A Simple Autumn: A Seasons of Lancaster Novel (25 page)

Elizabeth Mast was the last to be baptized. There was a quiet note of patience in
the air as the bishop cupped his hands above her head, and the deacon poured water
into them. As it brimmed over and trickled into her hair and face, Annie thought of
how only Gott had the power to make a heart brim over with love. She wanted that for
her younger sister and Jonah.

She wanted that for herself, too. Nothing would fill her heart more than a loving
husband and a houseful of children who would be raised in the simple ways of the Amish,
taught to be good Plain folk.

But that would have to come later, since there were no available
young men in sight right now. Sometimes her heart ached with loneliness, but this
was where Gott wanted her to be right now. Like Mamm always said, she was going to
bloom where she was planted.

A little girl sitting in front of Annie yawned, and a wave of weariness came over
her. Ya, the service was long, but the baptism ceremony was a good reminder of why
they were all here—so many people working together to make up one community of faith.
And now Hannah was a member, too. Mamm must be pleased. Annie looked at her mother
beside her, praying that one day, she, too, might have a daughter who joined the faith.

J
onah lifted the mallet and swung it down with all the force his muscles could conjure.
Chopping wood helped to release the pent-up regret that stuck to him like a burr on
a sock.

Each time he swung the mallet, he hit on a question.

Had he mishandled things?

Why didn’t he go to Annie directly and tell her how he felt?

Should he have come forward years ago when she was pining for Adam, who was off during
his rumspringa?

It was useless to drag all the questions and what-ifs through the mud again. It wouldn’t
change the way Annie felt toward him.

He swung the mallet, driving the steel wedge into the log. Another strike and the
fat log split into three pieces. As he tossed the smaller logs into the bin, his sister
Mary came round the side of the house with the wood scuttle.

“It’s good that you’re doing this. Now that it’s cooler, I’ve been lighting the woodstove
in the morning.” In the hot summer months, they used only the gas stove in the kitchen,
but this time of year,
Mary started a small early fire to take the chill from the air and percolate coffee.

“And we’ll need some more wood split if we’re going to burn a bonfire for the singing
tonight.” He put the mallet down and went to the woodpile to help Mary load the bin.

“About the singing.” Mary paused, as if suddenly remembering something. “Annie told
me that she and Hannah would be here tonight. She asked me if you ever spoke about
Hannah at home, and from the way she was talking, it sounded like she’s still got
you and Hannah matched up.”

Jonah groaned. “I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“I kept your secret, Jonah. I didn’t say a word about it to Annie. But you didn’t
either.” She shook her head, confusion clouding her eyes. “What’s keeping you back?
You go to work on their farm nearly five days a week. You’d think that somewhere between
mending the roof and making hay you’d manage to spit out the truth.”

“I’ve tried, really. In so many ways, I’ve told her the truth. But Annie can’t seem
to hear it, with all the notions swirling around in her head.” He shook his head.
“Matchmaking for her little sister, and somehow I got caught in the middle. And you
know Annie. When she starts something, she doesn’t let go until it’s finished.”

Mary sighed. “So Annie still doesn’t know? Dear Jonah! You can’t let this go on any
longer.”

“I want Annie to know the truth … how I feel. But every time I bring the conversation
around to that, she goes right back to talk of Hannah. I’m not sure I can get her
to hear me, short of telling her flat out that I don’t favor her sister.”

“If it’s true, and it’s not meant to be hurtful …” Mary shrugged. “Maybe that’s what
you need to say.”

Jonah looked toward the heavens in dismay. “And Annie will never speak to me again.”

“She’ll forgive you eventually. But this has gone on long enough.

Annie needs to know the truth, and if it doesn’t come from you, if she figures it
out some other way, that would be even worse.”

Mary was right. Jonah knew that, but it didn’t make facing Annie any easier. Without
speaking, he hauled a fat log onto the stump and tapped the wedge into a small crack.
Most folks would have assumed the conversation was over, but Mary knew him well. She
wrapped her bulky sweater tighter, giving him time.

Finally, Jonah pounded the wedge until the log split. “Maybe I’ve let it drag on,
but Annie has become a friend. Many times she’s started talking with me while I’m
working, and she’s easy to talk to.”

Mary nodded. “And you don’t want to lose that friendship. You’re thinking she’s going
to be upset with you when she learns the truth.”

“Ya.”

“Most likely, she’ll be angry, but I don’t see a way around it, Jonah. And the longer
you let this go, the worse it’s going to get.”

He nodded. “I’ll do it tonight,” he said. “I’ll tell her. Even if I have to sing it
across the table.”

Mary’s eyes opened wide. “Now, that would make for a singing folks would never forget.”

The moon was a pale orange circle in the sky. As carriages began to arrive for the
singing, Jonah lingered in the shadows outside the barn. It was a more public spot
than he liked, and many couples and groups greeted him on their way into the barn.
They’re probably thinking that I’m being a good host
, he thought. In truth, he was waiting for Annie to arrive. Mary had been right; he
couldn’t let this go on any longer.

At last he saw them—Annie and Hannah sat side by side in an open buggy that clopped
down the lane. He stood his ground, a knot in his throat. He was sorely tempted to
escape into the barn and take
a seat, just like any other singing, but he stood his ground. It was time to get this
over with.

He moved toward the buggy as it slowed. Young folks knew to take their rigs to a field
around the side of the barn and tie them up to a wagon where the horses could graze.
Jonah headed that way to confront Annie, but the buggy pulled to a stop and Hannah
jumped down and hurried right smack toward him. He had no choice but to stop.

“Jonah … how are you this evening?”

He squinted at her, wondering if this was something Annie had told her to say. Most
of Hannah’s conversation seemed forced and stale, and he suspected that Annie fed
her the words.

