A Plain Love Song (5 page)

“It’s in Gott’s hands.”

Matthew looked at the two-story house with its fresh coat of white paint. It would burst at the seams with eight more people. Good people. Family and friends. His heart lifted at the thought. “It’ll be nice to have Groossdaadi and Groossmammi here. And the Gringriches are fun. They like a good game of volleyball, as I recall. Mudder will be happy to have all those extra hands for canning and sewing frolics.”

Daed’s expression eased a little. “They do and she will. But one thing I’d like you to keep to yourself. The other kinner don’t need to know.”

“Jah.”

“Groossdaadi hasn’t been himself for a while.”

Groossdaadi? With his sharp blue eyes and tongue quick with a joke or a reprimand, both delivered in the same crusty voice edged with barely suppressed laughter. Nee. “Hasn’t been himself?”

“He’s a little hazy about who is who.”

He’d been quick as a freshly sharpened ax the last time Matthew saw him. “Did he get doctored?”

“He refuses to go. Says he’s fit as a man half his age.” Daed sniffed his disapproval. “He tries to do too much. Then he can barely get out of bed in the morning. Josie says he has good spells and bad spells and she never knows which one it’ll be. It’s hard for her. Wears on her heart, I reckon. She says he may decide to take off down the road and try to go home. You’ll have to keep an eye on him. We all will.”

“I won’t mind. It’ll be good to have him around.”

“I’ve got a hankering for some deep-fried catfish.” The lines etched around Daed’s mouth eased. He’d said his piece. Their talk had ended as they always did. Suddenly. Done was done. “After supper, I’m walking down to the river to check our lines.”

Matthew considered the change of subject. An invitation lurked in the words. Despite his desire to race over to Adah’s house and tell her his news—their news—about the land, Matthew felt a spurt of joy. With the company coming, he and his father would have little opportunity for this anytime soon. The news would wait one more day. “Fish sounds real good. I know Mudder would be happy to fry it up for us tomorrow.”

“If we get any. River’s down.”

Didn’t matter. The joy was in the company and the quiet time when no words were needed.

Even as they discussed the weather and the pros and cons of line fishing versus pole fishing, Matthew’s mind raced. He managed a sedate walk next to Daed all the way to the house, up the steps, and into the kitchen where he washed his hands and face, all the while thinking of sharing his news with Adah. Tomorrow night, he would slip out after dark and shine his flashlight in her window. No doubt she would be as thrilled as he about the land. Now she would see that only the baptism classes stood in their way. She had been slow to embrace the idea that this was the summer. They needed to take the classes now. She’d found excuses to put it off. Now she would see. The crush of people at his house meant it was time for him to get his own place. Their own place.

His place with Adah.

Adah, with her fair skin and blue eyes and her sweet voice. She would give up the music to be his wife. He was sure of that. Every Plain woman wanted to be a
fraa
. This Plain woman seemed to want to be his fraa. At least he thought she did. Adah was a mystery to him. He sat down at the table between Rueben and the twins, his sisters across from them, bowed his head, and prayed.

Gott, let Adah be the one.

Chapter 5

A
dah leaned her head against the wooden frame of the window, longing for a hint of a breeze to freshen the stifling air in her bedroom. The June night lay like a thick shawl on her shoulders. Her neck ached and her head throbbed. She’d spent the day cleaning the Stevens’ house, with their three preschoolers and two dogs and four cats. The place smelled of litter box and the furniture was covered with cat hair.

Not that any of that mattered. The harder she worked with her body, the more time her mind had to form words into songs. She couldn’t make it stop. The physical work didn’t engage her mind. What was she supposed to do about that?

