An Unexpected Match Page 7

“She does,” Mom agreed. “But now Eben gets to eat them.”

  “I noticed last time we visited he didn’t share. He is going to get fat with her cooking.”

  Rachel grinned. “Maybe Jake will share when he and Ruthie get married.”

  “Sure he will,” Datt said. “She isn’t as good a cook.”

  “Now stop that, Ammon. She’s a fine cook.”

  Datt looked at Rachel and his eyes twinkled. “Especially compared to our Rachel.”

  “Ammon!” Mom made believe she was appalled at his comment.

  Rachel took one of his cookies. “For being mean on the Sabbath.”

  Datt winked at her and rattled his newspaper back into place. “Did you know that Joe Borntreger down Tennessee way is eighty-three?”

  “No, I didn’t,” Mom said. “I don’t believe I know him.”

  Mom and Rachel went back to the porch. “I have to leave the room when Datt reads the paper,” Mom said. “Otherwise he tells me all the things he reads. I want to read them myself, not hear them secondhand.”

  Rachel smiled. Most of the time Datt didn’t say much, but when he read, he seemed to feel obliged to repeat all he was reading. It was a family joke how they all fled when he picked up Die Botschaft.

  As she and Mom sipped their lemonade in companionable silence, Rachel wondered what Mom would think if she knew what Rachel had done Friday evening. Would she swallow and make believe she didn’t know as some parents did when they learned of their children’s activities? Or would she feel bound to tell the bishop?

  If he found out, he’d be forced to take action against her. The thought made her stomach cramp.

  She loved her People with all her heart. She was in danger of losing them and all she held dear and for what? Learning stuff? Stuff she may or may not ever use?

  But the thought of not learning new things, of not stretching her mental muscles made her insides shrivel.

  Mom looked her way. “So what have you been up to, Rachel?”

  Rachel gave a slight smile to cover the constriction in her throat and took a drink of the sweet-tart lemonade. “Yesterday a car from New York stopped at the produce stand. ‘Are you Amish?’ the lady kept asking, making the A in Amish have a long sound like in apron.” Rachel laughed. “It was so strange!”

  “Tourists,” Mom said, as close to scornful as she ever got. “I don’t mind the Englisch like Maxine because they’re respectful. But tourists like that one? I’m glad you run the produce stand, not me.”

  “It’s fun, and I have to do something while school’s not in session.”

  Mom grinned. “You will have Little Jonah in September.”

  She smiled at the thought of her nephew. “I know. He’ll keep me busy all by himself.”

  “Miriam has been teaching him some English so he’ll be ready for school.”

  “That’s gut. I feel sad for the little ones who come and have never even heard English before.”

  “Jonah takes Little Jonah to the nursery sometimes, so he at least hears it spoken even if they don’t speak it at home.” Mom smiled.

  They rocked in companionable silence for a few minutes.

  “How is Max doing?” Mom asked. “It’s been hard on her since Buddy died.”

  “She misses him a lot. And her kids are busy with their own lives. They’re good to her, but she has a lot of time alone.”

  “You are good to her too.”

  Rachel brushed away the compliment. “We’re good for each other. We understand each other.”

  “I think she should get a job,” Mom said.

  “Mom!” Rachel tried not to laugh. The ultimate homebody wanting someone to work?

  “It would give her purpose. I see how your job gives you purpose. You have to have purpose in life.”

  Rachel looked at her mother, plump, work-worn, and content. “And yours is caring for all of us.”

  “Of course.”

  Of course. It was a given that women took care of their families. But when you didn’t have a family or your family was busy?

  Mom smiled at Rachel. “I think you had an extra purpose this past year helping her get over Buddy.”

  The comment was so far from the truth it was like a punch to Rachel’s heart. While she was glad to spend time with Max, she was usually in the bedroom at the computer. Her purpose in going to Max’s was selfish and far from the godly gesture Mom was imagining.

