Seasons of Sugarcreek 02. Spring's Renewal (9 page)

Tim observed that she didn’t look terribly pleased about him staying. Actually, she looked uncomfortable. Uneasy.

“You decided to remain?” Clara finally asked.

“I did. Thought you might like some company and help while you cleaned up.”

“It wasn’t necessary.”

She was still seated behind her desk. Now her hands were splayed across the wood…looking like she was holding on to the desk for comfort.

Or to hide her discomfort.

“I know it wasn’t, but I thought it might be appreciated,” he said as he crossed the room. “So, may I stay and help you? I’m afraid if you do this alone you might never get home.”

She chuckled at his gentle joke. Gesturing to the chairs unstacked, to the chalkboard still messy, to the remnants of their lunch on the floor, she said, “Whyever would you think that?”

“It’s just a guess.”

“You are a smart man, Timothy Graber.”

“I try to be.” He really enjoyed her dry sense of humor. He couldn’t help but smile at her expression, too. Though she looked like she was attempting very hard to act like his being there was no big deal, the way her eyes continually darted in his direction told a whole different story. “Actually, though, I am just fine. You can go on home.”

Though Tim tried to remind himself that he was still waiting for Ruby’s response to his invitation to visit, he couldn’t deny that there was something about Clara that made him think of possibilities. Made him question where exactly his life was going.

But he couldn’t tell her that. “I thought you might enjoy some company of a more quiet sort.”

For a moment he thought he spied something new in her eyes. What was it? Doubt? Pleasure? Disdain? Before he could analyze further, she looked away. “I am fine. Plus, I’m sure you have other things to do.”

“I don’t. I don’t have anywhere I’d rather be.”

“Timothy, I’ve heard about your sweetheart,” she finally said. “I’m sure she would not appreciate you being with me. Alone.”

His mouth went dry. “I…I’m sorry I never told you about her.”

“Was the letter that Caleb held from her?”

“
Jah
.”

“I see.”

“No, you don’t. Clara, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about her, but I didn’t want you to get the wrong impression. Nothing’s been decided between us…”

One eyebrow raised. “No?”

He could only tell the truth now. “But I should let you know that I’ve invited Ruby here for a visit.”

She spun around toward the blackboard.

“Thank you for the offer,” she said formally. “But it’s time you left.”

He walked closer. “Ruby knows I’ve been making new friends.” A pang of consciousness hit him hard even as he said the words. He knew Ruby wouldn’t be happy about how strong his feelings were toward Clara.

Clara spun back around and didn’t look impressed.

“Clara, I stayed back because I enjoy your company and I hated the thought of you dealing with all of this…” His voice drifted off as she stood. “All of this—”

“Chaos?”

“Yes. Chaos. I don’t want you to have to clean up the room all by yourself.”

“It’s my job.”

“Not the best part.”

“That is true. But still…Timothy, what do you want? You have me confused with all your secrets.”

“I’m sorry.”

“If we are to be friends, I would like your
eahlich-keit
.”

His honesty? The request caught him off guard, mainly because he wasn’t even sure if he’d been honest with himself where Ruby was concerned. “Okay. I like your company. Being with you is relaxing. Peaceful.” He met her gaze. “How’s that?”

With measured movements, she walked around her desk. Once again he noticed how very proper she was. Though all women wore basically the same things, on Clara everything seemed a little bit neater.

Perhaps it was her slim figure? Or the fluid way in which she moved? All he knew was that time and again, his eyes followed her.

And were unable to look away.

She gazed out the window. Tim knew it was up to him to say something next. Say anything to encourage her to talk. To encourage her to tell him what she thought about him.

But his tongue felt tied. “I mean, I think you’re nice.”

She blinked. And as her eyes focused, he noticed some of the light fell from them and shielded her emotions once again. “Ah.”

“I mean, I don’t know what I mean anymore. See, Clara, I came here against my will.”

Her eyes widened. “To my schoolhouse?”

