The Search (33 page)

The first thing Jonah did was to wrap Bess in a large towel and make her sit down by the fire.

“I’m sorry to worry you, Dad,” she told him, and she saw tears prickle his eyes.

He brought her a cup of hot tea and kept fussing over her as she tried to explain how she felt. She could see he was worried sick. Billy had warned her as he left to return home.

Bess knew she should have been shocked by what Lainey told her today, or at least terribly upset. But instead, she was filled with a strange sense of destiny, as if God had spared her for a reason. She told Jonah she felt blessed, having him for a father, and that only made his eyes water up again.

“It’s like the roses, Dad. I’m a branch that’s been grafted onto this good tree. Your tree. An Amish tree. And the great root of God sustains us.” That thought had come to her while she was sitting on the ledge, and she had rolled it over and over in her mind. She liked how it sounded.

Her father bowed his head. She wished she could make him understand that it was all right. That everything was going to be all right in the end, just like Mammi had said it would be.

She went to him and knelt down by his chair, putting a hand over his. “Please don’t blame Lainey, Dad. She was only telling me the truth.” There was something else that occurred to her on that ledge, something wondrous. A wide smile broke over her face. “Dad, do you realize that Lainey is my half sister?”

Lainey knocked tentatively on the door to Rose Hill Farm, unsure of what kind of reception she would get from Jonah. A few hours ago, he had seemed so angry with her, and—from his point of view—she couldn’t really blame him. Nor did she agree with him. But she had to know that Bess was home safely.

“Lainey,” Jonah said as he opened the door. He put a hand to his forehead. “I was going to come down tonight. Bess is here. She’s fine. She’s safe.”

Lainey exhaled with relief. “Good. I mean, I’m glad she’s home.” She turned to leave.

“You . . . were right. She wasn’t upset. Not upset at all.”

She turned and looked at him. “But you didn’t believe me.”

He looked uncomfortable, but he didn’t dispute her. “She’s upstairs, changing into dry clothes. Would you come in and wait for her?” His eyes were pleading.

“No. But tell her I stopped by.” She saw a hurt look cross his face, and straightaway she wished she had not sounded so curt. All that mattered right now was that Bess was home.

She started to leave, but Jonah touched her arm lightly to stop her. His voice dropped to a whisper. “She said that she felt as if God had a purpose in all of that. By protecting her.”

Lainey gave him a direct look. “She’s absolutely right.”

Jonah took a step closer to her. “Lainey. I’m sorry for doubting your judgment. Your judgment is far better than mine about these matters.”

“We can talk about it tomorrow.”

“I didn’t want to lose Bess.”

“You love your daughter.” Her voice was flat—without salience. “It’s normal to want to hold on tight to those we love.”

“Maybe there’s such a thing as holding on too tightly.” He looked away. “Tonight I wondered if God might be testing me, the way he tested Abraham with Isaac.” He folded his arms against his chest. “As if he wants me to figure out if I trust him completely or not.”

Lainey softened a little. “It’s the worst place to be, half trusting, half not.”

He rubbed his forehead. “That’s where I’ve been for the last fifteen years. Stuck right in that very place. The worst place to be. I haven’t really been living, I’ve just been tiptoeing around, trying to avert disaster.”

“It doesn’t work,” Lainey said, quiet but firm. “You just end up missing the life you have.” Through the window, she saw Bess come down the kitchen stairs and look around the room for her father. “Go. Talk to her.”

Jonah reached out his hands to her. “Come in with me. Let’s talk to her together.”

Lainey hesitated. Doubts about Jonah had been buzzing around her all afternoon. She shook her head. “No. I’d better get back.”

Jonah watched her carefully. Her words and posturing were bold, but only skin deep. As if she was on a precipice. “Lainey, please?” His question, and the gentleness in his voice, disarmed her. He kept his hands extended, waiting for her to take a step toward him. Just waiting.

A silence came between them then. A silence she could feel, for it was thick with words that had never been spoken.

Jonah’s face opened for an instant: trust and hope.

She felt a sense of perspective wash over her. This was
Jonah
. Her Jonah. Jonah wasn’t the kind of man Robin and Ally thought him to be—mean-spirited and controlling. Why, in fact, she suddenly realized they were describing a man like Simon! Jonah wasn’t like Simon, not at all. Just the opposite. He asked her opinion about things and really wanted to know her thoughts. He helped her set up her pie business. Why had she allowed Robin and Ally to influence what she knew to be true? How could she have let that happen? Her friends said Amish women had no self-esteem. If only they had met Bertha Riehl! Bertha had a stronger self-esteem than anyone she’d ever known. And Bertha was Amish to the core.

Lainey’s heart lifted. She knew Jonah’s heart—knew it in some fundamental, important way. Yet she’d held herself back from him, not trusting this love that had come so unexpectedly, from such an unexpected source. She looked at him long and hard, tears in her eyes, then reached out and tangled her fingers with his. He tugged on her hands and drew her close. She felt his arms go round her, and they clung to each other as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

On Tuesday evening, Mrs. Stroot dropped by Lainey’s cottage with an order for one hundred little six-inch pumpkin pies and seventy nine-inch pecan pies for the Stoney Ridge Veteran’s Day Parade, to be delivered on Friday afternoon. Lainey was thrilled and quickly agreed when Mrs. Stroot told her about the order. She needed the money; setting up a home business had cost more than she expected, and her savings account was dwindling rapidly.

