A Time to Love (4 page)

There had to be a way to do something, Jenny thought later as she stretched out on the bed.

Her eyes went to the journal she kept. Maybe when she wrote in it in the morning she'd find a solution. For now, she prayed. Then she slept.

The next day, her grandmother asked Jenny if she wanted to go into town, but she didn't press when Jenny begged off. She left, promising to be back in a few hours.

Jenny was still really sore from the physical therapy. She knew to expect it, but that didn't make her feel any better. With a sigh, she took a few aspirin and rested on the sofa with a book.

The aspirin, the rest, and the warmth from the fire made her feel better. She read for a while and then put down the book.

She was strangely restless. Maybe it was because she'd been out yesterday, breaking the routine of being housebound. Maybe it was because she knew she had been hiding.

Or maybe it was because everyone else seemed to be out and about today. Going to the kitchen window, she watched cars and horse-drawn buggies travel up and down the road.

She realized she looked to see if Matthew was driving every time a buggy passed.
Now I'm behaving like a teenager,
she thought wryly.

How much did he remember about that last summer she'd visited? He'd pushed that jar of blueberry jam toward her and it seemed to her that he was trying to prod her memory. That his expression was . . . hopeful?

But maybe that was just wishful thinking. Just because she'd had a crush on him, had thought about him for years, didn't mean that he'd done the same. After all, not only had she never heard from him again, he'd gotten married.

That part hurt the most. From what she could figure out, he'd married about a year after she'd left.

So much for being unforgettable.
Jenny sighed. That was the stuff of a young girl's daydreams. Something you only read about in a romance novel or watched in a movie. And being a practical person, she'd seldom indulged in romantic fantasies.

She picked up the book again but despite the fact that she'd wanted to read it for some time, she couldn't get interested. What else to do? There was no television, of course. Not that she watched much daytime TV at home. And there were no chores to do—the place was spotless. Phoebe had even prepared their evening meal, putting it in the oven before she'd left.

Jenny found herself longing to be outside. She'd been cooped up for months in the hospital and hadn't ventured outside here except for the therapy appointment.

She'd go crazy if she didn't get out. And walking was good for her, she told herself.

Before she could think better of it, Jenny put on her shoes, reached for her coat and cap, and wrapped a muffler around her neck.

The air was cold and crisp. She shut the door behind her and carefully navigated the steps. Her hip protested, but she told it to shut up and made her way down the walk gripping her detested cane.

She had no clear goal; she just wanted to get out of the house. But after a few steps Jenny realized she was walking toward Matthew's farm next door. She told herself it hadn't been intentional, just a desire to walk in the opposite direction of town. After a little while, she'd simply turn around and return home.

The landscape looked so different from her memories of summers years ago. Now it was white and barren, not green and lush. But the winter scene had its own beauty and appeal, especially after her stint in the grueling heat and devastation overseas. Fields slept under a blanket of snow, unmarked by human or animal feet.

Careful not to slip, she turned and saw that hers were the only footprints leading from her grandmother's farm.

Her breath came out in little puffs in the cold air, but the exertion of walking caused beads of perspiration to pop out on her forehead. Though her hip had made a sharp complaint when she first stepped outside, it had faded to a stubborn ache, seeming to become a bit easier, so she walked a little further, careful with her cane.

Hearing the clip-clop of a horse-drawn buggy behind her, she moved closer to the side of the road. It stopped and the man inside touched the brim of his hat and smiled a welcome.

"May I offer a ride, Jenny?"

She stared at him, surprised not only by his use of her name but the informality of it. Then she remembered that here there were no formal titles; even children addressed their teachers by their first names.

Jenny shook her head. "
Nee, danki.
I'm getting a little exercise."

"I am Amos Yoder. Phoebe mentioned that her
grossdochder
was making a visit. Well, gut day to you, then."

He nodded and with a quiet command to his horse moved on down the road.

Somehow, on a day like this, in such a serene spot in the world, the buggy didn't seem out of place. The car that followed it a few minutes later, one with out of state tags and tourists leaning out the windows to take photos, did. Jenny tried not to flinch when the cameras were aimed in her direction, bending her head and burrowing the lower part of her face into her muffler, turtle-like.

