Plain Admirer (11 page)

On Sunday morning, Roman joined his family in the buggy for the eight-mile drive to the preaching service. It was being held for the first time at the home of Jonathan Dressler, a rare convert to their Amish faith. Jonathan was a horse trainer who took in unwanted and abandoned horses for an equine rescue organization. He had lived among the Amish for several years now and had married Karen Imhoff, the eldest daughter of Eli Imhoff, the previous fall.

The church service lasted the usual three hours. The bishop and two other ministers took turns preaching about forgiveness and about suffering persecution for the sake of their faith. In between, the congregation sang hymns from the
Ausbund,
their sacred songbook.

From his place on the benches near the back of the barn, Roman could see Joann Yoder sitting between her cousin, Sally Yoder, and her friend, Grace Beachy, on the benches to his left. Esta Bowman sat two rows behind them. Several times, he caught Esta smiling at him. Was she tired of Faron already?

Roman was glad he had realized Esta wasn’t the woman for him. He was happy he’d discovered that before things had gotten more serious between them. He didn’t find her sly smiles, overly sweet voice and flighty ways as attractive as he once did.

He glanced toward Joann. He hated to admit it, but he had her to thank for that. She might not have a sweet and attractive way about her, but she had a knack—a sometimes painful knack—of helping him see the truth. About himself and about others. He had come to respect that about her.

Perhaps it was time he told her that.

At the end of the service, Bishop Zook addressed the crowd once more. “We are taking up two special collections today. One is to help purchase supplies to rebuild and replace what was lost at our school. We will have a workday at the school next Saturday and all are invited to come.

“The second collection is for our annual road use and repair. Our
Englisch
neighbors pay for road maintenance through gasoline taxes, revenue from driver’s licenses, and money collected through tolls. However, we use the roads and bridges the same as they do, only we don’t have to put gasoline in our horses or pay for a license to drive them. Our horse’s shoes damage the roads in ways their car tires don’t, so we must pay our fair share to keep them in good order.”

Roman flinched at the thought of paying for road repairs. Why should he help the
Englisch
pay for road upkeep? So they could drive even faster and collide with more buggies?

The bishop continued, “Driving on well-maintained roads is a privilege. It is not a right. I urge you to give what you can. Last year our Amish churches in this area raised over a quarter of a million dollars for the fund. That money was divided between the state, the county and the township in which we reside.”

Bishop Zook paused and then grinned. “For that amount, you would think I could get the potholes filled on the road that runs past my farm, but I reckon I’ll have to give a little more to get that done.” A ripple of laughter passed around the room. Roman didn’t join in.

When the congregation was dismissed, Roman went out with the intention of speaking to Joann as soon as he had the chance. If he made an effort to mend fences with her, he could tell his pen pal he was making progress in becoming a better man.

In spite of his best intentions, the chance never arrived. Everyone wanted to know about Otis and about what had actually happened. He retold the story many times. By the time he managed to get free, Joann was sitting with her friends and eating, so he went in with his brother and filled his plate. A half hour later, he went in search of her again, but couldn’t find her.

He learned later that her sister-in-law had become sick and the family had gone home. He consoled himself with the fact that he would see her at work tomorrow morning.

That evening, he headed to the lake in hopes that there would be another letter for him. He was disappointed to find his own note still in the jar. On the walk home, he pondered why he cared so much about exchanging letters with a stranger. He realized it was because he could say whatever he pleased without the fear of appearing foolish or weak. He had troubles, but so did the Happy Angler. Together they had found a way to share their burdens and make them lighter. Should he suggest meeting in his next letter?

Perhaps not. If his unknown friend wanted to meet, wouldn’t she have suggested it by now? Besides, it might be awkward if they found that they knew each other. They would surely stop leaving notes for each other if that were the case.

He found himself wondering why his pen pal hadn’t signed her letters in the first place. Roman hadn’t signed his first note because he didn’t want to take credit for a simple kind deed. So what reason did the Happy Angler have to keep her identity secret? Was it as simple as Roman’s reason? Or was there a darker motive behind the omission?

The thought troubled him until late in the night.

The following morning, he drove to work through the pouring rain and arrived mud-splattered and damp. His uncle was already there ahead of him along with Leonard and Gerald.

Roman said, “
Onkel,
should you be here? Didn’t the doctor tell you to rest for a few days?”

“I’m sick of resting. I need to get back to work.”

“Velda was driving you nuts, wasn’t she?” Leonard said with a knowing wink.

Otis laughed then winced and put a hand to the bandage on his head. “
Ja,
she means well, but it was time to get out of the house. She can fuss over a body more than anyone I’ve ever met. Are the pillows too high? Would you like some tea? Shall I close the window? Do you need another pillow? Shall I open a window?”

