Seasons of Sugarcreek 03. Autumn's Promise (12 page)

Caleb knew he should be grateful that his family was being so open-minded about him venturing to Cleveland. But somehow obtaining his parents’ permission made him feel like he was still a child.

If he was so sure about his need to leave, shouldn’t he be able to leave on his own? Wasn’t it time for him to accept the burdens of his responsibilities all by himself?

It seemed wrong that the most important event in his life was now being managed by so many others.

When he walked through the hedge that separated his family’s land from the Allens’, he couldn’t help but remember the first time he’d seen the family. It had been late November. Just days after Anson had broken his arm. He’d spied Lilly arguing with her brother on their driveway.

Now Caleb knew that she and Charlie had been arguing about her pregnancy and their abrupt move to Sugarcreek. That day, though, all he’d seen was a pair of teenagers having more freedoms than he’d ever imagined. From that point on, he’d ached to be just like them.

“Hey, you,” Lilly called out when he stepped onto their driveway. “Come up to the front. I’m sitting on the porch.”

When he walked up the two steps to meet her, Caleb saw that she had two mugs of hot cider. “Want some?”

“Sure.” Sitting down in the rocking chair next to her, Caleb felt completely nervous. “Thanks for meeting with me.”

She grinned. “I didn’t have much choice. Your parents asked me to.”

“Oh.”

Her smile vanished. “Hey, forget I said that. I’m sorry. Don’t mind me. I’m a little grumpy. A certain somebody at the restaurant put me in a bad mood.”

Caleb figured a bad customer there was like any he’d had at the store, and he had no need to think about them. As a few seconds passed, and she said nothing more, he said, “Lilly, I don’t know what to say.”

“Well, you better think of something! You’ve got your whole family in a dither.”

Remembering how calm they’d all been, he shook his head. “Not really.”

“They might be all smiles to you, but underneath, I promise, they’re really worried.”

“I don’t know what to do now. Part of me feels like I should have never said anything.”

“Caleb, you didn’t have a choice. Not really. Things would have been worse if you had just left in the middle of the night.”

It was like she’d read his mind. “Perhaps.”

“You know, I’ve been where you are.”

Caleb doubted it. “You’ve wanted to stop being Amish and move away?” he asked sarcastically.

“I’ve had to tell my parents things they didn’t want to hear. First when I told them I was pregnant, and then when I told them I wanted to keep the baby and not put it up for adoption. Telling difficult news isn’t easy.”

Leaning against his chair, he looked beyond Lilly, to the neatly mowed grass in the front of Lilly’s house. To the small garden that was in dire need of tilling—the Allens really were terrible gardeners.

As her words sank in, he relaxed. “It hasn’t been easy at all.”

After sipping from her mug, she murmured, “Caleb, do you still want me to call my friend?”

Here it was. He could either accept her offer and move forward…or he could back away and stay in Sugarcreek. Where it was safe. “Yes.”

“All right, then. I’ll give her a call and see if we can drive over to Strongsville tomorrow.”

“So soon?”

“I have the day off. And, well, it’s what you want, right?”

“Sure.” He hoped Lilly didn’t notice that he wasn’t really as excited about the visit as he’d wanted to be.

“Now, don’t get your hopes up. My friend Cassidy might not be able to help us too much. But at least you’ll get to start thinking about options.” She gave him a sideways look. “If you still want to leave.”

“Going on Sunday is fine.”

“Okay. Great. How about we leave at nine? Is that too early?”

“I guess not.”

“What’s wrong with you? I thought you’d be excited.”

He didn’t know what was wrong, other than that everything was suddenly happening too quickly. “It’s just that this Sunday is church. My folks won’t like me missing.” Actually, that was an understatement.

His parents wouldn’t like it one bit. The whole family would be up at dawn, especially since church was at Tim and Clara’s new home. Because they were newly married, their entire family would be expected to go over early and help set up.

“Does missing church matter to you?”

“Maybe.”

