The Search Page 20

  As soon as Bess had left with Billy and Maggie to go to the youth gathering, Jonah hurried to Lainey’s cottage. Yesterday, he had said goodbye to Sallie and her boys and Mose, and he wanted to be the one to tell Lainey the news of their departure, before Bess had a chance to tell her at church tomorrow. He found her in the backyard of her cottage, trying to turn sod over with a shovel.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  She looked up, surprised to see him, and wiped her forehead with her sleeve. “Making a space for a vegetable garden.” Then she turned her attention back to the sod.

  It was hard work, what she was doing. But that wouldn’t stop Lainey, he realized as he watched her huff and puff. If she made up her mind to do something, she would see it through.

  “Maybe I could help,” he offered.

  She gave him a sideways glance. “No, thank you.” Her tone was crisp.

  He came closer and put a hand on the shovel’s handle. “The place you’ve chosen gets too much afternoon shade. A vegetable garden needs at least six hours of sunlight a day.” He scanned the yard. “Over there, away from the cottage, would be better.”

  She blew air out of her mouth, exasperated. “You’re right.”

  She released her grip on the shovel and sat down on the porch steps. He set the shovel against the house and sat down next to her.

  “I’ll dig the sod for you. This week. Right now, even.”

  “I can get Billy to do it. You’ve got your . . . houseguests . . . to tend to.”

  He glanced at her. “Lainey, she . . . they . . . they’re gone. Sallie and Mose and her boys . . . they went back to Ohio.” He dropped his cane, leaned back against his elbows, and stretched out his legs, crossing one ankle over the other. “Autumn is coming, and Sallie’s boys need to start school and Mose needs to tend the business. I need to stay here and see to my mother’s estate.” He lifted his head. “Sallie and I . . . we had a talk the other night. There isn’t any Understanding between us . . . not anymore.”

  Lainey stared at her balled fists in her lap.

  “It’s for the best,” Jonah continued, his voice steady and strong. “We have different . . . ideas of marriage. We want different . . .” We want different people, he wanted to say, but he didn’t finish the sentence. He glanced at her between sentences, wondering what she was thinking. Unlike Bess, whose every thought revealed itself on her face, Lainey was hard to read. She was cautious and careful about her feelings. He watched her intently, waiting for a response.

  Lainey lifted her head and looked at the area Jonah had pointed out as a good spot for a vegetable garden. “Maybe . . . maybe that might be a better spot for the garden.”

  “It’s important to start with the right spot,” Jonah added with a smile, not at all sure they were talking about a garden plot. He rose to his feet and reached for the shovel. “The right spot makes all the difference.”

  He took off his jacket and threw it on the ground, then marked out the space for the garden before he began to dig. Lainey found a spade and worked alongside him, breaking up clumps of grass.

  Jonah felt happy and whole for the first time in what felt like forever. The deep calm had been missing before, but not now. Not anymore.

  Yesterday afternoon, Lainey had been stunned when Jonah told her that Cheerful Sallie had returned to Ohio. As he spoke, she kept thinking this was a moment when people pinch themselves in case they’re dreaming. She kept her hands in a tight ball and pinched the inside of her palms, just to make sure. And it hurt! she found, relieved.

  He had dug up a patch of earth for her to make a garden and agreed to stay for dinner in lieu of payment, and soon everything slipped back to normal between them. He stayed after dinner and helped her with dishes, leaving only when he thought Bess might be due in from the gathering. She could tell he didn’t want to leave, and knowing that made her heart sing.

  And today, Jonah said he wanted to go with her to the hospital to learn about all of the postoperative treatment that Simon’s convalescence would require. She was pretty sure Jonah must think she was crazy to take him in, but he didn’t say so. Instead, he helped her think through the details she would need for Simon, such as ordering a hospital bed. And then he listened endlessly as she described her plan to start a pie-baking business. She wouldn’t be able to work at the bakery anymore because she needed to be available for Simon. Mrs. Stroot crumbled when she had told her this morning that she was quitting the bakery. She crumbled even more when Lainey told her she planned to bake pies from her home.

