A Simple Autumn: A Seasons of Lancaster Novel (27 page)

“Motorbikes. He’s been spending his Sundays riding fancy bikes with some Englisher.
Dirt bikes, he calls them.”

“Mmm.” It made sense to Jonah; he had sensed that Gabe was sneaking away from the
farm for something, but he wasn’t quite sure of the details.

“He knows he’s breaking the rules … that it’s against the Ordnung.” She didn’t try
to mask the raw pain in her voice. “But he won’t give it up.”

“It makes things hard on you,” he said sympathetically. “But you shouldn’t worry so
much. Worry is a sin, ya? Besides, most Amish boys try their hand at riding bikes
or driving cars at one point during rumspringa.”

Emma shook her head. “Why would anyone do that? I understand that people make mistakes,
but to deliberately break the rules …”

“There’s something about learning to drive a car or motorcycle … it’s something a
man wants to try.”

“But an Amish man isn’t supposed to drive a car. That doesn’t make sense.”

“Because you’re not a man, and you’re trying to be logical. Ask your brother Caleb.
If he’s honest with you, he’ll tell you he’s done it.”

Emma pulled her sweater closer around her. “Oh, Caleb would never admit anything to
me. He thinks I’m a Goody Two-shoes.”

Funny, but Jonah had always thought the same of Emma. He sensed that Gabe had come
to know a different side of her. “Don’t worry about Gabe. In the long run, he’ll come
around. He’s not like
Zed Miller, with that Jeep that caused so much trouble. Gabe is having his fun, but
you won’t see him leaving the community the way Zed did.”

“How can you be so sure?” she asked. “Your sister Sadie is gone, and your older brother
left for years. He was gone for so long that people had given up praying that Adam
King would ever come back. How do you know Gabe won’t be lost to us, too?”

“Gabe is content in our ways, and he’s got dairy farming in his blood. No one knows
our livestock the way Gabe does. To leave the cows would be like abandoning children.
That’s not Gabe.”

“I don’t know anymore,” Emma said. “I thought I knew him, but I was wrong.”

Jonah didn’t like the idea of her giving up on his brother. “Do you see the horse
up there pulling our carriage? His name is Jigsaw, and he was a wild one when he came
to our farm. He was a beast of a horse. He bit anyone who came near him. Dat used
to joke that Jigsaw would buck and kick if he didn’t like the way you looked at him.”

Emma gazed ahead thoughtfully. “He’s been well trained. Was it you who trained him?”

“With my dat’s help. But before any training began, the horse needed to be calmed.
Have you ever just stood with your hand on a creature, feeling it breathe, praying
for calm and peace?”

“That’s something I’ve never done, but growing up in town, I wasn’t around animals
much. Just the one horse we need to pull the carriage, and my brother takes care of
him.”

“Our dat taught us to respect all Gott’s creatures, large and small. He taught us
well. And after lots of calming and a summer of training, Jigsaw joined the team for
harvest. When I turned sixteen and my parents let me choose an animal, everyone knew
it would be this horse. I was the one who named him Jigsaw.”

“Because he was like a puzzle. You needed patience. You had to
wait and see how the pieces would come together.” She sighed. “Patience is one thing
I understand. Teaching my scholars is a process. No one learns everything overnight.”

“Ya. That’s very good. I guess it takes a smart one to be a teacher.”

“So they say. But I’m not feeling very smart right now. Trusting Gabe wasn’t the smartest
thing I’ve ever done.”

“But that’s the point of my story about Jigsaw. The wildest ones, the ones with spirit,
once they settle down they make the most reliable friends you could ever have.”

“Jonah, I hope and pray that you’re right.” Sadness crossed her face as she stared
at the horse leading their carriage. “I know they say boys will be boys, and Gabe
is still in his rumspringa.…”

In Jonah’s eyes, Emma was very mature for eighteen. But then, girls at that age were
often more settled than boys.

“But men can’t be tamed like horses,” Emma said.

Jonah rubbed his chin, thinking of the similarities. No, a man wasn’t trained. Gabe
would come around; he knew that. But there were some things that book learning couldn’t
teach you. Some things, you just had to stumble through in the school of life.

G
abe frowned up at the yellow moon shining like a round beacon in the sky. It would
be a good night to court a girl on a nice long buggy ride.

But not for Gabe.

