A Simple Autumn: A Seasons of Lancaster Novel Page 14

  “Then I’ll go split some firewood. We’re running low.” Adam headed out, patting Gerta as he passed by. “And, Gabe, Betsy was worried about you. What happened to you and Ben?”

  “It’s a long story.” And I don’t want to tell you all the details, Gabe thought as he untied one of the cows from the stanchion and led her out of the pen. He had put on a clean shirt and a black vest that covered his shoulder well. “Ben and I got back too late and too wet to make it to dinner.”

  “You know how important it is to have the family together,” Adam said.

  “I do. And believe me, I was sorry to miss Betsy’s good cooking.”

  Adam nodded. “It was good. Baked chicken.”

  As soon as he was gone, Gabe breathed a sigh of relief. He didn’t like having trouble in the air, though sometimes he felt sure that a cloud hovered over his head. Now … he just needed to find a way to fix his jacket.

  Simon moved the cows that were finished out to pasture, and Gabe let a handful of others in.

  “Come on, find your places,” Gabe told them. “You do this every day and every night.”

  Simon giggled. “I like to hear you talk to the cows. I think you talk to them more than you talk to people.”

  “I talk to people when I have something to say.” Gabe patted Brownie’s side. “I just have a lot more to say to the cows. Especially when they don’t listen.”

  “That’s most of the time.” Simon picked up a container of fresh milk and lugged it down to the end of the barn. He was strong for a boy of nine, and a hard worker, too. It had been good to see Simon come out of his shell these past few months.

  Ruthie was working nearby. “We missed you at dinner,” she said. “Betsy was worried, but Nate said you and Ben were just boys being boys.”

  He brought the hoses over for her. “Nate’s right.”

  “And Adam said he’s worried that you don’t talk much.” Ruthie finished cleaning Clementine and turned to face Gabe. “He’s afraid that you’re going to go wild one day. Adam says the quiet ones are the ones to watch.” She stifled a smile as she attached the milking machine. “Is it true?”

  Gabe folded his arms as he thought about how much he could tell Ruthie. He didn’t want to say too much, but he liked talking to her. She always had a bright way about her, and she didn’t judge. He leaned back against a stanchion, wincing when a post connected with the sore spot on his shoulder.

  Ruthie’s eyes opened wider. She never did miss much. “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s nothing. I just got a cut on my neck. It’s sore.”

  “Is it okay?”

  “It’s hard to tell. It’s too far back for me to see.”

  She straightened up and moved out of the stall. Her face was pinched with worry now. “Let me look.”

  Gabe checked behind him. Simon was down at the other end. No one would notice. “Just tell me what you see.” He opened his vest and shirt quickly and got down on one knee to get to Ruthie’s eye level.

  Her hands were gentle, but the wound still stung. “Oh, Gabe, that’s a fierce cut. And the skin’s turning black and blue. It must hurt.”

  “Sometimes.” He started to stand up, but she pressed down on his good shoulder.

  “Stay there. I’m going to get the first-aid kit. There’s some ointment there to keep you from getting an infection.”

  She ran to the blue plastic box hanging on the wall. Watching her fetch the tube of antibiotic, Gabe wondered how she knew so much. Sometimes Ruthie seemed way too smart for her twelve years.

  “Okay.” She squeezed ointment onto a square of gauze and pushed his head down. “How did you do this?”

  Gabe gritted his teeth as the cut tingled with cold. “Riding motorbikes. I took a spill and hit something on the ground.”

  “A bike accident? Oh, I’m glad you weren’t hurt bad. It could have been so much worse.”

  “Don’t worry. I always wear a helmet, and I’m a good driver.”

  She yanked his good shoulder back and swung around to face him as he rose. “A good driver? So this isn’t the first time you were on a motorbike.”

  “No. And don’t tell Mary or Adam. They’ll only give me a talking to about how I’m going against the Ordnung.”

  “Well …” She closed up the first-aid kit. “It’s true. But I’m more scared of you getting hurt bad.”

  “I’ll be fine. Don’t you worry.”

