to point out the obvious, but tried to gently allude to it, just the same. “I promise you, a man like Timothy Graber would not be interested in a woman like me.”

“But you two went walking.”

“I know we did. But just because we went out for a walk doesn’t mean we’re anything more than friends.”

“You sure?”

“
Jah
.” Too torn to attempt to worry about saying anything else, she turned from Anson just as a group of eight children entered in a rush, all smiles and laughter and noise. Clara greeted each child, hugged two of the little girls who ran to her, and then with a smile, directed all questions about the postcards to Anson.

He would enjoy the attention, and their questions would prevent him from saying anything more about her and Tim. By now she was sure there never would be anything between them.

Most likely, it had been the moonlight and fireflies that had made her even imagine anything ever could be.

“You’re back,” Gretta and Miriam called out as soon as Lilly walked into the kitchen. “Oh, I’m so glad to see you. Things just haven’t been the same since you’ve been gone.”

“Really?”

“Oh, for sure,” Miriam said. “It’s been terribly quiet with nobody chirping about this and that.”

“And here I thought you all were probably appreciating my absence.”

“Never that,” Gretta said, rushing to her side to give her a hug. “We’ve been so sad for your loss and have been terribly worried, too.”

The lump that now seemed lodged in her throat seemed to grow to the size of a goose egg. “Thank you.”

Still holding her close, Gretta said, “Are you all right?”

“I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “But I do know that it was time for me to leave the house and come here. I couldn’t sit in bed and be sad any longer.”

“Well, of course you couldn’t,” Miriam said as she gave Lilly a quick hug as well. “Being busy might not cure problems, but it helps one forget about things for a time, I think. And that is a mighty
gut
thing.”

“Lilly? Are you ready, dear? The dining room is filling up,” Mrs. Kent called out.

Hastily grabbing an apron, Lilly waved to the two other girls. “I’m ready,” she called out and rushed to the tables in her station. As a pair of women greeted her and placed their orders, Lilly realized that in this instance, work was indeed the best medicine.

“I thought you quit,” a man said two hours later as she came up to take his order. Lilly stopped short. It was the sullen Amish man from before, sitting at the same table.

“I didn’t,” she said shortly, unafraid to match his tone. Her shift was almost over. And, though she hoped no one would have the slightest idea of how emotionally drained she was, Lilly knew she was almost at her breaking point. Her body was tired after being on her feet for four long hours. Her arms and shoulders and back were moaning about the unaccustomed strength needed to lift trays and carry them to the kitchen. The unspoken questions and whispered comments about her miscarriage hadn’t floated over her, either. No, she was very aware of the talk she’d created.

But she’d done her best to smile in the face of it.

When the man still looked her over, she pointed to his menu. “Did you come here to eat or just stare at me?”

He blinked. Then scowled.

Lilly saw a firing in her future. “I’m sorry,” she said, meaning it. “I’m tired and I guess I’ve just about met the end of my rope.”

“Maybe you should rest.”

“I will. My shift is almost up.” She pulled out a pencil and did her best to look competent and professional. “Now, sir, what will you have?”

“It’s Robert.”

For the life of her, she couldn’t follow his statement. “Pardon me?”

His lips tilted a tiny bit. Enough to change the expression on his face. It didn’t transform it, but it certainly did create an impression of handsomeness. “I meant, Lilly, that my name is Robert.”

“Oh. Well, you know I’m Lilly.”

To her surprise, he smiled. Not just a miserly smile, but a full-out grin. With teeth. And with that smile, her suspicion of handsomeness flew out the window. Now he was flat-out gorgeous.

Both his looks—and her reaction to them—were startling.

Perversely, he seemed to grow more at ease the more she became skittish. “I know what I’ll have now.”

“Yes?”

“A slice of peanut butter pie. And a cup of coffee, too.”

“Pie. Coffee.”

Blue eyes warmed. “
Jah
. Lilly, I am glad you’re back.”

Never in her wildest dreams would she have imagined him being so forward. Snapping his menu closed, she nodded. “I’ll bring it right out.”

“
Danke
.”

Robert said nothing more to her when she brought his order. He simple nodded his thanks, ate about half the pie and sipped half the coffee, then left a tip and paid Mrs. Kent on his way out.

