A Simple Autumn: A Seasons of Lancaster Novel (9 page)

I
’ll take mine sunny-side up, just like the day,” Dat said the next morning when Annie
asked him how he wanted his eggs.

“It’s good to see the sunshine,” Lovina said. She handed a piece of biscuit to little
Mark, who sat content in the high chair. “Will you be able to make hay today?”

Dat nodded. “We need to do as much as we can this week, before Perry has to go.”

Annie tousled one of the golden ringlets of Mark’s hair. She had missed tucking him
in last night because of the singing. Normally it wouldn’t matter, but now Mark’s
nights in the house were running out. There were but a handful of days until the departure
on Friday.

She leaned forward and pressed her cheek to his. “I’m going to miss you, little one.”

She was rewarded by an applesauce hand on her nose. “Hey, that’s my nose!”

The little boy grinned as she swung around to face him.

“Where’s your nose?” she asked, and he pressed a finger to his button nose.

“You’re delicious.” She planted a kiss on his forehead, then turned away toward the
stove, feeling weepy. She still could not believe that the Fishers would be leaving
on Friday. She cracked two eggs on the edge of the skillet and tended the sizzling
edges.

The morning air was chilly, but the sun was strong, and Annie seized the chance to
get some clothes washed and hung. The family’s collie trotted over and stared suspiciously
when she saw Annie fussing with the machine. The gas-powered washer made a clamor
that frightened the dog.

“I know it’s not wash day,” Annie told the dog, “but with all the rain we’ve been
having, we’re falling behind.”

Seeing that Annie meant business, Sunny nosed the screen door open and scuttled away.

The clatter of the washing machine on the porch matched the noise of the men hammering
on the roof. Dat said they were almost finished with the repairs. The beat reminded
Annie of a tune they had sung at the singing last night. She sang aloud as she swept
the porch, knowing no one would hear her over the din.

The late-morning sun warmed through her prayer kapp as she shook out a dress and hung
it with two clothespins. At the end of the line she paused to move her basket and
glance up at the sky. Still no clouds. Wonderful good.

Her gaze skimmed the roof of the farmhouse. A tall, handsome man hammering into the
roof came into view.

Adam …

Her heart sank in regret. When was she going to stop pining for a man who was about
to marry someone else?

But her annoyance faded quickly when she realized that she was wrong. It was Jonah
King. He and his brother were both tall, with broad shoulders that seemed to test
their shirts. And Jonah’s dark hair and eyes beneath his straw hat were so like his
brother’s.

Her sister Sarah’s words came back to her. She did need to move on.

Annie uttered a quick prayer to Gott, asking Him to free her heart.

She glanced back at the roof. Of course Adam wouldn’t be here. They wouldn’t be able
to spare him with everyone trying to finish up the harvest.

Just then Jonah King lifted his head and waved to her. She swallowed hard. He’d caught
her staring. She nodded primly, turning back to the clothesline.

“How’s your lip?” he called down.

Annie pressed her fingers to her mouth. “Much better, denki,” she called before ducking
behind the wall of a damp sheet. The swelling must have gone down overnight. It didn’t
hurt at all.

Odd how the body could heal quickly, but the heart took its good old time.

G
uitar music floated from the boom box behind him as Gabe drove his buggy toward town.
He had decided to combine his run into town with a trip to the school to see Emma.
Of course, everyone thought he was stopping by the school to drop his brother and
sister off. No one knew he had been out late last night, driving down dark roads with
Emma beside him.

He knew there would be students there this morning. No chance to kiss or pull her
into his arms. But it would be enough, just looking in her eyes for a bit. That smart,
steady flicker in her eyes always made him feel good. He could see the love in Emma’s
eyes, and on a cold September morning, there was nothing quite like that.

The hum of an engine over the music let him know that a vehicle was creeping up behind
him.

Gabe slowed the buggy and directed Mercury to the far right of the road to let the
vehicle behind him pass.

The yellow bus’s engine grumbled as it slowly moved around their open carriage, taking
Englisher children to their school.

“I wonder what it’s like to ride a bus to school every day,” Ruthie said.

“I want to drive a school bus,” Simon said. “No one on the road would be bigger than
me. And if a bad person came along, I could close the door and drive away.”

Gabe kept quiet. Simon had a fear of evil bred from the trauma of witnessing their
parents’ murder, but he’d gotten much better in the last year. Gabe smiled at the
notion of Simon driving a yellow bus. The boy would get his chance to drive a vehicle
soon enough, and Ruthie … well, Ruthie was a girl. She might live her whole life without
hearing of a boy’s rumspringa antics.

Squinting, Gabe measured the bus with his eyes. He had never driven anything that
big, but he had been behind the wheel of a car before. It had been fun to drive a
car, but nothing like the thrill of racing over bumps and taking tight turns on a
motorbike.

He was itching to get back on a motorbike. Now that he’d had a taste, it was just
like Ben had said. He felt the need for speed.

To hit the throttle and have the bike surge ahead, that was power. And the way the
brakes responded when you wanted … that was control. Two things that Amish life lacked … power
and control. The pace of life was slow, and someone else was always making decisions
for you.

Gabe liked being in command, and the bikes gave him that.

As their buggy approached, he spotted Emma on the front porch of the schoolhouse,
sitting beside a student. He hoped she wouldn’t be mad at him for stopping by. Emma
was always careful about their relationship. She didn’t want folks seeing them together,
but he figured the students wouldn’t think anything of Gabe dropping off his brother
and sister.

“We’d better turn off the music,” Gabe told his siblings, who were sitting in the
cramped backseat area. “Do you know how to do it, Simon?”

“I got it,” Simon said, and the music faded.

“Denki. Teacher Emma doesn’t like loud buggies pulling up to the school.”