  She crossed her arms. “You know I will. But I won’t tell. Nobody likes a tattletale.” As she went to return the first-aid kit to the wall, he wondered if Ruthie could help him with his jacket. Had she learned to sew yet? He never paid much attention to what his sisters were doing.

  “As long as you’re helping me,” he said, “would you mind taking a look at my jacket?” He’d rinsed all his clothes in the mud sink, but he’d been leery of putting his torn jacket in with the laundry.

  “What’s wrong with your jacket?”

  “There’s a big rip in the back. I know if I put it in with the washing, Mary’s going to have a cow.”

  Ruthie let out a sigh. “You really are a wild one, just like Adam said.”

  He smiled. “So you’ll mend it?”

  “I’ll give it a try. Put it in the sewing room, in the closet. Mary is so busy sewing her wedding dress, she won’t be looking to do mending for a while.”

  “Denki.” He removed the pump hoses from Tansy and smiled at his little sister. “And not a word to Mary and Adam.”

  “I won’t tell them,” she said, “but I hate to think of what Bishop Samuel’s going to say when he hears about your wild bike rides.”

  Gabe shrugged. “If the wind blows my way, he’ll never hear about it.” He couldn’t live his life worrying about what might happen. Besides, this was his rumspringa. It was his season to go wild.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Monday morning, Emma arrived at school early. After being closed up for the weekend, the schoolhouse needed a little fresh air, and she enjoyed opening windows and wiping down the desks. The large windows allowed a full view of nature outside the window, as well as lots of natural sunlight.

  Today the bursts of colorful trees in the schoolyard suggested an assignment about identifying trees. Perhaps her scholars could gather some of the orange, yellow, and red leaves that had fallen to the ground. They could do tracings and learn how to tell maple from oak, beech from sycamore. She would ask the students to do the tracings in the colors of autumn, and when they were complete they would cut them out and post them on the classroom wall—a colorful fall tree.

  Smiling at the idea, Emma straightened the old-fashioned wooden desks, set in rows named after flowers, like Rose Road and Lily Lane. She was opening a window when a buggy came down the lane—someone delivering children to school. Was it Gabe?

  She held her breath as she squinted to make out the figures in the open carriage. Three heads in white prayer kapps came into view—a mamm with her girls.

  It was silly to be disappointed, but now that she had decided to share their secret, she wanted to see him more than ever. She was counting down the days until Sunday, when they would be together at the singing. How wonderful good it would be to sit right beside Gabe, to talk and joke with him all night and not have to pretend interest in what other boys were saying.

  Students began coming into the classroom, and she greeted each one by name, then continued gathering supplies. Each child dropped off his or her lunch cooler and then returned to the schoolyard for a few last minutes of play.

  “Good morning, Teacher Emma.” Before she glanced up, Emma knew it was the cheerful voice of Ruthie King.

  Emma greeted her, warmed by Ruthie’s bright eyes and joyous smile. When Ruthie smiled, she seemed to glow from head to toe.

  “I’m dropping off my lunch, and Simon’s, too,” Ruthie said, placing two coolers by the potbelly stove. “He’s outside playing tag.”

  Emma gazed out the wide window facing the lane. “Did you get a ride from Ga
be?”

  “Not this morning. When we saw that it wasn’t raining, we decided to walk,” Ruthie said, taking a seat at her desk. Ruthie was one of Emma’s most social pupils, and it wasn’t unusual for her to break away from the other children for a very adult conversation. “And I’m so glad we walked because we ended up walking across a beautiful carpet of leaves. Such a pretty yellow, like golden pears! And when Simon and I walked across them, they stuck to our shoes. For a while we had yellow shoes!”

  Emma smiled. “A sure sign that autumn is here.” She gestured to the window. “I was just looking at those magnificent trees in the schoolyard, and I thought of a project the whole class might like.”

  Ruthie’s eyes lit with excitement as Emma described the classroom tree. “I hope I can find a maple leaf. They’re so fancy, with all the points. When you see them on the ground, they look like a thousand stars.”