The tears that sear my face can’t erase these feelings

My heart hurts every time I think about the days ahead

It’s foolishness I know, but I can’t erase the words you said

When I told you I had to go. It’s foolishness I know…

Mudder hadn’t just taken her stash of songs, she’d taken the pencil and the notebook. Her writing utensils. It didn’t matter. The words wouldn’t go away until she wrote them down. Tonight, she would sleep and tomorrow would be another day. When she went into town to clean the Johnsons’ house, she’d stop at the Five and Dime, where nothing cost a nickel or a dime, and buy a new supply of paper and
pencils. She’d go to the library in the afternoon, sit in the lovely, air-conditioned reading room, and write her song.
If
Molly Troyer wasn’t working. Matthew’s sister was sweet and kind—everyone loved her—but she wouldn’t understand about the songs. She might tell Matthew.

Adah should tell Matthew. She shouldn’t be hiding things from the man courting her. Tomorrow. She’d think about it tomorrow. She snatched her nightgown from the hook on the wall and laid it on the bed. Tomorrow was another day. This one had been long. Time to put it in the past, dust off her hands, and look forward to a better day.

A light flashed and danced on the wall behind the bed. It dipped and bobbed. She closed her eyes, opened them, sighed, and went to the window. Matthew stood, long legs apart, dusty work boots planted, looking up at her window, the flashlight tilted in her direction. He flapped his straw hat in a wide
come-on-down
motion, giving her a full view of the thick wheat-colored hair on top of his head. She waved back and withdrew from the window.

Weariness weighted her entire body. Still, she couldn’t leave him standing down there. Matthew deserved better. He’d been nothing but a good friend for as long as she could remember. And he had the nicest smile this side of the Mississippi. His kaffi
-
brown eyes warmed her with every good-natured grin full of even, white teeth. He doled out those smiles with great generosity, one of his best qualities.

Adah slipped from her room and tiptoed down the stairs, not because she was sneaking—her parents couldn’t help but know about Matthew—but because she knew how tired they were. They would be up before dawn. They needed their sleep. She pushed through the front door and trotted down the steps. Matthew twirled the flashlight, making its beam dance and bob in her eyes. She shielded them. “Hey, stop it!”

“Nice way to greet a man you haven’t seen in three days.”

“Sorry. It’s been a long week.”

Matthew tucked the flashlight on the floor of the two-seater and offered her his hand. “Too long to enjoy a ride? A short ride?” He must’ve seen the hesitation in her face. “It’s been three days since we talked and it’s a full moon. It’ll be pretty down by the pond. And I have news I want to tell you. Good news.”

She swallowed the weary protest that rose inside her. Matthew always made her feel better, no matter what her day had been like. He had a way about him. “No, not too long for that.”

Adah took the hand he offered. Goosebumps ran up her arm and prickled the back of her neck just as they always did on those occasions when Matthew touched her. She examined that thought with care. Was it Matthew specifically? Or the fact that any man took her hand? Nee. It was Matthew. Why? She looked into his face, with his ready smile, warm brown eyes, and high cheekbones. Tufts of hair stuck out under the brim of his hat. A good, honest, face. One she’d known her whole life. He made her feel…content.

Not the feeling from which love songs came.

Or was it?

She climbed into the open-air two-seater and settled back. Matthew loped around to his side and hopped in. His familiar scent of man, hard work, and soap enveloped her. A few minutes later they were out on the back road that led to the pond and then onto his family’s property. Adah felt better already. The night had cooled after the sun set and the air whooshed by her as the horse trotted down the road. It was indeed a nice night for a ride. The full moon caused the trees to cast long shadows on the road. The stars twinkled and seemed to hang down unusually close, as if they followed the buggy, looking over Adah’s shoulder, lighting her way. She felt almost festive.

“You said it has been a long week.” Matthew broke the silence first. “You cleaned at the Harts’ and the Stewarts’, right?”

The festive feeling drained away, like water running from a bucket with a hole in it. “Jah.”

“Anything in particular happen?”

She shook her head and then realized he had his gaze on the road. “Nee.” No need to tell him about Jackson Hart getting stomped by a horse. Jackson with the country-crooner voice and silver buckle. About the songs, that was another matter. “In particular, Daed was upset with me. Mudder found the iPod and showed it to him.”

Matthew clucked and snapped the reins. “Ouch.”

