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Authors: Cindy Woodsmall

Seasons of Tomorrow (17 page)

BOOK: Seasons of Tomorrow
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He chuckled. “Do me a favor and remind me to watch where I’m standing when I’m around you.”

When he slowed down enough to realize how much he liked her, it scared him. The connection between them was different from anything he’d experienced before. Not only was he able to open up to her, but he didn’t feel compelled to be funny or entertaining. They were relaxed, and yet they got a lot done. He glanced her way. “What are you searching for?”

“One guess.”

“You’ve lost more doorknobs?”

She nodded.

He nailed a red handkerchief to the end of the wood to alert cars that the load extended beyond the wagon bed. “Is that similar to losing your marbles?”

“Definitely. And they aren’t just any doorknobs, either. They’re perhaps the best I’ve ever collected. I’ve had them for more than ten years, and I thought they were stored with the other really great ones—in individual, labeled boxes in my bedroom closet—but I can’t locate a particular set.”

“You have some that you keep in their own boxes with labels? Did you surround them in bubble wrap to boot?”

“Tissue paper.”

He stopped and stared at her, shaking his head. “You’re serious?”

“Go ahead, laugh. As Ammon always says, I’m about a set of doorknobs off-center of normal.” Her eyes widened. “Dora.”

Jacob looked behind him, thinking she was heading his way. He hated to admit it even to himself, but he liked Esther so much more than her younger,
single
sister.

Esther put both hands on the sides of a crate, staring into the box. “Several years ago Dora helped me box up my favorite doorknobs to store, and I forgot that we stored some in her closet.” Esther moved the crate to a shelf. “Maybe that’s where they are.” She turned to him. “When are you leaving town again?”

“That was a quick change in the subject. Nine days from today.” He put the last board on the wagon. “I need to look at the old hearths we talked about Monday and take some pictures of them. If they aren’t what the owner is looking for, I’ll build them myself.”

“A cell-phone picture won’t show your buyer the beauty of the wood grain or the intricacies of the carvings. I’ll get Bailey or one of his delivery-men to haul them to the house. If she doesn’t like them, we’ll bring them back. I’ll send the brick at the same time. Tomorrow around noon?”

“Sounds like a great plan.” Since her suggestion would give the best chance of selling the hearths, he wouldn’t object, but it did seem to be a lot of trouble. “She also asked if you have something called a pilaster doorway. Any idea what that is?”

“Pilaster doorway?” Esther finally stopped what she was doing and looked at him. “A pilaster is a faux column that projects a few inches from a wall. It’s for aesthetics only, but why would someone using country or colonial décor want fake columns?”

“Maybe she said the wrong term.” Jacob went to the opening of the shed and gestured at the frame. “When she started describing it, I thought she wanted it to fit an open doorway, maybe like a molding of sorts, but she said what she wanted was much more ornate and covered some of the actual entryway.”

“Oh!” Esther’s eyes lit up, and she went to a dusty file cabinet that sat
on a dirt floor in the mostly open shed. “I’m not sure what the unit as a whole is called, but the base is a plinth, and the top is an arched entablature with fretwork, spindles, or scrolled brackets.” She pulled paper from a folder and held it out. “
If
this is what she described.” It was another ripped page from a magazine.

“That is simply a very fancy door molding.” But the image Esther held up actually made sense. “Do you have one?”

“No.” She looked at the page from the magazine. “I have two.” She smiled. “But they have a Victorian look, not country, and even if it’s what she wants, the dimensions won’t work. It’s a whole structure, like a doorframe.”

“I can make it fit.”

“Without ruining the authenticity of the piece?”

“I think so. Got paper?” Jacob retrieved a carpentry pencil from his pants pocket.

She pulled out several sheets of paper from the file cabinet, and Jacob laid them on top of the door that served as a workbench. He sketched his ideas, and they discussed possibilities for an hour. He proposed splitting the top center of the entablature and filling the void with ornate antique wood from a different piece, making it look as if the piece hadn’t been cut. As they stood there discussing ideas, he knew that this time would be the best part of his day. Of his week.