“It’s nice to have the love of a good woman,” Gerald said.

Otis grinned. “I’m blessed and I know it, but even people who are in love irritate each other once in a while.”

Roman glanced at the front door. “Speaking of irritating women, Joann isn’t here yet. I wonder if something is wrong.”

“She has gone back to her work at the bookshop. I’m not expecting her until noon today,” Otis said.

“Are you serious?” Roman stared at Otis in stunned disbelief.

Otis nodded. “Perfectly serious. She has returned to her old position, but she’ll do the cleaning here on Saturdays.”

Leonard muttered under his breath, “We finally had someone who could do nearly everything in this office, and she goes back to shelving books and mopping floors. I don’t think it’s right but no one asked my opinion.”

Roman wasn’t sure what to think. Was this what she meant when she said she wouldn’t always be around? Why hadn’t she mentioned anything about it?

Otis scowled at Leonard. “Roman will soon master all of the tasks that Joann did.”

Maybe he would and maybe he wouldn’t. Her feet might be smaller than his, but she had left some mighty big shoes to fill. Was he the reason for her job change? Had she decided she couldn’t work with him? It disturbed him to think that might be true. He hadn’t been exactly friendly toward her.

“Now, let’s get to work,” Otis said. “We’re going to be reprinting the schoolbooks this week, all of them, grades one through eight. I have the list here. Leonard, the plates are stored in the back of the bookshop.”

Roman glanced at the clock. His uncle had said she’d be in after noon. Fine, he could wait a little longer. He had a lot to discuss with her when she came in.

Chapter Eleven

W
ould there be a letter waiting for her today? Oh, how she hoped there would be.

Joann left her brother’s house an hour before she needed to leave for work. Instead of driving into town, she headed her pony and cart to the lake. It was raining steadily, but she didn’t care. She had a sturdy umbrella.

She glanced out from under it at the leaden sky.

“Please, Lord, if I’m driving all this way in the rain, let there be a letter waiting for me today.”

She needed something to cheer her, something to get her through the day.

Thoughts of Roman had occupied far too much of her time over the past several days. He needed to let go of the anger he carried, but she didn’t know how to help him. She prayed for him and for herself. She wasn’t angry about what had happened to the school and to Otis, only saddened by the harmful actions of others. She offered up her forgiveness for the people who had committed the crimes. That should have been enough, but it wasn’t. She wanted to prevent other incidents.

She hadn’t forgotten the license plate number she had written down. If she gave it to the
Englisch
sheriff, would it be because she was following God’s will or her own? Was she harboring a desire to prevent other such attacks, or was she seeking revenge? She wasn’t sure of her own motives.

Vengeance was the Lord’s. It had no place in her heart. However, she was human enough to admit she wanted the person who had injured Otis to face worldly justice.

She put her worries aside as she stopped in front of the gate leading to Joseph Shetler’s pasture. Before she got down from the cart, a figure loomed out of the rain in front of her.

The shepherd’s hired man stood with his shoulders hunched against the weather and water dripping from the brim of his dark hat. “How can I help you?”

Was this the author of her letters? Her heart beat faster. She’d never met him, she’d only heard stories about his reclusive ways. Carl King was much younger than she had expected. “I was on my way to the lake to do a little fishing.”

“In this weather?” His voice was deep and gravelly, and held a hint of distrust.

She gave him a nervous smile. “I reckon the fish are already wet, so they shouldn’t mind.”

“You’ve been coming here a lot.”

“Is that a problem?” What would she do if he turned her away?

“I guess not.” He swung open the gate. “Just make sure that you don’t let the sheep out when you leave. Keep an eye out for an ewe and lamb. They’re missing from our flock.”

Relieved that he wasn’t going to stop her, she said, “I’ll do that. Please tell Joseph that Joann Yoder says hello.”

“I know who you are.”

He certainly wasn’t a friendly fellow. She would be surprised if it turned out that he was her pen pal. “You’re Carl King, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

Slapping the reins against her pony, she sent him through the open gate. As Carl swung it closed behind her, she looked over her shoulder. “Have you noticed anyone else coming here a lot?”

“No.”

He looked impatient to end their meeting. She was keeping him standing in the rain. “Did you happen to pull a rod and reel out of the lake recently while you were fishing?” If he were the Friendly Fisherman, would he admit it?

“Nope.”

“
Danki
. Have a pleasant day.” In a way, she was thankful that he wasn’t the one, but it was odd that he hadn’t seen anyone coming and going frequently. He lived in the shepherd’s hut near the pasture gate.