Her expression turned serious. “Caleb…you can’t have it both ways, you know. You either want to stay where you are and abide by all the rules…or it’s time to make changes. You can’t just complain to everyone who will listen. You shouldn’t make plans without intending to follow through.”

She was right. This was his chance to seriously move forward. To prepare to leave. “I’ll be ready at nine.”

“Come over, then.”

For the first time, true fear about what he was doing settled inside of him. It was one thing to have a dream. It was quite another to put it into action.

As he thought of the few English kids he’d hung around with in Sugarcreek, Caleb began to worry. They’d all teased him some about his funny way of speaking. About his longish hair. With them, he hadn’t really cared…but he’d feel different if he was living with the English. “Do you think your friend will think I’m too different?”

Eyes serious, Lilly shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m not going to lie to you—you do look different than most sixteen-year-old boys, but with a haircut and different clothes, you could fit in. Eventually.”

“So it’s just the clothes, right?” The uneasiness dissipated. That, he could deal with. He knew he wouldn’t be dressing Amish anyway.

“Maybe it’s just the clothes…or maybe not. It’s a whole way of looking at the world around you.”

“Everyone looks at their surroundings one way or another.”

Lilly pulled up her knees and rested her chin on them. “I guess that’s true. But I don’t know. I used to think people could change, and could put their past behind them, but maybe I was wrong. Maybe we all carry our pasts with us like marks on our arms…for better or worse.”

Caleb had a feeling she was talking about how very “English” she was…and how it had to do with Robert Miller. To his way of thinking, she would have an even harder time becoming Amish than he would becoming English.

Caleb lifted his chin. For a moment, he yearned to tell her that everything was going to work out for the best. That she shouldn’t worry about the future because God was with them. That there surely had to be a reason that he was thinking about turning English at the same time that she was considering a future with an Amish man.

But it wasn’t the right time. She was still keeping secrets…and he was starting to think that he didn’t know any right answers.

Mouth dry, he stood up. “I’m going to go on back now.”

“Yes, I suppose you should. Bye, Caleb. See you tomorrow.”

After crossing through the hedge, he walked back into his family’s barn. The dusty, dank smell in the darkened area was completely familiar. Almost comforting. As Jim whickered a greeting, he let his eyes adjust to the light, then wandered over to give the horse some attention. “Hey, buddy,” he murmured, scratching the horse around his ears the way he loved.

Looking more closely at the horse’s coat, irritation coursed through him. Flecks of mud and dirt spotted Jim’s broad side; far more decorated his white stockings.

Once again, Anson hadn’t done what he was supposed to. “That brother of mine. Will he ever learn to do his chores?”

In response, Jim’s ears darted forward and Caleb immediately felt remorseful. The horse could sense anger or nervousness quicker than a snap. “It’s okay, horse. I’m just griping. Ready for some brushing?” he murmured.

He turned just in time to see Anson dragging his feet behind Judith. “Look who I found playing by the side of the road,” she said. “Our long-lost bruder.”

Anson pulled out his bottom lip. “I wasn’t lost. And I wasn’t doing anything wrong, neither.”

Judith rolled her eyes. “Oh, no. Not at all!” she said mockingly. “You were just causing everyone around you to be scared to death.”

“What was he doing?”

“He and Ty were hopping along the road side by side, not paying a bit of attention to the vehicles flying by. I, myself, saw a car have to swerve out of the way in order to avoid them.”

“Anson, you should know better.”

“Don’t start up disciplining me too, Caleb,” Anson snapped. “You weren’t even there.”

Anson’s tone was filled with more than a touch of indignation and pride. Sharing an exasperated look with his sister, Caleb suddenly felt sorrier than ever for his parents. How were they able to keep their calm so often? With seven children, no less? At the moment, he was sorely tempted to shake some sense into his brother’s head.

Crossing her arms over her chest, Judith tapped her feet. “I had to go find Anson because when I came in here earlier, I saw he hadn’t done all his chores. I’m supposed to be at the store, helping Joshua.”

