It was after dark Monday evening and still raining when John got back to the clinic. He pulled his truck into the triple garage and let himself in by a side door. He switched on the overhead lights and went to the supply room to refill the compartments in the back of his truck. He’d retrieved two bottles of lidocaine, a case of bandages, a package of gauze and a suture kit when he heard footsteps behind him.
“John?” his uncle called. Albert halted in the doorway and held out an oversize mug. “Nasty night out,” he remarked. “Made you some herbal tea. Lemon.”
“Thanks. Hold it for me until I get these in the truck, will you?” He’d hoped to slip into the house and go up to bed without running into either Uncle Albert or Gramps. He was in no mood for talking. All day he’d wrestled with his feelings about Grace, and he kept coming back to a dead end. His uncle was one of his favorite people in the world, and he deserved better than the poor company that John would be this evening.
The older man watched him for a moment. “Why don’t you come to my office? I’ve been catching up on my reading. There’s half a pepperoni pizza left.”
John nodded. “Sounds good. I think I missed lunch today.”
“And breakfast? Or did Grace feed you some of Hannah’s blueberry pancakes before she told you she was quitting?”
John dropped the supplies onto a cardboard box on the table. “Maybe we should talk. I can do this in the morning.” He followed his uncle down the hall into what had once been a spacious den in the original house.
This was a man’s room, without the hint of a woman’s touch: dark paneling, a rough stone fireplace, hardwood floors, bare of even a single throw rug. Two brown leather easy chairs and a small table were arranged in one half of the space; the other end of the room sported an oversize wooden desk and office chair, a fax machine/scanner and a pair of nineteenth-century oak cabinets. The walls were lined floor to ceiling with bookcases, filled to the max and overflowing onto the floor. The only decorations were three English oil paintings of hunting dogs.
John loved Uncle Albert’s office. Other than the size and brand of computer, the room had barely changed since he was a boy. He paused for a few seconds, inhaling the scents of burning applewood, cold pizza and Labrador retriever. John had never entered this room without feeling the warm embrace of coming home. The familiar sensation didn’t let him down tonight, and in spite of his distress about Grace, he was suddenly glad he accepted the offer of pizza and man-talk.
Travis, Uncle Albert’s three-legged Lab, raised his head and thumped his tail against his sheepskin bed in greeting. “Hey, there, Trav,” John said to the animal. “Flush any ducks today?” Uncle Albert never hunted, but he liked to take Travis to the marsh regularly so that the dog could swim and flush waterfowl. When John was a boy, those trips to the woods and saltwater marshes had inspired his love of wildlife photography.
John took his usual seat in the chair to the left, facing the hearth. Uncle Albert tossed Travis a biscuit and handed John the lemon tea. The three of them sat in silence for a good ten minutes while the warmth of the crackling fire and the tea drained the chill from John’s muscles and bones.
It was John who broke the comfortable stillness between them. “How did you find out that Grace quit?” He hadn’t wanted to talk about Grace, but so long as it was the elephant in the room, they couldn’t move on to something else.
“She called in about nine o’clock. Spoke to Dad. Said you knew about it.” He arched an eyebrow quizzically. “You two have a falling-out? Heard you were pretty cozy at the bazaar on Saturday.”
John made a show of scowling, but it was impossible to be out of sorts with Uncle Albert. For a man who’d never married, he was surprisingly knowledgeable about women. And usually as inclined as them to gossip. Very little went on in the Mennonite or Amish communities that Uncle Albert didn’t know about. He was never unkind and he was careful with whom he shared his information, but he always knew all the news before it came out in the Budget or the State News.
“We had a good time together Saturday,” John agreed. “And when I told her about the chance to take the tech course, she seemed genuinely excited about the idea.”
Uncle Albert opened the pizza box, which had been standing on a section of a cherry log that did double duty as a footstool and table, and selected a generous slice. He pushed the box toward John.
John didn’t bother to argue. If he refused the pizza, his uncle would remind him that he couldn’t run a motor vehicle without fuel and a man was much the same. Uncle Albert was a stickler for three meals a day, no matter how irregular the fare and what time the food was consumed. John ate the pizza in silence, reserving one round of pepperoni and a bite of crust for Travis, who watched the entire process with eager anticipation.
“No begging,” Uncle Albert chided.
John knew the disclaimer was just for show. His uncle would be the first to share his food with the Lab, and fortunately, despite his handicap, Travis had the metabolism of a hummingbird. No matter how much the dog ate, he never put on too much weight.