  “You’ll run me clean out of business!” Mrs. Stroot had wailed.

  “I’d never do that to you, Mrs. Stroot! Never! How could I possibly hurt a person who has been so good to me? I thought I’d only make pies on days when the bakery is closed. I just need enough money to cover the mortgage.”

  Mrs. Stroot shook her head and wiped her tears. She gave Lainey a satisfied smile. “I have a better idea. I’ll buy your pies and sell them here. Fifty-fifty.”

  They shook on the arrangement, and Lainey had her first customer.

  Lainey could hardly wait to tell Jonah about the conversation with Mrs. Stroot. He had barely lighted from the buggy when she rushed to meet him with her news. “She wants me to bake pies for her every week! She said I could vary the fillings by what’s in season. And we even talked about down the road. That’s what she called it. ‘If this works out, Lainey, down the road, we can think about adding your signature cinnamon rolls.’ ” She looked at him with her black eyebrows raised in delight above her wide blue eyes.

  The brackets around Jonah’s mouth deepened ever so slightly, and his eyes tightened at the corners. Quietly he said, “Well then, perhaps we should see about getting you an oven.”

  Her face fell. She hadn’t thought about such practicalities. It was so like her, to jump into a lake before she learned to swim. Her enthusiasm for her plans always did carry her away. Of course she would need an oven! And a refrigerator. And a stove top. Her kitchen was sparse, only a table and two chairs, provided by Bertha. “I’ll have to go to Lancaster for that.”

  Jonah tilted his head. “Are you thinking you’ll use electricity? The cottage isn’t set up.” Then his gaze shifted beyond her.

  She knew what was behind that question. She had planned to be baptized this fall, but that had to be postponed because of Simon. If she were baptized, she would have to shun Simon. She would wait.

  Jonah had never asked her about joining the church. She was getting to know him well enough to know that he was watching and waiting, letting time provide the answer. “No. Not electricity. Bess has been teaching me how to cook on a propane stove top. And how to use a woodstove too.”

  Jonah looked back at her. “You could get those things, used, at an auction.”

  She nodded. “Then I’ll go to an auction.”

  Jonah stifled a patronizing smile. “Make out a list and I’ll get what you need.”

  “I can take care of these things.” I can take care of myself, was what she meant.

  Jonah gave a short laugh. “Might be a little hard to purchase items at an Amish auction, Lainey. You don’t speak Deitsch.”

  Now her spine stiffened. “I’m learning.” But she was a long, long way from being fluent.

  He walked up to her. “I’m offering to help. Would it be so hard to accept it?” He searched her eyes.

  Yes, she thought, suddenly shy. More than you could imagine. She’d always had a hard time accepting help from others. Depending on others. Trusting others.

  But she was trying to get past that obstacle. It was part of what she was learning this summer. How could she become Amish if she didn’t learn how to rely on her community? It would be like missing the forest for the trees.

  She wiped her hand on her apron and held it out to him to shake. “Then I accept your help.”

  Jonah looked at her extended hand, then took her hand in his. They remained that way for only the briefest moment, touching pal
m to palm; she was the one to pull away.

  She gave him a shy smile. “Thank you.”

  Dear Robin and Ally,

  Isn’t the start of autumn wonderful? The air is getting crisp in the morning and evening, and apples are falling off the trees! Don’t you just love autumn?

  So . . . perhaps there is a man of interest in Lancaster County after all.

  Love,

  Lainey

  P.S. By the way, did I happen to mention that I’m becoming Amish?

  Jonah took the time to find out what the state requirements would be to get permits and a license for a commercial kitchen. Then he drove a wagon to an auction and purchased a used propane refrigerator and stovetop oven, delivered them to Lainey’s cottage one hazy and humid September afternoon, and hooked them up for her. The sky had begun to cloud over and the kitchen grew dim, so Lainey held a lamp over his head while he worked. She studied his face in the shifting light of the flame. Once, he caught her eye and smiled. She considered how attractive he was—the type of man who was clearly comfortable in his own skin and had grown up unaffected by his good looks.

