19

Jesse thought things through as he made his way home, leading his horse home by the reins. There was just enough snow on the ground to safely deliver Eli Smucker’s buggy on the sled attachments, and Jesse was pleased that the recycled square bolts had held tight.

He had brought C.P. with him so that the dog could have a good walk on the way back. The walk would wear him out, and that was one of the first lessons Jesse had learned about puppies. A tired puppy was a good puppy. There were times when Jesse realized that everyone could learn much simply by living with a dog.

Overall, canine companionship had become an unexpected pleasure for Jesse. There were times when C.P. ignored firm boundaries—such as when he got into Fern’s garden and dug up some old carrots to gnaw on, only to throw them up in her kitchen—but those times were coming far less often. Jesse was even finding some qualities to admire in the pup. While other people’s dogs yapped and leapt up and slobbered and barked, C.P. kept quiet and close to Jesse, even in town.

But raising a dog was not what was burdening Jesse today. It was Yardstick Yoder. Jesse had made good on his promise to God to spend time with Yardstick if his dad would get well. He even agreed to Yardstick’s demand for an outrageously high hourly wage. But then Yardstick told him he wanted to learn how to repair buggies. He wanted to apprentice to Jesse. For the same hourly wage as he was being paid to deliver groceries!

Jesse was barely beyond the apprentice status himself, and scraped along on a modest income. In his mind’s eye, he saw his meager earnings evaporate like a puddle on a hot day.

A buggy was approaching from behind, so he stepped off the road to wait until it passed. The buggy slowed, then stopped. Dane Glick leaned out the window and called to him. “Buggy man, how ’bout a lift? You can tie your horse to the back of the buggy.”

Why not? The temperature was dropping and Jesse had forgotten his gloves. He whistled to C.P. and slid open the buggy door on the passenger side. The silly puppy leapt into the open buggy door to greet Dane, wagging his tail furiously. Dane leaned over to scratch the pup behind both ears, his favorite thing.

C.P. settled as Dane flicked the reins. He had a look on his face as if he’d just had an encounter with an angel.

“What’s up with you?” Jesse said.

“I want to marry her.”

“Who? Your new horse?” He grinned, then his grin faded. “Wait . . . you’re talking about Gabby, aren’t you.” He vaguely remembered that Dane and Gabby had come to the hospital together the other night. It was still astounding to him that Dane was infatuated with his cousin. “Dane, are you sure? Gabby’s . . . I don’t know . . . she’s not your typical girl.”

“That’s what I like about her. Abigail’s not silly, like most girls. She’s someone you can have a real conversation with.”

“I’ll say.”

“She’s straight to the point. Straight question, straight answer.”

Being straight to the point was what people generally didn’t like about Gabby. “But have you given this some thought? I mean, I can think of a dozen girls you might have more in common with than Gabby.”

“Nope. Abigail’s the one for me.”

Jesse could not imagine a more unlikely pair than Gabby and Dane. Whereas Gabby was serious, Dane was lighthearted. Gabby preferred solitude, Dane hated to be alone. Whatever Dane did, he did with his whole heart. Gabby approached life with great caution. She was inflexible; Dane’s whole life was driven by spontaneity. He was passionate about his horse-healing business and spoke of his horses as if they were family members. Gabby avoided any and all relationships, people or otherwise. “I think you need to slow down. Take your time. Get to know her.”

“There’s just something about her, Jesse. I realize she’s your cousin, but even you can’t deny that she’s a beautiful woman.”

“Gabby? Beautiful?” In a certain light, Jesse supposed that Gabby could be considered attractive. “Dane, I have to be honest—Gabby isn’t right for you. In fact, she’s all wrong.”

Dane’s face fell. “You’re trying to let me down easy, aren’t you?” He frowned. “Did she tell you something? I come on too strong, don’t I?” He squeezed his hands into fists and pounded the dashboard. “I knew it! I scared her off.”

“No, it’s nothing like that. It’s you. You need someone who can match your energy. Your . . . enthusiasm.”

Dane relaxed a little. “Perhaps you underestimate her.”

“But . . . she’s not . . . average.”

“Average sounds pretty bland. It sounds . . . like my sheep.”

“She tends to think she’s the authority on most subjects.”

