A Simple Autumn: A Seasons of Lancaster Novel (14 page)

The man had to be working up a thirst. This would be a good time for Hannah to bring
him a drink.

“I’ll be right back,” she said, ducking downstairs to find Hannah minding the little
ones. When she explained her idea, Hannah filled a glass with lemonade from a cooler
on the counter.

“Are you sure I won’t be bothering him?” Hannah asked.

“Of course not.”

“And what do I say? If he wants to talk or … what if he doesn’t have anything to say
either? They call him the Quiet One, you know.”

“Talk about the weather.” She put her hands on Hannah’s shoulders and steered her
toward the door.

“What about Mark and Levi? I need to watch them.”

“Bring them along.” Annie motioned the boys toward the door. “Kumm. Hannah’s taking
you outside for some fresh air.”

Levi grabbed his hat from the low hook by the door, and Mark toddled after him.

“See? It’s a piece of cake.”

“I don’t see a piece of cake,” Levi said.

Annie smiled. How she longed to run after him and give him a squeeze!

Instead, she hurried back up the stairs. “Sorry! I just had to take care of—” She
paused abruptly as she came upon Sarah standing against the dresser, a small object
pressed to her chest. Tears ran down her cheeks.

“Sarah! What’s wrong?”

“This clock …” She extended her hands to Annie, showing her the timepiece with a square
marble base. “Perry gave this to me when we were courting. An engagement gift. I was
so happy when I got it, Annie. So sure that he was the man Gott intended me to be
with. I still believe that, only …” Her voice quavered, and she paused to take a breath.
“When I got the clock, I never thought it would travel so many miles from our home.
I never thought we’d leave Halfway.”

A knot formed in Annie’s throat, and she tried to think happy thoughts as she handed
her sister a handkerchief from a pile that sat ready to be packed.

“Sarah, honey! You’re going to make me cry, too.” Annie frowned, then took the clock
from her sister’s hand. “Let me see this. How did Perry come up with the money to
buy such a nice gift?”

“He saved for months.” Sarah sniffed. “That made it so much more precious, to know
he did that for me.”

Annie nodded. “You got a fine man in Perry Fisher. I know it’s hard to leave your
home, but you’ll make a home in New York, Sarah. Perry and Mark—that’s all it takes.
Your own little family.”

“You’re right. Look at me, such a crybaby.” Sarah dabbed at her eyes with the hankie.
“Don’t think I’m sad, Annie, because that’s not
it. My heart is full of hope over this journey. Our little family is going to be together
in this new place. It’s a little scary, but I think it will make us a very strong
family. In some ways, this feels more real than the day Perry and I got married.”

Annie bit her lower lip to hold back her own tears. “This is a brave thing you’re
doing.”

Sarah shook her head. “Not really. We’ve got family to go to. And we’ll still be with
Old Order Amish. It’s the life we’re committed to. Lots of things will be familiar.”

“But your family won’t be there.”

“That’s the hardest part.”

“And I thought the hard part was getting all these things into boxes,” Annie teased.

Sarah laughed through her tears, then opened her arms wide. Annie hugged her tight,
feeling Sarah’s strength and hope like a halo that surrounded her.

“Okay, then.” Annie pulled back and looked around the scattered clothing. “This will
do.” She pulled out a pair of Perry’s socks and stuffed the clock inside them. “How’s
that for padding?”

When the packing was under control, Annie carried a box down the stairs and went to
the kitchen. Where were Hannah and the boys?

She peered out the window over the sink. Were they still outside? Maybe Hannah had
struck up a good conversation with Jonah. She slipped on her boots and headed out
to find them.

They weren’t in front of the barn, so she wandered back past the silo and around to
the storehouse.

“Watch this!” Levi shouted. “This potato will go right in. Ready?”

Annie rounded the corner just in time to see Levi throw something toward the storage
cellar.

Mark stood by holding a potato, and Jonah was tossing them fist over fist, down into
the cellar. The boys seemed to be enjoying the game, but where was Hannah?