  “Then we will have to find a nice maple,” Emma said as she leaned over her large bin of classroom crayons. “Would you like to help me with this? I need to pick out fall colors for the project.”

  Ruthie joined her at the desk and peered into the box. “Orange, dark red, yellow,” she murmured as she plucked each crayon from the box. “How about plum?”

  “Plum is good. Keep going. We need twenty-eight.” As Emma sat at her desk to fold and cut the papers for the project, she wondered how the Kings’ family dinner had gone last night.

  Would it be wrong to ask Ruthie? In a few days the girl would know her older brother was dating her teacher. Word would spread quickly. Emma didn’t mind smoothing the way … and she was hungry even for a crumb about Gabe.

  “How was your family dinner last night?” she asked.

  “Wonderful good,” Ruthie said, her eyes on the crayon box. “Betsy made roasted chicken with pumpkin pie for dessert.”

  “And how’s Gabe? Did he enjoy it?”

  Ruthie blinked. “He never made it on account of the accident.”

  An accident? Buggy accidents happened more often than anyone cared to know, but Emma hadn’t heard of any incidents last night. She sat up straighter, instantly alert. “Is he all right?”

  “He’s going to be fine, but there’s a cut on his neck and his shoulder is bruised bad. I was worried sick when I saw that cut, but I put some ointment on it for him.”

  Emma swallowed hard, tamping down surprise and alarm. “I’m glad it’s getting better. How did it happen?”

  “A motorbike crash,” Ruthie said, shaking her head in disapproval. A motorbike? Emma’s face grew warm as anger swept through her.

  “He crashed on one of his friend’s motorbikes. It was an Englisher friend who has the bikes. Gabe says he’ll be fine, but maybe you should talk to him about it. It’s dangerous, and it’s against the rules.”

  “Yes, it’s against the Ordnung. I will talk to him about that.” Emma strained to keep the anger from her voice. Ruthie was only the messenger; it would be wrong to upset the girl, who had a very clear picture of her brother’s wrongdoing.

  Children were streaming into the classroom. From the door, John Zook called, “Teacher Emma, can I ring the bell?”

  She pressed a hand to her temple as she looked at the clock on the wall. It was time. “Yes, John. Give it a good ring, please.”

  Ruthie went back to her desk as the children took their assigned seats. Emma strode to the window, composing a letter in her mind. She would send a note home with Ruthie, a letter requesting that he come to the school to discuss an important matter.

  Would he think she was talking about Simon or Ruthie? She didn’t care if it was misleading. She had to talk to him; she needed to hear his side of this story.

  The air blowing in did nothing to cool her hot temper, but she knew that would simmer down when she started teaching. Her scholars deserved a levelheaded, patient teacher, and she would be the teacher they needed.

  Even when her heart was burning with anger over Gabe’s antics.

  A motorbike? How could he?

  The next morning Emma waited for him on the schoolhouse porch. Her jaw felt stiff and her eyes were dry and sore. Not enough sleep and too much worry. She hadn’t even told Elsie about what happened, knowing that Elsie would be disappointed. Besides, she felt like a fool to have trusted him. He’d lied to her. And he’d chosen a motorbike over her. That hurt.

  Gabe King was not a suitable beau. She could not be connected with him and maintain her good reputation as Halfway’s Amish schoolteacher.

  Her heart ached at the sight of Gabe’s buggy. Ruthie sat beside him, and Simon’s dark hat bobbed in the back.

  He got out of the carriage and she rose from the porch. She tried not to look at the eyes that could melt her heart. She stared down as she invited him into the classroom to chat.

  Inside the schoolhouse she went to her desk, wanting the big wooden slab to keep Gabe at a distance.

  “Emma?” Gabe’s footsteps were heavy behind her. “What’s wrong?”

  “I heard that you got hurt Sunday.” Standing behind her desk, she turned to face him. “In a motorbike accident.” She didn’t try to hide her disappointment. “A motorbike? Gabe, what are you doing?”

  The color drained from his face. He pinched the brim of the hat in his hands. “How did you hear?”