“Yes! Yes. Abigail has a natural authority.”

Jesse took off his hat and scratched his head. “Why is it you sound like you’re describing one of your horses?”

“A horse? That’s ridiculous. Why, Abigail is . . . breathtaking. Yes, exactly that. She takes my breath away.” Dane pulled the horse off to the side of the road as he approached the Windmill Farm mailbox at the base of the driveway. “You’ll keep this conversation to yourself, won’t you?”

Distracted by the sight in a passing buggy, Jesse barely nodded as he climbed out. In it were Mim Schrock and Danny Riehl, laughing together, as if one of them had just told a hilarious joke. Or perhaps they were laughing at Jesse. “Don’t worry, Dane. Your secret is safe with me.”

Besides, whom would he have to tell?

At last, Abigail felt she was making progress breaking through the brick wall. Her grandmother could soon set her meddling focus on someone else, and she would return to Ohio to report her findings to her father. All would be well.

She had driven Thistle over to Dane Glick’s hill in the afternoon and found him in the horse barn. “Have you eaten in the last thirty minutes?”

He swept his hat off his head and bent over at the waist in an exaggerated bow. “And a pleasure it is to exchange a warm salutation with you, Abigail.”

His words and actions flustered her, so she ignored them. “Have you? Eaten anything, I mean.”

“Nope.”

“Brushed your teeth or used mouthwash in the last thirty minutes?”

He shook his head.

“Excellent.” She held out the sample collection tube for Dane. “Spit into this.”

“Excuse me?”

“You promised to help me. Don’t you remember?”

“Yes. Of course. Of course I remember doing that. It’s just . . . why?”

“To provide a sample for the DNA kit. Your saliva will be analyzed to determine your ancestry.” She was relieved it didn’t require a blood sample.

Dane looked at her, then at the plastic tube. Slowly, he took it from her and spit into it. “Okay, here you go.”

She peered at the line on the tube. “Spit some more. You have to fill it to that line.”

Dane spit into the tube again, until Abigail was satisfied. She clicked the cap onto the sample and put it into the biohazard bag, sealing it shut. “I’ll get it out in today’s mail. It should take anywhere from one week to four weeks to get the lab results.”

Dane smiled, listening to her.

She paused, then peered up at him. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Please continue.”

“You’re laughing at me.”

“I’m not laughing at you.”

“You’re smiling.”

“I’m simply moved by how much you seem to love what you do. And you do, don’t you?” He held her gaze a little longer than necessary.

She wished she didn’t genuinely like this man as much as she did.

She sealed the box to drop off at the post office. “Dane, there’s something else. Would you be willing to ask Freeman for a favor?”

“Certainly. What kind of favor?”

“I’d like to see the Glick family Bible.”

Dane looked up and down the aisle of his barn. He glanced at the wall clock. “There’s no time like the present.”

“Now?” You’d think she would be growing accustomed to Dane’s spontaneity, but it always took her by surprise.

“Now. We can drop the spit box in a mailbox down the road.” He took her hand in his and led her out to where Thistle was patiently waiting in the buggy. After helping her in, he climbed inside and paused, a cat-in-the-cream look in his eyes. He reached into the backseat and retrieved a bag. In it was a small, thin box, carefully wrapped, which he handed to Abigail. “This is a present for you,” he said. “I was going to drop it by later this week. I hope you like it.”

Abigail looked at the box. “Why? Why did you get me a gift?”

“It’s a small thank-you for organizing my cabin.” He grinned. “Go ahead. Open it.”

Abigail tore open the paper. Inside the box was a pen.

“It’s for your important genealogy work.”

It was the most beautiful thing she had seen, and she struggled with her tears. He was a fine man, Dane Glick was, a good man, who noticed things she thought were important. He was very kind to her. Very kind.

She looked at the beautiful pen in her hands. She could not speak.

And then she sneezed.

Twenty minutes later, Dane and Abigail were knocking at the door of the Big House. Freeman opened the door. His piercing gaze shifted from Dane to Abigail, back to Dane.

Dane took off his hat. “I’d like you to let Abigail see our family Bible.”

“Why?”