“He crushed it with his boot and threw it in the fire barrel.”

“Sorry.” Matthew glanced her way, but his expression revealed nothing. He’d been with her when she bought the slim, small music player and slipped the buds in her ears. He’d told her not to keep it in the house. She hadn’t heeded his advice, but he would never rub her nose in it. “I know how you like to listen to it.”

“Don’t be sorry. I shouldn’t have had it in the house. I knew better. It was just easier. For when…” For when she wanted to listen to it while she made her scribblings after her family went to bed. “It was just easier.”

Matthew switched on the battery-operated radio he had strapped to the front of the buggy. He fiddled with the knobs and after a few seconds the crackling noises dissolved into guitars, keyboards, and drums melding into a beautiful old song about a faraway place with a pretty name: Amarillo. “There you go, George Crooked.”

“That’s George Strait, silly.” She laughed, touched by how hard Matthew tried. It had been apparent to Adah all along that he didn’t care much about country music. Or music in general. He bought the radio for her at a secondhand store, knowing one day he would have to sell it back to the store. Before his baptism. And hers. “Next you’ll be telling me they’re playing a Johnny Dollar song.”

“No, it’s Johnny Check.” His impish grin widened. “Or is it Johnny Penny?”

They both laughed, drowning out the music for several seconds. Adah wiped tears from the corner of her eyes, feeling better. Matthew had that way about him. He wouldn’t know a Johnny Cash song if he heard it, but he tried for her sake. He made her feel better about herself. He didn’t see her as the black sheep, the way others did. He never looked at her with that perplexed look her mudder and daed sometimes had. But then he didn’t know everything. He only knew she liked music and he wanted to please her. It shouldn’t always be about her. She leaned close to him and turned the radio down. “How was your day?”

“It was fine. It looks like the wheat and the corn will be bumper crops. Daed is real happy.” The good humor in Matthew’s voice didn’t fade. Aaron Troyer could be as cranky as Adah’s father. He was a hard worker and expected his oldest son to match him stride for stride. Adah
understood that. She simply couldn’t understand why the two men couldn’t smile more. Sing while they worked. Enjoy the sunrise before picking up the shovel.

“Is he as grumpy as ever?”

“He’s not grumpy. He’s the same old Daed he’s always been. He works hard and expects the rest of us to do the same. If he’s short with me sometimes it’s because I’m at fault.” Matthew halted the buggy on the banks of the pond. Frogs croaked in a chorus that threatened to drown out the crickets. A dragonfly buzzed Adah’s ear. She leaned in to Matthew to hear his voice. It always softened when he talked about his daed. “He had some news to tell me yesterday. My grandparents are coming to live with us And the Gringriches too. For a while.”

“All of them? At once?” The news sank in. Elizabeth, Abigail, Loretta, and Jenna Gringrich would be living in Matthew’s house. Ages nineteen, eighteen, sixteen, and fourteen. A strange feeling like envy or jealousy or fear slithered through her. She didn’t like that feeling. It made her feel mean-spirited. Hospitality and generosity of spirit went hand in hand. The Gringriches must be in need. The community would meet that need. “What happened?”

“My grandparents need looking after and Aenti Josie isn’t up to it, I guess.”

“Not that. The Gringriches.”

Matthew shrugged. “They need a new start.”

“Didn’t they just make a fresh start in Walnut Creek?”

“Didn’t work out, I guess.”

“Your house will burst at the seams with eight more people.” And he would see Elizabeth with her dimples and green eyes every day—morning, noon, and night. “Where will you put them all?”

“We’ll start building the dawdi haus next week. We’re having a frame raising. Luke has okayed it. Daed hired a driver to take him to fetch the grandparents.”

“Do you have the permits?” Adah had listened to the men hash and rehash the issues they were having with the New Hope building codes while she served the sandwiches after the prayer service on Sunday. Michael Daugherty had had to start over on the foundation of the
home he hoped to share with Phoebe after they deemed the cement not up to code. Whatever that meant.