The Harvest of Grace (23 page)

He sat, leaning against the frame of the barn, and watched her.

He was drawn to her, fascinated by her, and thirsty for more time with her. He’d never before been pulled like this by anything—except alcohol. The realization scared him senseless. He’d already proven he lacked good judgment about what attracted him.

So why was he here?

On Friday, with Trevor Atwater’s help, he and Sylvi had finished baling the hay, and yesterday they’d loaded it onto several wagons. It now sat inside the barn, waiting to be sold. His excuse for searching for her was that he had a buyer, a person that he had begun talking to a couple of days ago. The man had come by earlier today, but since it was Sunday, Aaron was limited to agreeing to sell it to him tomorrow. And the man had agreed to a top-dollar price. She’d like that.

After all their work getting the hay in before the rain came, they should’ve celebrated last night—had a feast with special desserts or something. Instead they did what they always did when work or mealtime was over—they went their separate ways. Then again, how could they celebrate together when they saw the completed task as accomplishing opposite goals?

She stretched and drew a deep, relaxing breath. When she saw him watching her, she frowned and rubbed her eyes. “Hi.”

“You’re not an easy woman to find.” It struck him how true his words were. Anytime he thought he saw her—figuratively speaking—she shifted and revealed something different. Like a mirage, she appeared, only to disappear.

She sat up, rearranging the kittens. “What do you want?”

“I have good news. A man has offered top dollar for the hay.”

“Clay Severs?”

“No, a different man. Clay’s idea of a fair price was way too low.”

“You shook hands on it with this other man?”

“Ya. He’s picking it up and paying for it tomorrow.”

“That’s great.” She closed her eyes tight before blinking a few times. “What time is it?”

“Five.”

Her eyes grew large. “I knew I was tired. It was all I could do to stay awake during church this morning. I think Cara pinched me three times.”

“You should’ve stayed home and slept instead.”

She huffed. “Very funny.”

He’d knocked on her cabin door an hour before time to leave for church, then returned in a rig to pick her up. She wasn’t pleased. To convince her to go, he agreed to do one favor of any sort for her if she’d get in the rig. Without another word, she got in.

“So have you decided what favor I owe you?”

“You shouldn’t ask that when you’re sitting near an open hayloft door three stories above ground.”

He laughed. “I wouldn’t recommend tossing me out until we get the next field cut and sold.”

She moaned. “Next field? Oh, Aaron, don’t use such mean words. I can’t stand the thought of more hayfield work right now.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin your Sunday afternoon.”

A tabby kitten climbed up Sylvi’s chest and snuggled against her neck.

“There’s something else I’m really sorry about. I shrugged off what you did to try to help Daed and me get along better. Time will tell, but I think your story has given him a new perspective. It took guts to share your past, and I should have thanked you properlike.”

Her brows wrinkled a bit, and he wondered if she found him as difficult to understand as he found her. “Why didn’t you?”

He gathered a small handful of hay off the floor and tossed it out the doorway. “I don’t know. Maybe because I know I haven’t earned your kindness. And we have opposing visions. It’s like we’re enemies, and yet we’re not.”

She put the three sleeping kittens on the blanket. Keeping the other one in her hands, she moved to the hayloft door next to him. “I can see that.” She sat, dangling her feet toward the ground. “There’s always been plenty unsaid between my Daed and me too. It’s the way he is with all his daughters. Good man. Diligent and faithful to God, family, and community, but …”

“You wanted more.”

“I longed for him to understand me. I had that kind of relationship with my grandfather. And Daed seemed fine with my voicing an opinion or questions—in small amounts. Based on what I’d said, he even changed certain aspects of how we farmed. But I kept my mouth shut as much as I could stand. I didn’t want to ruin what we did have.”

“I hate how tough it is to build a good relationship and how easy it is to ruin it.”

“You and Michael could win an award for what’s left unsaid between you two.”

