The Letters (31 page)

Galen moved so his chest grazed her back and wrapped his arms around her. Turning her chin slightly, she said, “How can the world be so beautiful and yet break the heart?”

Galen drew in his breath. There were moments in life when something had to be said, or be left unsaid forever. It wasn’t the best time for it—he knew it wasn’t—but he had to speak.

Twice, he opened his mouth to say the words; both times, words failed him. For a moment, he lost focus. He never lost focus. Never, though earlier, he’d lost his breath when he saw Rose coming toward him on the hillside, the hazy morning
sunlight casting a glow about her. Sometimes out of nowhere the sight of her could snatch his breath and make his chest hurt. She was beautiful. Graceful and beautiful. He wanted to protect her from all the sadness in her life. The emotions shimmering in her tear-filled eyes tore at him, so he wound his arms about her, pulling her into the shelter of his very being. Finally, he said, “There are sad times, but there are good times too. Like . . . now.”

She pulled away from him and turned to face him, puzzled. “Now?”

“Yes. Now.” He cleared his throat. “This very moment. This is a good time. For me, anyway.”

She turned her deep-gray eyes on him, calm and penetrating. “Galen, what are you trying to say?”

He had yet to take his eyes off her. “Rose . . . I . . . care about you. And what I want to know is this . . .” He cleared his throat again. “Would you let me court you? Sometime? Soon?”

She looked surprised, her mouth formed a small, tight
O
. Her eyes popped, then mysteriously, filled with tears. Were these sad tears, happy tears, angry tears, outraged tears, a little of each? He couldn’t tell. He was relieved she wasn’t leaping down the hill.

The moment stretched between them until finally she spoke. “Galen, I have children to raise and a farm to run, and I’ve got to make money to pay back those investors, and a son who seems to be facing serious legal problems.”

He swallowed hard. “You take a lot of chances, and you stand up to them all. Why not take a chance on me?”

“Because . . . well, for one thing, because of our friendship. It means so much to me. I don’t want to lose that.”

“Why would we lose it? It’s our foundation. I want to build on it.”

She didn’t speak for a long moment. “Galen, my husband broke my heart and then broke it again.”

“But I’m not him.”

She studied him. Indecision played across her features. At long last she set her jaw and lifted it, and his heart missed a few beats. To his surprise, she took his hand. He felt it, cool in his own, believing, for a moment, that she might love him the way he loved her.

“Do you mind if I wait a little while before giving you my answer?” she asked gently.

He did mind. He had hoped she would say yes at once. But he remembered his manners and took a step back. “Of course not. Take all the time you need.”

Rose could hardly bear to see the pained expression on Galen’s face after she told him she needed time to think. His voice had gone flat, no longer throaty, warm, inviting. He waited, but there was nothing more to say. She was not going to say yes on a whim. She had to go home and ponder his question. The silence fell heavy between them, thick and cold, and after a moment too long of it, he turned and left.

He had shocked her when he told her he wanted to court her. Shocked her . . . and yet . . . it hadn’t shocked her at all. Their friendship had been deepening. Hardly a day went by when they didn’t see each other, talk to each other. She counted on him in a way she didn’t count on anyone else. Did she love him? Was this love? Did he love her? He looked so devoted, she felt almost weak. What had she done to deserve all this love?

Would she like to be courted by Galen King?
Well, why not?
A part of her answered back.
Really, Rose, why not? He’s kind and caring and he’s the best friend you’ve ever had. And he loves you. You know he does. You’ve known it for some time. You’ve seen it in his eyes.

But then the practical part of her brain kicked in. Galen was much younger than she was. His life could be—
should
be—just starting with a young woman. Hers was inching toward the midline. His life was fairly uncomplicated. Hers was a big tangled spool of thread and she was just starting to figure out where the thread began. She had no idea where it would end.

Besides, there was a reason Galen had remained single. Hadn’t she learned her lessons about independent men?

No. She should definitely not entertain any thought of being courted by Galen. Put those thoughts right out of her head. Banish them now.

On Monday three bad things happened. First, Mim received a B on last week’s vocabulary sentence. Teacher M.K. thought she hadn’t tried hard enough. Second, a horrid sixth grade boy, whom Mim considered to be a blight on humanity, told her she looked like a chipmunk in glasses. The glasses part didn’t bother her as much as the chipmunk part. She was very sensitive about her teeth and took excellent care of them. Excellent. She did not want to be toothless when she was older, like so many of the people in Mammi Vera’s church. Third, Danny didn’t even look her way at church yesterday. Or today at school. Not once.