  “Ruthie mentioned it, but don’t blame her. She’s worried about you, Gabe, and I am, too. What are you thinking?”

  He lifted one hand to stop her. “Take it easy. It’s not the end of the world.”

  “You told me you had family plans and instead you went out riding motorbikes. How could you do that to me?”

  “It’s got nothing to do with you, Emma. It’s just something Ben and I have been doing for fun.”

  “It’s strictly forbidden, and you know that, Gabe King.”

  He glanced out the window and shrugged. “You make me feel like a bad student, Emma.”

  “Gabe, you’re breaking the rules.”

  “Ya, but it’s my rumspringa. I’m sowing my wild oats.”

  “Oats are sown in the soil. You are breaking the rules, and your bike racing has nothing to do with finding an Amish mate, the true purpose of rumspringa. You said it yourself. You’re looking for fun, and going against the Order. It’s wrong, Gabe.”

  “I’m not hurting anyone. I’m not breaking the Golden Rule.…”

  “Ach.” Emma sat down and folded her hands on her desk. “Tell that to Bishop Samuel.”

  “Why would I do that?”

  Frustrated, she stared up at him. “So that you can ask for forgiveness.”

  Gabe shook his head. “I’m not ready to do that.”

  “But you must!”

  “Don’t ruin this for me, Emma.” His eyes flashed, as if she was trying to hurt him. “It’s the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time.”

  “But …”

  I thought I was the best thing that ever happened to you. She couldn’t bring herself to say the words because now she knew how wrong she’d been.

  She wasn’t the most wondrous thing in Gabe’s life.

  He was in love with a motorbike.

  “Don’t you see?” she whispered, wary of children listening in from the schoolyard. “I can’t court you if you’re going to go off riding motorbikes.”

  “Emma …” Gabe’s amber eyes were heavy with sorrow. “I’m not one of your scholars. I don’t have to follow your rules. I have to do what’s right for me.” He shook his head. “I thought you’d understand.”

  Tears stung her eyes. She had always told him that he could tell her the truth. She had wanted him to feel free to share his sorrows and grief over his parents. But she had never expected this.

  “You’d better go. It’s time for the children to come in.”

  He nodded, then turned away.

  Emma dashed away her tears so that she could watch him, black hat, broad shoulders, and long legs, a dark profile of the man she loved, walking out of her life. This couldn’t be happening!
She bit her lower lip, crushed by the thought of all the hope and joy and love going out that door with him.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  It just doesn’t seem right,” Jonah said. “I’m here day after day, living a lie, and I never lied in the first place.”

  The Stoltzfus sheep blinked up at him, tucked its pointed chin, and chortled, “Mihihi.” Sitting on its backside so that Jonah could take a look at its hoof, the sheep looked very human. A little bit like Bishop Samuel, but without the eyeglasses.

  Was that why Jonah was telling the creature his problems? Or was he verhuddelt from walking around with this tangle of guilt and confusion inside?

  “I need to clear my head,” he told the sheep as he trimmed the hornlike nail that grew on the outer edges of the pad. Sheep were well-known for being prone to suffer from foot problems, and this fella had been limping around. “I can’t keep this up.”

  The sheep bleated an answer and tried to scramble away.

  “Hold on. You’re not getting out of this so easy.”

  And neither would Jonah.

  He had to tell Annie and Hannah the truth. He had never meant for anyone to think that he favored Hannah in the first place. That part had been a misunderstanding. And he’d fully intended to straighten things out with the truth, but everyone on the Stoltzfus farm had been on edge last week with the Fishers leaving for New York. Now, here it was Wednesday, and he was still tethered to Hannah—at least, in Annie’s mind he was.

  “What can I do?” he asked the sheep as he trimmed the ingrown ridge of nail. He had thought about asking Aaron if he could do without his help, but there were more chores here than any one man could handle. And today, when he had helped Aaron move some hay bales, the older man had complained that he was under the weather.

  “Something’s not sitting so good in there,” Aaron had said, pressing a fist to his chest. “Indigestion. It happens whenever Hannah cooks the noon meal.”