“Her father has a reputation for helping people trace their family roots. I’d written to her father a while back, and he’s been creating a family tree for the Glicks. For all of us. No one has done that in our family, correct?”

“There’s never been a need for it. We know the people we come from.”

“No doubt. And not everyone is interested in genealogy, but I am. I suppose it’s because of my work with horses. I can see how pedigrees play out over the years.”

Freeman’s expression indicated disbelief. Abigail started to think about escape plans. “Meaning what?”

“Just that it’s fascinating to discover the history that repeats itself. For example, do you have any idea how many ordained leaders there are in the Glick line? That kind of information is interesting.”

Oh, excellent point, Dane.

Freeman softened, just a little. His shoulders dropped, the set of his jaw relaxed.

“So Abigail is trying to finish up the project for her father and needs to confirm a few dates.”

“I can answer any questions you have. The Glicks suffered for their faith in Europe, and were the first to come to the New World.”

“Yes, yes, we know all that. She just wanted to confirm a few things. It won’t take long.”

Freeman looked at Abigail. “Why would I do a favor for the niece of David Stoltzfus?”

“Because you’re not a spiteful man.”

Actually, Freeman was a spiteful man. But Abigail was quite impressed with how Dane was conducting the interview. His approach appeared sound and well considered, calm and credible. That was fortunate because Abigail was struggling to focus. Her mind was still reeling from the hand-holding incident back in Dane’s horse barn. She wasn’t accustomed to having her hand held by a young man. Did it mean something more to him than just helping her to the buggy? Was it significant? She wished Laura were here to help analyze the situation.

Dane seemed unaware of the importance of the hand-holding incident and remained focused on persuading Freeman to bring out the family Bible. “Abigail has nothing to do with what’s going on in our church. Nothing whatsoever. An innocent bystander.”

Freeman had yet to take his eyes off Abigail, as if he knew all the jumbled thoughts that were running through her mind and disapproved of them. Suddenly he gave a brief nod, his mouth so tight it all but disappeared into his beard. He opened the door for them and pointed to the kitchen table. “Sit.”

They sat.

Freeman turned to go up the stairs. If Abigail was lucky, Freeman would not open the Bible before handing it over to her.

She wasn’t lucky. She was never lucky. But then again, she didn’t believe in luck.

Dane winked at her. “Relax.”

She tried, but it was difficult to relax in the Big House. Eyes were everywhere. Freeman’s and Levi’s wives bustled in the kitchen, small children slipped in and out of the room. No one said a word, but everyone watched them.

Then in the front door came Leroy, blowing a bubble. His eyes went huge when he saw Abigail. He snapped the bubble. “What are you doing here?”

“We’re here to see the family Bible,” Dane said.

Freeman returned to the room, set the Bible carefully on the kitchen table, and stood back. Something fluttered out of the Bible and Abigail gasped. Freeman bent down and picked up some bubblegum wrappers. He looked at Leroy, who was tiptoeing out of the kitchen toward the front door, then he looked at Abigail. Dots connected in his mind. Abigail could see it happen as clearly as if he was drawing a picture on paper. The front door slammed shut.

Freeman marched to the front door, opened it, and boomed, “Leroy Glick! Get back here at once.”

Abigail could see Leroy running up the hill that led to the Hanging Tree—the same refuge spot for Dane as a boy. When she turned her attention back to the table, she saw that Dane had opened the Bible to its bulging center, found the Bent N’ Dent notepad, and was peering at it curiously. Slowly, he lifted his head and handed it to her. “Perhaps this is what you were looking for.”

Yes. Yes, exactly that.

Winter arrived in its completeness. Even in the middle of the days, bright with sunlight, the temperature barely hovered above freezing. A crumbling ridge of snowbanks, built up by the snowplows, nearly closed in the driveway leading to the Stoltzfus farm.

David had been working half days since his hospital visit, but today he felt well enough to last the full day at the store. However, the snow returned once more in the afternoon, covering the roads with an icy crust where any movement could be hazardous. No customers would be venturing out today, so he decided to close up early.

The wind was raw and cold, so David carefully secured each footstep against a fall, eager to escape mishap and get home from the store. Such careful responsibility was a far cry from his childhood enthusiasm for sledding with his sister Ruth on the hill. Back then, when he was a boy, danger was a thrill, but now he preferred to use the wintry conditions as an excuse to stay at home and concentrate on his next sermon.