Then they were turning their attention to the buggy ahead, passing it and gawking, leaving too little distance between it and the edge of the road for her liking. The buggy driver veered to the right and made no protest. He was probably used to that sort of thing.

Jenny wondered if she'd be here in the spring. She hadn't really had a plan when she came, just a desperate desire to be out of the hospital and in the comfort of a safe place with someone she knew loved her. No one had been able to give her a really good timetable of when her body would be healed enough for her to go back to earning a living.

She saw Matthew going into the barn at his farm. As she walked closer and he exited the barn, he caught sight of her and waved. She waved back. He watched her progress for a long moment and then went back into the barn.
Probably
working, she thought. Work never stopped on a farm, especially an Amish farm.

Perhaps it was because she was looking in his direction and not concentrating on her steps that she hit a slippery patch of ice on the road. The world tilted as she fell. She cried out as she landed hard, jarring her sore hip.

The snow was cold and wet beneath her. The harder she tried to use her cane to get up, the more she failed. Tears of frustration sprang into her eyes and finally she gave up and just sat there.

Looking left and then right, she didn't see any vehicles of any kind. Several minutes before there had been traffic. Now there was nothing.

The day was so quiet. She couldn't remember ever being in a place that was so quiet. No birds singing. No airplanes overhead. No—anything.

She'd never felt so alone.

Anxiety came creeping in along with the cold and damp beneath her. She caught her breath and told herself to calm down. The road wasn't heavily traveled but someone would come along.

She'd be frozen by then.

Her heart was pounding, even though she hadn't moved. Pounding. She could hear it trying to beat its way out of her chest. Her head felt light. Maybe she was so cold the blood wasn't moving. No, now she was sweating, so hot she felt she'd melt the snow beneath her. Then cold again.

She'd felt like this before, when she'd woken up in the hospital and realized what had happened to her. When she'd tried to walk the first time during physical therapy but couldn't.

It was anxiety, pure and simple.

Breathe!
she ordered herself. Everything's going to be all right. It was daytime. Someone would surely come this way soon. She might be getting really cold, but she doubted that she was in danger of hypothermia.

"Or frostbite where I sit down," she muttered and then she laughed. Good, she told herself,
facing anxiety with humor helps.

She rolled over on her hands and knees and tried to push up to her feet using her cane. But she couldn't get any traction and came down hard.

This was what she got for feeling sorry for herself, for complaining about being shut up in her grandmother's nice, warm farmhouse down the road. Sitting before the fire, tucked under a quilt, sipping a cup of hot tea sounded pretty good right now.

No, she wouldn't berate herself for venturing out. She was proud of herself for doing it. If she got any colder, though, she'd be her own statue to courage, a frozen sculpture for all to see until the spring thaw.

She didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

Footsteps crunched on the snow. Jenny looked up to see Matthew walking rapidly toward her. His expression was concerned as he crouched down in front of her. "Did you fall?"

"Just thought I'd take a little rest," she told him tartly.

"Kind of a cold place to sit," he said, crossing his arms over his chest and regarding her gravely. But she saw the twinkle in his blue eyes.

"Okay, okay, help me up," she requested, holding out her hand.

"You sure? I wouldn't want to interrupt your rest."

"Now, before I turn into a Popsicle." Then, remembering her manners, she added, "Please."

He took her hand and pulled her up effortlessly, steadying her until she got her feet securely under her, then he reached down for her cane and handed it to her.

Jenny winced as her hip took her weight and she bit her lip to keep from crying out. Determined, she took a few steps.

"Did you injure yourself?" he asked her, solicitous.

"Yes—no," she said. "I don't know. Everything hurts right now."

She tried to take another step and moaned.

"Let me carry you."

"Oh, I'll be okay."

He reached into a pocket of his coat, pulled out a snowy handkerchief, then touched it to her lips before she could react. When he showed it to her, she saw that it was stained with blood. She must have bitten her lip from the pain.

Taking it from him, she patted the handkerchief on her lip.

He held out his arms. "Come, you're cold."

She was shivering so hard he could probably hear her teeth chattering. "I'll be okay."

Ignoring her, he bent to lift her into his arms before she could stop him.

"Hey! Where are you taking me? Our house is the other way."

"To my place, of course," he told her, showing no signs of exertion at carrying her on the snowy road.

