A Simple Autumn: A Seasons of Lancaster Novel (26 page)

She stepped away from him, rubbing her elbows protectively, before she shot a piercing
look back at Jonah. “No.” Her voice was quiet, but firm. The word hung in the air
a moment, and this time Jonah took it as a warning.

He didn’t move as she turned and ran around the side of the barn. Things like this
were better mulled over in quiet or shared with a good friend, and Annie had plenty
of friends at the singing.

Ruben and David nodded as they passed and headed into the barn.

A minute later, when a horse and buggy shot out from behind the barn, Jonah’s jaw
dropped. She was leaving the singing. No one left a singing this early—certainly not
in a fit of anger.

But sure enough, it was Annie sitting alone in the front seat, her horse charging
so fast that the buggy bounced over a bump in the lane. Jonah thought about going
after her, but that would only make her race faster down the road and out of his life.

H
orse and buggy flew over the road like a bat soaring through the darkness as Annie
fled the King farm. She was running away, fleeing as fast as she could to escape the
embarrassment and disappointment that burned straight through to her heart.

How could she have been so blind? And to think that it had been going on for so many
years, while she had been waiting for Adam.…

Tears stung her eyes, but she dashed them away, trying to focus on the dark road.
What had begun as a plan to help her sister had soured into a terrible stew. How silly
she’d been, to think she could be a matchmaker. Such a fool! She wasn’t even able
to find a fella of her own; how did she think she’d make a suitable match for Hannah?

And to pick Jonah! Of all the young men, she had chosen a man who secretly favored
her.

How had she missed the signals, all these years? She bit her lower lip, trying to
think back to a time when Jonah had chatted with her or teased her as boys tended
to do with a girl they liked. When she
looked back to their school days, back to summer days in the row-boat with Mary or
skating on the Kings’ pond, she remembered nothing of Jonah aside from his steady
silence. The Quiet One had been his nickname.

Too quiet to even talk to her back when they were children.

For her, hearing about it now, after so many years, was a slap in the face. She couldn’t
consider courting a man that her sister favored. It was as if the whole world was
in on a joke that she knew nothing about. She couldn’t have known Jonah’s feelings
all this time. They’d barely exchanged a word until he’d started working with Dat
on the farm.

By the time the golden windows of home came into view, her tender emotions had drained
to a sense of sadness. She slowed Dapple on the lane and guided him to the carriage
house. She didn’t need a light to unhitch the horse, having done it countless times,
but she was so overwrought that her fingers fumbled in the darkness. At last, Dapple
was free, and she released the horse to the pasture and plodded over to the house.

Weary to the bone, she didn’t bother lighting a lantern downstairs. Leaning heavily
on the handrail, she climbed the stairs and went straight to the room she shared with
Hannah.

Of course, her sister was still at the singing, but without a fella now. Annie bit
back tears at the thought of her sister all alone. She had failed Hannah.

Too weary to wash up, she sat on her bed and pulled her sweater closer around her.
Without the chance to match up Hannah and Jonah, Annie had nothing to look forward
to here.

No hope.

She sighed. That was wrong. She was making a mountain out of a molehill. She had a
wonderful family and a good home. Loving parents and an adorable nephew who warmed
her heart every day.

So many blessings … but no prospects for a beau.

There was a knock on the door. A moment later Mamm peeked in, a small lantern in her
hand.

“Oh, Annie, it’s you. I was wondering who it could be this early. The singing just
barely started.” Lovina stepped into the room. She wore a nightgown and her hair hung
in one long braid down her back. “Why are you home so early? Are you sick?”

“No, Mamm.” Annie felt the sting of embarrassment as her mother came over and pressed
a hand to her forehead to check for a temperature. It was a loving gesture, but it
reminded Annie that she was acting like a baby. Selfish and silly.

Mamm sat beside Annie on the bed and gently rubbed her shoulder. “What’s the matter,
honey girl?”

“I don’t know, Mamm.” Annie wasn’t sure what to tell her mother, but she knew it would
be silly to recount all the details of the mistaken matchmaking and the man who had
admired her since he’d been a boy.