Did she know the little one on her back had fallen asleep?

Esther studied his crude drawings. “Your idea for making it fit while keeping most of its integrity borders on brilliant.”

He chuckled. “I’m glad you think so.” He got his phone from his pocket. “I’ll send the homebuyer a few snapshots of the magazine picture.” But he’d wait until later in the day in case she was still asleep. “How much is each piece?”

“When I salvaged it, I was hoping to get two hundred. But that was a few years back, so I’d go as low as half that.”

He passed the magazine page back to her. “I’ll aim for two hundred. That sounds like a very fair price.”

She put the page back in the file cabinet. “I can’t get free until Saturday,
but would you mind if I came to the houses just to see them now that they’re almost finished?”

Mind?
If she were single, he’d already have asked her to come. “Saturday would be perfect. I’ll be there working, and your hardwood floors should be installed by then.” As they talked for a few minutes, he remembered some items of carpentry work that still needed to be done, and he typed notes into his phone. “I have a few ideas about trim work and such. Do you mind if I look through the warehouse when I have a chance?”

“You’re welcome to whatever is there.”

“Denki. And one last thing …” He finished typing and shoved the phone into his pocket. “Your knee is still hurting you all the time, isn’t it?”

“I really don’t—”

“I know. You’ve made yourself clear.” He held up his hand. “You don’t want to have it seen. Everyone else’s needs are more important, and there is no time to deal with it, but answer one question, okay?”

“I’ll try.”

“Of all the people you know, who else would you treat this way?”

Her brows knit. “I don’t understand.”

“Is there anyone you would ask to be sick or in pain for even a week so that
your
day wasn’t interrupted?”

She blinked, her face blank. “Jacob,”—the tremor in her whisper indicated he’d hit his intended target—“you’re completely right.”

He’d been pondering for days how to make her see the situation as she needed to, so this felt really good. He got his billfold and pulled out all the cash he had. “Take this.” He counted it—$300. He also had a paycheck back at Noah’s house that he’d not cashed. “Whatever it doesn’t cover, I’ll give you soon.”

“I can’t. My knee was injured before our incident.”

“It was healing, and I injured it again.” He held out the money. “Please. It would mean a lot to me.”

She reluctantly took it, her eyes expressing gratitude and admiration. “You’re one of the good ones, Jacob.”

“Some days. Not so much on others.”

The sound of a rig made them both look up. Dora drove a carriage onto the driveway. She hopped out, carrying a white plastic bowl with a lid. Despite her smile the taut look on her face indicated she felt awkward. “I was afraid I’d missed you, but you got the wood for the floors all loaded up, I see.”

Jacob nodded. Esther had to have told her they were doing business, especially when she stole the floors from the home Dora shared with her Mamm and siblings.

Jacob jiggled the strips of wood, making sure they were settled into place. “I did. So what kind of floor do you have in your bedroom, Dora?”

“Red oak.”

“How large is the room?”

Esther chuckled. “Don’t answer that, Dora.”

Dora shrugged. “About a third the size of that shed, I suppose.”

“So it’s about a hundred and twenty square feet.” He turned to Esther. “I need a hundred and twenty square feet of red oak by tomorrow.”

Esther broke into laughter. “I’m not stealing the floor from under my little sister, even for you.”

Dora seemed oblivious to Jacob’s stab at teasing. “You can have it. I don’t mind.”

“See.” Esther winked at her sister. “She’s nicer than I am.”

“Esther?” Ammon’s voice surrounded them, and Esther stepped outside the shed, looking toward the house.

“Ya?”

Jacob didn’t hear another word, and he couldn’t see Ammon, but Esther nodded. “Ya, be right there.” She turned to Jacob. “I need to go. Did we cover everything?”

“Ya.”

Esther folded the cash into her palm and put her free hand on Dora’s arm. “You coming up to the house?”

“I came to lend a hand—whatever you need.”

Esther grinned. “Denki.” She hobbled toward the house.

