A Simple Autumn: A Seasons of Lancaster Novel (20 page)

She wasn’t the most wondrous thing in Gabe’s life.

He was in love with a motorbike.

“Don’t you see?” she whispered, wary of children listening in from the schoolyard.
“I can’t court you if you’re going to go off riding motorbikes.”

“Emma …” Gabe’s amber eyes were heavy with sorrow. “I’m not one of your scholars.
I don’t have to follow your rules. I have to do what’s right for me.” He shook his
head. “I thought you’d understand.”

Tears stung her eyes. She had always told him that he could tell her the truth. She
had wanted him to feel free to share his sorrows and grief over his parents. But she
had never expected this.

“You’d better go. It’s time for the children to come in.”

He nodded, then turned away.

Emma dashed away her tears so that she could watch him, black hat, broad shoulders,
and long legs, a dark profile of the man she loved, walking out of her life. This
couldn’t be happening! She bit her lower lip, crushed by the thought of all the hope
and joy and love going out that door with him.

I
t just doesn’t seem right,” Jonah said. “I’m here day after day, living a lie, and
I never lied in the first place.”

The Stoltzfus sheep blinked up at him, tucked its pointed chin, and chortled, “Mihihi.”
Sitting on its backside so that Jonah could take a look at its hoof, the sheep looked
very human. A little bit like Bishop Samuel, but without the eyeglasses.

Was that why Jonah was telling the creature his problems? Or was he verhuddelt from
walking around with this tangle of guilt and confusion inside?

“I need to clear my head,” he told the sheep as he trimmed the hornlike nail that
grew on the outer edges of the pad. Sheep were well-known for being prone to suffer
from foot problems, and this fella had been limping around. “I can’t keep this up.”

The sheep bleated an answer and tried to scramble away.

“Hold on. You’re not getting out of this so easy.”

And neither would Jonah.

He had to tell Annie and Hannah the truth. He had never meant
for anyone to think that he favored Hannah in the first place. That part had been
a misunderstanding. And he’d fully intended to straighten things out with the truth,
but everyone on the Stoltzfus farm had been on edge last week with the Fishers leaving
for New York. Now, here it was Wednesday, and he was still tethered to Hannah—at least,
in Annie’s mind he was.

“What can I do?” he asked the sheep as he trimmed the ingrown ridge of nail. He had
thought about asking Aaron if he could do without his help, but there were more chores
here than any one man could handle. And today, when he had helped Aaron move some
hay bales, the older man had complained that he was under the weather.

“Something’s not sitting so good in there,” Aaron had said, pressing a fist to his
chest. “Indigestion. It happens whenever Hannah cooks the noon meal.”

“Do you need an antacid?” Jonah had asked.

“Nay. I’d like a rest, but what can you do? Harvest is a busy time.”

A very busy time. As Jonah cranked the winch to stack the bale high in the loft, he
knew for certain that he would have to stay on here for a good while, even if Annie
and Hannah soured on him when they learned the truth.

“And the truth shall set you free,” Jonah said aloud as he brushed the hoof clean
and took one last look.

The sheep’s eyes softened. He seemed to be thinking over the words of scripture. Mmm.
A good Amish sheep.

The high-pitched laugh of a child came to him on the wind, and he looked toward the
outbuildings. Annie and Sunny were walking toward the sheep pens, Annie with a baby
bottle in her hand. Levi was running in crazy circles, scrambling after the orphaned
lamb that kept darting out of his reach. It was feeding time for the bummer lamb.

Annie said something he couldn’t make out as she held up the bottle. That got the
lamb’s attention. It leaped in her direction, nearly collapsing as it landed on its
spindly legs.

“And what am I supposed to do now?” Jonah asked the big sheep. “I have to return these
clippers to that shed, right there where they’re sitting.”

The sheep gave a spastic shake.

“Ya, you’re right. I could do that later, but I don’t mind seeing Levi.” He released
the sheep, and the creature immediately scrambled to its feet and loped away, pausing
only once to look back in scorn.

“Go.” Jonah got to his feet, brushing grass from his pants. “Find green pastures.”
In truth, there wasn’t much green grass left—mostly fields of gold and brown. Soon
the sheep and cattle would need special feed to get them through the winter.

