Chapter 19

19

This is one of the most ridiculous things I’ve ever done,” Rochelle muttered under her breath as she scaled the front steps to the church.

Despite her words, the seagulls in her stomach had transformed into pelicans.

She reminded herself she was going in to meet with two of her favorite people in the world, her pastor and his wife. Silas would be there, and the thought warmed her a bit. She’d missed him, while keeping up with her studies along with her clients. He’d been off flying hither and yon.

And, the reason for tonight’s meeting was supposedly going to be present tonight, Vera Byler.

It had been weeks since the fateful trip to Atlanta, and they finally had an evening when they could all meet and “discuss” the issue.

Rochelle also reminded herself she had shown up at this meeting to help make some peace. If it made Vera feel better for them all to sit down and talk, so be it.

“Hi, I’m glad you came,” Bea said as Rochelle stepped into the foyer. “We’re going to chat in one of the classrooms. It shouldn’t take long.”

Bea led her to the room where they’d spoken on the Sunday morning after the Atlanta trip. Her husband sat at the head of the table, with Vera and her husband on to the right of him, Silas to the left, then an empty chair. Bea took the vacant chair at the foot of the table, opposite her husband.

This wasn’t as if she were Amish, called before the elders for some transgression she’d committed and needed to be reminded to repent.

Rochelle pulled the lone empty chair away from the table and took a seat.

“This is it; you’re the only ones here,” said Pastor Marv. “We should begin with prayer.”

She didn’t cast a glance at Silas beside her, but she sensed his presence. She bowed her head as Pastor asked for God’s blessing upon their meeting, as well as a spirit of unity, peace, and love.

Yes, she could agree with all three of those.

“The reason we’re here tonight is to mediate, Bea and I,” said Pastor. “I know you’ve expressed concerns, Vera, but the way you handled this wasn’t exactly biblical.”

Vera gasped. “Well—”

“Vera, let the man speak,” her husband said. “It’s not your turn whenever you decide.”

She said nothing more, but stared at the table.

“If you did have a true issue with Rochelle and Silas’s actions, you ought to have gone to Rochelle privately.” Pastor Marv’s tone was gentle. “Did you?”

“No, Pastor, I didn’t.”

Rochelle kept silent. How many people did Vera talk to about this? But then, Emma had. She suspected, however, Emma only had the motive to find someone to clean the houses Rochelle couldn’t.

She glanced at Silas, whose expression remained even, but his eyes warmed when her gaze met his.

Yes, it would be okay. She’d prayed about her feelings, especially regarding Vera. Sometimes, she wanted to give busybodies a piece of her mind.

And yes, she knew an overnight trip out of town wasn’t a good example. However, it was out of her control.

“Vera,” she said aloud. “I know at first, hearing something like this didn’t sound good. Or appropriate. But I’m your sister in the Lord. You’ve known me for years. I would never . . .”

“And I would never put Rochelle in a position to compromise her reputation, either,” Silas finished.

“Well, you two . . . have a history.”

Rochelle sat up straighter in the chair. “Silas and I . . . it was a long time ago. Our lives went in different directions. The trip to Atlanta was a . . . a . . .”

“I made her a promise I’d take her flying someday. The overnight stay was not planned.”

Why were they explaining themselves, yet again? She glanced at Pastor Marv and Bea.

Vera’s husband studied his wife’s face, then looked around the table.

Rochelle continued. “Vera, I’m sorry you believed our trip might have turned into something, ah, inappropriate. I would have never said yes to the trip were it an overnight trip. Besides not having the time, I consider it inappropriate to go on an overnight trip with an unmarried man. No matter if we stay in separate rooms. The fact is, and you’re right, people . . . talk.

“I can’t control what anyone thinks of me, or my actions. But I do know I have a clean conscience before God. I also know the Scriptures do speak of love always rejoicing in the truth. The truth is, Vera, nothing inappropriate occurred during our trip. You should be happy to know this.”