“Is there another way in to the lake?” she asked as she turned around. Carl was already gone. He had vanished into the mist as silently as he had appeared.

Happily, she found a letter waiting for her when she arrived at the log. She sat down and eagerly began to read, taking care to keep it out of the rain.

Dear Happy Angler,

I’m surprised Mr. Raccoon didn’t stay and speak to you. I’ll tell him that he was rude. I’m sure he will have more to say to you the next time you meet.

Joann grinned. It seemed her pen pal shared her sense of humor.

As for my work-related troubles, they have doubled. It is amazing how cruel and heartless some people can be. It saddens and sickens me. More than ever, I find I need the peace this place brings me. I’m bound up in a struggle between what I know is right and what others think is right.

That was exactly the dilemma she faced. To do what she thought was right, or to do what others told her was right. They were so much alike, this unknown writer and she. It was as if they faced the same challenges. It surely had to be someone she knew. But
Englisch
or Amish?

I never thought I lacked moral courage, but I fear that I do. Forgiveness is an easy word to say, but it’s hard to mean it deep in your heart. I say it, but I don’t mean it. I don’t know if I ever will and that frightens me.

As for our troublesome coworkers, I suggest a trade. You can take my headache for a week and I’ll take yours. I hope you don’t think I’m making fun of your troubles. I’m not. I’m just grumpy and aching today. I think we’re in for a weather change.

Don’t be too hard on yourself. We all say things we don’t mean. As for your coworker. Look for his strengths instead of his weaknesses. I know you’ll find them.

It was good advice. Roman was irritating and reluctant to take her advice, but he had to have his own strengths. She would look for them more diligently.

And when she couldn’t find any, she would think more about chucking him headfirst into the lake.

Shame swept over her at her unkind thoughts. Somehow, even when Roman wasn’t around, he brought out the worst in her. She continued reading.

I plan to invest in a few jig-and-pigs. Thanks for the tip. Truthfully, I haven’t been fishing lately, but I’ll let you know what I catch in the future.

A Friendly Fisherman.

P.S. Please don’t judge me harshly.

How could she judge him harshly? It was clear he struggled as she did with doing the right thing. She wrote out a heartfelt reply.

* * *

She folded the finished letter, tucked it into the jar and placed it inside the fallen log. She wished she could speak to her unknown friend in person. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to meet here and enjoy a day of fishing together. She considered adding a request to meet, but shyness stopped her. He might enjoy exchanging letters, but who would enjoy spending time with a plain, lonely old maid? She didn’t want his eagerness to read her notes turning to pity for her. It was better this way. For now. If he would reveal his identity, she might find the courage to reveal hers.

The rain stopped as she climbed back into her cart and headed toward town. Today, she would look for a hidden strength in Roman. If she discovered a positive quality about him, perhaps he would be on her mind less often.

When she arrived in town, she turned down the alley at the side of the building where Otis had a small shed for his employees’ horses. She settled her pony on the fresh straw someone had laid down that morning. She made sure he had a pail of water and an armful of hay to munch on.

She entered the back door of the bookstore. Mabel was busy dusting the bookshelves in the small store. She held out a second dust rag for Joann. “I thought I would get started cleaning. I haven’t had a customer all morning, and I’m bored to tears.”

Joann slipped on a large apron and tied it behind her. She took the rag from Mabel. “I never complain if someone wants to clean.”

“There is enough dust for both of us. I started by the front windows. If you want to start with the back shelves, we’ll meet in the middle. How does that sound?”

“It sounds like a
goot
plan. Have you heard how Otis is doing?”

“I think he’s doing okay. Leonard popped over earlier to tell me Otis had come in to work.”

Joann frowned. “I thought he had strict orders from Dr. Zook to rest this week.”

“You know men. They ignore their doctor’s orders and do what they want to do anyway. Then they complain like small children when they don’t get better. I have half a mind to go over there and drag him home by the ear. He scared the life out of me when I saw him lying amid all that broken glass and blood.”

Joann began dusting. She pulled out a handful of books, wiped down the shelf and replaced the volumes. “Have they found out who did it?”

Mabel stood on a step stool to wipe off the top of the bookcase. “Not that I’ve heard. I hope someone wasn’t deliberately trying to hurt him. It does make me wonder since Roman is working here, too.”

Joann paused in her work. “Why would that make a difference?”

“Because of the trial. Brendan Smith is known to dislike the Amish. He comes from a family that makes no bones about feeling the same way. It’s sad, really. If they would just take the time to get to know their neighbors, I think they would feel differently.”

“Is there a young woman in his family with white-blond hair, about my height, very pretty?”