“Did you know I was baptized today?” she asked him, her pale brows lifting.

“Ya. Welcome to the congregation.” He kept his tone even, though his patience was
running out and his eyes were on the field behind her, watching the Stoltzfus buggy
head over to the hay wagon.

“So now we’re both baptized.” Hannah’s tone wasn’t as enthusiastic as her words sounded.
“That’s one more thing you and I have in common.” She tugged one of the strings of
her prayer kapp, then began to wind her finger in it. “Annie says you and I have a
lot in common.”

He swallowed hard. “I know Annie thinks that way. But to tell you the truth, I think
you’d be better off with a younger fella.”

Her lower lip jutted out as her mouth formed a pout. “You don’t think we’d be a good
match … you and I?”

“What would you want with an old man like me?” He kept his voice steady, not wanting
to ruffle her feathers but determined to speak his mind. “You’re a good and kind girl,
Hannah. Lots of fellas here would be happy to take you home in their buggies tonight.
I’m just not one of them.”

She squinted up at him. “So my sister doesn’t always know best.”

“You don’t sound surprised.”

“I never thought you favored me much. That’s what I told Annie.”

He stared at her. “Is that so?”

“Ya, I told her that a few times. You and I have been tripping over each other, but
that’s all. Still, you have been spending a lot of time around the house. More than
most hired hands. That’s why, when Annie started to talk about you, I figured there
was something to it.”

“Well … it’s not about you. Not to be mean or anything.”

“It doesn’t disappoint me one way or the other … but there’s more to this, isn’t there?”
She put her hands on her hips, her pale eyes studying him. “You’ve been hanging around
for a reason. If it’s not me, there’s got to be someone else.” Jonah squirmed, and
her eyes flared. “It’s my sister, isn’t it? You’ve got a hankering for Annie.”

“Whoa. Pipe down.” He looked around to see if anyone else had heard, but people were
wrapped up in their own conversations.

“I had a feeling.” Hannah grinned. “She doesn’t have a clue, but I’ll tell her if
you want.” She clapped a hand over her mouth, as if to keep excitement from bubbling
right out of her. “I could match you two up!”

“No, please don’t.” Jonah was through with roundabout messages. “I’ll tell her.”

“Okay.” She glanced back toward the side of the barn. “She’ll be around in a minute.
But I can’t believe she doesn’t know already. I guess she’s been looking at you with
her eyes closed.”

“That’s about right.” Jonah had felt invisible to Annie for so many years; Hannah
hit it on the nail.

“Don’t forget to tell her,” Hannah said as she fell into step with a group of girls
headed into the barn, leaving Jonah alone in the moonlight.

The talk with Hannah had strengthened his resolve to tell Annie how he felt. Hannah
didn’t laugh or look at him cross-eyed when she got an inkling of his feelings for
Annie.

She thought he had a chance.

Just then Annie emerged from the moon shadow of the beech trees. It was clear that
she’d been watching his exchange with her sister.

“Jonah?” She hurried closer. “Why did Hannah go on without you? She was looking forward
to seeing you tonight.”

“We talked. She’s inside with her friends.”

A frown darkened Annie’s face as she looked toward the light of the barn doors. “But
I thought you two would be like two peas in a pod.”

“No, Annie.” Jonah felt truth in the air, steely and cold as the bite of autumn. “Hannah
and I don’t favor each other.”

There. He had said it, plain and simple.

She bit her lower lip—those naturally rosy lips he couldn’t take his eyes away from—and
he felt a stab of regret. It would not be good to tell Annie he cared for her while
she stared at him with fierce eyes, angry as a mother bird protecting her young.

“I mistook what you were saying the other day, and …” How could he spell it out without
blaming Annie for jumping to conclusions? “Now I owe you the truth.”

“And all along I thought you were telling me the truth. Don’t you know a lie is a
sin, Jonah?” Shock was evident in her blue eyes.

“It was more a misunderstanding than a lie,” Jonah said, not wanting to get off track.
“The truth is, I don’t favor Hannah.” The glimmer of betrayal in her eyes made him
pause. “There’s someone else I’ve had my eye on for a long time. A girl with freckles
and hair the color of wheat and eyes like the summer sky. A stubborn girl who loves
to laugh. A girl who’s strong on the outside but gentle and caring inside.”

She stared up at him, her expression slowly softening as recognition dawned. “Wait.
Are you saying that you favor me?”

The thick knot in his throat threatened to choke away his words,
but he pushed past it. Tonight, he was not going to be the Quiet One. Tonight he would
speak his mind … and his heart.

“Annie, it’s you I’ve always had eyes for. Only you. I counted my blessings when I
got to sit beside you when we were children in the schoolhouse. I’ve gone to every
singing just to hear your voice—to listen to you sing and laugh with your friends.
Didn’t you ever notice how I was always nearby when you came to visit Mary?”

She shook her head in disbelief. “No!”

The word hit him like a bucket of cold water. He wasn’t sure just what she was saying
no to, but it didn’t matter. Her answer was no.

Annie put her hands up to cover her ears. “I don’t want to hear this.”

“But it’s the truth, Annie. It needs to be said.”

He wanted to tell her more. That her bright eyes made him feel alive and that he was
sure he could chart the freckles on her nose as well as the stars in the sky. That
her stubborn spirit and her tender heart set her apart from all the other girls. That
her rollicking joy for life had taught him to laugh at himself. But as he tried to
find the words, her face blushed pink and her eyes pinched with anger.

“You’ve already said too much.” She lifted a hand to make him stop, backing away from
him. “And you’ve got things all twisted around. You belong with Hannah. That’s how
it should be.” She ran into Ruben Zook and David Fisher, who were coming up behind
her, watching the exchange with wide, curious eyes.

“Easy, Annie,” David said, catching her as she stumbled back.