He cleared his throat. “When I was a kid and even well into my teen years, we talked about everything. But after we moved here, he and Mamm changed. They’d been through hell in Ohio, and every hope they had was centered on this farm in Dry Lake. Within weeks of moving, Daed started feeling exhausted and weak, and the knuckles of his thumbs hurt. Within a couple of months, all his joints ached, and shortly after that he was diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis. He made it worse because he stopped trying to use his hands. He’d spend weeks in bed, and when he got up, he’d start in on me about everything I hadn’t done. The farm was going to seed … and it was my fault.”

“Is that when you started to hate farming?”

“Probably. The next few years I worked like crazy trying to live up to what he wanted.” He ran his fingers over the dust on the rough-hewn planks. “It never happened. I was so miserable that I’d do anything for a break from the weight of it. From that first beer, the experience was … an escape. So I started partying with anyone who wanted to come to the cabin and bring drinks. I couldn’t get enough. It’s not Mamm’s or Daed’s fault, but they made it easy. Never checked on me. All those times I didn’t come home at night, they thought I was sleeping in the barn.”

“Maybe if you really opened up with Michael as humbly and unaccusing as you just—”

He put his index finger to his lips. “Don’t, please.” He stared at the rolling hills dotted with grazing cows. The sight might look beautiful to her, but it made him feel like a slave to a bunch of completely stupid creatures. “Can we change the subject?”

She nodded. “How’s Frani?”

“She’s a mess. More pigheaded than I am. But there’s hope that she’ll decide to get help.”

“When your Daed hired me, he said I could share the cabin with anyone I wanted … as long as it wasn’t a man, of course. I think he had my sisters in mind. But if it comes to that, she can stay with me for a while.”

“Thanks. That’s really generous of you.” Aaron chewed on a piece of straw, mulling over whether to ask her a question or two. “What happened between you and the man you …”

“Elam.” She stared at the horizon. “We fell in love, but when he asked me to marry him, I wasn’t ready. I wanted another year, maybe two. Three weeks later he asked … someone else. A few years after they married, the emotions between us resurfaced. That’s why I came here.”

The depth of grief in her brown eyes made a twinge of physical pain run through him. Maybe he shouldn’t have written that letter. He hadn’t known this was her reason for leaving Path Valley. He’d thought she was here because of a feud with her sister. That was what she’d said, wasn’t it?

The upside was that she had no idea Beckie had ignored his letter. So far.

“Hey.” She tossed a little hay at him. “Just because I don’t want to talk about that doesn’t mean you can’t talk at all.”

He wrestled with the idea of asking her to go for a buggy ride. At almost twenty-six, he’d never asked a girl to go anywhere. It’d be nice if he had some experience to rely on. He wondered how Elam had asked her out the first time and what she might expect from a beau.

Idiot! What am I thinking?
They couldn’t get all cozy. He intended to sell this place and leave. She was bent on convincing him not to sell and probably wished he’d just leave. The key word in either scenario was
leave
.

Sylvia moved closer and dusted off the hay that she’d thrown on him, quickly brushing her hands over his shoulder before picking a stray piece out of his hair. “There, now you look all perfect and handsome again.”

Did she think him handsome? He liked that idea, although he knew he shouldn’t. He took the lone piece of hay from her and quietly placed it on her head. They laughed before she plucked it off and dropped it out the window.

“Oh, I almost forgot.” She passed him the kitten and rubbed behind its ears. “During the after-service meal, a couple of the single girls invited me to a singing tonight.”

“And you said yes? That’s unexpected.” His eyes locked on hers.

“Not that much. I’ve been to singings all around Pennsylvania, some in Ohio too.”

“Really?”

“I used to get away from the farm for weeks at a time, staying with cousins. We went to singings and outings.”

“That’s a side of you I wouldn’t have banked on.”

“It was fun. I never found another guy I liked, but I met lots of interesting people. A girl named Mary is coming to get me. Do you want to go with us?”