At the end of her speech, she found her pulse racing. She kept her hands firmly in her lap. Hopefully, no one could tell they shook.

“I’m . . . I’m sorry.” Vera bit her lip before continuing. “I was wrong to think the worst. I didn’t truly believe you would have done anything . . . inappropriate. You’re right, Rochelle. I’ve known you for many years. I would be . . . shocked . . . if I learned you ever did. And Silas, I don’t know you well. But Samuel speaks highly of you, especially after the meetings with the Heritage Committee.” She hung her head.

“And . . . I should have spoken to you myself and shared my concern. I was wrong to go to anyone else.” Her shoulders drooped. “Please, forgive me. This is a bad habit I have, to speak or think about anyone like this. Especially if I know it’s not true.”

Rochelle’s heart went out to the woman.

She’s lonely. She thinks she doesn’t matter as much anymore and craves attention.

“I forgive you, Vera. Any one of us can make wrong assumptions about people.”

Bea nodded. “So true. It’s a natural thing, to feel excited we might have some special knowledge about someone else, something no one else knows.”

Vera sighed. “You’re right.”

Silas cleared his throat. “Ah, I know I’m nearly at the end of my proving time. Pastor, will this affect my future membership in the church?”

Pastor locked eyes with Vera’s husband. An elder, of course. Rochelle kept her mouth closed. She said she’d forgiven Vera. She did. She’d work on it.

But no, it wouldn’t be fair if this “story” about Silas and her jeopardized his full membership in the Sarasota Mennonite fellowship.

Pastor shook his head. “No, Silas. You’ve been faithful here, ever since arriving in Pinecraft. Your family, at least your uncle and aunt, have been longtime members here. And of course, your many years of ministry overseas count for a lot.”

Some might not understand their ways of proving, but Rochelle appreciated it. People, no matter what they said, sometimes didn’t live up to what they professed to believe. Fellowship meant security, community, but it also meant accountability.

“Good. I’m glad. Thank you, Pastor Marvin.” Silas’s grin made her think of the grin he used to wear years ago.

She couldn’t help but grin herself.

After a little light conversation, the mood in the room lifted, and the three couples prayed together.

Rochelle recalled some trouble Vera had tried to cause last winter for Betsy. Maybe this had been Vera’s lesson, once and for all.

They left the church building, and the lightened sensation continued.

Silas walked with her to her bicycle.

“Feel better now?” he asked.

“Much better. I was dreading this meeting. I was hoping they’d say never mind and cancel the meeting.”

“This meeting was probably more for Vera’s benefit than anyone else’s.” Silas gazed over her shoulder.

She turned. The Bylers were walking to their vehicle. “Maybe.”

“We have a history,” he said.

“History is something that once was,” Rochelle countered.

“Rochelle . . . do you, would you consider, possibly . . .”

What was he asking her? Their road had taken more twists and turns and had a dead end. She had no idea what the future held, wasn’t sure if she wanted to wonder.

“Would you come to Uncle Tobias’s for dessert, Thanksgiving night? Maybe we could . . . go for a walk, too, afterward?”

She exhaled. Dessert and a walk she could handle. After all, they’d narrowly escaped scandal with their other trip. “Yes. I think I’d like to.”

They said good-bye, and she hopped onto her bicycle. No, she wasn’t twenty anymore, but she might as well be.

She waved before pushing off and gliding along the street in the gathering twilight. Passing by Pinecraft Park, she recalled the girls mentioning a concert in the park, as well as some volleyball, so she slowed her bicycle to see if she could find them.

* * *

The week continued and here came Thanksgiving day. Silas could only think about how he’d invited Rochelle for dessert and a walk.

The family meal had ended, with his parents, Uncle Tobias, Aunt Fran, Lena, Matthew, along with the rest of the Fry clan clustered in various spots around the house. A cold front had come through, causing temperatures to dip down and bring a chill to the Florida air.