“She quit because of me,” John admitted. “She knows or she’s guessed how I feel about her. I guess she’d rather give up her job than be around me.” And not for the first time, he wondered if he’d come on too strong...if he had read her wrong about returning his attraction. Guilt weighed heavily on him. If he’d hurt Grace or caused her to feel threatened, he’d done more harm than he’d guessed. That was the last thing he wanted.
“But you said she seemed interested in getting the education.” Uncle Albert rubbed at his graying beard. “Hannah put the kibosh on it? Because the Amish don’t approve?”
John nodded. “Grace has her heart set on being Amish.”
Albert mulled over that statement for a minute. “I suppose she has her reasons.”
“She does.” John wasn’t prepared to share with his uncle what Grace had told him about her marriage. Honestly, it wasn’t Uncle Albert’s business...or anyone else’s, for that matter. “But it isn’t realistic. You know her chances of becoming Amish and having it work out are—”
“Less than a snowman’s chance in Hannah’s oven on baking day.” Uncle Albert removed a second slice of pizza and offered it to John. He shook his head, and his uncle settled back and began to eat it himself.
“When she told me she didn’t want to take us up on the offer, I tried to make her see reason. I wanted to tell her how much I care about her, but she wouldn’t let me. We argued, and she told me that she was quitting. That was Saturday afternoon. I had hoped that she’d change her mind once she had time to think things over. She told me not to come for her this morning.”
“You did, anyway.”
John nodded. “When she didn’t come out, I went up to the back door. Johanna answered, told me that Grace had quit. That she wasn’t going to work at the clinic. Not this morning...not any morning.”
“How come you didn’t give me a call? Let us know what was up?”
“I’m sorry. I should have, but I...I didn’t want to...” He tossed the last morsel of pizza crust to Travis. “The truth is, I guess I felt as if telling you might make it real, and I didn’t want it to be.”
“You still have it bad for her, don’t you?”
John nodded. He did, and the disagreement hadn’t changed his mind one bit. He wasn’t ready to give up on her.... The trouble was, he didn’t have the faintest idea how to fix things between them. He didn’t know if it was even possible and the idea made him miserable.
“Have you considered that you might be rushing into this? That you don’t know Grace well at all? That a few weeks...even a few months’ acquaintance isn’t the soundest foundation for a marriage?”
John leaned forward and rested his hands on his knees. “I can’t explain how Grace makes me feel. It’s...” He stopped and started again. “The closest I can come is to say she completes me. When I catch sight of her, the sun comes out, no matter how hard it’s raining.”
His uncle groaned. “It’s a weakness we Hartmans have. We get our heads set on one woman, no matter how unlikely it is that we can win her, and we won’t give up.”
“I know I told you that I loved Miriam, but this...this is different.”
Travis laid his head on Uncle Albert’s foot. His uncle reached down to pat the dog’s head and scratched behind his ears. “Just the same, I was proud of you, the way you handled losing Miriam. I was afraid it would make you end up an old bachelor like me, and I have to admit, I’m glad to see you interested in someone else.”
“It’s more than interest,” John said. “I understand where you’re coming from. If our positions were reversed, I’d be cautioning you. It does sound rash to say I feel like this about Grace when we’ve hardly ever been alone together.” He hesitated. “What I want is a chance to see if we’re right for each other.”
“And what about her? How does she feel about you?”
John shook his head. “The same, I think. But she won’t admit it, not to me, maybe not to herself.”
“Because you’re not Amish.”
“Exactly. She’s just being so stubborn about the whole thing. She doesn’t want to give us a chance. She doesn’t realize that I can give her what she’s looking for. The Amish don’t have a market on good, old-fashioned courting.” He gestured toward himself. “I could court her.”
“Take her out in your buggy?” Albert chuckled. “In your truck? Maybe take her to a frolic or two? Or a work bee?”
John nodded. “I’d like to take her to services on Sunday, let her see what our church has to offer. I want to show her what I have to offer.”
“Grace hasn’t been baptized into the Amish church yet, has she?”
“No. There’s been no talk of baptism.”
“Then, technically, she’s not breaking any rules by dating you. So long as you two stay out of mischief.”
John felt himself flush. “It isn’t like that. I want to marry Grace. I want to be a father to her little boy.” He paused. “She’s just not seeing the situation clearly.”
Uncle Albert waited, giving John time to think.
“I wish it wasn’t just me pleading my case,” John said. “I wish Hannah would tell her how difficult it will be for her to convert.”