  When he finished, he stood and turned on the gas to the stove. When she saw the pilot light fire up, she clapped her hands together and said, “How can I ever thank you?”

  Jonah looked down at her. He was quite a bit taller than she was. “I should be thanking you, Lainey.”

  She wanted to ask why but could see he had something on his mind. He seemed to be carefully arranging his thoughts, so she remained quiet.

  “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you. The night of that accident, when you stayed by the buggy until the ambulance arrived. You kept saying not to give up . . .” He swallowed hard. “I remember. I remember hearing your voice and I held on to those words. They helped me stay alive.” His eyes became glassy with tears and he wiped them away with a laugh. “I can’t stop tearing up this summer. It’s like I’m shedding a lifetime of bottled tears.”

  They locked eyes for a long moment, then she leaned toward him. She stroked his face softly. He caught her hand and held it to his lips. He kissed it with his head bent over it so that she couldn’t see his eyes.

  A month had passed since Simon’s bone marrow transplant. Jonah and Lainey were seated in hard plastic chairs in an office as a nurse explained what to expect after Simon was discharged. His blood counts were returning to safe levels, the nurse said.

  “Does that mean the bone marrow transplant worked?” Jonah asked.

  “The transplanted marrow seems to be engrafting,” the nurse said. “We’re cautiously optimistic. But I have to warn you that recovery can be like a roller-coaster ride. The patient may be irritable and unpleasant with the caregiver. Helplessness is also a common feeling among bone marrow transplant patients, which can breed further feelings of anger or resentment.”

  “Even more than usual?” Lainey asked.

  “One day a patient may feel much better, only to awake the next day feeling as sick as ever.” She gave Lainey a bright smile. “So if his daily blood samples continue to show that he’s producing normal red blood cells, he can go home by the end of this week.”

  “So soon?” Lainey asked in a dull, polite way.

  “By the end of this week,” the nurse repeated cheerfully.

  Jonah had a funny feeling the staff was eager to have Simon leave.

  “In the first several weeks,” the nurse continued, “he’ll be weak and tired and will want to sleep and rest frequently. He’ll need to return to the hospital for frequent follow-up visits for medication, blood transfusions, and monitoring.”

  “And then?” Jonah asked. “How long until he can take care of himself?”

  “Recovery from a bone marrow transplant is lengthy and can take up to six months to resume normal activities, including returning to full-time work.”

  Jonah and Lainey exchanged a look of shock. Six months!

  “During the first three months after the transplant, he’ll be vulnerable to complications due to the fact that his white blood cell counts will be very low and incapable of providing normal protection against everyday viruses and bacteria. So he’ll have to avoid crowded public places such as movie theatres and grocery stores to avoid contact with potential infection.” The nurse clapped the file shut. “And he really shouldn’t have any friends visiting for a while.”

  Jonah’s eyebrows shot up. “Well, that shouldn’t be a problem. Simon has no friends.”

  That made the nurse burst out with a laugh. “Will wonders never cease?”

  The first morning after Simon was released from the hospital and moved into Lainey’s house, he rang a bell at five in the morning to wake her to help him find the bathroom. At six, he rang it again for coffee. At seven, he complained that the eggs she had scrambled for him were cold.

  Bess came by in the early afternoon to see if Lainey needed any help. Stoney Ridge was experiencing an Indian summer, and it was too hot to pick rose blooms. Jonah wanted to keep the rose petal harvest going, though he still hadn’t decided what to do about Rose Hill Farm or their home in Ohio, either. The roses were in their second bloom, and they had to work quickly in this heat to get those roses picked and dried. Lainey smiled to see the Band-Aids covering Bess’s hands.

  Lainey made Simon lunch, went back to the kitchen to clean up, only to have Simon ring the bell again. “I don’t like crust on my sandwiches,” he complained to her. “I don’t like crunchy peanut butter, only smooth. I asked for a Coke, not milk. Do you think I’m a six-year-old?”

