A Simple Autumn: A Seasons of Lancaster Novel (44 page)

It was Gott’s greatest gift, but his heart was too troubled to accept it.

Gently, he put his hands on Annie’s shoulders and faced those eyes that seemed to
see right into his soul. “You know that I love you,” he said. “I always have, and
I always will. But right now, I’m stuck in this muck alone, and I don’t want to drag
you into it.”

Her blue eyes flared wide. “Drag me in. I was there with you. I’m just as guilty.
I would have driven the Jeep if I knew how.”

The thought of Annie trying to drive eased the weight on his shoulders. “I think I’ll
have to confess before the congregation on Sunday,” he said. “After that, after the
punishment, you can decide how you feel about me.” He dropped his hands from her shoulders
and tore himself away, walking quickly toward the barn.

“This doesn’t change anything!” she called after him. “It makes me love you even more.”

Her bold words, shouted over the farm—typical of Annie. That courage was one of the
many things he loved about her.

Although the words were a salve to his wounds, he kept walking. He was a practical
man, and there were many chores to be done.

An hour or so later he heard the horses before he saw the carriages—three of them—coming
toward the Stoltzfus farm. He continued
pushing the wheelbarrow along the path, which gave him a vantage point that allowed
him to watch the carriages pull up near the farmhouse. The three bearded men were
their ministers, Bishop Samuel, Preacher Dave, and Deacon Moses. When Annie came out
of the house and pointed toward the barn, he knew they’d come for him.

Hmm. Was his sin so great that it couldn’t wait until Sunday for further discussion?

He parked the wheelbarrow and started down the path to meet the three men, who held
on to their hats against a gust of wind.

“Jonah.” Dave nodded. “We were at the hospital this morning, the three of us.”

“Aaron was up and walking already,” said Moses. “He looks mighty healthy for a man
who had surgery yesterday.”

Jonah let himself smile. “I’m glad to hear that. He was still recovering when I left
the hospital yesterday.”

“We heard more of the story from Lovina.” Bishop Samuel’s eyes were stern, magnified
by the lenses of his glasses. “She told us how you came up with the idea to use the
Jeep.”

The breath froze in Jonah’s chest. “I’m ready to confess on Sunday. Whatever you say,
I will do.”

“Ya. We’ve been talking about that.” Dave tugged lightly on the tendrils of his beard.
“Such a night! The covered bridge collapsed. The river flooded its banks. With all
those things, how could you get Aaron to the doctor? It was a good thing to save him.”

“But a sin to drive that Jeep,” Moses added.

“A sin that must be confessed, of course,” Samuel said. “But with all that was going
on, we ruled that you won’t have to confess before the congregation. You can do it
now, to the brethren.”

Jonah blinked. They were easing his punishment. “And the bann?”

Moses’s mouth twisted around. “You won’t be shunned, as long as you confess now.”

“I will.” Jonah sank to his knees on the cold earth. “I do confess.…” Relief washed
over him as he lowered his head and spoke of his sin before the three men.

The men talked about the Ordnung and the importance of following church rules. “A
car can take a man far from his family,” the bishop added. “It makes a person part
of the world, and we must remain separate, living on this earth but not of it.”

Jonah was still kneeling when he saw a flash of white from the corner of his eyes.
Fluffy bounded over, dashed behind the three ministers and circled back. The lamb
scampered closer and nuzzled Jonah’s shoulder.

Keeping his head bowed, he pushed the lamb away.

At once, the three ministers went silent, then laughed.

“This reminds me of the Lamb of God in the Bible.” Of the three brethren, Moses knew
the most about the Bible. “ ‘Behold the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin of
the world.’ That lamb was Jesus.”

“Then it’s very fitting,” the bishop said. “You’ve confessed your sin, and Gott the
Father forgives you.”

“But I think this is just an ordinary lamb,” said Dave, always the practical one.

Jonah smiled as Fluffy came at him again, butting against his shoulder.

“You can get back on your feet,” Dave said, “before this one knocks you over.”

Jonah rose with ease as his burden slipped from his shoulders. He stood tall as the
conversation turned to questions about Aaron’s sheep and the running of the farm while
the man was ill.

“I’m not a farmer,” Dave said, “but I know that any farm needs many hands to succeed.
And Gott saw fit to bless Aaron with all girls.”

“Annie and her sisters know their way around the farm,” Jonah said. “But it does take
a handful of people to keep it running.”

“Help is on the way,” Moses said. “But you’re doing a right fine job, Jonah.”

The man’s words brought Jonah back to a busy fall day, many years ago. His first day
spent making hay with the men, from sunup to nearly sundown. “You did a good job today,”
Dat had said, his dark eyes twinkling. “You’re a right fine worker, Jonah.”

He swallowed back the knot of emotion in his throat. Now when he thought of Dat, it
was the good memories that came to him: the gentle lessons, the jokes, the moments
when his father had challenged him to take on the work of a man.

Looking over the fields and outbuildings, the barn and the farmhouse with smoke rising
from the chimney, Jonah knew that time had come.

By the grace of Gott’s blessings, he would carry on the traditions and faith followed
by his family for hundreds of years.

After the men left, he turned to Annie, who had come out of the kitchen to say her
good-byes to the clergy.

“They allowed me to confess, so I don’t have to go through it in front of the congregation
on Sunday.” He explained it all, ending with Fluffy’s intrusion on the proceedings.

Annie laughed, then turned to him, her blue eyes full of tenderness. “Good thing for
Fluffy! Otherwise, you might still be out there listening to Bible stories from Deacon
Moses.”

He smiled. “You’re right.” He stood tall, feeling so light now that his burden had
been lifted.

She pressed her small hands to his chest as she looked up at him. “I know this has
been hard for you, but someday it will be a magnificent story to tell our grandchildren.”

“Grandchildren?” Annie was always a few steps ahead of him. “Isn’t that putting the
cart before the horse?”

“It’s good to plan ahead.”

“Right now, I don’t even have a plan for today.”

“Sure you do. Some of the men are coming over this afternoon to help you finish off
the winter shelter for the sheep.”

Jonah nodded. “I can use the help.” With a few men on the task, they might get the
work done before sunset.

“But first, there’s lunch. Three people dropped by with casseroles and bread this
morning. Everyone who heard about Dat wants to help.”

It was the Amish way. Jonah glanced out over the golden brown fields and purple hills,
grateful to live in a community of kindness.

“But right now you need to wash up.” She patted his chest. “And that’s the plan. How
does it sound?”

“Good.” The weariness and strain of the past day and night slid away. His heart was
so full, but he couldn’t find the words.

“But first, before any of that, you need to kiss me.” She curled her fingers over
his shoulders, lifting her face to his. “That’s part of
my
plan.”

He folded her into his arms and held her against his heart. “You’re a good planner.”
When his lips touched hers, he thanked Gott for the blessings in his life, especially
the love of this woman in his arms. In his days on this farm Annie had become his
best friend. Come next wedding season, he hoped to make her his wife.

Thank you, Father
.

He imagined his small prayer circling around Annie and him, binding them close together
before swooping over the golden fields like a flock of nightjars and rising to the
wide blue heavens.

NUTTY CINNAMON BREAD

GMAY OR CHURCH COOKIES