“That looks like fun,” she said, joining them.

“Annie …” Jonah tossed a potato straight up and snatched it out of the air. “We’re
pitching potatoes. Want to give it a try?”

She picked a potato from the wheelbarrow, squinted, and tossed it with all her might.
It hit the wall of the storage shed with a clunk, then fell to the ground.

“That must be a bad potato,” Jonah said.

“More likely a bad throw. You’ve seen me play volleyball. I’m not very skilled.”

His dark eyes were different today. There was a glint of humor there. “Ah, but you
have a lot of spunk.”

“A lot of spunk, and a bruised potato.” She picked up the potato from the ground and
went to the edge of the shed to drop it into the bin. “Where’s Hannah?”

“She went to find your dat.”

“And she left the boys here?”

“I told her I didn’t mind. They’re helping me get the potatoes into storage.”

“But wait …” She looked around. “Did she bring you a drink?”

“I sent her on to give it to Aaron. I saw him taking a break out by the woodpile,
and he looked like he could use a little something.”

Annie blinked. This wasn’t at all what she’d planned. And here was Jonah King in a
talkative mood, with a few jokes up his sleeve. Hannah should be here to see this
side of him.

“Watch this!” Levi tossed a potato with his right hand, then another with his left.
Both landed squarely in the underground bin.

“Nice arm,” Jonah said. “This is good practice for baseball,” he told Annie. “And
it’s good fun, too.”

“Me throw!” Mark cried as he flung a potato in the air. It landed on the ground a
few feet away.

“A good try.” Jonah swept it up and lobbed it into the bin, and Mark ran to get another
potato.

Annie put her hands on her hips as Jonah stood at the wheelbarrow, shooting potatoes
into the bin, one after another. The boys giggled and tried to do the same.

“I think I should take the boys so you can finish your job,” Annie said. “But I don’t
want to ruin your fun.”

“They can stay,” Jonah said. “I’ll deliver them to the house when we’re done.” He
paused, turning a potato in his hands. “Or you can stay. Practice your throw. We never
did finish that talk yesterday.”

“We didn’t?” She thought of her sister’s embarrassment that Annie might have revealed
too much. Now poor Hannah was nervous. “Maybe I said too much yesterday. I hope you
don’t think I’m pushy.”

Jonah cupped the potato. “Not pushy.” He gave an easy toss and it landed in the bin.
“But I hope you’re better at cooking potatoes than throwing them.”

Annie smiled. Why did that seem like a challenge? “That’s for sure.”

B
ells jingled as Emma opened the door of the Country Store, glad to step in out of
the rainy Thursday afternoon. Since her position in the schoolhouse kept her busy
all week, she rarely worked in the family shop, but today Elsie needed her help. Dat
and Caleb were off on a short buying trip, and the store was too much for one person
to mind all day long.

From the display window to the aisles of candy and fabric, the store was more dusty
and gray than the original shop that had been opened by Emma’s grandparents. When
Mamm ran it, the lively shop was a hub for tourists wanting craft supplies as well
as crafts made by local Amish artists. But their inventory of art had dwindled over
the years, mostly due to a decision by Dat after the bishop had forbidden him to sell
art depicting Amish folk. Now the shop catered more to Amish women in need of dress
fabric and tourists looking to pick up a quick pack of candy and bottled water.

“Teacher Emma.” Elsie’s gap-toothed smile warmed her heart
after a day spent dealing with children restless from rainy-day activities. “How was
your day?”

“Wonderful until a few little boys realized there would be no schoolyard activities
after lunch.” Emma slipped off her wet coat and hung it on a hook just inside the
back room. “I felt bad for them. It’s hard for children with so much energy to sit
at a desk all day. Even when I break it up with activities, school doesn’t compare
with the freedom of riding a plow with Dat or picking berries in the back fields.”

“You are a wonderful good teacher,” Elsie said. “It’s not your fault that discipline
is another lesson to be learned.”