The girl he wanted to court was out on this dark road, walking home in the orange
moonlight.

Emma was part of the reason he kept Mercury moving so slowly. He figured if he squinted
into the darkness he might find Emma hiding behind a fence post or walking primly,
shoulders back and head so high and even that she could balance a book on top of it.

He missed her. It hadn’t even been a week since she’d ended everything with him, but
watching her get baptized, and seeing her across the barn at the singing, felt wrong.
And this was their time—late Sunday, after a singing. This was the time when he picked
her up along the side of the road and they talked and laughed and sat close under
the stars.

If he closed his eyes he could imagine the sweet, soapy smell of
her neck and the luster of the soft moonlight on her lips. He could see the little
crease that formed in her forehead when she was serious, and the dimples that appeared
when she smiled. But he didn’t want to close his eyes too long and take the chance
of missing her walking alongside the road.

He let his horse poke along slowly, his eyes combing every tree, field, and sign for
her as he headed home from the Stoltzfus farm. If he found her, he would find a way
to make things right. Not that he’d give up the bikes. A man couldn’t cut off his
arm to please a woman. But they could get to a place where they could talk again.
He could make things up to her and ease the guilt that burned inside him like a piece
of bark curling in the fire. He felt bad about taking Hannah Stoltzfus home. She was
a sweet girl, but he had to admit, he wasn’t interested in Hannah. He had driven her
home because she needed a ride and because he was hurt about Emma breaking things
off with him.

Had he wanted to show Emma that he could socialize with other girls? Maybe. But the
truth? There was no replacing the bond he had with Emma. And during the whole ride,
Hannah had kept asking questions about his cousin Ben, so it was clear who she was
really interested in.

As the family farm came into view, silos gleaming in the moonlight, he had to accept
that he had spoiled things for Emma and himself today. From the start, when she had
pulled up in the small carriage and he’d fled from her sister Elsie … Gabe winced.
After today, he had some fences to mend.

As Mercury climbed the rising path to the barn, he saw that the wide doors were still
open, the lanterns lit. The church wagon had been pushed close to the doors once again,
and Simon and Adam were hauling a bench out of the light.

Eager to give them a hand, Gabe tied Mercury to a post and jogged to the barn.

“Need some help?” he called.

“Ya, help us finish,” Adam said, motioning him over.

Gabe grabbed the end of a bench, opposite brother Simon. “I didn’t see you at the
singing,” he teased the boy.

Simon laughed, his sleepy eyes glimmering. “No, but I got to stay up extra late to
help clean up.”

“It is late,” Gabe agreed. “If you stay up a few more hours, the cows will be calling
to be milked.”

“I can’t stay up all night,” Simon said. “I have school in the morning.”

“We’ll get you to bed soon, but it’s good experience, seeing how the benches go just
so in the back of the cart,” Adam said as they carried the bench past him. “Boy’s
got to learn how to load a church wagon.”

“True.” Gabe watched his younger brother’s face as they carried the bench out into
the darkness. He was glad that Simon was enjoying this, and a little surprised at
how strict a “parent” Adam was becoming. Although Dat had expected his sons to do
their chores, most times his easygoing nature had made work seem like play.

At the wagon, Jonah hopped down and helped them hoist the bench high so they could
slide it onto the top.

“Almost full,” Simon said.

They returned to the barn for the last of the benches, and in no time the job was
done.

“Where does the church wagon go next?” Simon asked before dropping his jaw to yawn.

“Depends on where church is next.” Jonah pulled the tarp down to cover the opening
in the back. “The Fishers’, I think.”

“Kumm.” Adam touched Simon’s shoulder gently. “Let’s get to bed.”

“Good night,” Simon called, heading back to the house with Adam.

“I’m glad that’s done,” Gabe said. “Less work for tomorrow.”

Jonah nodded, watching as Gabe headed over to the fence to fetch his horse and send
him out to pasture for the night.

“Where you going?” Jonah asked.

“I still have to unhitch Mercury.”

“I’ll help.” Jonah met him at the line of horseless carriages. Gabe patted Mercury’s
withers as he began to unfasten the line.

Jonah worked from the opposite side. “It’s been some night.”

“Ya.”
Not a good one
, Gabe thought, but he kept quiet.