His heart beat a little faster at the idea, but he wasn’t the kind of person to attend the overly chaperoned event, boys on one side and girls on the other. A fair number of the parents seemed to want a spotless attitude to shine from every youth, and he wasn’t a mask-wearing type of guy. “Spare me.”

She laughed. “That’s a definite no.” Then she hustled down the ladder.

Seeing the top of her head vanish, disappointment settled over him. He could have talked with her the whole evening and enjoyed it more than doing anything else. It was apparent she didn’t feel the same way.

Twenty

In the upstairs bathroom Cara held a washcloth under cool water, hoping to find some relief from this awful heat wave. She wrung it out and wiped it over her face and neck. The old mirror hanging in front of her matched the banister, moldings, doorknobs, and other fixtures in Ada’s House—worn, but classic.

This house had character and stamina. It gave shelter from the elements, provided a place to be a family and meet each other’s needs, and even offered a way to make a living. In a metaphorical way, she wanted to be like that too—protective, hospitable, and a unique asset.

But she couldn’t stop rehashing the hurt and misery her dad’s choices had caused her. She wanted to be free, not just so she could settle the issue with the church leaders, but so she could focus on healthier things.

He’d lived as he wanted to, making poor choices all along the way and not caring one iota about her. Who she was today—the ugly, awful past Ephraim helped her shoulder—wasn’t her fault. If Trevor had stopped indulging himself in liquor long enough to make sure his daughter was in safe hands, she would’ve grown up being the kind of woman Ephraim deserved.

“Cara?” Deborah tapped on the bathroom door.

“Come on in.”

Deborah opened the door, moved to the sink, and picked up her toothbrush. “Jonathan found this neat little ice cream parlor about two miles from here. It opened earlier this summer, but he just discovered it a few days ago. Since we’re closed this evening, we thought we’d put our night off to good use. Would you and Lori like to go with us?”

Deborah and Ephraim didn’t favor each other as much as some siblings, but they’d both stolen her heart. “You sure Jonathan wouldn’t mind? Maybe he’d like a little time alone with you.” Jonathan helped around Ada’s House nearly every night and worked as a traveling blacksmith to Amish farms during the day.

A beautiful dusting of pink shaded Deborah’s face as she loaded toothpaste onto her brush. “He’s the one who said to ask.”

“Really? I knew I liked that young man of yours.” Cara stepped aside to let Deborah brush her teeth. After Cara removed her prayer Kapp, she pulled the bobby pins out of her half-fallen hair and brushed it in an effort to recapture all the loose strands.

Deborah had been seeing Jonathan for quite a while, and their relationship had been tested. Mahlon, her ex-fiancé, had come back for her and promised to do whatever it took to win her back. But instead his visit had convinced Deborah that the kind of man she really wanted was the opposite of Mahlon—a man who embraced life and people, who gave because he enjoyed it, who didn’t need her to keep him in line or to make sure he had enough reasons to want to live.

And Deborah had all that in Jonathan.

Deborah rinsed her toothbrush. “Here, let me.” She ran a brush through Cara’s hair. “Since Amish women don’t cut their hair, I didn’t realize it grew in again so slowly. You’ve been growing it out for more than a year, and it’s not even to your shoulders yet.”

“That’s partly because it started out shorter than most men’s hair. And maybe my hair grows really slowly.”

“Why’d you keep it so short?”

“It was convenient and cute, in my estimation. When I saw all the Amish women with their hair pulled back, I thought that was silly. If you’re going to keep it hidden, why not cut it short?”

“I can see thinking that way.” Deborah looped a covered rubber band around Cara’s hair and pinned it in a bun. “So are you going with us to the ice cream parlor?”

Cara put on her prayer Kapp again. “Sure.” She went to Lori’s room, where her daughter sat on her bed, reading aloud to Better Days. “We’ve been invited to go with Deb and Jonathan for ice cream. Care to—”