The Search Read online

  Lainey exhaled with relief. “Good. I mean, I’m glad she’s home.” She turned to leave.

  “You . . . were right. She wasn’t upset. Not upset at all.”

  She turned and looked at him. “But you didn’t believe me.”

  He looked uncomfortable, but he didn’t dispute her. “She’s upstairs, changing into dry clothes. Would you come in and wait for her?” His eyes were pleading.

  “No. But tell her I stopped by.” She saw a hurt look cross his face, and straightaway she wished she had not sounded so curt. All that mattered right now was that Bess was home.

  She started to leave, but Jonah touched her arm lightly to stop her. His voice dropped to a whisper. “She said that she felt as if God had a purpose in all of that. By protecting her.”

  Lainey gave him a direct look. “She’s absolutely right.”

  Jonah took a step closer to her. “Lainey. I’m sorry for doubting your judgment. Your judgment is far better than mine about these matters.”

  “We can talk about it tomorrow.”

  “I didn’t want to lose Bess.”

  “You love your daughter.” Her voice was flat—without salience. “It’s normal to want to hold on tight to those we love.”

  “Maybe there’s such a thing as holding on too tightly.” He looked away. “Tonight I wondered if God might be testing me, the way he tested Abraham with Isaac.” He folded his arms against his chest. “As if he wants me to figure out if I trust him completely or not.”

  Lainey softened a little. “It’s the worst place to be, half trusting, half not.”

  He rubbed his forehead. “That’s where I’ve been for the last fifteen years. Stuck right in that very place. The worst place to be. I haven’t really been living, I’ve just been tiptoeing around, trying to avert disaster.”

  “It doesn’t work,” Lainey said, quiet but firm. “You just end up missing the life you have.” Through the window, she saw Bess come down the kitchen stairs and look around the room for her father. “Go. Talk to her.”

  Jonah reached out his hands to her. “Come in with me. Let’s talk to her together.”

  Lainey hesitated. Doubts about Jonah had been buzzing around her all afternoon. She shook her head. “No. I’d better get back.”

  Jonah watched her carefully. Her words and posturing were bold, but only skin deep. As if she was on a precipice. “Lainey, please?” His question, and the gentleness in his voice, disarmed her. He kept his hands extended, waiting for her to take a step toward him. Just waiting.

  A silence came between them then. A silence she could feel, for it was thick with words that had never been spoken.

  Jonah’s face opened for an instant: trust and hope.

  She felt a sense of perspective wash over her. This was Jonah. Her Jonah. Jonah wasn’t the kind of man Robin and Ally thought him to be—mean-spirited and controlling. Why, in fact, she suddenly realized they were describing a man like Simon! Jonah wasn’t like Simon, not at all. Just the opposite. He asked her opinion about things and really wanted to know her thoughts. He helped her set up her pie business. Why had she allowed Robin and Ally to influence what she knew to be true? How could she have let that happen? Her friends said Amish women had no self-esteem. If only they had met Bertha Riehl! Bertha had a stronger self-esteem than anyone she’d ever known. And Bertha was Amish to the core.

  Lainey’s heart lifted. She knew Jonah’s heart—knew it in some fundamental, important way. Yet she’d held herself back from him, not trusting this love that had come so unexpectedly, from such an unexpected source. She looked at him long and hard, tears in her eyes, then reached out and tangled her fingers with his. He tugged on her hands and drew her close. She felt his arms go round her, and they clung to each other as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

  On Tuesday evening, Mrs. Stroot dropped by Lainey’s cottage with an order for one hundred little six-inch pumpkin pies and seventy nine-inch pecan pies for the Stoney Ridge Veteran’s Day Parade, to be delivered on Friday afternoon. Lainey was thrilled and quickly agreed when Mrs. Stroot told her about the order. She needed the money; setting up a home business had cost more than she expected, and her savings account was dwindling rapidly.