He glanced toward the front door. His stomach still felt stuffed to the brim, but he’d find room somehow for a piece of Aunt Fran’s pie and maybe a bite of her blueberry delight.

“You expecting someone?” Uncle Tobias asked.

“Yes. I think so, if she decides to come.” Should he have offered to stop by her house and escort her here for dessert? Maybe it would have been a better idea.

“Rochelle is coming for dessert,” Lena said, nodding her head. “She mentioned it Tuesday, on the way home after classes.”

She’d mentioned dessert. Good. Or so he hoped.

“Ah, Rochelle Keim.” His mother gave him a knowing look. But she said no more.

Way back when, his parents hadn’t understood their parting of the ways. Looking back, he didn’t understand it either. Youth, in its rashness, often made life-altering decisions merely because they seemed like good ideas at the time.

He wouldn’t have decided what he did had she not pushed him away.

Of course, he could have been more persistent and less stubborn.

Was it worth the venture now, to spend more time with Rochelle and see what happened?

A brisk knock sounded on the door. Rochelle.

He should have walked to her home, met her there, and headed off on the walk before stopping for dessert here.

Silas strode to the door, ignoring his mother who’d stood up and moved in the same direction. Suddenly, he was twenty-one again, with clammy palms.

“R—Rochelle.”

“Happy Thanksgiving.” She smiled at him, and touched her kapp. A few stray hairs floated on the light breeze. She tugged her navy blue cardigan a little tighter.

“Dessert or a walk first?”

“We can walk first. I think I overdid it a bit at dinner.” Rochelle touched her stomach.

He joined her outside, and they headed off along the front walk. Delightful smells came from neighboring homes, and a few neighbors sat on their porches. They waved, and both he and Rochelle responded in kind.

“The neighborhood sure is quiet today,” Rochelle observed. “Yesterday, did you see how crowded it was? I had a hard time getting down the street, for all the cars.”

“What for? What was all the crowding about?”

“Yoder’s, pie pickup, day before Thanksgiving.”

“Ah. I wasn’t sure what was going on.”

Rochelle nodded. “Everyone lined up to get their pie orders. I don’t know how many thousand they prepared for this Thanksgiving, but it was a lot.”

“Speaking of preparation, what did you make for dinner?”

“Not much. I made mashed potatoes and a sweet potato casserole. I had clients to visit all the way up until five last evening. A few special requests before the holiday today.”

“You amaze me, Rochelle Keim.”

“What do you mean?” Her face colored.

“You’re busy making other people’s homes clean and orderly places. Lena is impressed. Thank you, by the way, for letting her work as a substitute cleaner.”

“She’s good. And you’re welcome. You and Belinda . . . I’m sure she was proud of Lena.”

“Yes, she was.” Silas said, “About Lena . . .” He stopped himself. This wasn’t the time to bring up the subject of the quick wedding so long ago, then Lena’s swift arrival.

“What about Lena?”

“Ah, never mind.” They reached the Bahia Vista light, the street surprisingly busy for a holiday.

He did realize he ought to tell her about the job offer, the details of which he’d kept a lid on while he pondered and prayed.

An unusual-looking vehicle approached from across the street and stopped at the red light. A black buggy, like Uncle Tobias’s only larger, had the appearance of a traditional Amish buggy, but had seating for six instead of four.

“Would you look at that? Another horseless buggy.” He smiled.

“They seem to be popping up all over the place.” Rochelle shook her head.

“I wanted to tell you about something, something I’ve only shared with Uncle Tobias so far.”

“Oh, what?”

“I got a job offer, but if I take it, I’m going to have to leave Sarasota.”

“Piloting for the Kingsleys, I assume?”

“Yes.”

“I liked the Kingsleys. They’re a nice couple.”

He couldn’t read her expression. Why did her reaction mean something to him? Maybe it was because he wanted to continue getting to know her again, but leaving Sarasota after the new year would definitely complicate the matter.

