Chapter Five

Lois and I returned to my farm with two goats in the backseat of her car and a giant orange chair in her trunk, precariously held in place with rope and prayer. Lois drove down the county roads with the goats leaning over the front seat of the car, as if it was the most normal thing in the world. In the side mirror, I watched as the trunk lid bounced up and down with every pothole we hit.

“I hope that chair doesn’t fall out,” I said as Lois turned into my driveway.

“Oh, Millie,” she said. “You worry far too much. I had that Amish boy tie the chair down with so much rope, I will be lucky if I don’t have to cut the chair out. I’m hoping that Uriah Schrock will be on the square. He can help me move it into the house.”

I swallowed when she said Uriah’s name. I had known Uriah my whole life. When we were young, he was sweet on me. At the time, I hardly noticed. I only had eyes for my love, Kip Fisher. Though Kip had been gone twenty-some years now, I had always believed he was the only man I would ever love. As a matchmaker, I firmly believed that every person had one match, but now, I wondered. Uriah made no secret of the fact that he wanted to rekindle a friendship with me. I didn’t discuss any of this with Lois. Since she was my childhood friend, she knew my history with the two men just as well as I did.

She shifted the car into park. “Should I tell you if Uriah asks about you?”

I gave her a look. “Thanks for the ride, and you know I don’t want to talk about Uriah. I don’t care if he mentions me or not.”

“He’s a very nice man.”

I gave her another look.

“Fine, fine,” she groaned. “Not everyone is in the market for a new husband.”

My brow went up. “Are you? I thought you said you were done with men after your fourth marriage.”

She sighed. “I never say never when it comes to love, Millie. And neither should you.”

I shook my head and got out of the car. I opened the back door and the goats bounded out. “Bye, Lois,” I said.

She winked at me before shifting the car into drive. The goats ran down the long gravel driveway after her car. When she turned onto the road, they stopped.

I whistled, and they ran back to me. I walked toward the house, my mind preoccupied with worries over Ben, and now Uriah. I tried to push both of them from my mind. I walked up the step to the front door and was just about to open the screen door when I saw a scrap of paper trapped there.

I frowned. I guessed that the note was from my closest neighbor, Raellen Raber, saying that she or her husband had borrowed tools from my barn. We shared as much as we could, including a shed phone that was kept on their farm half a mile away. Raellen was a harried mother of nine and a member of Double Stitch. It wouldn’t be the first time I’d come home to an IOU note on my front door.

I didn’t have any other close neighbors, so, to me, it seemed unlikely that anyone else would have left me a note. I opened the door just a crack and pulled the paper loose.

On the outside there was no writing. The piece of notebook paper was folded into fours. I unfolded it and knew right away that it wasn’t from Raellen. Her writing was curvy and flamboyant, and this print was in a much tighter hand.

Dear Millie,

 

I am sorry if I pushed you at the flea market earlier today to speak to Tobias Lieb. I know that you are giving me the best advice you can. You don’t know all the factors that are involved.

You don’t know that it would be best for everyone, including Tobias, if Tess and I married soon. We love each other, and I fear that our love will cause trouble for our families if it is stifled. Please understand that I don’t want to put you in a bad place. I would never ask you to do this if I weren’t desperate.

I know that Tobias is afraid I will take Tess to Michigan, but I will not do that. I can never go back to my home district or my home state. I know that you left the district long before I ran into trouble there. One day, I will tell you about it. Just know that I can’t go back. I don’t want to go back. I wish I could make Tobias believe that.

I appreciate your speaking to him. If something happens . . . if you learn something about me that is surprising . . . know that I always saw you as a favorite aenti. Your kindness meant the world to me when I was a child.

If I am able someday to pay you back for that, I will. If I am not able, please know it’s the truth and take heart in that in the days to come.

Your adopted nephew, Ben Baughman

I stared at the letter for a long time, and a feeling of dread fell over me like a heavy quilt. What did it all mean? It seemed to me that Ben, and maybe even Tess, were in some kind of trouble. Was it trouble that had followed Ben from Michigan? After my sister died, I lost all contact with that district. They’d always viewed me as an interloper of sorts from Ohio. And my sister was too ill to smooth things over for me. I had gone to church, of course, but wasn’t involved with the district much more than that. They hadn’t wanted me to be. My sister’s community in Michigan was small, made up of only twenty families. They had been leery of outsiders. Even when my sister married into the group, it took decades for them to accept her as a full member of the community. She had told me once it was because the founders of that community had left their Ohio district to make a new one. They thought their old district in Ohio was too lenient with its children and too easily wooed by the Englisch way of life. Since I was from Ohio, I was viewed with suspicion.

I shook the dark memories from my mind and wished that I could speak to Ben right then and there to make sure he was all right. It wasn’t often that I wished we Amish were allowed telephones. I understood that the convenience of having them could become a crutch, making us too dependent on gadgets rather than relying on community. Even so, I wished that I could have called Ben to tell him not to do anything rash in order to impress Tobias Lieb.

I held the letter at my side and wondered if I should drive into the village and try to track Ben down and make him tell me what was going on.

I promised myself that I would go to the flea market the next day and have him explain the letter to me. Feeling better, I was about to fold up the page and tuck it into my apron pocket when it was ripped from my hand. Phillip grabbed it with his teeth and ran. He only went a few yards away, but it was far enough to keep me from saving the letter.

“Phillip!” I cried, but it was too late. With three chomps, the letter was down Phillip’s gullet.

The goat grinned at me like a student who had won first prize in the school spelling bee. I put my hands on my hips. “Phillip, that was a very important letter.”

The goat stopped bouncing and lowered his head. If I didn’t know better, I would have claimed he understood every word I said. That was quite a reach—by Amish or Englisch standards.

“Oh, don’t give me that sad face.” I shook my finger at him. “You know I don’t deal well when you or your brother are low.”

He bowed his head a bit more. Ruth Yoder would have called me daft for having such a soft heart for farm animals, but since my move to Ohio, Phillip and Peter had become part of my family. I knew it might be hard for someone like Ruth, who had never lived alone a day in her life, to understand. But I found it was nice to come home to a creature who would greet me and be so very excited to see me each day.

Someone who doesn’t understand the comfort of animals may not also know what it feels like to be truly lonely.

Because of this, I couldn’t stay angry at Phillip for long. I looked at the brown and white goat, Peter. “Peter, what are you going to do with your brother?”

Peter ran over to the other goat and head-butted him. Phillip cheered up immediately, and the two danced around each other. I shook my head and let myself inside the house. When I opened the door, I was greeted by another animal. This was a young kitten named Peaches. Peaches had been born in the spring at my niece’s greenhouse. From the moment I saw him, I knew that he was coming home with me. He meowed and wove around my ankles.

The goats, at least, had enough gut sense to know they weren’t permitted in the house, but they stared at Peaches from the doorway. The kitten arched his back and hissed at them. He was still growing accustomed to the goats. He was a mellow kitten, and I think he would have liked the goats much better if they were a tad calmer.

Despite the goats’ antics, I couldn’t rid myself of worries over Ben. I told myself that I would clear everything up with him tomorrow. There was nothing more I could do that day. Tomorrow, all would be well.

I really wanted to believe that, but deep in my heart, I didn’t.