Where Love Grows (25 page)

“You're welcome.”

“I'm sorry about Thomas,” he said, not looking at her.

“Now where did
that
come from? We were talking about today and the fire.”

“There are more fires than the kind that burn down barns.” Steve touched her hand. “You didn't deserve what you got. But it's Thomas's loss and not yours.”

“You shouldn't say things like that.” She choked for a few seconds, and his grip on her hand tightened.

“I really mean it,” he said. “Thomas doesn't know what he's talking about when it comes to you.”

Susan tried to keep breathing evenly although her heart was beating faster. Where was this emotion coming from? How did the conversation take this turn? She'd said nothing that would bring Thomas into the conversation. But here he was. “Maybe Thomas
does
know what he's talking about.”

Steve shook his head. “He doesn't, Susan. And the sun will come out again for you.
Da Hah
has a perfect future for you. He will lead you there when the time comes.”

“That's easy for you to say. You haven't had your heart broken.”

He hung his head for a moment. “I can imagine Thomas would be hard to lose. He's good-looking, dashing, every girl's dream, I'm sure.”

“No, no…I didn't mean it like that at all. Steve, you are…”

He waited quietly when her words stopped.

She couldn't seem to pull her eyes away from his.

His smile broadened and his still-red eyes twinkled a bit. “Were you actually going to say something nice about me?”

Susan laughed. “You're jealous of Thomas, I do declare.”

“Maybe.” He looked away.

“But there is no need. You are quite…” Again she stopped.

Again he waited.

Blushing this time, she let the words rush out. “You have a nice horse. Your buggy is in good shape. You work for
Daett
, and he likes you. That's quite an accomplishment right there.”

“I guess I ought to be thankful. And I am the one here next to you.”

The moment hung between them.

Susan refused to look at him. She felt she should say something. He was being so nice. “Thanks,” she finally managed. “Thanks for the compliment.” Susan was sure her neck and face were getting even redder. What had she been thinking, jumping on his words of praise? Was she hoping Steve was wishing he could take her home on Sunday nights? What a bloated sense of self-importance she'd worked herself into. The sun didn't rise and set on her. Maybe that was the first lesson she needed to learn during this time of trial.

“You'll be okay,” Steve said. He touched her arm again.

Susan jerked herself out of her trance. “Now look here, you're the one who needs comforting, Steve, and here you are giving me aid and advice.”

“Sorry,” he said. “I just wanted you to feel better about…things.”

After another awkward silence, Susan said, “I'll go see if Rodney's here.” Rodney wasn't back yet, but Susan needed to get away from Steve for a few minutes. She walked outside. She could feel herself blushing again and wondered why. After all, she was here because she felt sorry for Steve. This was her duty—a simple act of kindness to her
daett
's hired hand. There couldn't be anything between the two of them. Steve knew about her dash into the
Englisha
world, and he hadn't seemed too impressed. Now, why was she worried about what Steve thought anyway? After a few minutes, Susan saw Rodney drive into the parking lot. She went back inside and told Steve, “Time to go. They're here.”

Steve got to his feet and groaned. “I think I need Ada's soft bed for my poor, beaten-up body.”

“Here, let me help you.” Susan stepped forward to grab his arm with one hand while pushing open the front door with the other. Rodney had the car waiting by the curb, the rear passenger door open. “Everything okay there, young man?” he asked.

“Yep.” Steve groaned again as he climbed in. Susan shut the door and then ran around to the other side, sliding in beside him. Steve was holding his head like it hurt.

“You sure you're okay?” Lydia asked, turning around to study Steve's face. “You look a little green.”

“Nothing that a good night's sleep and a glass of Ada's apple cider won't cure,” Steve asserted, trying to smile.

“Tough people, the Amish are,” Rodney commented as he turned the car onto the main blacktop road leading back to the community.

When Steve groaned again, Susan reached over in the darkness to take his hand. He could think what he wanted. She didn't mean anything by it, but he needed mothering right now. If he didn't like it, he could push her hand away.

“The fire department was pulling out when we left,” Rodney said. “The barn's pretty much down flat.”

“I was expecting that,” Steve said. His hand wrapped around Susan's. “Did Reuben lose any livestock other than the one horse?”

“I don't know,” Rodney replied.

Susan moved her fingers, feeling the calluses on Steve's palm. She stopped when she sensed him looking in her direction. “Are you okay?” she finally whispered.

He nodded, still looking at her.

She pulled her hand away and turned to stare out the window, watching as the shadows of trees whipped past.

They drove by the small burg of Livonia, turning north on the state road. Minutes later Rodney pulled onto the familiar gravel road that led to Reuben and Ada's place. No one said anything as he pulled into the driveway. He stopped in front of the house. A few buggies were still lined up in the pasture, but all the
Englisha
vehicles were gone.

“Do you want us to drive you home?” Rodney asked Susan.

“Thanks very much for the offer,” Susan said, “but I need to see if
Mamm
is still here. I can walk up to the house in no time.”