“I think you know exactly what the problem is,” Lovina said. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t
be sitting here alone in the dark when all the other young people are off having fun
singing songs and talking around a bonfire.”

Annie looked down at her hands, small but capable. “I’m worried, Mamm. It probably
sounds selfish, but I’m afraid that I’ll never find a beau—and you know how much I
want a family with little ones.”

“Mmm. I can see how that’s a worry. There aren’t many young men your age left in our
district. But we can never know Gott’s plan. Have you thought about looking in the
next district over the bridge? I know it’s a long drive, but you could attend one
of their youth events.”

“I’ve been there already.” Last summer she had gone to a volleyball game and picnic
with a handful of girls from Halfway, all of them looking for beaus. The event had
been lively enough, but Annie and her friends hadn’t felt completely at ease with
the group of young
people who had known one another all their lives. “I reckon I could try it again,”
Annie said.

“It’s so hard to know what the Heavenly Father intends for us,” Lovina said. “But
we have to trust in Him.” She squeezed Annie’s shoulder. “In my day, we had a lot
of young men, but not so many women. Most girls could have their pick of beaus, but
the boys, they had to drive here and there, to singings and bonfires and hayrides.”

“And you picked Dat. What was it that made him stand out from all the others?” Annie
asked her mother.

“He’s always been a right good farmer. He was born here in this house. And you know
me, growing up on a farm, it was the way I wanted to live.”

“You married Dat for his farm skills?” Annie’s voice squeaked.

Lovina chuckled. “More reasons than that. Most of all, he listened to me. Whether
I was talking about keeping pests off tomatoes or the stars in the sky, your dat listened.
Aaron wanted a wife who would be his partner, and that suited me just fine.”

Annie sighed. “You made a good choice, Mamm.” If only Annie had any choice at all!

In the muted lantern light the bedroom seemed small but cozy, the pale yellow walls
warm and welcoming. Everything was tidy—the two beds neatly made, clothes hanging
neatly on hooks. The only thing out of place was the folded paper of a letter Annie
had received from her sister Sarah yesterday. The letter was short, but Sarah had
made sure to write Annie soon after she’d attended last week’s church in New York
and seen for herself the large number of single men in the district.

“Maybe I need to go farther than the next district. Sarah says there are lots of young
men my age in New York.”

Lovina hugged her close. “Oh, honey girl, don’t say that. I don’t want to lose you,
too!”

“But maybe that’s Gott’s plan for me. I must pray for His will to
be done.” Annie closed her eyes, losing herself in Mamm’s softness for a moment. She
didn’t want to leave here, but maybe she was too attached to Halfway. Gott wanted
His children to live on the earth, but not of it. Maybe she needed to separate herself
from the earthly things she valued a little too much.

Leaving her home … that would be a bitter pill to swallow. But maybe it was like forgiveness;
if she said the words, the acceptance would eventually come to her, a blessing from
Gott.

Annie slipped out of her mother’s grasp, but she took Lovina’s hand and held it to
her heart. Her mamm’s eyes shone with tears in the dim light, and Annie couldn’t deny
the knot of emotion in her throat.

She felt as if she were about to jump off a cliff, but she had to trust that Gott
in His infinite wisdom and mercy would take care of her.

“It’s a choice that breaks my heart in two,” Annie said, “but I’ll never have a family
of my own if I don’t go to New York. I have to go, Mamm.”

“Oh!” Lovina’s small cry brought tears to Annie’s eyes as her mother pulled her into
her arms again.

“Promise me you’ll think about it,” Mamm said. “You don’t have to rush, do you?”

“There’s no rush,” Annie said. “But I have to abide by Gott’s plan for me and … I
should go before the winter weather comes. That could make travel a problem.”

“Wait till the end of fall, then.” Lovina held her close, stroking her back. “Give
it some thought.”

Annie didn’t tell her that she’d been mulling over this problem for months. Instead,
she tried to push all thoughts of the future away and simply rest in the peace, comfort,
and love of her mother’s arms.

J
onah tossed one last piece of wood onto the bonfire and stirred the glowing embers
with a long stick. Without Annie here he’d had plenty of time to move benches and
build the fire—typical hosting duties.