By the time Jonah came upon Annie and Levi, the boy was seated with the orphaned lamb
in his lap. Sunny had scurried off to the edge of the fence to bark at a group of
sheep, no doubt keeping them in line.

“Your lamb has taken to the bottle,” Jonah said.

“She likes it!” Levi moved the bottle and the lamb’s muzzle followed, sucking contentedly.
“And she has a name now! We call her Fluffy.”

“Ya?” Jonah rubbed his chin. “Some people don’t name their sheep. They don’t want
the children to get too attached when …” Many sheep farmers, Amish and English alike,
slaughtered their herds before the sheep were a year old. He turned to Annie. “Tell
me you raise these sheep for their wool.”

“Is that what you’re getting at? Ya, we take their wool, and Dat sells some of them
off.” She patted the lamb in Levi’s arms. “But he’ll make an exception for little
Fluffy.”

“Gut.” He lifted one side of his mouth in a half smile. “I’ll sleep better tonight,
knowing that.”

She rolled her eyes, a gesture that tugged at his heart. It amazed him how Annie could
be womanly and girlish at the same time. “You
mean an experienced farmer like you would worry about one little lamb?”

“I work the land, but on our farm we never took a life. Dat believed in sharing the
land with all Gott’s creatures. He passed those ways on to all of us.”

“I remember that about your dat,” Annie said. “All those birdhouses he used to build.
He would make sure they had seed in the winter. And he didn’t believe in hunting,
did he?”

Jonah nodded. He missed his parents, but he was glad to remember them by the good
they had done in their lives instead of the terrible way they had died.

He went into the shed to return the clippers and get a rake. When he came out, the
lamb was scrabbling to be released.

“Fluffy! Settle down,” Levi ordered.

“Fluffy wants to run,” Jonah said. “She’s done with her milk. See?”

Levi noticed the empty bottle. “Oh.” He helped the lamb onto the ground and she bowed
at his feet, then circled around as if chasing her tail.

“Fluffy thinks she’s a dog,” Jonah observed as he started raking the pen.

Annie and Jonah laughed as Levi tried to pet her and she slipped away. The lamb seemed
to enjoy playing tag.

“Levi’s so good with her.” Annie leaned on a post near Jonah. “And you’re good with
Levi. He likes having you around, Jonah. He’s told me that.”

“I’ve been thinking, it might be good to bring Sam around sometime when I’m working
here. He and Levi could play together.”

“That would be wonderful good,” Annie said. “Levi misses Mark. Do you think Sam would
like to help with Fluffy?”

“If Sam spends five minutes with Fluffy, he will be begging us to get some sheep on
the farm.”

Annie sighed. “You know the little ones well. Someday, you’ll make a very good father.”

He stopped raking, caught by her comment. Looking down into her sparkling blue eyes,
he wanted to remember this moment in time. Annie could see him as a father … that
lightened the weight on his shoulders.

“Hannah is blessed to have found you.”

The hope that had been sizzling inside him now sputtered and went cold. He went back
to raking. “Annie, we need to talk about that.”

“No.” She held up her hands. “You and Hannah need to talk. I don’t want to butt in.
But I will say I’m glad you’re spending a lot more time here with us. It’s been good
for everyone. You’ve become a good friend, Jonah.”

She wouldn’t feel that way when he told her the truth. “Annie … I’m not coming here
for Hannah.”

“I know that. You’re working for Dat, and we all appreciate that. He’s feeling the
burden of the farm right now, with Perry gone.”

Jonah wiped the sweat from his brow. It wasn’t a hot day, but the strain of trying
to cut through to the truth was more work than any farm chore.

Stop raking and tell her. “I don’t favor your sister. I favor you.”

Why couldn’t he wrench those words from his throat?

Because he didn’t want to end this moment with Annie. Because he wanted to be her
friend … and her beau, too. His time here on the farm had changed some things for
the better. Now he didn’t worry so much about talking to girls. He could find plenty
to say to Hannah or Annie without his face heating up and his tongue getting twisted
in his mouth.

He continued cleaning the pen. “Have you gotten word on how the Fishers are doing
up there?”

“Sarah called from town! She called the tea shop, and Mamm
talked with her. They’re settling in. Perry’s cousin is putting them up in a little
cottage on his dairy farm. She said it’s very cozy. And Gideon has twins who are around
Mark’s age. Isn’t that perfect? Gott has truly blessed them.”