  Rachel stared at the barn and the horses standing nose to tail in the field beyond, flicking flies away for each other. “She isn’t finding getting over Buddy to be very easy.”

  “Well, they were very close, and she’s only had one year. You on the other hand have had three.”

  Uh-oh. Here it came.

  Mom gave her version of a stern look, something she had never mastered because of her positive outlook on life. “Now, tell me why you wouldn’t talk with Jem Weaver last Sunday. He was just trying to be nice.”

  “Jem Weaver? Mom, he’s old!”

  Mom sniffed. “He’s two years younger than I am. I know from school days. That is not old.”

  Rachel laughed. “Not to you maybe, but to me it’s old. He just wants someone to take care of his house.”

  “Of course he does.”

  “I don’t do houses well, Mom; you know that. And I want to care for a husband, Mom, not a house. And I want him to care for me. I want someone to look at me like Jonah looks at Miriam.”

  “You had Aaron.” As if she couldn’t expect another man to love her.

  “And he was a wonderful man. Why should I settle for less?”

  “Jem is not less.”

  Rachel didn’t respond, but her silence made her opinion clear.

  “I worry about you,” Mom said. “I don’t want you to spend your life lonely and alone.”

  “For now I’m fine, Mom. I’m alone, yes, but I’m fine that way.”

  “You need babies.”

  Rachel’s heart caught. She did. But not enough to marry Jem Weaver. “You just want more grandchildren.”

  “Ja, I do. And I want you to have children while you’re still young. Raising Abner at this age is a challenge. He was upset because he couldn’t go with Levi and David to the volleyball game. Crying babies never used to upset me.”

  Rachel looked at her mother. She had to be fifty-two. That was old to have a four-year-old underfoot, even one as adorable as Abner.

  Rachel laid her hand over her mother’s on the arm of the rocker. “When I find a man I love and who loves me back, then I will make you happy.”

  The face of Rob Lanier flashed across her mind. She blinked him away as totally inappropriate. An Englisch man would not make Mom happy.

  Chapter 10

  When she heard the knock on her front door late Monday afternoon, Rachel looked up from the peanut butter sandwich she was eating.

  “Rachel.” Her oldest brother pushed open the door and peered into the room. “You have a moment?”

  “Jonah! Come in. Come in.” She rose and smiled. She rarely saw him these days. Between his work, his family, and his duties as deacon, he was a very busy man. “Come in. Have a seat. Let me get you something to drink.”

  “Something cold would be wonderful.” He hung his straw hat on the peg by the door and slid into the second chair at the kitchen table.

  Rachel glanced at her battery operated kitchen clock that looked like a teapot. Having Jonah visit was wonderful, but Monday evening at 5:15? She soon had to be at Max’s to change clothes. She took the glass of cold sweet tea to him and sat, feeling guilty for hoping he wouldn’t stay long.

  “That’s your dinner?” He pointed to the sandwich.

  “I didn’t want to cook. And look. I’m having an apple too.”

  “Like that’s supposed to make me think you’re eating well? I don’t know about you, Rachel.” His smile took away any sting to his words.

  Jonah was such a fine man, and she was blessed to have him as her brother, but what would he think
if he knew she hoped to eat at the Star later this evening?

  It was only last spring when Red Jake died that Jonah had become a deacon. She had been surprised when his name was called as one who had at least three nominations from the men and women of their Gmay. She had whispered another name to the leaders as she passed by the room where they were assembled. She hadn’t even thought of her brother.

  Her surprise wasn’t because of his character but his age. She knew every male who joined the congregation understood that he might be chosen as bishop or preacher or deacon. Refusing the responsibility wasn’t an option. It was a great responsibility to stand as those who oversaw the obedience and spiritual lives of the group. Often those nominated were older. Datt had been nominated several times, but the lot had never fallen to him. She suspected he was relieved, though he’d never say so.

  She’d watched Jonah walk forward with the six other men who had at least three nominations. It was a solemn moment because the life of one of the seven men would never be the same. She glanced at Miriam sitting down the bench from her. Her head was bowed in prayer as she sought God’s leading in the man about to be chosen. How did she feel about the possibility that for the rest of his life, the health of the Gmay might be her husband’s responsibility?