Tilting his head up, Anson glared. “I don’t know why you’re being so mean. I just forgot.”

“Oh, no, you didn’t,” Caleb said. “I’ve been ten, too. I know exactly what you were thinking. You didn’t forget. You just didn’t want to muck out the stalls and brush Jim, and thought if you weren’t around someone else would do the work. Like me.”

“I fed him.”

“That’s not good enough,” Judith said. “Anson, Caleb and I are tired of doing your chores.”

When Caleb watched his brother roll his eyes, his temper snapped. “We were tired months ago. If Mamm and Daed aren’t going to make you do your part, I sure intend to. This lazing about isn’t good for you, and it isn’t fair to the rest of us.”

“I don’t know why you even care, Caleb. All you want to do is leave me.” Bright red spots licked Anson’s cheeks as he clumsily corrected himself. “I mean,
leave us
. So we’re going to have to do all of your chores soon anyway.”

Guilt flooded him. “That’s not the same.”

“Sure it is. I listened to everything you and Mamm and Daed said the other night. All you care about is yourself.”

There were a thousand things Caleb was tempted to say to that. He knew that Anson was grasping at any straw to get his way, and had become extremely good at doing so during his various accidents and recuperations.

But a small part of him knew that his little brother had a point. He hadn’t been thinking about how his absence would affect the workload for the rest of the family. He truly was selfish in that regard.

“Come get a brush and start working on Jim,” he muttered. “And don’t be too rough, neither. That horse has done nothing to deserve that.”

With a mutinous expression, Anson strode over to the horse.

Shaking her head, Judith turned to go just as Caleb walked over to her. “I’m going to go inside and tell Mamm.”

Usually Caleb wouldn’t have encouraged Judith to start tattling, but he, for one, was tired of their parents looking away when Anson goofed off. Maybe Judith telling on their little brother would do some good. “Good luck.”

“I’m just glad I saw him playing on the side of the road.” She shook her head. “I don’t know what’s gotten into him.”

“I think he’s used to everyone fussing over him. We sure did fuss quite a bit after he and Ty were lost in the river.”

“I guess you’re right.” She turned, then looked his way again. “Hey…Caleb…about what Anson said, don’t let it get to you.”

“He’s probably right. I am talking about leaving you.”

“No, he wasn’t, Caleb. No one was shocked about you being dissatisfied. I, for one, think it’s a
gut
thing that you want to leave her for a little while, just to see what the outside world is like. I just hope you’ll want to come back. And not because of the chores, either.”

“Promise?” He knew it took a lot for her to say what she did. Of them all, Judith seemed to be the most settled and content with their way of life. He had thought she would have given him the hardest time about wanting a change.

“I promise.”

“I’m going to visit Lilly’s friends tomorrow.”

“Really? Already?”

He nodded. “Lilly says it’s the only time she can get away.” He paused, considering his next words. “I’m kind of nervous about going,” he admitted.

“I bet. Though, you’re only sixteen, Caleb.” Reaching out, she squeezed his shoulder. “I promise, nothing has to be decided now.”

“I’m starting to realize that,” he mumbled and watched her slowly walk into the house before he turned back to Anson. “You being careful with Jim?”

“I am,” Anson replied sharply.

Caleb narrowed his eyes, but luckily saw that his brother was brushing Jim slowly and carefully, just the way the horse enjoyed.

Without a word, he passed by Anson, walked over to the chicken pen and started work on that. One of the roosters glared at him in disdain.

Caleb glared right back until the bird turned away. These were things he knew to do. He knew just how to gather eggs and fix broken chicken wire. He knew how to bale hay and how to drive a buggy. And just how Jim liked to be brushed with the curry comb.

None of that knowledge would be any good among the
Englischers
, however.

Somewhat desperately, he wondered what would.

On one particularly bad morning-after spending the previous night tossing and turning without hardly more than a few minutes of sleep at a stretch—Robert had timed how long it took him to get ready for his day.

Nineteen minutes.