  Lainey took his plate back to the kitchen and cut the crust off of his sandwich, then took it back to him with a Coke.

  Bess sat in the front room and watched this ongoing interaction. The third time Simon rang the bell to complain, Bess stood abruptly and held a hand in the air to stop Lainey from taking his plate back to the kitchen. “So, you don’t like your lunch?” Bess’s voice was dangerously calm.

  “Dang right I don’t like that lunch. Didn’t like breakfast, neither.” Simon turned to Lainey. “And I didn’t like the coffee. I told you I want it strong.”

  Bess picked up the bell, walked to the door, opened it, threw the bell outside, and closed the door.

  Simon did not make any further comments through the rest of lunch. He didn’t thank Lainey for it, but he didn’t complain about it, either.

  For the next few hours, Bess helped Lainey roll out pie crusts in the kitchen, and they talked quietly to each other as they worked, while Simon rested. Finally, sounding hurt that he was being left out of the conversation, Simon called to them to ask what kind of pies they were baking. Bess had just taken a pie out of the oven and stood at the door, holding it in her hands with hot mitts. “Apple and pumpkin.”

  Lainey pulled out a rack for Bess to set the pies on and asked Simon what his favorite pie was.

  He scowled at her. “I only like two kinds of pie: hot and cold.”

  Bess and Lainey laughed at that, genuinely laughed, and Simon’s mournful, hound-dog face brightened a bit.

  Not much later, Lainey and Bess were cleaning up the mess they’d made in the kitchen when an ear-busting woof came from the front of the cottage. Bess dropped the wet dishrag and hurried to open the front door.

  “Don’t open that door!” Simon hollered from his bed. “We’re getting bombed!”

  “That’s no bomb! That’s Boomer!” Bess said, clapping her hands in delight. She threw open the door and in charged Boomer, looking a little thinner and smelling pretty bad. He jumped up on Bess, then Lainey, then put his dirty front paws on Simon’s bed.

  “Get that mutt out of here,” Simon yelled. “He smells like he was on the wrong end of a fight with a polecat!”

  “This is Mammi’s dog, Simon,” Bess said. “His name is Boomer. He’s been out mourning for Mammi. But now he’s back. We’ll give him a bath and he’ll be as good as new.”

  “Fat chance of that,” Simon muttered.

  “If you wouldn’t mind k
eeping Simon company for a few minutes,” Lainey told Bess after they gave Boomer a bath, “I’ve got some laundry hanging that I need to take down.” She picked up an empty laundry basket and went to the backyard. Having a house of one’s own took getting used to, Lainey had quickly realized. There was always some little thing to be done. It wasn’t a big house, but there were plenty of chores.

  She took her time taking the dry clothes off the line. Hanging laundry was something she found she enjoyed doing. Pinning clothes up and letting the sun permeate them with its warmth was so much better than sitting in a dark Laundromat guarding a machine. Bess had told her once that working is a form of prayer. At first, Lainey had trouble understanding that. But now, she could see it. She thought it meant the kind of work that came from caring for others.

  When Lainey came back inside, she found Bess helping Simon drink from a glass of water. It was touching to see Bess, this child who had grown up with another life and another father, reaching out to this man. When Bess tossed that bell out the front door, it was like Lainey was watching some other girl entirely. Bess was so confident and clear about how to handle Simon. She handled him better than Lainey ever did. In fact, it just occurred to Lainey, she handled him the way Bertha used to. Bertha never stood for any of Simon’s bluster.

  Lainey tiptoed to the bedroom to fold the clothes. When she came back out, she found Simon had drifted off, and Bess was curled up in a corner of the couch, sound asleep. Boomer was on the foot of Simon’s bed, snoring.

  Later that week, Bess stood on the porch at Rose Hill Farm and waved goodbye to Andy Yoder after he had dropped off a bushel of ripe apples from his family’s orchard. Before turning onto the road, Andy looked back and yanked off his straw hat. He stood on the wagon seat, holding the horse’s reins in one hand, waving his hat in a big arc with the other.