  The tension in the room grew as the seven took seats at the front. Seven books lay on the table, one for each man, but only one had the slip of paper in it that read, “The lot is cast into the lap; but the whole disposing thereof is of the Lord.” That man would be the new deacon.

  One by one the seven stood and took a book from the table. Rachel held her breath as the bishop moved from man to man, opening the book, looking for that slip of paper. Jonah was the fourth man. When the bishop opened his book and found the paper with the Bible verse, he asked Jonah to stand.

  “The lot has fallen on Jonah Miller,” he said solemnly. He laid his hand on Jonah’s shoulder and ordained him then and there to his new position, one for which he had no training beyond being part of the Gmay all his life.

  Now she smiled at Jonah. “What are you doing here when you should be home awaiting dinner? Or should you be at the nursery still?”

  “I have stopped to talk with you for a few minutes.”

  With her or at her? The thought jumped unbidden, and she tried to send it away. She forced herself to smile pleasantly. “How are Miriam and the children?”

  “Miriam is doing well.” He got that look of one besotted, the look she had noticed before, the look she wanted from whoever she married if she married again. “We will have another child in March.”

  “Oh, Jonah, how wonderful!”

  “We think so. Don’t mention it to Mom. We haven’t told her and Datt yet. Miriam just told me this morning.”

  “Number four.” Rachel thought of the empty bedrooms upstairs, and she swallowed around the yearning squeezing her heart.

  “Little Jonah is so excited about going to school,” he continued. “Hannah and James can’t wait their turns. They want their own red and white lunchboxes just like Little Jonah has.” He smiled as he thought of his children. “He thinks having Aunt Rachel for a teacher is a wonderful thing.”

  “It’ll be fun to have him in school. He’s so sweet. Quick and smart. But then you know that.”

  “Smarter than me,” Jonah agreed. “Just like you are.”

  It wasn’t a compliment like the Englisch might make. It was merely a statement. A true statement. Rachel didn’t respond.

  “But I’m not a dumkopf,” he said, his voice a bit sharp.

  Rachel blinked. “Of course you’re not. You did well in school, and you were smart enough to pick Miriam. You’ve got your own business.” She felt a sudden concern. “It’s going well, isn’t it?”

  “It’s going well, but that’s not why I’m here. I’m here to talk with you.”

  Rachel’s stomach knotted. “Is something wrong with Mom and Datt that I don’t know about?”

  “Nothing is wrong that I know of.”

  She looked at him, hoping her guilt didn’t glow like a firefly at dusk. “Then what concerns you, Jonah?”

  His expression turned somber. He leaned forward, his arms resting on his knees, his face serious. He carried an authority that increased her nervousness.

  “Do you think we don’t notice, Rachel?”

  Rachel fought the panic rising and clasped her hands to keep them from shaking. “Notice what?” She held her breath.

  “All the time you spend at Max’s house.”

  Rachel blinked. This was about the time she spent with Max? That was all?

  “I like Max, Jonah. She’s been good company for me, another single woman I can talk with.”

  “I know.” He fingered his beard, a habit when he was uncomfortable. “I like Max too. I always have. And I liked Buddy. He was a fine man for an Englischer.”

  “She misses him so much, like I missed Aaron. She and I are two widows who understand each other’s feelings and lives.”

  Jonah nodded. “I know but—”

  Rachel interrupted, something she rarely did. “In case you haven’t noticed, everyone else my age is married and has a busy life taking care of their husbands, children, and homes. Talking about giving birth and the best way to get out stains is not interesting to me, Jonah. Max talks about other things, things that interest me and make me think. We have good conversations about things that concern us as women alone.”

  He studied her. “But is talk what you really do?”

  Rachel frowned. “What do you mean?”