Uncle Albert untied one work shoe and pulled it off. He massaged his foot. “And you’ve talked to Hannah about this, have you?”
“No. I didn’t think... No, I haven’t. I was afraid Grace would take it the wrong way if I went behind her back to Hannah.”
“Fair enough.” Uncle Albert reached for the lace on his other shoe, taking his time before speaking again. “But there’s nothing to keep me from putting a bug in Hannah’s ear, is there? Letting her know you could use a little help.”
“I suppose not,” John answered slowly, “but—”
“But.” Uncle Albert broke into a wide grin. “Everybody calls me an old busybody. Might as well have the game as have the name, don’t you think?”
* * *
The following morning, Grace stood at the door of that same room and knocked. “Dr. Hartman,” she called. “It’s Grace Yoder. Could I speak to you?” When he answered in the affirmative, she took a deep breath and walked in. “I owe you an apology,” she said. “I’m sorry. Quitting without giving notice was wrong.”
Albert Hartman turned from his filing cabinet with a folder in his hand. “You’ve changed your mind?” he asked, not unkindly. “You’d like your job back?”
“No, sir,” she answered. This was worse than she’d thought it would be. Her mouth was dry, and her stomach felt as though she’d been riding a Ferris wheel at double speed. “No...I...” She tried again. “I realized what I did was wrong—quitting on you like that. I’d like to finish out the month, to give you time to find someone else to take care of the kennels.” She knotted the corner of her apron in one hand. “I don’t expect you to pay me. I just don’t want to leave you without help—you’ve all been so good to me. I’m really sorry that this hasn’t worked out.”
Dr. Hartman’s eyes narrowed. His eyes were brown, and his expression was so like John’s that she could feel her pulse racing.
“I didn’t realize that you were unhappy here, Grace.” He closed the drawer on the file cabinet. “We all thought you were doing an excellent job. That’s why we offered you the opportunity to enter the vet tech program at Del Tech. Is that why you decided you didn’t want to work here anymore? Because we suggested you might be able to use some further education?”
“No, sir. Well, a little, maybe.” She looked down at the hardwood floor, then up at him again. “Mostly, it’s personal. I don’t know if John told you, but I plan to join the Amish Church. The Amish aren’t allowed to go to college.”
He placed the file on his desk. “So you weren’t interested in the program?”
“I would have been if Hannah hadn’t...” She stopped short. “It’s not fair for me to keep the job when someone else could use the opportunity to attend college. I love it here, I do, but...” She clasped her hands together. “But the truth is, I come in contact with too many people here. Englishers. I need to...separate myself. Be less worldly.”
Dr. Hartman tapped his pen against the desk, not in an impatient way, but in a manner that she’d seen him do when he was considering treatment for one of his patients. “Are you certain that no one here, no one in particular made you feel uncomfortable?”
“Oh no,” she insisted.
“Nothing John or I did to upset you?”
Grace felt her cheeks grow warm at the mention of John’s name. “No, really. John’s been very kind to me and to my son.”
“And Hannah didn’t object to him driving you home?”
Grace shook her head. “No, not at all.”
“Good. Good. Tell you what,” Dr. Albert said. “How about if you go ahead and continue on in the kennel until...let’s say after the holidays. We’ll just go on as we have been until I can locate a replacement for you.”
“But the college? Won’t someone have to register for the spring term soon?”
“Nobody else I’d take the chance on. Not at this time. We all think you’re special, Grace. If it doesn’t suit you, we’ll just forget the whole idea.” He smiled. “How is Hannah? Well?”
“Yes,” Grace answered. “Busy getting ready for the school Christmas party. I understand that the children put on skits and memorize pieces. Rebecca says all the parents and younger brothers and sisters will be there. I know Dakota, my little boy, is excited about it.”
“Give Hannah my best, and the girls and Aunt Jezzy. Fine woman, Jezzy Yoder. Makes a great chocolate moon pie.” He waved toward the door. “I won’t keep you. I’m sure you’ve got lots to do this morning in the kennel.”
“Thank you,” she said. She turned away, then back toward him. “I really am sorry for yesterday.”
“I appreciate your coming back. I’m sure it wasn’t easy for you. You’re right, it wasn’t the right way to resign your position. But you’ve made up for it, Grace. Not many young women would have had the nerve to come in and admit a mistake. We’ll say no more about it.” He offered her his hand. “Friends?”
“Yes,” she agreed, shaking his hand. “Friends.”