Later, when she drove home, she thought about him again, in spite of her best attempts not to. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t completely erase the feeling that had floated over her when he’d looked her way…like he knew more than he was saying.

“This is my postcard,” Anson said proudly at dinner on Monday evening. “Each of us got one. Mine has a cowboy on the front.”

Carrie craned her neck to better look at the picture. It was difficult task; Anson kept moving it out of her reach, making the postcard look as precious as gold.

Tim sipped his iced tea while Anson played a game of “keep away” with the postcard, holding it higher and higher over his plate until it looked as though Carrie would surely fall into his dinner, she was contorted so much.

Caleb frowned. “Enough, Anson. It’s only a postcard. Stop making Carrie think it’s something special.”

“But it is,” Anson fired back. “I’m going to write this man in Wyoming and he’s going to write me back. I’m gonna get mail, just like Cousin Tim.”

Before Tim could say anything about that, Caleb spoke. “Tim is a lot older and has family members to write to.”

“Well, I want a pen pal. And Miss Slabaugh says I’m gonna get one, too.”

“This is no cause to argue,” Elsa said from her spot down at the end of the table. “Now I think we should all agree to look forward to hearing what Anson’s new Wyoming friend will have to say, then move on to something else.”

“He’s not a ‘friend,’” Caleb pointed out somewhat peevishly. “He doesn’t even know the person. He wouldn’t know that person if he walked right up and knocked on our door.”

“Enough, Caleb,” Frank commanded. “I’ve heard all I want to about your views on this. Now, let me tell you all about the latest delivery we had at the store today.”

As the conversation moved on to things about the store, Judith leaned close to Tim. “Oh, these kids. Sometimes they really do drive me crazy.”

“Don’t know why,” Tim said with a smile.

She chuckled.

“What are you laughing about?” Caleb demanded.

“You,” Judith replied. “One day you’re going to need to curb your tongue.”

“You shouldn’t be laughing at me.”

“I’m not laughing at you. I’m laughing at the noise at this table,” she explained. “I can only imagine what Cousin Tim writes to his folks about.”

“I thought you only wrote to your sweetheart,” Anson said.

“I write to Ruby most of the time. But I like keeping in touch with my parents, too.” Looking at all of them, he added, “And I can promise my letters are not full of complaints. I’m enjoying being part of a big family.”

“We like having you here,” Elsa said.

“The farm has never looked better,” Uncle Frank added. “Never before have we had the luxury to have someone spend so much time here fixing things.”

“I’ve enjoyed helping you,” Tim said. And it was true, he had come to enjoy making his Uncle Frank’s life easier.

“And we especially like your hard work,” Uncle Frank added. “You’ve done a very good job around here.”

“Things are looking bright and shiny. Almost new,” Elsa added. “We are grateful.”

“It’s a good exchange.” Realizing he should keep them informed, Tim said, “I should probably let you know that I asked Ruby Lee to come for a visit. I don’t know if she’ll accept, but I didn’t think you’d mind, especially since you offered an invitation to her earlier.”

Judith’s eyes lit up. “That would be exciting if she came.”

“Yes, indeed,” Aunt Elsa said. “Did you recently write to her?”

“I did.”

“Well, now we’ll all have a reason to look forward to the mail; yes, everyone?”

Anson grinned. “
Jah
.”

“Now, then, let’s all finish up and help the girls clear the table.”

After reassuring Anson that he thought the postcard was a mighty fine one, indeed, Tim picked up three plates and carried them to the kitchen. There, it was Caleb who caught him in conversation. “I’m going to go out tonight,” he whispered. “Will you cover for me?”

Tim stared at him. “What are you talking about?”

“I need you to pretend I’m in my room in case my parents ask if you’ve seen me.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Nothing too exciting,” he said, though his voice said far different. “Some friends are going to go into town tonight and walk around. We’re going to maybe get ice cream or something.”

That sounded perfectly harmless. Too harmless to need a cover. “You ought to just tell your parents that. Then you won’t have to lie to them.”

“I’d rather not.”

When Caleb looked like he was going to turn away, Tim held him with a stern look. “There’s more to this than you’re telling me. I, for one, don’t appreciate being lied to. What are you really going to be doing? And who are you really going to be with?”

“I’m not exactly sure what we’ll be doing. Probably lots of things.” His cheeks colored. “And some of the kids aren’t Amish.”