Yes, it had taken nineteen minutes to shower, get dressed, make his bed, and brew two cups of coffee. Nineteen minutes, and he hadn’t even been hurrying.

That was worrisome.

Usually, he didn’t eat breakfast—there wasn’t much of a point to sit at the table by himself. But that morning, he’d decided to eat after all. After whisking an egg with a bit of water, then adding some chopped-up ham from his leftover dinner, he cooked his eggs. A thick slice of bread, toasted in his oven’s broiler, went on the plate, too.

All of that took ten minutes.

It took another five eating it, and four minutes to wash his plate and set it neatly on the wooden rack next to the sink.

All told, from the moment he’d opened his eyes to the time he walked out the door, he’d been up for thirty-nine minutes.

That was all.

The difference between his mornings now and the way things had been with Grace was very great, indeed. During their first year of marriage, he’d taken to lazing a bit, because she would fuss over him. Every so often, he’d pull her into bed beside him and kiss her, just because he could.

Breakfast had been a time to discuss their day’s plans, and with Grace, everything had importance. He’d used to silently pray for patience as she’d talk to him about her plans to spring clean or to bake cobbler or ponder over the color choices for one of the many quilts she was piecing.

Whenever he finally left the house, it was with the taste of her kisses still on his lips, and the promise that she’d be waiting for him when he’d returned.

Robert figured he’d walked through their first year of marriage with a permanent smile on his face. Yes, things between them had been pleasing.

Now, of course, it all was gone. Now he usually rushed through his morning routine—such that it was—because it hurt too much to compare it to how things used to be.

Perhaps some men could have made adjustments or would have begun to welcome the sheer ease of living alone. But so far, that hadn’t been him.

When she’d gotten sick, things had changed, of course. During her last few weeks, the kitchen had been constantly dirty—he’d had no time to rinse off plates or glasses. His parents had come over often. Many nights, his father stayed by his side. Other relatives silently sat in his front room and prayed. Ladies came, delivered soups and casseroles, and then stayed to clean and tidy the mess.

But he’d hardly done more than acknowledge their presence with a cursory nod. He’d hardly been aware of anything but her weakened state.

After her funeral, more people had stopped over until he’d finally had enough. As gently as he could, he had asked everyone to leave. In exchange, he’d promised to reach out to them again when he was ready. Just as soon as he’d gotten some much needed time and space.

That had been three years ago.

Now he had more time and space than he ever wanted. The home was dark and too quiet. Some rooms were never used. Robert couldn’t recall the last time he’d walked into Grace’s sewing room. The room that he’d built for their
kinner
.

Ever since Grace had passed on, it felt like he was living in someone else’s house.

Yes, Grace and the love they’d shared had made their house a home.

For the most part, he had come to terms with things. No longer was he claimed by sudden onslaughts of tears that stung his eyes and clogged his throat. No longer did he see her old sewing machine and ache to see her working in front of it.

Or strain to listen for her humming while she mopped the kitchen floor or kneaded bread. Grace, she did so like to hum. And she had never met a tune that she wasn’t able to ruin by twisting it out of sorts.

But this early morning, this Sunday, he felt her loss more than ever. He missed her. Almost just as much, he was growing tired of being alone.

Which, of course, brought his mind back to Lilly Allen. If he sat still long enough, Robert could still recall how she’d felt in his arms. Soft and womanly, and responsive. She’d been full of laughter and happiness, and he’d instinctively known that she’d enjoyed his kisses just as much as he had enjoyed hers.

He supposed a stronger man wouldn’t dwell on such things. A better Christian would only concentrate on their ease of conversation. On the way she made him feel whole again.

But he’d never claimed to be a strong man. No, he was weak and missed the comfort of a woman’s arms. At twenty-four, his brain told him that he wasn’t a terrible person. After all, his married friends often smiled in a way that said that they still enjoyed private times with their wives very much.

Yes, living a life as humbly as possible didn’t offer that much happiness. Not really. There was no comfort in eyeing a future completely alone.