She looked so disturbed that he’d been dragged to the classroom that he almost smiled. Almost. “No. I’m speaking of Sugarcreek,” he corrected gently. “See, Clara, I was happy in my own town. With the way things were. Honestly, it never occurred to me that things could be different. Or that I’d ever enjoy things being different. But now that I’m here—now that I’m becoming part of the town, part of the community, I find myself not wanting to leave. And I hardly understand how that could be.”

He waited for her to nod in understanding. But instead of doing that, she merely looked worried. “Tim, I feel foolish to say this, but I’ve never been part of a conversation like this before. I…I’m afraid I don’t know how to reply to your words.”

He couldn’t help it, he felt let down. “I see.”

“Do you? I don’t. I don’t know how to react when you say that you like me—but you’re writing to a woman at home. When you say that you want to stay here…but all of your obligations are back in Indiana.”

When she put things that way, Tim did realize that his words all seemed to contradict each other. “I don’t mean to be confusing.”

“And I don’t mean to brush off your words like they aren’t important. They are.” Her lips tilted up. “I would like to be your friend. And I would like to get to know you better.”

Tim felt like pumping his fist in the air. Success! She was going to give him a chance. “I’ll take that. So, may I walk you home?”

The most beautiful smile lit her face. “I suppose. As long as you promise to walk slowly,” she cautioned, merriment lighting her eyes. “I’m so tired I don’t think my body can handle a brisk walk.”

“I’ll walk as slow as you want.”

“That may be far too slow for you, I’m afraid.”

“Haven’t you heard? The Lord doesn’t give you any task He doesn’t think you can handle.”

She chuckled. “Part of me doubts the Lord has ever sat in a classroom with food and parents and postcards!”

“Let’s clean up, then. Together we can make this place shine.”

“I’ll settle for a semblance of order.”

Tim chuckled as he pulled open a plastic garbage sack and began to throw paper plates, cups, and napkins inside it. When he started stacking chairs so he could sweep, Clara tackled the piles of papers littering different corners of the room.

Tim was sweeping the dust and litter into the dust-pan when she began wiping down the chalkboard. Then she wrote two sentences on the board for the following morning’s lesson, and he gathered her things and set them neatly in her basket.

Twenty minutes later, they were done. Clara looked around in surprise. “I would have never guessed this room would have gotten set to rights so quickly. We work together well.”

Tim looked at her in appreciation. Her voice had held a hint of a question. Almost as if she was daring him to disagree. But he didn’t at all. “I think so, too,” he murmured. “Now let’s head toward home.”

“I’ll be happy to.” Clara led the way out. After carefully locking the door, she breathed deep and exhaled. They left the covered front porch of the school and stood on the front lawn.

He smiled when he watched her tilt her face up slightly, obviously enjoying the last lingering rays of sunlight caressing her face. He so enjoyed her habit. So enjoyed that she received so much pleasure from a simple gift like the sun. Holding out his hand, he murmured, “Clara, let me carry your basket.”

To his surprise, she handed it to him without hesitation. “Thank you.”

Their fingers brushed each other’s. For a moment, he was tempted to curve his hand around hers. To keep her hand captured under his own. Keep her close.

But of course, that wouldn’t be proper. He let his fingers slide an inch to the left so her hand could go free. “I’m happy to help,” he said lightly.

She simply smiled as they began the descent down the sloped hill toward the main road.

Around them, the trees rustled, reminding Tim that spring was arriving at a feverish pace. Daily, the trees were sprouting leaves, flowers poked through dark ground, and bushes filled out. Birds and deer and all other sorts of animals were having their babies. New life was beginning.

Even the days were lengthening. The sun that Clara seemed to love so much was a little higher in the sky at five o’clock than it was when he’d first arrived.

All of it made him thankful.

She looked at him for a moment before tilting her face up to the sun again, a look of pure contentment shining on it.

For a moment, he couldn’t look away. She looked so happy.

He also realized he was also getting used to seeing her do it. It was a habit he was becoming familiar with.

“You do enjoy the outdoors, don’t you?”

“I do. Yes. Very much. I enjoy the fresh air on my face and the sun, too.”

Only half teasing, he murmured, “I have a feeling you even like winter’s snow and frost.”