“And some like to do more than eat ice cream?” Tim prodded.

“I don’t know. I only know what I’m planning to do.” His voice turned harsh. “But if I tell Daed, he’ll ask me lots of questions about it all. Questions I’m too old for.”

Tim knew the opposite to be true. Caleb wasn’t too old to be asked those questions at all. Actually, he was the perfect age to be questioned.

He also knew he was far older. Too old to be involved in silly high jinks. “I’m sorry, but I can’t lie to your father. I’m a guest in your home.”

Caleb looked crushed. “But—”

“I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“This house. I’m surrounded by rules and traditions and so much of what is always proper. Some days I am sure I’ll never join the church.”

Tim was shocked but he didn’t want to show it. Keeping his voice as steady as possible, he murmured, “I hope you find some peace soon.”

Caleb looked him over, with disdain and yet a hint of hope in his eyes. “Like you?”

Had he found peace? Not too long ago, he’d thought he had. But now he wasn’t so sure. Now he wondered if all he’d ever really found was a lulled sense of contentment.

But no one needed to know that. “
Jah
. Like me,” he said. “I hope one day you’ll find peace and happiness like I have.”

When Caleb walked away, his forehead a mix of lines and worry, Tim pretended he didn’t notice.

The postcard project was going well. So well that Clara needed some help. She’d sent a note home two days ago, asking for a few volunteers to help the
kinner
address the cards and chart where all the cards were going on the large United States map they’d pinned up to the far wall.

Some of the mothers had sent word with their children that they could come, and had decided to make lunch for everyone, too.

So their postcard day had turned into a party. Around eleven o’clock, everyone started filing in. Sandwich fixings were laid out on a side table and drinks were placed in the large containers of ice that a few parents had brought from their homes.

After giving everyone directions on what to do, Clara busied herself with helping a few of the children at a time.

And then Tim came in.

“Hi,” he said. “I heard you needed some extra help today.”

“I do.” Unable to help herself, she craned her neck to look behind him. “Where’s Mrs. Graber?”

“Things are busy at the store. Gretta is feeling a little under the weather, so Joshua stayed home with her. Thus Frank needed Elsa’s help at the store. So you’ve got me…if that’s okay.”

“It is, if you can spare the time.”

“I can. If I couldn’t I wouldn’t be here.”

Well, that made sense. “I hope Gretta is okay. I hope she’s not too ill.”

“Oh, I think she will be fine.” He shrugged. “It’s just the flu or something.”

“Oh, sure,” she said agreeably. But though she tried to be cool and complacent, once again, she was enormously aware of Tim. Today he had on blue trousers and a white shirt. His dark suspenders seemed to accentuate his broad shoulders and chest.

And his blue eyes looked as mesmerizing as ever.

“So, where will you have me?” he murmured.

She was tempted to say something nonsensical. Like she would have him wherever he wanted to be.

Then reality returned. He had a sweetheart. He’d lied about her, too. “If you could stand by the map, that would be most helpful. Then, if you could push in thumbtacks near cities that the
kinner
are sending the postcards to, I would be grateful.”

“But that means I’d have to know where every state was located.”

“They’re labeled—” she began, then realized he was teasing her. “Do your best, please,” she said instead.

When he chuckled, a few of the mothers looked at the two of them with interest.

Clara turned away before any of them started to get any ideas.

Soon, though, she had no time to think about anything other than marking off each child’s assignment when finished, sending it to Tim, then stamping the postcard and helping to clear up things for the lunch-time meal.

The plates and sandwich fixings were organized and laid out and the children lined up. After they ate everyone helped clean up. With the luncheon over, Clara took everyone out for an impromptu game of kick ball, knowing no work would get done after such a fun day.

In no time at all, it was little Maggie’s turn to ring the school bell and everyone left.

When the last of the children exited the door, Clara sat down with a sigh. Oh, what a day!

But the many people in the room also added to the noise and confusion. It would take quite some time to set things to rights and for the pain in her head to lessen.

“Sorry, you’re not alone at last.”

Clara looked up in surprise. Felt her body stiffen when she saw it was Tim. He was standing in the doorway, looking for all the world like he had nothing better to do. Slowly, he smiled.

And with that, the beat in her head pounded just a little bit louder.