The view of early summertime through Lester’s attic window was stunning. The dogwood was in full bloom, and one of the horses was in the pasture right behind it. Jolene studied the view and had a loaded paintbrush in hand. But she knew this painting would be similar to all the others she’d done over the last eight months.
It didn’t matter what the view was or what season the view reflected. The focal point of the painting would be Andy. Maybe the artwork was therapeutic, and one day she would paint something or someone else. Out of respect for the Old Ways and perhaps because she had no experience painting faces, she left him faceless, although she would shadow in his skin color and beard. It fit well with her impressionistic-style work.
She’d been down this path of grief before. The trick was to allow herself to paint whatever came from her heart. Eventually other forms of life would begin to bud and sprout inside her again, much like spring itself.
Lester wasn’t here, and although he usually left a note for her, she didn’t know where he was. She wanted to talk to him about one thing: Glen. Discussing Preacher Glen might take a little time. To keep her word to Andy, she’d invited Glen to family functions since October. She also saw him at church and fellowships, but he hadn’t asked her to go anywhere with him since Christmas Eve. She’d told him then that she wasn’t ready to commit to dating. It was a serious matter to date a widower preacher. One date with him and word would buzz through the community. People loved him and were protective of him. If she dated him, they would assume it was serious, and she had wanted to be sure how she felt before agreeing to go out. Now she knew.
When the warning bell rang, signaling that someone was entering the house, she jolted. Why hadn’t she heard the clippety-clop of a horse-drawn carriage or car wheels on the driveway? She peered through the small window, seeing nothing.
“Lester?” Glen’s voice made her heart pick up its pace. It wouldn’t do for him to discover her secret. As a preacher he was obligated to uphold the Ordnung. Desperate to hurry downstairs, she fumbled the paint pallet while trying to lay it on the desk, almost dropping it. As she grabbed the pallet, her foot caught the easel, causing it to skid an inch or so. The sound echoed against the wood floor.
“Lester?”
Her hands shook as she steadied the easel. Was Glen coming up the stairs? She scurried to the steps and tiptoed down as quickly as possible to the second floor of the house, where all the bedrooms were. She closed the door behind her just as Glen topped the stairs, but she had no time to lock it.
When he saw her, his face showed concern and surprise. “Jolene, I didn’t realize you were …” He moved closer. “I came to visit, and then I heard odd noises, and no one answered my calls.” He seemed baffled. “Is everything okay?”
She swallowed, trying to slow her heart. “Ya, sure.” It would be easy to lie and simply say she was cleaning and had shifted the furniture, but she couldn’t go that far to cover her secret. Silence was one thing. A direct lie was too much. “Lester isn’t here.” Her breathing was rapid and her voice shaky.
“Jolene,”—he grabbed her wrist—“you’re bleeding.”
She tugged her hand free, noticing the swath of red paint across her palm. “No I’m not.”
He looked her over and angled his head. “Oh.” Tension eased from his face. “It’s paint,” he said, pointing at her dress. She glanced at the blue and green splotches, the effect of having almost dropped the pallet. “What’s going on?”
She shrugged.
“Jolene, you can trust me. You know that, right?”
Could she? Where was the line between his relationships and his duty as a preacher? But he deserved to know who she was. If he did, maybe he would decide on his own she wasn’t the one for him.
She opened the attic door and waited as if that one action was more than enough for him to understand. He took her cue and went up the stairs. She remained at the bottom, hoping for the best. Once at the top he paused, looking across the room.
Andy had asked her to put effort into a relationship with Glen, and in her estimation she’d given him a fair try. But it seemed to make them more awkward around each other. Were they even friends these days? She couldn’t build a future with him. That’s what she wanted to talk to Lester about. She respected Glen greatly, and she liked him, but he simply didn’t stir any romantic sentiments in her.
He descended the stairs, returning to her.
Did the look on her face match the emotions pounding her—embarrassment at having such a secret and dread of what he’d do?
He straightened his straw hat, looking every bit the preacher. “Who all knows?”
“Lester, Andy, and you.”
“Andy,” he mumbled.
She knew even less to say about that topic than about painting. On shaky legs she moved past him and went down the steps and into the kitchen, where a basket of laundry was waiting to be ironed. She set the flatiron on the stove and removed the wooden handle before she lit the gas eye. “May I fix you some lemonade or get you a glass of water?”
“I’m good. Denki.”