“You would be right. Being outside is such a blessing. I like to take time to notice everything around me—to give thanks for the feel of warm rays on my cheeks.”

He was tempted to tell her that he wanted to give thanks for the chance to witness that. He was tempted to ask her why she did it, though. What it meant to her.

But he didn’t. They weren’t that close.

Not yet. Perhaps they never would be.

A feeling of doom settled in as that reality hit him. Perhaps this would be the closest they ever got to each other. Perhaps this time was the only true private time they would have.

They walked for a bit on the side of the road. Their steps were slow and far more contemplative than the same journey he’d taken with Elsa and his cousins after the spring program.

As different as night and day, he imagined.

“I never take the feeling of the breeze on my skin for granted,” she blurted, bringing him back to the present.

After a moment’s pause, when a minivan sped by, she said, “I imagine you know that I had many operations for my scars.”

He looked at her in surprise. Never would he have guessed that she would bring up her scars without prompting. “
Jah
. I mean, I assumed you did. But I don’t know much about what happened.”

“Well, when I was six a pan caught on fire. My mother panicked and put water on the fire instead of flour or baking soda.”

“So it spread?”

“It did. It jumped and scalded everything in reach.”

“Including you.”

“
Jah
. Even me.” She frowned, but it wasn’t an expression of self-pity. Instead, it leant itself more toward acceptance. Acceptance but not complete happiness. “Somehow…I have forgotten what happened exactly—somehow a lot of the oil sprayed on me. I was rushed to the hospital and contracted an infection.”

Though she claimed speaking of the accident didn’t bother her, Tim knew it must be otherwise. Every word seemed to be forced through her mouth, almost grudgingly said. But with pure determination. “It must have been a scary time. And painful.”

Tim felt his cheeks heat. His words sounded so simple. So small compared to the enormity of what she’d gone through.

She blinked. “Yes. It was terribly painful. Those were dark days. I spent much of my time alone and covered in thick bandages. Inside.”

“Which is why you like being outside so much.”

“Exactly. That is exactly why.”

They were near the creek now. The creek where they’d met and he’d been unable to look at anything but her. The creek where he’d asked her if she was married.

And she’d thought he had been teasing her.

As the hills surrounded them, and the trickling water echoed their voices, he turned to her. “But you made it through okay?”

“Oh, yes,” she said without a trace of embarrassment. “I mean, I made it through.” Pushing up her sleeve, she held out her right arm. The skin was different colors. Shades of bright red and white, and blotches that looked almost like bruises. In the waning sunlight, it looked painful.

Even after all this time.

“And so, you see, I look like this.”

“You look all right.” Tim was surprised to realize that he meant it. Now, to him, she did look just fine. The scars were part of who she was. For a moment, he was tempted to stop. Tempted to toss that basket of hers down and push up the rest of her sleeve. He was tempted to run his fingers down her arm. Just so she could feel his touch.

So she’d know that instead of being repelled by her scars, he found them very much the opposite. They made her stronger in his eyes. They made him want to protect her. To hold her. To kiss away any doubts she’d ever had about her beauty.

But of course those were fanciful thoughts.

Of course that could never happen.

Unaware of his wayward thoughts…she squared her shoulders and started walking again. A wry, sad smile lit her face. “Oh, Tim. We know I don’t look in any way ‘all right.’ But I’m here in one piece. The doctors did the best they could.”

“How long were you in the hospital?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “Maybe one month? Perhaps six weeks.”

“But then you came home?”

“For a time. But I wasn’t done, you know. A person’s skin, especially when she is small, it grows and stretches. Burned skin doesn’t do those things as well. Over the years I’ve needed three more surgeries to try to help the damage. They took skin from other parts of my body to help.”

“But you’re done now?” Tim wanted to give her a hug. She was speaking so matter-of-factly, but it was also so very evident that she was keeping much of what had happened to herself.

“I suppose I’m done.” She looked at him sideways. “They—I mean the doctors in Columbus—they suggested I go to a plastic surgeon to help minimize the scarring. As bad as it is on my face, and as mottled as my skin is on my arm…I’m afraid it’s worse on my shoulder.”