Desperate to get out of his melancholy mood, Robert pulled out his Bible and opened it randomly. Chapter three of Philippians fell open. He thought that was probably fitting. After all, sometimes he did feel like Paul, writing letters to others while imprisoned in a place not of his own choosing. Of course, Paul still had found reason for happiness and joy.

Robert wished he had a little more of the apostle’s heavenly spirit.

He’d just read another two chapters in the Book when Abe and his father appeared at his door. “Robert, we’re glad to find you home!” his father said, all smiles.

“Good morning,” he said as they wandered in and pulled off their overcoats. “I didn’t expect you two to stop by before church. To what do I owe this visit?”

Abe looked at his father warily. “We just happened to have started out a little early for Tim and Clara’s home and thought to pay you a call.”

Happened to be early? That was not likely.

Pay him a call? His father didn’t pay calls. No, something was on their minds. No matter what they said, their visit was especially out of the ordinary. “I see.”

His father cleared his throat. “Nothing wrong with taking time to visit with my son, is there?”

“Of course not. I am always glad for your company.”

“So, you’re alone?”

“Jah.”
Sensing the undercurrent of suspicion, he cast a glance his father’s way. “Who else would be here?”

When his father just looked guilty, Abe jumped in. “No one that we know of. I mean, of course, you wouldn’t have a guest here. Most especially not a woman.”

A woman?

And that’s when Robert felt the full reason for their visit. They were worried about Lilly Allen.

They’d come over to lecture. And condemn.

Both the words and the airy way he spoke proved to all three of them that Abe was telling a lie. The fact that his cousin was still dancing around subterfuge grated on Robert’s nerves.

Surely they were all beyond making up such things? But instead of bringing up the obvious—that he knew Abe and his father had paid a call on him for a much different reason than social chatting—Robert went to the kitchen and turned on the faucet. “I’ll make us some fresh coffee.”

“That would be nice. The air is still damp from last night’s rain. Hot coffee would set me to rights. That is, if making it is no trouble,” Daed said.

“Of course it isn’t.” Carefully Robert cleaned out the percolator and added fresh coffee grounds. Within four minutes, fresh dark coffee would begin trickling out.

To his shame, Robert had once timed that, too.

Abe leaned against the counter and watched him with a look of mild interest. “I never have learned how to work one of those things.”

Robert was just irritated enough with his cousin to snap at him. “That’s most likely because Mary is alive and healthy.”

The skin around Abe’s mouth turned white. “You shouldn’t say such things.”

“Why? It’s the truth,” Robert retorted, sick and tired of Abe pretending that nothing had changed when Grace had died.

The simple fact was that
everything
had changed when Grace died, and there was no circling around the cold, hard facts. When she’d gotten sick, he’d had to get used to doing everything. He’d gotten used to caring for her, and for doing her chores.

Abe still liked to think that a few casseroles and encouraging words had made his life easier.

But nothing was ever that simple—especially not his life without Grace. “I never learned to make coffee until Grace got sick,” he said quietly. “It was only then that I learned to make coffee and cook.”

While Abe shifted uneasily, obviously at a loss for the perfect trite saying to make everything all better, his father took control. “Come sit down, Robert. And look to see what I brought you.” He pushed a sack toward Robert.

As soon as he unfolded the top of the paper sack, the unmistakable scent of fresh bread greeted him. He sniffed appreciatively. “Mom’s been baking, I see.”

“All day and night.”

Robert knew his mother didn’t sleep when she was worried. “Is everything all right at home?”

“It is not,” Abe said quickly. Helping himself at the cabinets, he pulled out three mugs and poured the brewed coffee into each of them. When he joined them at the table, his voice sounded even more judgmental.

“She told me herself that she couldn’t sleep from worrying so much about you.”

Robert sighed. “Word’s gotten around the whole community about you and that
Englischer
.”

Robert loved his cousin, but he’d had just about enough of his high-handed attitude. Abe had no idea what it was like to lose a wife and to have to keep on living. He’d also had enough of Abe’s girlish penchant for gossip.