Mim wanted to talk to someone about Danny Riehl. Was
it significant that he didn’t look her way? Was it possible that he thought she looked like a chipmunk too?

She thought about asking her sister, but Bethany thought of Mim as a little girl. She would tell her to stop wishing she were older than her years.

She thought about talking to Naomi, but lately Naomi had been so enthralled with Bethany that she hardly knew Mim was there. It wasn’t like that when they first moved to Stoney Ridge. Naomi spent equal time with both sisters, which was only fair because, she acted like she was right between them in age. But when she turned eighteen, she seemed to think she was much closer to Bethany’s age than to Mim’s. She would only spend time with Mim if Bethany was at work.

Mim checked herself. What kind of advice would Naomi give to her? First, she would be shocked that she was even thinking about being in love with a boy. Second, she would tell Galen, straightaway, about Mim spending time on a hillside with that same boy. At night and unchaperoned. She wouldn’t understand that it was perfectly innocent and they were only stargazing.

And what would Galen do? Mim smiled. Probably listen to his sister and quietly dismiss it. That’s one thing she liked about Galen. Unlike most of the people in her life, he did not overreact.

She had a mental list of whom she would
not
talk to about being in love with Danny Riehl: any girl at school. Mammi Vera. Her brothers.

That left her mother.

Her mother was the one person Mim did want to talk to about Danny. Her mother would not overreact and she would not think Mim was too young to be in love. This afternoon,
she was going to find a window of time alone with her mother and ask her about love. She reached home ahead of the boys and went right into the kitchen. It was empty. There was a note on the kitchen table:

Mim, Luke, and Sam,

I have taken Mammi Vera to Lancaster to get the MRI test. Delia Stoltz drove us over. We won’t be home until late. Mim, start supper. Luke and Sam, feed goat, chickens, sheep, and horses. Boys—Mim is in charge until Bethany gets home. Mind your sister!

Love, Mom

The boys burst in behind Mim, tossed their hats on the bench by the back door, and started hunting for a snack in the pantry. It was like a pack of wild dogs descended on the kitchen. They stuffed cookies into their coat pockets and headed back to the door.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Mim said.

“Eagle spying,” Sammy said. Luke was already out the door.

She held up the note. “Mom wants you to feed the animals.”

“We will!” Sammy said, his mouth filled with cookie. It was disgusting. “After the eagle spying.” The door slammed behind him.

Mim looked around the empty kitchen. Everyone was gone. The house seemed eerily quiet.

Under normal conditions, Jimmy Fisher could snap out of a funk. But being a victim of a scam was not a normal
condition. When he discovered that his initial check to Jonah Hershberger had indeed cleared—which meant he had paid for Lodestar one and a half times—he felt stupid, he felt duped, he felt angry. Mostly, he felt grief over losing that beautiful horse. There was something about that horse he just couldn’t forget . . . or get over. Galen kept telling him there were other horses, but none were like Lodestar.

After Galen and Naomi went into town to run an errand, Jimmy put the horse he was exercising back in its stall and took a break. He pushed a chair in the sun, tucked his hat back, and started to whittle on a piece of wood.

“You aren’t getting anywhere very fast, are you, young feller?”

When Jimmy looked up and saw Hank Lapp walk up the driveway, he snapped shut his whittling knife and dropped it into his shirt pocket, then hopped up to greet his elderly friend. There was no law against whittling, but he didn’t want to get a reputation as an idler. Hank Lapp was Amos Lapp’s uncle, a confirmed bachelor, a quirky, lovable character who ruffled everyone’s feathers at one time or another. “What brings you around here, Hank?”

“MY BIRTHDAY PARTY, of course! I’m coming to invite you.”

“Why, Hank, are you a hundred yet?”

“I’m crowding it, boy.” Hank eased himself into the chair that Jimmy had just vacated. He leaned back and tugged his hat over his eyes. “Jimmy, do you know what men who live in glass houses should do?”

Oh no. He wasn’t in the mood for one of Hank’s lame jokes. “What should they do?”

“Change in the dark!” Hank chuckled so hard his hat fell in the dirt. He reached down to grab it, slapped it on his
knee to dust it off, and plunked it back on his head. “Any luck finding that mystery horse of yours?”

“No.” Jimmy threw the piece of wood on the ground. “Galen thinks I’ve been scammed.”

“He’s probably right. Galen’s seen ’em all.”

Jimmy was disgusted. “The two of you don’t give me enough credit. It’s like you think I don’t even have a handle on life.”