But as she walked back down the corridor to the annex that housed the kennels, she couldn’t help wishing that it had been John she’d had the conversation with...and John who had promised to remain her friend. Losing him... The lump formed in her throat again. She’d been afraid of coming face to face with John after telling him that she’d quit and then not having the nerve to face him when he’d come to the house yesterday morning. She’d hurt him and probably destroyed their friendship forever.
She swallowed, trying to convince herself that it was the only way, that doing anything else would only be encouraging him—making him think that they could continue on the way they had. Dating. Yes, she’d ignored what was staring her right in the face. They’d been dating.
Under the circumstances, she’d done what she had to do, but there would be a price to pay. She hoped John would get over it, but she was absolutely certain that losing his friendship would leave a lasting ache in her heart.
* * *
Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday and then Friday passed without Grace and John running into each other. If the other employees in the office wondered why she’d missed a day of work, they were kind enough not to ask. She did her job at the clinic, went home and took care of her son. In the evenings, after supper, she, her sisters, Hannah, Irwin and Aunt Jezzy all sat around the table fashioning Christmas wreaths from live greenery to sell at Spence’s Market. The money from the wreaths would go to buy textbooks for the school where Hannah taught.
All day Saturday, Grace and her sisters swept and scrubbed floors and stairs, hung quilts on the clothesline to air. Even Irwin was pressed into service to wash windows and move furniture so that the girls could dust in every corner. Aunt Jezzy and Hannah kept busy in the kitchen, baking dozens of cookies, packing them into clean, shiny lard cans for Christmas and rolling dough for pie crusts. Even Miriam and Ruth came to help make the farmhouse spotless for the holidays.
After the busy day, Ruth and Miriam remained to share a light supper of potato soup and chicken salad sandwiches, but the delicious smells of roasting turkey and baking ham filled the kitchen and wafted through all the rooms. Because even a visiting Sunday was a day of rest, Saturday was the time for making baked beans, deviled eggs, scalloped potatoes, Brown Betty pudding, cranberry sauce and a counterful of pies to satisfy guests at the next day’s midday meal.
As Grace bathed Dakota and tucked him into bed, she realized that she was tired, and might turn in early herself. But no matter how weary she was, she was glad that she’d felt a part of the household today. The empty place inside her, left after losing John’s friendship, surely, in time, with God’s help, would fill. In the days to come, she told herself, she’d find happiness in the small joys of the day: Dakota’s laughter, the pleasure of a task well done, the knowledge that she was living her life as her grandparents had. She would find peace here. There was no other choice.
She returned to the kitchen to bid Hannah and the others good-night, but was surprised to find the room empty. Puzzled, Grace looked around. It wasn’t quite eight o’clock. The propane lamp over the table was still burning, but there was no sign of any of her sisters. Had Miriam and Ruth left already? Aunt Jezzy never went to bed before ten, and even her rocking chair sat empty, the ever-present bag of knitting standing beside it.
“Hello?” Grace called. “Where is everyone?” She went to the back door and looked out. Still no one.
“Grace!”
She turned to see Johanna in the hallway.
“Come, sister,” Johanna said. “We would speak with you.”
Even more confused, Grace followed her. Johanna pushed open the parlor door, the room that was never used except to welcome important visitors. There was Hannah, Aunt Jezzy, Miriam, Ruth, Susanna, Rebecca, even Anna. They were all seated in a circle facing one empty chair. Behind them stood the men of the family: Charley, Eli, Samuel and Irwin, arms folded, expressions so solemn that they might have been carved in oak.
“Sit,” Johanna said, pointing to the solitary walnut chair. Miriam scooted over to make room for Johanna, and she slid in on the straight-backed settee.
“What is all this?” Grace asked.
“Sit, daughter,” Hannah said.
Terrified, Grace looked from one sister to the other. “Have I done something wrong?” she demanded. “Are you sending me away?”
“Sit, child,” Hannah repeated. “Open your heart and your ears and listen.”
“Ya,” Anna said kindly. “It’s time to stop trying to fit into a shoe that was made for another woman.”
“Don’t,” Grace murmured, backing into the chair. “I’ll do better. I promise.”
“You can’t,” Johanna said softly. “No matter how much you want it, a bluebird can’t turn herself into a wren.”
“Please.” Grace looked from Rebecca to Miriam, fearing she might burst into tears. She’d been trying so hard. How could they do this to her? “I just want to be Amish like you.”
“You are my sister,” Ruth said. “But you must know that you are of the world.”
Susanna ran to Grace and hugged her. “You are my sister,” she whispered, “but you’re not Plain.”