Hoping not to get caught in a conversation, Jacob climbed into his
wagon. “You have a good one, Dora. And don’t let your sister steal the floor out from under you.”

Dora held the bowl up to him. “I made you some cookies.”

“Well, that was nice of you.” He took the container.

“I wasn’t sure what kind you like, so I made a variety—peanut butter, sugar, and oatmeal—chocolate chip.”

“My favorite cookie in the world is oatmeal—chocolate chip. Denki.” He set the container on the seat beside him. “I’ll have contact with delivery-men from Bailey’s shop, so I’ll be sure your container gets to the shop, okay?”

“You can keep it if you like. I don’t mind. Or bring it by the house.”

Wow
. She was hoping he’d change his mind about dating her again. “I’ll be sure it gets to the shop. Bye, Dora.” He released the brake and tapped the reins on the horse’s back.

When he left here in less than two weeks, he’d miss having someone to relate to the way he did Esther. Did Ammon have a clue how blessed he was?

With Jacob’s heart mended and his feeling more optimistic about life, he would try to find a woman who had some of Esther’s qualities. He watched as she climbed the stairs. Ammon held the screen door open for her, and then he glanced up and waved at Jacob.

FOURTEEN

From behind the desk, Rhoda picked up the phone to dial Landon’s grandmother. She punched a few numbers before hanging up. He’d left here two days ago, and he’d made it clear he wanted to be left alone. After her lack of support about Leah, he at least deserved for her to respect his request. Besides, she doubted he was there.

She picked up the spring work schedule. It had seemed doable only days ago. But now? Samuel and Steven were in the field, trusting her to figure out what was absolutely necessary over the next few months and what could be cut from the schedule with minimal damage to the orchard.

But she couldn’t concentrate. She released the paper, and it floated to the desk. After only a couple of days, she already ached to see Landon. If she hurt this bad, what must Leah be feeling? She had walked through the last two days much as Rhoda had after losing her sister—present in body only. Unfortunately, this was only the start of a very long grieving process.

Could Rhoda do anything to fix the situation? Even if she could, should she? If nothing had separated Landon and Leah and they chose to marry one day, they would face significant and difficult problems. Leah and Landon would raise their children with modern technology, and Samuel and Rhoda would have to put distance between their homes while raising their children without those things. The Amish ways weren’t easy, and Rhoda’s children would long for all that Landon and Leah’s children would be allowed to have—television, Christmas trees, computer games, and fancy clothes. Later it would be phones, cars, jewelry, makeup, music, and … Well, the list was endless. It’d be painful to raise one’s children always seeing how their cousins had what was forbidden for them. It was a large part of why those who left the Amish were seldom able to keep a healthy relationship with those who stayed.

An odd noise radiated from the desk, and the old wood seemed to vibrate. What would cause that? Wait … the one new item in the desk. She
opened the drawer. Landon’s cell phone shimmied across a stack of papers. Leah had left it here the other day, and later Rhoda had shoved it into a drawer.

She picked up his cell and tried to figure out how to turn it off. While doing so, she saw a text message from Leah. Leah had a cell phone?

Rhoda’s heart clenched. Why was she texting Landon if she knew he didn’t have his phone? Then something Landon once explained to Rhoda came back to her. Leah was hoping Landon had gotten another cell phone and had moved his cell number to the new phone. Rhoda turned off the phone and put it back in the drawer. She was useless in this office, and Samuel was bound to need help in the field.

Rhoda left the barn and was headed toward the orchard when she heard a car on the driveway. She turned and saw Camilla getting out of her vehicle.

“Camilla.” Rhoda waved and hurried to the driveway.

Camilla met her halfway and gave her a hug. “We finally found her!” Camilla squeezed Rhoda tightly before backing away, her face radiating excitement. “The private investigator used the information about Saint George that you shared with me, and he called just a few minutes ago to tell me where Jojo works! And she’s there right now. Could you find the time to go with me?”

BOOK: Seasons of Tomorrow
6.15Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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