“Not that I recall. Why?”

Joann dropped to her knees and began dusting the bottom shelves and books. “A young woman like that stopped in to ask about Otis that afternoon.”

“A lot of people stopped in here to ask about Otis. I don’t remember seeing anyone like that. The whole community was upset by what had happened.
Englisch
and Amish folks.”

“It was probably just a coincidence, but I saw a car like the one she was in the morning of the school fire.”

“Did you tell the sheriff?”

Joann shook her head. She had hoped to put her suspicions about the young woman to rest. All she had now was more questions.

“Joann, I don’t mean to pry, but I was surprised when Otis told me that you wanted your job here at the bookstore back. I know you loved working in the printing office. Did it have anything to do with Roman Weaver coming to work there?”

It was the question she had been dreading. What should she say? The truth was always the best answer, but she didn’t want to make it sound like Roman had forced her out. Otis had the right to hire anyone he wanted.

“It was time for a change.” She finished dusting the bottom shelf and moved to the next bookcase.

“After only a few months?”

“I wasn’t needed once Roman learned his way around. I’m happy doing this. It gives me more time to go fishing.”

Mabel shook her head. “You and your fishing. I don’t see how anyone can like touching slimy, smelly fish. Yuck.”

Joann was saved from having to explain her fascination with the sport by the bell over the entrance. Mabel went to take care of her customer. Joann finished dusting, ran the vacuum sweeper over the carpet runners between the rows of shelves and mopped the uncarpeted areas of the floor. She was cleaning the two large windows facing the street when she saw Roman walk past. He caught sight of her at the same moment and stopped. To her dismay, he turned around to enter the shop.

* * *

Roman stood inside the entrance to the bookstore and watched Joann scrubbing the window so vigorously he was astounded that she hadn’t worn a hole through it. She was deliberately ignoring him.

Mabel was helping another customer. “I’ll be with you in a minute,” she said.

He nodded and stepped over to the nearest bookshelves where he had a clear view of Joann. Was she still upset with him about the license plate number he’d taken from her? He’d been waiting all day to talk to her. Now that she was within sight, he suddenly didn’t know why he’d been so keen on it. He rubbed a hand over his jaw and started browsing through the titles in front of him without really seeing them. He glanced her way several times, but she continued to work at cleaning the windows.

Finally, he spoke. “It must be on the outside.”

She stopped scrubbing and glanced at him. “Were you talking to me?”

He replaced the book he held and picked up another. “You’ve been working on the same window pane for five minutes. If the spot hasn’t come off by now, it must be on the outside.”

She took a step back from the window. “You’re right.”

“What did you say?”

“I said you’re right,” she repeated in a louder voice.

He chuckled. “How hard was that to say?”

She rolled her eyes and picked up her supplies. “Laugh if you like, I have work to do.”

He put the book away. “Otis told me you decided to come back to your old job. Why?”

“How is he today?”

She avoided his question by asking one of her own, he noticed. “He has a bad headache. I tried to get him to leave, but he insists on staying.”

“Stubborn must run in your family,” she said.

“Tell me, why does someone who loves research, reading and writing as much as you do, give it up to scrub floors?”

She glared at him, her green eyes snapping. “There’s nothing wrong with cleaning floors. Cleanliness is next to godliness.”

He held up his hand. “I didn’t say there was anything wrong with it. I only wondered why you chose it over working on the magazine and newspaper.”

She looked down at the floor. “It was time for a change.”

“Are you sure it’s not because I work there now?”

She still didn’t look at him. “I accepted this job before you accepted yours.”

He wasn’t sure he believed her, but he decided to give her the benefit of the doubt. He picked up another book and pretended to read the back cover. “Otis wants me to write an article for next month’s magazine.”

“On what?”

Mabel came over to him. “Are you interested in child-rearing?”

He looked at the book in his hand and hastily returned it to the shelf. “I’m just browsing.”

“That’s fine. Let me know if I can be of assistance.” Mabel walked back to the counter and sat down. He turned to find Joann smothering a grin.

He liked her smile. He liked the way it made her eyes sparkle. Her grin slowly faded. She looked down. “What are you writing an article about?”

“The law and our responsibilities.”

“Because of what’s been happening?”

“I assume that’s why Otis chose the topic. Perhaps because of my accident, as well.”

“It is a relevant topic.”

“What is your opinion? Should an Amish person call or notify the police when they are the victim of a crime? Does that go against our teachings of nonresistance and nonviolence? The Bible says in Matthew 5:39, ‘But I say unto you, That ye resist not evil: but whosoever shall smite thee on thy right cheek, turn to him the other also.’”