He looked down at her. "Don't worry. We'll have plenty of chaperones. The children are home."

"I'm an adult. I don't need a chaperone," she muttered.

But she was touched that his upbringing would make him think of such a thing. When was the last time she'd even heard the word
chaperone?

"Get the doorknob," he instructed, and she leaned down to do so.

He carried her through the kitchen and into the living room. The room was comfortable, with a sofa and matching chairs arranged around a big brick fireplace. A fire burned merrily behind the grate. A tumble of books and toys showed children lived here.

He lowered her carefully to the sofa. Pulling a quilt from the back of a chair, he tucked it around her shoulders. "You can take your coat off when you've warmed up."

Taking off his own coat, hat, and gloves, he walked away, returning a few minutes later with a mug of hot chocolate for each of them.

"Getting warm?"

She nodded, taking a sip. "Mmm."

"The
kinner
like it in the winter."

Setting the cup on the scarred oak coffee table before her, she pulled off her coat and muffler.

"I'll hang your coat over a chair in the kitchen so it can dry," he told her, reaching for it. "If your clothes are wet from the snow I can find something of Hannah's for you to put on."

"I'm fine."

She took another sip of the chocolate. She'd forgotten how delicious the drink was. Or maybe it was just because she was so cold.

"I thought you said your children were home?"

"Hannah left me a note while I was working in the barn. She's taken them to a friend's for a visit."

"So no chaperones." She smiled into her cup.

"That's funny?"

She shook her head. "It was sweet of you to worry about my reputation."

"It's a cold day to come visiting, Jenny."

"I didn't intend to visit."

Matthew grinned "No? Town is the other way."

"I just wanted to get out of the house, take a little walk."

"I thought so."

"So you were teasing me." She looked around. "Nice room."

"It's the
kinner's
favorite."

She glanced at the clock hung on one wall. "I shouldn't keep you from your work."

"I have time for a visit with a friend."

They'd been more than friends that last summer,
she thought, remembering. She'd realized she had a crush on him but she couldn't tell how he felt about her, he was so guarded with his feelings.

And then he'd kissed her that warm summer day. One kiss. Such an innocent kiss.

She wondered what would have happened if her father hadn't come early for her that summer. Would the crush have become more?

W
hat are you thinking, Jenny?"

She felt a warm blush creep up her neck. To hide it, Jenny leaned forward to put her cup on the coffee table. "Thanks for not saying 'old friend.'"

There was a commotion at the kitchen door.

"Your children?"

"Or an invasion," he told her, looking unfazed.

A few moments later, three children pounced upon him, their cheeks ruddy from cold. Jenny recognized Annie. With her was another girl and a boy. She guessed they were all younger than ten years old.

"This is Mary and Joshua. You've met Annie."

All the children were tow-headed with big, inquisitive blue eyes. What
beautiful children,
thought Jenny. They were obviously curious about her, but were very polite, looking to their father for direction.

"We don't often have
Englisch
visitors," Matthew told her.

He turned his attention to them. "Jenny is staying with Phoebe. I told you, remember?"

"Matthew?" a woman called from the kitchen.

"In here, Hannah!" he called out.

Glancing at Jenny, he rolled his eyes. "Now come the questions."

Hannah stopped dead in the doorway. "Why, Jenny! I didn't know you were here.
Willkumm."

She turned to her brother and frowned at him. "Why didn't you tell me she was going to visit today? I would have baked something special. And I wouldn't have left with the
kinner."

"It was unplanned," Jenny spoke up. "I was taking a walk and fell. Matthew brought me here to warm up."

Matthew watched as Hannah went into mother-mode, fussing over their guest. Was she warm enough? Had she hurt herself? Would she stay and share a meal with them?

He watched Jenny start to refuse and then Annie spoke up, asking her to stay. Jenny hesitated; her expression softened, and she smiled, clearly a victim of Annie's charms. She thought of how she'd let her grandmother know where she was and decided she'd be back home in no time.

Hannah left them and Mary and Joshua drew closer to Jenny, careful when they saw her cane. Matthew held his breath, fearing they'd ask about her injuries, concerned that they'd hurt her feelings.