“He has.” He didn’t look up from his work as he asked, “And what about you, Annie?
Are you still thinking of joining them in New York?” The words were tight in his throat,
and he prayed that she would answer no.

“How did you know that?”

“My hearing works just fine … and you’ve made it no secret.”

“It scares me to think of leaving my home. Not just my family, but everyone here.
Halfway is all I’ve ever known, and I’m happy here.” She leaned onto the post, watching
him closely. “Do you ever think about leaving?”

“No. Halfway is where I belong.” His family, this land, this community … He lived
and breathed this small parcel of Lancaster County. Gott wanted him here; he was sure
of that.

“I feel that way, too, except when I go to the singings and have a look around. While
I was waiting on your brother, all the men my age found wives. There are no single
men left!”

She said it as a joke, but it stung.

There’s a single man who’s waited for you all his life
, he wanted to say.
A man who loves everything about you
.

But the words were locked inside, too delicate to wrench out. He spread fresh hay
in the pen, angry with himself for shutting down.

“That’s why I’m so torn,” she added. “I feel like I belong here, but I know that Gott
wants me to have a family. So what can I do? If I’m to have a family, I’ll have to
go somewhere else to find a husband. And that breaks my heart.”

Mine, too
, Jonah wanted to say. That would make two broken hearts.

T
hat’s it. Keep twisting,” Gabe said.

Gabe stepped back from the fence as his younger brother used a set of pliers to twist
the wires around, creating a braid that would hold. They were in the back acres, repairing
a hole in the fence, and once Gabe had shown Simon how to attach the wires, his brother
had stepped up to give it a try. It was Simon’s first time mending a fence, but he
was getting the hang of it.

Cold air was setting in over the land, and clouds of mist rolled in over the hills.
Puffs of steam came from the nostrils of the waiting horses. Gabe tucked the spool
of wire into his saddlebag and looked over the east hills, toward the town. They were
too far away to see the town or any of the houses, but he knew that Emma’s home was
in that direction, on the outskirts of town.

Emma was there right now, probably grading papers or helping Fanny prepare dinner.
He imagined her in the kitchen, punching dough. All the anger she had toward him now
could go right into that fat wad of dough.

Or maybe it was worse than that. Maybe she didn’t even care enough to be mad. She
might have decided that a proper schoolteacher like her could never be seen courting
a man like him. Someone who dared to break the rules.

He patted Mercury’s withers, thinking that people should be as loyal as horses were.
Emma had said that he could tell her anything. Her big beautiful eyes had never blinked
when he’d talked to her about his parents’ murders. She had understood his resentment
toward Adam coming home to be the boss, and she had always listened when he told her
stories about “the big girls,” the cows that Gabe cared for and knew so well.

But Emma didn’t want to hear about how it felt to ride a motorbike. All at once, her
heart and mind had closed to Gabe. Just like that.

And he decided that he would do the same. He knew how to curl up inside himself like
a beaver settled in to hibernate for the winter. He could dig into the mud and never,
ever trust anyone again. That was fine with him.

“How’s that?” Simon asked, stepping back.

Gabe leaned in for a closer look. Simon had twisted the wire into a nice, tight braid.
“That’ll hold it. Good work, Simon. Now you know how to do it.”

From the way Simon stood tall, with his head up, Gabe could tell that his brother
felt good about learning the task.

“Now I can fix the fence anytime the cows push it loose,” said Simon.

“You can fix the wire part,” Gabe said. “The fence posts—that part takes a little
more time to learn.” Gabe pushed against the post. It was solid and secure, but there
were miles of fence around their farm. “I hope we don’t need to replace any of the
posts until spring. It’s hard to dig in frozen dirt.”

“Any more fixing you need?” Simon asked, holding up the pliers.

“We’re done for today. It’s time to head back.”

Simon tucked the pliers in with the other tools in the saddlebag, then called to his
horse. Shadow didn’t come like a dog, but her ears perked up, and she lifted her head
to eyeball Simon. The boy walked over to her and took the reins. “Hold still now.”
The horse stood like a statue as Simon put one foot in the stirrup and swung his small
body high into the saddle.