  The gray light of an autumn dawn was beginning to appear at the window as Lainey sat at the kitchen table the next morning and decided she must have temporarily lost her mind. How could she possibly bake that many pies in such a short amount of time? She was still getting accustomed to a propane stove. Not every pie turned out like the one before. Even with Bess’s help, she was facing a daunting task. She sat at the kitchen table, notepad in her hand, and tried to make a list of all of the ingredients she would need. Then she put the pencil down and stared at a point on the ceiling.

  “I can’t do it,” she said to herself. “It’s my own fault. I got greedy. I thought I could do it, but I can’t.”

  “Yes, you can,” Simon said.

  Lainey hadn’t even noticed that he had come into the kitchen for coffee and had been watching her. “My pies are too inconsistent. I would need to make double the quantity, just to make sure I have ones to sell.”

  Simon lifted one shoulder in a careless shrug. “I’d sooner have a slice of your worst pie than anyone else’s best.”

  Lainey’s head snapped up. She couldn’t believe her ears. Was Simon actually paying her a compliment? She couldn’t quite tell.

  He looked away, embarrassed. “Keep writing that list. I’ll head into town and get the supplies. You better get moving.”

  Tears came into her eyes. “Simon . . . I don’t know what to say . . .”

  “Don’t say anything or I’ll take back my offer,” he groused, but he looked pleased.

  There followed two of the busiest days Lainey had ever known in her life, and certainly so for Simon. The two of them, plus Bess and even Jonah, rolled out endless mounds of pastry dough, cracked open pecan shells for the nuts until their fingers were stained and blistered, stirred fillings, and sampled the results. The kitchen, in a white fog of flour, had a heavenly scent of vanilla and cloves and pumpkin and blackstrap molasses. The pies were laid out on baking racks, like little works of art. Lainey displayed a streak of perfectionism; only the best would be delivered to Mrs. Stroot. She had to keep sending Simon up to the store for ten-pound bags of sugar and another big can or two of Crisco. He went without complaint, which amazed her. He drove Jonah’s horse and buggy as if he’d done it every day of his life. Boomer rode along as shotgun, just the way he had accompanied Bertha. Simon liked to gripe about Boomer, but he whistled for the big dog to come along whenever he was going anywhere.

  By Friday morning, Lainey had the pies ready for delivery in pink boxes that Mrs. Stroot had provided. Jonah and Simon, with Boomer shadowing him, took the pies over to the lunch grounds for the parade. Then they came back for the pies that didn’t make the cut and delivered those to grateful neighbors.

  “She’s been working me like a whole pack of bird dogs,” Simon groused to Caleb on Sunday afternoon. “She’s aiming to put me back in the hospital and kill me for certain.” Boomer lay sprawled right by Simon’s side.

  Lainey was used to him now and paid no attention to his tone of voice. “Don’t you lie to the bishop, Simon,” Lainey called out from the kitchen. She wiped her hands on her apron and leaned against the doorjamb. “But I will say you’ve been a big help. I couldn’t have done that big order for Mrs. Stroot this week without you.”

  Simon turned to Caleb. “That’s the gospel truth. I saved the day.” He stroked Boomer’s big head.

  Then Simon smiled—for the first time, thought Lainey—and it was not a smile that lasted long. But still, Simon had smiled.

  Billy tossed some pebbles up at Bess’s window late one evening. He cupped his hands around his mouth and whispered loudly, “Can you come down?”

  Bess’s heart left the ground and sailed into the night sky. She dressed quickly and hurried downstairs. Maggie had said she was prett
y sure he was courting Betsy again, but Bess didn’t believe it. Would he be coming to see her now, if he were still interested in Betsy?

  She opened the kitchen door as quietly as she could and met him at the bottom of the stairs. She stopped on the last step so she was eye level to him. She couldn’t pretend; she was thrilled to see him. But her delight seemed to distress him. A flicker of fear came and went through her, but she dismissed it.

  “Oh Bess,” he said, taking her hand and holding it to his face.

  Bess’s intuition rang an alarm. Something was badly wrong, she felt sure, though she did not know what. She looked into his eyes. His face was working with emotion. He was struggling for words. She could almost hear him trying out different words in his head.

  “I need to tell you something. I want you to hear it from me first.” He swallowed hard. “It’s about me. About me and Betsy. We’re going to get married. Soon. Betsy doesn’t want to wait.”