“Thanks for bringing me home,” Steve said, his hand on the door handle.

“We were glad to be of help,” Lydia assured him. “One can feel so helpless in times like this.”

“Thanks again,” Susan said as she climbed out. She walked around the car and waited for Steve to get out. He looked a little weak, so she took his arm.

“Stop babying me,” he ordered. “People will think I should have stayed in the hospital.”

“Well, you should have, you stubborn mule.”

“Do you like stubborn mules?”

Susan remained silent, and Steve didn't offer anything more as he worked his way up the porch steps one at a time. At the top, she let go of his arm and held the door open for him. He winced as the light from the lantern hit his eyes. He ducked his head to enter and shield his eyes.

“It's Steve and Susan!” one of the smaller children hollered.

“Well, if it isn't our hero,” Reuben said as he stood up. “Thank you, Steve, for trying to save the horse. I didn't want you to risk your life though.”

“I had to try,” Steve said, holding his head with one hand.

Ada came over and lifted Steve's chin with her fingers. “
Lieber kinder!
The boy is on the verge of collapse. Reuben, help me get him up the stairs and into bed. Joan get a jug of apple cider from the basement. That's the best thing for him right now.”

“That sounds delicious,” Steve said just before moaning. “That and getting into bed.”

“Why didn't you stay in the hospital?” Ada demanded. “You didn't have to be so stubborn.”

“That's what Susan told me,” Steve said, making it as far as the rocker before he sat down.

Ada rushed to the kitchen and returned with a glass of apple cider, which Steve drank in long, deep swallows before taking a breath.

“It doesn't look like
Mamm
's here, so I'm off to home,” Susan said, turning to leave. She glanced over her shoulder and saw that everyone was still gathered around Steve. He had the glass of apple cider tilted up high, draining the last drop. Closing the door behind her, Susan stepped out onto the lawn.

S
usan sat anxiously on the bench as Bishop Henry stood to close the Sunday morning service. Today was pre-communion church, and she would have to leave in a few minutes, along with the other non-members. Oh, if she'd only taken the baptismal class with Teresa last year! Then she could stay and hear what Bishop Henry and the leaders had decided to do about
Daett
's situation.

Bishop Henry was speaking in a soft voice. “And now that the brothers have given testimony on the Word of God shared today by the ministry, I'm glad that all could give a
gut
word. So let's be dismissed. Those who are members, please stay behind as we prepare ourselves for our communion time in two weeks.”

Bowing his head, Bishop Henry waited as the nonmembers left. Susan stood with the younger girls and moved down the aisle. The other young women her age had stayed seated because they were members. Some of them were even married, their husbands sitting across the room in the men's section. Even Steve was still seated. He was considered a visitor, but because he was baptized, he could partake in communion. He was a member in good standing in his home community.

Now what was she supposed to do? She could perhaps help prepare lunch for the children. Susan reluctantly made her way to the kitchen and got busy helping set up the children's table in the washroom. She listened for any unusual sounds coming from the living room. Walking past the kitchen opening, she caught brief glimpses of Bishop Henry standing in front and speaking in his quiet preaching voice.

He would be going over the
Ordnung
, she knew. Touching on points he thought needed refreshing. And the other ministers would soon be adding their own points. Afterward, everyone would express their unity with what had been said. Not that she had ever sat under such instruction, but the years of listening in kitchens and hearing her older sisters talking about what had been said gave her a fairly good picture.

Bishop Henry's voice droned on, and Susan served the meal with the help of the school-aged girls. In the basement, the young boys took full advantage of their privileged status of getting to the first table, whooping it up as loudly as they dared.

“Quiet down!” Susan ordered. “Your
daetts
will be coming down if you disturb the meeting.” This produced the desired result for a few minutes, but they were soon at it again.

“I can hardly get two sandwiches down,” one of them moaned in pretended agony. “Normally I can handle three. I think I'll wait until later next time, when the preachers have the members sitting in.”

“Maybe you can sneak to the table with the grown men when they come out,” one of his friends teased. “We can paste some straw on your face for a beard.”

“That would work,” another said, and they all roared with laughter.

“Benny's got enough stubble of his own, if he'd let it grow,” the first boy added when they quieted down.

“You mean he's getting ready to ask Ben's Rosanna home from the hymn singing and forgot to shave because he was in such a rush.”

Benny made a face at first but soon joined in the laughter. Susan gave up and retreated upstairs. Let their
daetts
come down and tell them to quiet down if they wanted to. She had done her part. Boys this age weren't exactly controllable by someone they considered little more than an older sister.

In the kitchen again, Susan heard her
daett
's name mentioned. She walked to the kitchen opening and listened. Several of the young girls looked at her, and she whispered, “They're talking about my
daett.”

That seemed to satisfy them. They would also want to listen if their
daetts
were being discussed at pre-communion church. Only people in trouble were personally talked about on this day, so Susan's
daett
must be in deep, deep trouble.