The singing was winding down quickly. Only two couples were left sitting near the
fire as, one after the other, carriages made their way up the lane to the main road.
Over by the line of parked carriages that belonged to the Kings, Jonah saw someone
hitching up a horse.

Who was that?

Jonah headed over as the man jumped into a buggy and called out to the horse. Gabe?
Ya, it was Gabe, in his souped-up rig with fancy speakers. He guided Mercury over
to the barn, where Hannah Stoltzfus stepped through the golden light of the open doors
and climbed in beside Gabe.

Jonah cocked an eyebrow. Hannah and Gabe? Surely Hannah was not the girl his brother
had been seeing in secret?

Just then Jonah noticed he wasn’t the only one watching Gabe and Hannah ride off.
He approached the tall woman in the shadows, recognizing Emma Lapp, the schoolteacher,
just before she pressed a handkerchief to her eyes and sniffed.

“Emma?” He stopped a few yards away, a safe distance to give her space and time to
compose herself. “Are you all right?”

“I … I’m just worried about how I’ll get home.” The tremble in her voice told him
that she was worried about more than that. “My brother left with a girl, and … I guess
Caleb and I should have come in two carriages.”

This lost, sad girl was so unlike the confident, calm schoolteacher who had done so
much to bring Simon around after their parents’ death. “Do you want a ride home?”
Jonah offered.

She swallowed. “Would you? Do you mind?”

“Wait here while I get a carriage.”

In five minutes he was back at the barn door with Jigsaw hitched up to the big family
carriage. Emma climbed in beside him, looking calm and composed now. He was grateful
for that as they headed down the lane.

“Denki for the ride, Jonah. I don’t mind walking, but tonight … tonight I just don’t
have the heart.”

“My horse needed some exercise,” he teased. “But isn’t your house a bit far for walking
at night? You live near town.”

“Ya. It’s … I usually get a ride.”

He kept his eyes on the road. Sometimes listening was a better salve than too many
kind words.

“I’ve never walked all the way.” She turned toward him; he could feel her eyes upon
him, and when he looked they were big and round, like a deer drinking from the river.
“To be honest, I usually start walking home, and then your brother Gabe gives me a
ride the rest of the way.”

“Gabe?” So Emma was the mystery girl in Gabe’s life.

“We’ve been seeing each other for more than a year now—all in secret. Gabe wanted
to tell people, but I convinced him to wait. I need to be careful about whom I’m connected
with socially. A schoolteacher needs to maintain a very good reputation. There is
no teaching to compare with example.”

“That’s true.” Teachers were closely watched by children and adults alike. But if
Gabe and Emma were courting in secret, why did he take off with Hannah in his buggy?
“So why didn’t Gabe give you a ride home tonight?”

“Maybe I shouldn’t have expected him to, but I came to the singing with high hopes.
We broke up this week, but I thought we might patch things over. At least, I thought
we could talk … but he wouldn’t even look at me. Did you see him this morning when
we arrived for church? He ran the other way when our carriage arrived.”

Jonah nodded. That explained a lot of things. Gabe hadn’t been running away from Elsie
Lapp; he’d been avoiding Emma.

“And now he’s ridden off with Hannah Stoltzfus.” Emma’s voice trembled, and he saw
the hankie being twisted in her hands.

Jonah hoped that she wouldn’t cry. When girls cried, he felt so useless.

“I can’t believe that he’s moved on already,” she added.

“Things aren’t always as they seem.” He should know that, having been set up as a
suitor for Hannah for the past two weeks. “And I think you have probably been very
good for Gabe. He’s leveled out over the past year or so. There’s peace in his heart.
Contentment.” He turned to Emma. “I’m wondering why you and Gabe called it quits.”

His question brought a new flood of tears, and Jonah turned back toward the dark road,
wanting to kick himself. “That was too personal. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Emma sniffed and dabbed at her eyes, composing herself. “And it’s good
to hear that you think Gabe is calming down. I
thought that was true, too. I thought he was settling down … that I could trust him … but
I was wrong.”

He rubbed his chin, wondering what sort of high jinks his brother was up to now. “Gabe
has always had a secret wild streak,” he said. “What did he do now?”