  So it was true. Bess said nothing, unable to take it in. She blinked away tears and looked down to hide her confusing emotions. Then one strong feeling broke through: disappointment that felt like a knife wound.

  Billy grasped her arms and pulled her close to him. “You know, don’t you? That you’ve meant something special to me?”

  He kissed her mouth. It was a new kind of kiss, different from the one he had given her the night before her surgery. It was as if he was determined to remember the moment. She realized, with dismay, that he was thinking this would be their last kiss.

  She clung to him, wanting it to go on forever, but all too soon he drew away and turned to go down the drive. Bess stared at him as he walked away, chin to chest, hands jammed in his pockets, beautiful in the moonlight. So this is what it felt like to have your heart break.

  When Billy was out of sight, Bess went back to the house, up to her room, closed the door behind her, and lay down on the bed. Her body started to shake with sobs. Once she started to cry, it was hard to stop. She cried because she had lost Billy for good. She cried because life seemed so unfair sometimes. She cried because she missed Mammi. She wanted her grandmother.

  Billy walked home from Rose Hill Farm that night feeling lower than any man on earth. He hated hurting Bess like that. Her face looked so trusting, so eager to please, when she first came outside to him tonight. Unfortunately, she looked particularly pretty. Her soft white skin seemed to glow, and the light blue dress she was wearing made her eyes the color of a tropical sea.

  Then, after he told her about planning to marry Betsy, her face looked as pained as if he had wounded her. It tugged at his heart, and tears came to his eyes. He had to look away so that she would not see. He wished she would have yelled at him or thrown something at him. The disappointed look on her face cut him to the quick. He had dreaded telling her about him and Betsy. What he truly feared, he realized, was hurting Bess. He could bear her anger; it was her pain he could not face.

  She must have heard some gossip about him and Betsy. She must have noticed how he had been unable to meet her eye the last few weeks. But she seemed shocked by his news. It shamed him, how she always believed the best in him.

  Could he be in love with two different girls at the same time? And such different girls. Bess was so full of curiosity, eyes as big as saucers, and her face would light up with excitement over new things. He found himself thinking of her at the oddest moments, when he saw a soaring Cooper’s hawk or found a hummingbird’s nest with that delicate fir bark lining its cup. He’d never forget how thrilled she was when he brought her the newspaper clipping that the United States Supreme Court agreed to hear the case of Wisconsin vs. Yoder. With her face lit up with happiness, she kissed the clipping and declared she was never going to have to step into a school again as long as she lived. He thought it was ironic that she was so glad to be done with school. She was the smartest girl he knew.

  But then there was Betsy. He’d been crazy about Betsy for as long as he could remember. Finally, she seemed to be equally as smitten with him. They kissed every chance they got: behind the barn at gatherings, when they met on the road, in the buggy, and—best of all—when he was at her house and her parents went off to bed and they found themselves alone. He thought about kissing her before he dropped off to sleep, and it filled his mind as soon as he woke up. He lived for those moments.

  So why did he often feel a painful jumble of anxiety?

  He rubbed his hands over his face, exasperated. What was wrong with him? What kind of man was he?

  He would have liked to have slowed things down with Betsy, but she seemed insistent to get baptized and married soon. Six months ago, he would’ve jumped at the chance to hear Betsy Mast say she would marry him. Now, it made his stomach twist up in a tight knot. In fact, it suddenly occurred to him that he hadn’t actually asked Betsy to marry him. They were necking down by the pond and she started talking about how nice it would be to not have to stop but to wake up in each others’ arms every morning. He must have murmured that he agreed because next thing he knew, they had a meeting set up with the bishop. He knew he had to talk to Bess before they spoke to Caleb Zook.

  Billy loosened his collar. Lately it felt like it was cutting off his air supply.

  Jonah could see that Bess was hurting. She was quiet and pale and her eyes were swollen like she’d been crying. These were the moments when he longed for a wife. Bess needed a mother. He hoped she would talk to Lainey about whatever was bothering her, but Lainey was taking Simon to the hospital today for a checkup. Usually, that meant a long day.