“Word’s gotten around, has it? Hmm. I wonder who has been talking?”

“More folks than you might imagine.”

“There’s only one man I’m imagining who has been talking.”

With a sideways look at Abe, his
daed
murmured, “Robert, we just don’t want you to hurt yourself. To hurt your heart.”

“Thank you for your concern, but my heart’s already been broken. My wife is gone.”

His father winced at Robert’s bitter tone of voice. “I know you’ve been through a rough time, with Grace’s illness and all. But there’s got to be someone nearby who’s a better fit.”

Though the reasonable part of him agreed, Robert was just peeved enough to push his father’s buttons. “Lilly’s pretty nearby, Daed.”

“You know what we’re talking about.” The chair scooted and creaked as Abe shifted restlessly. “I’m telling you, cousin, if you’d just give us a chance, we could introduce you to all kinds of women…”

“I’m not interested.”

“You should be. That girl is not for you.”

Robert flinched at both his cousin’s tone and choice of words. “She’s not exactly a girl.”

“She’s close enough,” Abe proclaimed. “And in addition, she’s got other issues to think about.” He waited a full three seconds before dropping his next bombshell. “Word is out that Lilly Allen is taking Caleb Graber to the city today. She’s going to help him leave. And she’s doing this on a church day, too.”

Robert was shocked by the statement. But he was almost just as shocked by his cousin’s need to make sure Robert knew every bad thing about Lilly.

Warily, he looked at Abe, opposite him at the table, sitting so full of himself with his arms crossed and his expression smug. Was that the kind of man his cousin had become? The type of person to look on others’ misfortunes with glee?

Slowly, he turned to his father. “Daed? Have you been listening to this gossip, too?”

“I can’t help but listen,” he murmured grudgingly. Though it was obvious that his father, too, was a bit startled by Abe’s enthusiasm, he also looked resigned to see the conversation through. “Frank Graber told me about Caleb’s trip himself.”

“Caleb is Frank’s son. And Lilly Allen is their friend and neighbor. Surely what they all are doing is their concern, not ours.”

“I agree with that,” Abe said. “But you are our concern, Robert. And because of that, we need to keep you under our watch.”

“I’m a grown man. I don’t need to be under anyone’s watch.”

Sipping his coffee, Robert’s father glanced over toward Abe. “What Abe is trying to say, is that Lilly Allen, while very beautiful, is not the woman for you. You’re never going to be able to change her.”

“Perhaps she’ll want to change herself?” he added rashly. “Who knows? Perhaps she’ll even consider becoming Plain.”

Abe rolled his eyes. “I seriously doubt that. No
Englischer
would want to start living with no electricity.”

“Some have done it. Why, there’s a woman in the next county who’s a fine Amish wife and she grew up English.” But even as he said the words, Robert felt full of misgivings. Lilly prided herself on her independence.

“This girl is different, and you know it.”

“Perhaps you could go on a vacation or something, Robert?” his father suggested. “Go on a bus trip out west. Or down to Florida, maybe.”

“You think what I need is a change of scenery?” Robert felt so out of sorts, he thought that his temper was going to burst. “Taking a trip to the beach is not what I need. What I need is…” His voice trailed off as he struggled to put into words all of his wishes and dreams. All of his struggles and hopes.

He wondered how he could ever admit, to the two men who were the closest to him in the world, that what he needed was companionship. A partner. He wanted a relationship…a woman’s smile. The feel of her in his arms when he went to sleep at night and when he awoke in the morning.

He wanted marriage. A marriage with a feel and an identity of its own—not just a mere copy of what he and Grace once had.

And none of the Amish women in his community held his attention like Lilly did.

He knew what he wanted. What he ached for.

As the silence across the three feet of table lengthened and pulled a tension into the air so thick that it could almost be seen, his father leaned forward. “What do you need, son?”

“I need to be happy,” Robert finally said. “I want to be happy again. And I’m willing to do whatever it takes in order to feel that way.”