“How do you know?” Ruthie asked.

Gabe shrugged. “I just know. Teachers don’t like anything that breaks the rules.”

“Teachers like rules,” Simon agreed.

The schoolhouse was a simple wood structure. Painted a buttery yellow, it had a concrete
porch where an old-fashioned school bell hung, its rope dangling in easy reach. Gabe
hadn’t liked the place much when he was a student here, but now that Emma was the
teacher, it seemed warm and cheerful.

He pulled up in front and reined in his horse.

“Good morning, Teacher Emma!” Ruthie called as she climbed out of the buggy with her
plastic lunch cooler in one hand.

“Good morning,” Emma called from the porch. Her smile froze when she saw Gabe in the
buggy.

Was she going to be cross, just because he wanted to see her for a bit? School wouldn’t
begin for another fifteen minutes.

Simon dropped down beside his sister in silence.

A man of few words, like me
, Gabe thought. He shifted in his seat and saw that Emma was still sitting on the
porch with a little boy.

He would have to get out and go to her.

He secured the buggy and climbed out.

“You make two rabbit ears.” Emma leaned over the little boy’s shoes and folded his
laces. “Like that.”

“Good morning, teacher,” Gabe said.

She looked up and tried to hide her smile. “Good morning.”

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” He nodded toward the fence. “Just over there.”

She hesitated a second, then lifted her head. “All right. Amanda, will you help Luke
with his shoelaces?”

An older girl with pink lips who reminded Gabe of a mouse came up to the porch, and
Emma followed him across the tidy lawn of the school.

“You shouldn’t come here, Gabe,” she warned. “During school time, I have to focus
on my scholars.”

“It’s not school time yet.” He turned around to face her, relieved to see that steady
light in her eyes. Her prayer kapp was crisp and white. Of course, all the kapps around
here were the same. But when Gabe looked at Emma, he saw her pure heart in that kapp.
A pure heart and a starchy sense of order. Some of the other guys thought she was
a priss, but Gabe loved that about her. She truly wanted to do things the right way,
and she tried with all her heart.

She folded her hands and pressed her knuckles to her chin. “You shouldn’t be here,
Gabe.”

“And you’re beautiful when you get mad.”

“I’m not mad, I’m … serious. That’s how I have to be. The education of those children
is my responsibility, and—”

“I know. It’s all on your shoulders. But you’re still an eighteen-year-old girl who’s
allowed to court. If you told people about us, we wouldn’t have to wait for two weeks
to see each other. Or sneak around like this.”

“I’m not sneaking around. This is my job.”

“You know what I mean.” He put one hand up to lean on the fence post. “I want to see
you, and I don’t care who knows about it. And I know you feel the same way, Teacher
Emma. Let me teach you how to go courting, the right way.”

“Oh, Gabe …” Her stern expression gave way to a small smile. “I’d like that. But I’m
not ready to shout it out over the hills yet.”

“You don’t have to do that, but I would like you to tell your family about me. If
our families know, it won’t be such a big secret anymore.”

“It would be a good way to break the ice.…” She crossed her arms, considering.

Gabe smiled. He could watch her think for hours.

He had thought of the idea last night on the ride home. If Emma’s parents accepted
him, he figured the rest of the community wouldn’t be too far behind.

“Let me think about it,” she said.

Before he could answer, a swell of noise came from the lane in front of the school.
“Thank God I’m a country boy!” came the friendly voice of the singer from the boom
box. Gabe swung around to see Simon hunched in the back of his buggy.

“Oh, no!” Emma turned quickly, then took off running toward the sound.

Gabe raced ahead of her, his long legs covering the distance quickly. “Simon! Turn
it off.”

Simon ducked down, and within seconds the blare of music stopped.

“What are you doing?” Gabe jogged to a stop beside the buggy, where Mercury twisted
his head back and nudged him, as if he was impatient to get going.

“I didn’t turn it on!” Simon insisted. “I didn’t do it. I just climbed up here to
turn it off after …”

“After some other boy left it on.” Emma turned toward the cluster of boys who were
Simon’s age. “Who did this?”

No one raised a hand.

“All right, then. Let me just say that it was not the right thing to do.” She crossed
her arms and paced in front of the group of boys before turning to them. “We don’t
use electronic things here at school.” She turned to Gabe with a scorching look. “Good
Amish do not have electricity or Englisher music in our homes … or at school.”

Gabe winced as he tipped back his hat. Ouch. This wasn’t going
to help him persuade Emma that she should let people know they were courting. Emma
had been disappointed that he had decided not to get baptized with her this month.
He understood her disappointment, but he’d made his choice for a reason. He wasn’t
ready. It was as simple as that.

Months ago the bishop had ordered the young people who were getting baptized to get
rid of their cell phones and stereos and iPods. Remy had traveled back to Philadelphia
to give away her Englisher things. “They make you give up the fun,” Ben had told him.
Gabe agreed on that. He knew the rules, and he wasn’t ready to buckle down and follow
them just yet.

“Let’s go into the classroom and get our primers out,” Emma said.

Although her voice was calm, her words held power. The children picked up their lunch
coolers and headed in the front door.

Simon paused in front of Emma, his brows hard lines of worry. “Sorry, Emma.”

“It’s not your concern.” She stood, arms folded into her bulky sweater, watching as
another carriage came down the lane, before looking up at Gabe. “But I’ll thank you
to take that noisemaker far away from my students.”

“Yes, teacher.” He followed her gaze to the approaching carriage and recognized Preacher
Dave with his youngest children.

Emma waited on the porch to greet Dave and the children.

“Good morning,” Dave said. He stood by the carriage as, one by one, each child hopped
out and accepted a cooler.