  When Billy came by early today to say that he needed to quit working at Rose Hill Farm, Jonah put two and two together and had a pretty good idea about what was troubling Bess. Last week, Lainey had tipped him off that she had seen Billy with a girl in his courting buggy a couple of times lately.

  He found Bess in the barn, Boomer by her side, gathering up the dry petals and stuffing them into bags. They sounded like crackly tissue paper as she stuffed. His heart went out to her. Her head was down and her shoulders slumped. He saw a dried tear on her cheek.

  “Bess, I need to tell you something.”

  She kept working, kept her head down.

  “There’s something I’ve discovered that you and I have in common.” It was never easy for him to say things out of his heart, but there was something he needed to say. “When we love someone, we love them with our whole heart.”

  She put the bag down and bent down to pat Boomer.

  It’s funny, he thought, that it’s always easier to talk about important matters with our eyes turned away. He let his cane slip to the floor, leaned his hip against the table that held the rose petals, and folded his arms against his chest. “I’ve learned something this summer. I’ve learned that I have a tendency to make a person I love too important. They start filling the spot that only God should hold in my life. I did it with Rebecca, and when she passed, I felt that great void for far too long. I’ve done it with you, and when I found out that Simon was your father, I felt that void again.” He chanced a look at her. “The Lord has to keep teaching me the same lesson. To hold on a little more lightly to others and to trust him in a deeper way.”

  He crossed one boot over the other. “Lainey is a good example for us. She’s always depended on God in just the right way.” He was a better person for knowing her. Lainey had an ability to make him revise his stiff attitudes—like his attitude about Simon. Or about telling Bess the truth. It was an uncomfortable process, but she was so often right. And he had nearly lost her, that night. He had held himself so close and tight, so afraid to love again after Rebecca died. “When we left to go back to Ohio, Lainey was sorry and she missed us, but she wasn’t devastated. She left us in God’s care.” He looked up at Bess. “And the Lord brought us back here, didn’t he?” But he knew that things rarely turned out nice and neatly in this life.

  Bess stood and picked up a handful of rose petals, letting them slip through her fingers back onto the table. “I don’
t think the Lord is going to bring Billy and me back together. He’s marrying Betsy Mast.”

  So that’s what had happened. Jonah put his large hand over Bess’s. He wished he had better words, softer ones. “Then we can trust in God’s plan for Billy and Betsy. And trust God has another plan for you. A good plan.”

  With that, Bess dove into his arms. They stood there for a while, with Jonah’s chin resting on her head, until Boomer stood abruptly, hackles raised, and let out a huge bark. He tore outside and kept barking as he ran down the drive.

  “Someone must be coming,” Jonah said. “I’ll go see who Boomer is scaring half to death.” Before he turned to go, he stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. “Things have a way of turning out in the end.”

  She gave him a slight smile. “That’s what Mammi used to say.”

  The taxi had dropped Lainey and Simon back at her cottage from the hospital. Lainey was so happy she felt as if she were floating. She made Simon a cup of his favorite tea and told him she would be back soon, that she had an errand. She hurried up the hill to Rose Hill Farm, practically bursting with happiness. She stopped to pet Boomer at the bottom of the hill and when she looked up, there was Jonah. She walked up to him, a smile wreathing her face.

  “Simon’s well, Jonah. He was given the all clear by the doctors! He still has to be tested every six months, but he can go back to living a normal life . . . whatever normal means for Simon Troyer.”

  Jonah put his arms around her waist and swung her in the air, laughing. “We can finally make plans!”

  “What kind of plans?” she asked him boldly when he set her down. She needed to know.

  He took in a deep breath. “Plans to marry, you and me,” he said in a voice as dry as toast. “That is, if you’re willing to have me.”

  When she didn’t answer, his face grew worried. He suddenly looked so earnest and vulnerable and sincere that any doubts if he loved her evaporated, like steam from a cup of hot tea. In its place swept a feeling of assurance, of safety, of tenderness, and an overwhelming love. The love she felt for him was so strong it burned her every breath.