“I’d live in southern Connecticut, where they have a permanent home. They have a place here in Sarasota, but it’s more like a getaway spot for them. Ted said he’d even pay for advanced training, if I’m interested in flying larger aircraft like for overseas flights.”

“Oh, Silas, what an opportunity for you. But, Connecticut?” The light changed, and she hurried across. He lengthened his stride to keep up with her.

“I know. Matthew doesn’t want to leave Sarasota, he told me not long ago. Yes, he’s practically grown, but I don’t like the idea of the three of us all over the place.”

She slowed her stride. “Did you talk to him and Lena about the job offer?”

“Not yet.”

“Well, I’m, ah, honored you chose to speak to me first, outside of your family.”

“I couldn’t tell my parents. Not just yet. They still want me back in Ohio. Moving back there isn’t an option for me.”

“So, have you prayed about it?”

“I have.”

“What do you think the answer might be?”

“I . . . I don’t know. Not a yes, or a no. Of course, I see reasons why and why not. But not one more than the other.”

“Maybe the answer for now is to wait. When do you have to give him an answer?”

“On December twenty-third.”

“Ah, so you still have time to decide.”

He nodded. True. “You’re right.” They passed the Yoders’ complex of stores, closed for the holiday, and continued along toward Pinecraft Park.

Right about now, Silas wanted pie. But pie meant sitting in the room with unspoken questions and glances exchanged by his family members at Uncle Tobias’s house.

The shuffleboard courts had a quartet of players. No one played bocce on the expanse of park lawn today.

“This is the wedding site,” Rochelle announced.

“Wedding site?”

“The park lawn. It’s where Betsy and Thaddeus then Emma and Steven will be getting married on December thirtieth.”

“Huh, not at the churches. A bit out of the ordinary.”

“True.”

Did she know about the tension between Lena, Emma, and Steven? Maybe she did. He wasn’t about to bring it up. Better leave it unsaid, and hope things blew over.

“They wanted to share their day as much as possible. Which makes sense, not having to cook two reception meals. I’ve been drafted to help with cupcakes. We’re making three hundred, with aqua or teal blue frosting. Emma’s request.”

“She definitely knows what she wants.”

“On a good day, yes.”

They ambled along the path winding past Phillippi Creek. A heron on the opposite bank spread its wings, then soared into the sky.

The afternoon light made Rochelle’s face glow, erasing the years from her features.

No, the reason for his hesitation about Ted’s job offer stood beside him. He didn’t want to leave Sarasota, at least not so soon. And not without knowing where Rochelle stood.

Today, taking a walk, was literally another step telling him the door was open. Or, was he interpreting her politeness and kindness as interest?

Long ago, he never had a problem knowing what to say to her. Maybe it was the confidence of youth.

But now he stood beside her, after slogging through the weight of the past year. Some confidence. He’d been brave enough to take her flying, but only because of the Kingsleys. The look of bliss on her face as she told him what it was like to soar through the skies, well, he’d been buoyed along by her expression for days afterward.

He glanced around the park. The oblivious shuffleboard players kept up their game of skill, paying them no mind.

Silas reached for Rochelle’s hand. She didn’t pull away, but stood there, staring at his hand clasping hers.

“Rochelle . . .”

“Please, if you’re thinking about leaving, don’t . . .”

“I haven’t decided I’m leaving. Not yet. I want to know if there’s a reason you can think of for me to stay.”

“I want you to stay . . . as long as you believe you should.”

“No, do you want me to stay? Regardless of what I think? What do you want?”

“Silas, we’ve gotten to know each other again. I . . .”

“Don’t think of me. Think of what you want. You always think of other people before yourself. You deserve the same consideration you give others.”

Rochelle bit her lip. He knew he’d struck a chord, but he couldn’t stop.

“Use your voice. Tell me you want me to stay.”

“Silas . . .” Her voice caught, and she squeezed his hand. It took all his strength not to pull her into his arms. “I want you to stay. But I’ve learned in life, we don’t always get what we want.”