  He squared his shoulders. “I’m not here as a deacon, Rachel. I’m here as your brother. I have to know. What do you do at Max’s house?”

  She couldn’t lie, but she couldn’t tell him about the computer and expect him to understand. “What do you think I do?” She held her breath.

  He pressed his lips together as if he couldn’t bear to say whatever was coming. “You watch television.”

  “Watch television?” That was it?

  “You watch television and fill your mind with the world.”

  “No, Jonah.”

  “People are talking, Rachel.”

  She didn’t doubt it. They always talked about her because she was different. She didn’t follow the expected pattern. She thought. She asked questions. She didn’t like housekeeping when everyone knew women were to be keepers at home. She still wondered why they trusted her with teaching their children.

  With great relief she looked at her brother. “Jonah, I can tell you in all honesty that I have not been watching TV at Max’s house.”

  He studied her, his brows drawn together in a fierce frown, but his eyes brimmed with concern. “You worry me, Rachel.”

  She felt her heart crack. Here was Jonah, giving up time with Miriam and the kids to come talk with her. To warn her. He and the rest of the family were why she didn’t just get up and go. Who would she love if they weren’t in her life?

  “You mustn’t worry about me, Jonah. I’m fine.”

  She wasn’t. She was torn in two, but he didn’t need to know that. If he sensed where she was going, what she was doing, he’d be forced by his position as deacon to confront her, maybe start proceedings against her.

  “Ask yourself what would Gott want from you,” Jonah said. “Obey Him, Rachel. Don’t let the world corrupt you, even through a woman as nice as Max. The price is too great.”

  With that he stood, grabbed his hat, and left. Just before he closed the door, he looked back at her. “Take care, Rachel.”

  What he meant was be careful. There were lines not to be crossed, and she and her actions were under scrutiny. She heard the jingle of the horse’s bridle and the creak of the buggy as he drove away.

  The price is too great. Jonah’s words cut at her heart.

  She bent forward, laying her head on her knees. The price was too great no matter which way she went.

  Chapter 11

  Max sat in the passenger seat per Pennsylvania
law while Rachel drove what would soon be her car to class.

  “When you go to school on Friday,” Max said with a smile, “you’ll be a licensed driver able to drive your very own car.”

  “I hope so.”

  “Uh-uh,” Max was adamant. “No negativity. You’re going to do fine. You remembered to use your turn signal at every turn this evening.”

  Rachel perked up a bit. “I did, didn’t I? As long as I remember the headlights if it’s raining during the test.”

  “The weather’s supposed to be great on Wednesday, but if it isn’t, I’m sure you won’t forget.”

  Rachel glanced at Max. “At least you won’t have to go everywhere with me anymore.”

  “I have not minded in the least.” She moved her shoulders, trying to make herself more comfortable. The seatbelt in this car always rubbed her neck. “It’s not nearly as nerve-racking riding with you as it was with Ryan and Ashley. I thought we’d never survive until they got their licenses. Then I worried they’d never survive to reach their majority. So you’re a delight, Rachel. A delight. Besides what else would I be doing?”

  Max heard her own sadness, lostness in that last question and flinched.

  Rachel glanced over at her. Apparently she decided to take what was meant to be a rhetorical question seriously. “Maybe you should take a class, Max. We could find something we’d both enjoy, and we could drive in together next semester.”

  Max made a face. “I don’t think so. I have no desire to put myself back under some demanding professor.” The very thought made her feel old and tired. “I’ve forgotten how to study.”

  “You could—”

  “I could but I don’t want to.” She hoped Rachel heard her end-of-discussion tone.

  Evidently not.

  “Maybe a night-school class where you learn a new craft or skill. You could try quilting. Or knitting.”

  “Are you serious?” If she didn’t know better, she’d think Rachel was trying to convert her to Amish, not that they welcomed converts. “I’m no good with a needle of any kind.”

  Rachel laughed, which made Max feel a little less lectured. “Me either. How about learning how to fix a motor?”

  Now Max laughed. “That’s why there are mechanics.”