The gray light of an autumn dawn was beginning to appear at the window as Lainey sat at the kitchen table the next morning and decided she must have temporarily lost her mind. How could she possibly bake that many pies in such a short amount of time? She was still getting accustomed to a propane stove. Not every pie turned out like the one before. Even with Bess’s help, she was facing a daunting task. She sat at the kitchen table, notepad in her hand, and tried to make a list of all of the ingredients she would need. Then she put the pencil down and stared at a point on the ceiling.

“I can’t do it,” she said to herself. “It’s my own fault. I got greedy. I thought I could do it, but I can’t.”

“Yes, you can,” Simon said.

Lainey hadn’t even noticed that he had come into the kitchen for coffee and had been watching her. “My pies are too inconsistent. I would need to make double the quantity, just to make sure I have ones to sell.”

Simon lifted one shoulder in a careless shrug. “I’d sooner have a slice of your worst pie than anyone else’s best.”

Lainey’s head snapped up. She couldn’t believe her ears. Was Simon actually paying her a compliment? She couldn’t quite tell.

He looked away, embarrassed. “Keep writing that list. I’ll head into town and get the supplies. You better get moving.”

Tears came into her eyes. “Simon . . . I don’t know what to say . . .”

“Don’t say anything or I’ll take back my offer,” he groused, but he looked pleased.

There followed two of the busiest days Lainey had ever known in her life, and certainly so for Simon. The two of them, plus Bess and even Jonah, rolled out endless mounds of pastry dough, cracked open pecan shells for the nuts until their fingers were stained and blistered, stirred fillings, and sampled the results. The kitchen, in a white fog of flour, had a heavenly scent of vanilla and cloves and pumpkin and blackstrap molasses. The pies were laid out on baking racks, like little works of art. Lainey displayed a streak of perfectionism; only the best would be delivered to Mrs. Stroot. She had to keep sending Simon up to the store for ten-pound bags of sugar and another big can or two of Crisco. He went without complaint, which amazed her. He drove Jonah’s horse and buggy as if he’d done it every day of his life. Boomer rode along as shotgun, just the way he had accompanied Bertha. Simon liked to gripe about Boomer, but he whistled for the big dog to come along whenever he was going anywhere.

By Friday morning, Lainey had the pies ready for delivery in pink boxes that Mrs. Stroot had provided. Jonah and Simon, with Boomer shadowing him, took the pies over to the lunch grounds for the parade. Then they came back for the pies that didn’t make the cut and delivered those to grateful neighbors.

“She’s been working me like a whole pack of bird dogs,” Simon groused to Caleb on Sunday afternoon. “She’s aiming to put me back in the hospital and kill me for certain.” Boomer lay sprawled right by Simon’s side.

Lainey was used to him now and paid no attention to his tone of voice. “Don’t you lie to the bishop, Simon,” Lainey called out from the kitchen. She wiped her hands on her apron and leaned against the doorjamb. “But I will say you’ve been a big help. I couldn’t have done that big order for Mrs. Stroot this week without you.”

Simon turned to Caleb. “That’s the gospel truth. I saved the day.” He stroked Boomer’s big head.

Then Simon smiled—for the first time, thought Lainey—and it was not a smile that lasted long. But still, Simon had smiled.

Billy tossed some pebbles up at Bess’s window late one evening. He cupped his hands around his mouth and whispered loudly, “Can you come down?”

Bess’s heart left the ground and sailed into the night sky. She dressed quickly and hurried downstairs. Maggie had said she was pretty sure he was courting Betsy again, but Bess didn’t believe it. Would he be coming to see her now, if he were still interested in Betsy?

She opened the kitchen door as quietly as she could and met him at the bottom of the stairs. She stopped on the last step so she was eye level to him. She couldn’t pretend; she was thrilled to see him. But her delight seemed to distress him. A flicker of fear came and went through her, but she dismissed it.

“Oh Bess,” he said, taking her hand and holding it to his face.

Bess’s intuition rang an alarm. Something was badly wrong, she felt sure, though she did not know what. She looked into his eyes. His face was working with emotion. He was struggling for words. She could almost hear him trying out different words in his head.

“I need to tell you something. I want you to hear it from me first.” He swallowed hard. “It’s about me. About me and Betsy. We’re going to get married. Soon. Betsy doesn’t want to wait.”

So it was true. Bess said nothing, unable to take it in. She blinked away tears and looked down to hide her confusing emotions. Then one strong feeling broke through: disappointment that felt like a knife wound.

Billy grasped her arms and pulled her close to him. “You know, don’t you? That you’ve meant something special to me?”

He kissed her mouth. It was a new kind of kiss, different from the one he had given her the night before her surgery. It was as if he was determined to remember the moment. She realized, with dismay, that he was thinking this would be their last kiss.