“Mmm.” Holding her canvas satchel to her chest, Emma took the stool beside Elsie.
“That’s true. Some lessons are harder to learn than others.”

“Did you bring papers to grade?” Elsie asked. “It’s been pretty quiet today, so you
might get some work done.”

“I have some student papers. And a project of my own that’s turning into an essay.”

Elsie squinted, curious.

“I’m writing a letter to Gabe. You were right, Elsie. It’s not fair of me to keep
him at a distance because of who he is. He’s part of an Amish family in our district,
and it’s not up to me to judge their behavior. That was the preacher’s message last
Sunday, and I don’t know why it took me all this time to get it through my thick skull.”

“You’re stubborn.” Elsie’s eyes sparkled as she reached out to touch Emma’s wrist.
“But don’t forget the most important reason for that letter. You really care about
Gabe and you want to be with him.”

Emma sighed. “You have a way of getting to the heart of the matter.”

Elsie shrugged. “When you see a flower bloom in the sun a dozen times, you figure
out that sunshine helps a flower bloom.”

Emma laughed at her sister’s comparison. “Are you saying that Gabe is my sunshine?”

“I’m just glad you’re giving him a chance. Have you finished the letter?”

“That’s the problem. I keep changing it, and changing it again. It’s become sort of
like a poem and … well, that’s not Gabe’s style. He’s a man of the earth, strong and
willful. A doer, not a thinker.”

“You’re afraid he won’t understand your letter?”

“I’m just afraid he won’t like it. It’s too flowery. And once I got started, I just
couldn’t stop. When I saw that I had five pages, I knew it was too much.”

Elsie looked toward the door as the bells jingled. “Five pages is a lot. You want
him to know you accept him. You can tell him your life story later.”

“That’s what I thought,” Emma said. “So I’m rewriting it. Again.”

They both looked up from the counter as the customer, an Englisher woman dressed in
a bright red hat, peeked out from the fabric aisle. “Do you sell those little handmade
dolls?” the woman asked.

“My sister and I used to make them,” Elsie said, then explained how they no longer
carried Amish crafts. “I would like to start selling things like that again, but I
need to work it out with my father and our bishop.”

“I’ve been looking everywhere for those dolls,” the woman said. “My daughter runs
a gift shop on the West Coast, and she’s got me on a mission. She thinks she could
sell a lot of them.”

“Do you want to give me her name and address?” Elsie asked. “I could get you some
in a few weeks.”

“Really? That would be wonderful!”

Emma kept quiet as Elsie exchanged information with the woman. But once the door closed,
she turned to her sister. “What was that about? Has Dat changed his mind?”

“He still doesn’t want to have Amish crafts in the store. But that doesn’t mean we
can’t sell some dolls to that woman directly.”

Emma folded her arms. “Why, Elsie Lapp, I think you might be on to something. But
you will tell Dat, won’t you?”

“Ya, but if you haven’t noticed, he’s not so concerned about the store these days.
I think he’s worried about Fanny.”

Fanny Lapp was expecting, but the midwife had some concerns about the way things were
going. Fanny insisted that everything was fine, but she couldn’t be on her feet in
the store until the baby was born.

Elsie slid off her stool. “If you’ll mind the register, I’m going to change the front
window display. Dat doesn’t like to fuss over it, but I can’t stand to see dust swirling
around the cans of soda pop sitting there.”

“Do you want some help?” Emma offered. “I’m not exactly struggling to keep up with
customers, considering there’s no one in the store.”

“I can do it. You finish that letter to Gabe.”

As her sister lined the display window with white butcher’s paper, Emma opened her
satchel and took out the new letter she’d started that morning.

Dear Gabe
was written at the top of an empty page. That was all she had so far. Now that she’d
decided not to spill all her feelings, she had trouble figuring out what to say.

She stared down at the blank page, feeling like one of her students who couldn’t find
the words to begin an essay.