But he needn't have worried. They were, after all, the children of his late wife, Amelia, who would shoo ants outside her house rather than kill them. She was the reason for their nature far more than he was.

"I'm the oldest," Joshua told her proudly. "I'm nine and a half."

Jenny thought he looked so much like his father with his quiet manner and his steady, intent blue eyes. His body was lanky; Jenny guessed he'd reach his father's height or more for he was already tall for his age.

Mary was a contrast to her younger sister, Annie. She hung back as Joshua and Annie sat near Jenny. She'd lost the baby fat that filled Annie's face, and though she was two years younger than Joshua, she was nearly as tall.

Like so many Amish children Jenny had met on her visits, they were blond, blue-eyed, healthy children. By the way they'd greeted their father, it was plain they were happy and well-adjusted, in spite of their mother's death.

It was hard not to compare them to the children she'd seen overseas. Deliberately she forced that memory away and tried to concentrate on the children before her.

She asked them about their favorite books, saying she'd noticed all the well-read books in their bookcase. They chattered about them, and Mary told a long story about visiting the bookmobile that made it easier to find new stories.

Once, while Mary was showing her a page in her favorite book, Jenny looked up and caught Matthew watching her. She smiled shyly and bent once again to be read to from the book.

Matthew watched Jenny's hand come up and stroke the child's hair and saw for himself the fondness for children that Phoebe said she had. He knew she'd paid dearly for it when she was the victim of a bombing overseas.

Hannah called out for the children to wash their hands and come set the table. They ran to do her bidding.

"How are you feeling?" he asked her when he saw her wince as she shifted to be more comfortable.

"Fine."

"I saw you walking this way," he told her as he stood before her. "I watched the way you pushed yourself, how you worked so hard not to be afraid of falling when the road was slick."

She stared at her hand on her cane, appearing embarrassed.

"I saw you fall and work so hard to get up," he went on. "And when you couldn't, you fought with yourself."

Her eyes cut up to his. "Wait a minute. I sat there for a
long
time! Why didn't you come sooner?"

He smiled at her. "I knew you wouldn't like it if I rushed to help you."

Jenny glowered at him, only partly mocking. "I was freezing!"

"Are you warm now?"

"Steaming," she told him sternly.

"Just as feisty as always," he laughed. "I've missed you, Jenny," he said before he could stop himself.

He held out his hand. After a moment, she took it, grimacing as she stood.

"Do you think you need to see the doctor?" he asked, looking worried now.

"No," she said. "I think I bruised my pride more than anything."She glanced at him. "Don't say it."

"Say what?"

"You know what you were going to do—the same thing David did the night he brought me—say, 'Pride goeth before a fall.'"

Chuckling, he shook his head. "No, I leave the sermons to others." He looked at her. "
David
said that?"

"I know. I was surprised, too. He was teasing me. I think all men have the same sense of humor.
Englisch
or Amish."

He held his arm out to her and tucked her free hand into the crook of it, escorting her into the kitchen as if they were going to dine in a grand ballroom.

Hannah zeroed in on the gesture as they entered the kitchen. She raised her brows in question at Matthew. Their eyes met. Then hers slid away before Jenny could see.

Joshua rushed to hold out a chair for Jenny, and she gave him her warmest smile.

Matthew sat and remembered the first time he'd seen her. She'd been walking along that same road, looking everywhere but where she should, and she'd fallen, just as she had today. It had been summer and there had been no ice, of course. But City Girl Jenny had obviously been so caught up in the sights and scents that she'd tripped over a rock.

He'd been passing in his buggy and stopped to see if she needed assistance. They'd struck up a conversation. He'd never met an
Englisch
girl before and had to admit that he was intrigued. Jenny looked so different, seemed so different from the girls he knew. She wore her long hair in a ponytail. Instead of a prim dress she was clothed in a T-shirt and jeans.

But it was more than that. She didn't act the same way the young, unmarried Amish women did. There was no shy flirting or getting him to talk about himself as a way of easing him into a relationship. She treated him like a friend, said she had both male and female friends back home. Her gaze was always direct. When she asked him about himself, she listened, and then expected the same when she talked of what she wanted to do with her life.

"Matthew?"

"Hmm?" He looked up and realized Hannah was standing there, holding a serving dish. She gave him a knowing smile, as if she knew where his thoughts had wandered.