What would he do now that he knew her secret? She got out the ironing board and set it up near the stove.
He leaned against the counter. “You trusted Andy with your secret before me. I don’t understand.”
She froze, stunned. He’d not challenged her or asked questions about Andy since the meeting in October. She took a pair of pants from the basket and spread them on the ironing board. “I’m not sure what to say.”
“When I first considered dating you, I thought, I know Jolene Keim. But this past year I’ve come to realize that you don’t easily let people into the inner sanctuary of your heart. Even so, whenever I catch a deeper glimpse of the real you, I like you even more.”
She started to reattach the wooden handle to the flatiron, but she turned off the eye instead. At the very least Glen deserved her undivided attention. “I’m sort of the same way. The more I get to know you, the more highly I think of you. You are a rare and remarkable man. But … I would like to be allowed to move out of the singles’ section at church.”
He eased into a kitchen chair. “We both know the pain of losing loved ones, and you’ve had enough loss to understand that all people have is today. Together, you and I could make every day as good as it can be, but you’d rather stay single?” He gazed up at her. “At forty I’m way too old to play the fool, but I’ve played it for you. I knew there was a spark between you and Andy. You told me that yourself. But has it faded at all since that meeting last fall?”
“Glen, I am truly sorry. You’ve been good and kind, and you deserved better. But I’m not the one for you. I’ve had months to make my decision, and moving out of the singles’ section is the right thing for me.”
It didn’t mean she couldn’t ever marry, although it was a clear statement that she was no longer interested in marriage or being courted. But if she discovered a single man who had the power to own her heart like Andy had, even if it happened when she was fifty, sixty, or seventy, she would marry him.
Footfalls echoed on the front porch, and the door flew open. Lester entered the house holding a small paper bag with artist paintbrushes sticking out of the top. Lester spotted Glen and lowered the bag. “Preacher Glen, how are you today?”
“You and Jolene are good at keeping some pretty big secrets, aren’t you?” He walked out of the house, got in his rig, and left.
Glen was hurt and angry, and he knew their secret about the attic. Was Jolene about to see his less-than-noble side?
Ray slit open the last bag of mulch, and Teena surveyed the pots of flowers and the freshly mulched islands. They had added splashes of fall colors, but they were also preparing the ground for winter.
She passed Ray the shovel. “My Mamm usually does most of the fall yard work by herself. I do not want to miss the expression on her face when she arrives home in an hour or so from visiting her sister. She’s going to love it.”
“Gut.” He wiped sweat from his brow. The long shadows of mid-September stretched across the yard, but the heat of summer had yet to break. Almost a year had passed since he’d sat in Andy’s home and answered questions about his sister’s behavior with a married man. How different this day was. “You’ve been a lot of help today.”
“Ya, I began today hoping if I worked hard, you’d have enough energy left to take me out tonight. But now I’m too tired to care.”
He chuckled. “Really? Even for a meal at Burger and Shakes?”
“I could manage that.”
“Good, because James was frustrated that he couldn’t come help today. If you were too tired to go out with me after this, he’d be doubly frustrated.”
“So I need to ask you a question … for my Mamm.”
He pulled his leather-bound notebook out of his pants pocket. “I’ve been studying and taking notes on various yard plants for nearly a year, so maybe I’ll know or have the answer.”
“Are we officially seeing each other, or am I just someone you take out to eat when you’re working in the area?”
Ray liked this question, but he remained studious and flipped through pages of his notebook. “I don’t have an answer to that in here.” He lowered the book. “But I do in here.” He touched the center of his chest. “I’d like it if you saw no one else, and I never have seen anyone else, but at nineteen I’m years from being ready to marry.”
“I haven’t gone out with anyone in a very long time … except for our occasional dates. And I’m years away from being ready to marry too.”
It seemed to him that every day he spent with Teena, though it wasn’t often, was better than all the others combined. “Then tell your Mamm we’re seeing each other and no one else. In the meantime get back to work.”
“If we ever have children, I’m telling them about today. Completely lacking in romance but rich with demands to get back to work.”
Ray removed his hat, bent low, and kissed her on the lips. When he backed away a few seconds later, her cheeks were red.
She looked around to see if anyone was watching. “That was really nice.”
“Not bad,” he teased.
She nodded. “You’re right. We might need a little practice.”
Ray slid his dirty hands over hers and squeezed. “I could manage that.”