“Full of surprises,” Jonah said. “For the first time in years I left the singing with
a girl in my buggy.”

Gabe looked over Mercury’s backside at his brother. “After all this time?” Jonah had
faithfully attended singings but always left alone. For a long time everyone had been
sure he’d had his eye on a certain girl, but Jonah kept things to himself. “Who is
she?”

“Emma Lapp.”

Gabe’s jaw dropped as his fingers pressed into Mercury’s bristly coat. “You …” He
couldn’t believe it. “Emma Lapp? Jonah, is Emma the girl you’ve been pining for all
these years?”

Jonah circled in front of the horse to cuff Gabe on the shoulder. “Pining? I’m not
a lovesick puppy. But no. Emma needed a ride home; that’s all. I gave her a ride,
and she talked my ear off on the way.”

“Ya, girls do that.” Gabe was relieved but cautious. What was Jonah getting at?

“She talked about you the whole time. At least now I understand why you ran from their
carriage this morning. She’s upset with you, Gabe. Something about racing motorbikes.”

Gabe grunted. Why did she have to go and spill the beans? Emma had said too much and
he didn’t want to talk to Jonah about this.

“When I was your age, it was a Jeep,” Jonah said. “Manual transmission.
You know, switching gears and all. It takes more skill than driving a car that’s automatic.”

“You need to switch gears on the bikes, too,” Gabe said as tension drained from his
shoulders. “And when you want to go, you gun the throttle. Have you ever ridden a
dirt bike?”

“Just a regular bike with pedals. So how did you get your hands on these motorbikes?”

“An Englisher guy owns them. Ben met him first, and now the three of us go riding
together. Blake doesn’t mind us using the bikes, as long as we help pay for the gasoline.”
Mercury was free from the harness now, and Gabe led him away from the buggy, rubbing
his coat briskly, smoothing down the hair on his back. “Don’t tell Adam. He won’t
understand.”

“Adam probably doesn’t want to know,” Jonah said. “It’s your rumspringa, and as head
of the family he would probably look the other way … within limits. We’re all still
missing Sadie, and no one wants to lose you, too, Gabe.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” Gabe leaned into his horse, grateful that he didn’t have
to face Jonah in this conversation. He didn’t want to be penned in by the rules, and
he didn’t need his older brothers pushing him toward the church. “So tell me. When
did you learn to drive this Jeep?”

“When I was seventeen I used to go off with Zed Miller. It was my rumspringa. Zed
was already in his twenties, but he hadn’t joined the church on account of his Jeep.
It’s the one that sits along the road, for sale now—the one that got his father, Ira,
into so much trouble.”

Gabe smiled, imagining quiet, straight-arrow Jonah roaring along in a Jeep. “That’s
what happens when you’re the Quiet One. No one notices when you’re sneaking around.”

“That’s right. No one in the family noticed, unless Mamm and Dat figured it out. But
they never said anything—none of the parents
did. There were a bunch of us—five or six Amish boys who learned to drive in Zed Miller’s
Jeep.”

“And was it like jumping through a window into a different world?” Gabe asked. “Because
that’s how I feel on a motorbike.”

“I remember liking the power of the machine,” Jonah said. “That rumble when I started
the engine. And the way it leaped forward when you hit the gas pedal. That part got
the blood going. But the battery was always dying, and the gasoline was expensive
then, too. Come the winter months, most of us just gave it up.”

“But a Jeep would have been good in the snow. I’ve heard that it can climb over a
mound of snow—better winter transportation than the horses.”

“Mmm. Our horses are probably more reliable, but that Jeep can cross a river. Which
we did more than one time. Once, the water came up over the wheels and started seeping
inside.” Jonah chuckled. “Zed was a wild man with that Jeep.”

“That’s what I like about the motorbikes. The power.” No longer feeling defensive,
Gabe told Jonah about the dirt bikes, the track Blake built, and the fun of it all.
“Once you get going, you feel like you’re flying over the land. You should come along
sometime.”

Jonah grunted. “No, not me. I’m a baptized member of the church. You won’t find me
breaking that rule again.”

“Do you miss it?”

“Not for all the bother and trouble. Besides, I grew out of it. That kind of excitement
doesn’t seem real to me anymore. It’s sort of made-up noise and power. But not everyone
gets past it. My friend Zed Miller left, you know. I hear he drives a truck now.”