Matthew glanced over at Jenny, who was talking with Mary.

"There, everything's on the table," Hannah said, sitting down.

The prayer of thanks for the meal said, she began plying Jenny with what seemed a hundred questions, and she and the children listened, enthralled, as she brought a different world into their kitchen. Matthew already knew most of it. Phoebe liked to talk about her granddaughter when he visited. But if he said anything now it would look like he'd been asking about her.

"Matthew, you're being quiet."

He looked around the table. "Too hard to get in a word," he told them, but he tempered those words with a smile.

"
Daedi!"
Mary protested, giggling. She looked at Annie and Annie started giggling, too. Joshua didn't giggle like his sisters, but he wore a smile as he gazed at Jenny.

The thought came out of nowhere, not conscious, definitely not wanted. Matthew had loved his wife, had been devastated at her death, and still thought of her every day, especially when he looked at their children.

But as he looked at Jenny sitting at the table, so comfortable with his children in their space, it came to him in a flash that had things not turned out differently, these would have been their children.

She would have been his wife.

A knock at the door startled Matthew from his thoughts. He found Phoebe on the doorstep.

"
Gut-n-owed,
Matthew. Have you seen Jenny?"

Holding the door open wide, he gestured toward her sitting at the table. "She's right here. Come inside."

Jenny looked up. "Oh, I'm sorry; I didn't mean to worry you."

"I wasn't worried," Phoebe told her, patting Jenny's hand as she took a seat at the table.

"
Kaffi,
Phoebe?" Hannah asked.

"Ya, that would be
gut, danki."

Hannah pushed the cream and sugar closer. "Have you eaten?"

"
Ya.
Sit, sit. Finish your meal," she told Hannah with a smile as the woman hovered, ever the good hostess. She turned to Jenny. "So you got out of the house?"

"I decided to take a walk. I ended up here."

Phoebe nodded approvingly. "The exercise did you good. There's some pink in your cheeks."

"I didn't realize you'd be home so soon. Time flies when you're having fun," she said as she looked around the table.

Annie frowned. "Time fwies? Like a biwd?"

"It's something people say," Jenny responded.

"Jenny? More mashed potatoes?" Joshua asked politely, and when she nodded, he handed her the big bowl of potatoes drizzled with browned butter.

"No one makes them as good as these—" Jenny stopped, appalled at what she'd just said. "I mean, no one I know other than you,
Grossmudder,
and Hannah. They're richer than the way the
Englisch
make them."

"I knew what you meant," Phoebe told her, not offended.

"I add cream cheese to the potatoes," Hannah told Jenny. "I got the recipe from Phoebe."

Jenny poured rich brown gravy over the meatloaf on her plate and took a bite, smiling in pleasure.

"You should take a walk more often," Phoebe told Jenny as she sipped her coffee. "It's picked up your appetite."

Jenny nodded.

Matthew met Phoebe's eyes and nodded at the silent message. Phoebe had told him that Jenny was too thin and she cooked her favorite foods to tempt her appetite.

After they'd had dessert—pumpkin pie that Mary had helped Hannah bake—Phoebe looked toward the window. "We should help with the dishes and get going. It's going to snow again."

The
kinner
protested their leaving. He'd been so fortunate to have Phoebe as a friend but the
kinner
regarded her as a
grossmudder
in heart as well.

"Jenny and Phoebe can come again," he reminded them.

"Soon?" Mary asked.

"
Mariyefrieh,"
Annie said definitely.

Matthew loved the way Jenny's face lit up. "You can't tomorrow morning, sweetheart. You have
schul,
remember?"

"You remembered the language?"

"Just a little," she told Matthew. "But I remembered that word." She turned to Annie. "Maybe you can come over for some cookies afterward?"

Then she pressed her fingers against her mouth. "I should have asked your permission first," she told Matthew. "Sorry."

"It's
allrecht,"
he said. "But don't let them become too much for you."

"
Daedi!"
Mary protested as she got up to clear the table without being asked.

Jenny frowned at him. "Matthew, your children are always good!"

The children beamed at her. Matthew hid his grin. They were wonderful
kinner,
and there wasn't a day he didn't thank God for His precious gifts. But the three of them had certainly decided they liked Jenny a lot.