Ruth.

So many memories of his sister had come flooding back to him in the last few days. She had a rebellious streak from the start, that sister of his. Most of the trouble he got into as a boy was started by Ruth. Playing hooky from school together, fishing in the lake on a summer afternoon, hiding from his mother after they broke a window while playing ball. He smiled to himself as he walked down the road. Ruth had confessed that she had thrown the ball that broke the window—she hadn’t, he had—and took the punishment for him so he could go to a friend’s birthday party.

A few years later, Ruth’s independent streak took her down a different path. She wanted to go to high school. Their mother refused, insisting she start work in the family store. She demanded that Ruth become baptized, along with her friends. His mother was convinced that defining Ruth’s path would squelch her rebellious attitude. Wrong, wrong, wrong. She only pushed it underground.

Secretly, Ruth studied for her high school proficiency test, the GED, and passed it. He would never forget the cold, hard, silent response of his mother on the morning Ruth announced that she had been accepted to a private college with a full scholarship, and that she was going.

And she did go. She left and she stayed away. His mother never mentioned Ruth’s name again, as if she had died.

For the last few days, David had called the hospital to leave a message for his sister, but she had yet to return his call. His mother had yet to mention her name. What more could he do to try to reach out to her? It was no coincidence that Ruth was working the afternoon David was in the emergency room. Nothing happens by chance. Surely, God was at work to bring their family back together. He looked up at the gray skies. “In your time, Lord,” he prayed aloud. “Your time. Not mine.”

As he walked across the quiet, snowy meadow, his thoughts strayed once again to Birdy, as they often did when he had moments alone. He wondered what she might be doing, and when on earth he was going to see her again. He missed her far more than he had anticipated, and wished she were with him. And yet he had made no effort to see her, to spend time with her, since he had seen her in the hospital. He hadn’t dropped by the schoolhouse; she hadn’t stopped by the store. Things were put on hold between them. Could they drift on as they were, or would things have to be decided one way or another?

This situation was far from straightforward. As Isaac Bender and his team slowly made their way around Stoney Ridge to gather information about Freeman, David heard rumors of what he had most feared: a simmering feud was developing between the Glicks, of which there were many, and David. Birdy was smack-dab in the middle of it. She might not think her loyalty lay with her family, but when push came to shove, how could it not? As his mother said, blood was thicker than water.

The questions Isaac’s team posed to the church family were wrenching. For the last few days, they went from home to home, interviewing each member. It had to be done, Isaac reminded him, to gather truth, but the toll on everyone was profound. No one wanted to be disloyal to church leaders, but the truth had to be discerned.

How hard it must be, David pondered, to be pulled in a tug-of-war between two loyalties, family and church, at the same time. But then, wasn’t duality also at the heart of Christianity? He had to be both a man and a Christian. David was not at all confident how he had been at doing this. Perhaps he was too sensitive to his own flaws, but he worried how far he fell short of living in God’s image. It was his duty to put his identity as a minister above his own desires. He was a minister first.

And there was his answer. His relationship with Birdy needed to be set aside until this church matter was resolved. That realization made him sad and he stopped for a moment to consider what that meant.

All around him, snow fell in an unhurried quiet, as if there could be no stopping it. He held his hand out for fragile white flakes to softly make their rest.

Not long ago David had read an essay by astronomer and mathematician Johannes Kepler called “The Six-Cornered Snowflake.” A snowflake was the perfect Christmas gift, Kepler mused, because it came from the heavens and looked like a star. Then the scientist went on to ponder why a snowflake always had six corners. Why not five corners? Why not seven? No two snowflakes were alike, but each one was a hexagon.

To David, the answer was obvious. An epiphany. Epiphaneia, a visible appearing of something hitherto invisible. In ancient Greece, the word was used to describe a sunrise. On this wintry afternoon, David’s epiphany was an illustration from the natural world of the sovereignty of God, extending from the heavens to the snowflake.

Perhaps Kepler’s thoughtful muses were an answer to his prayer this morning. Nothing, from the infinite to the minute, happens by chance in the economy of God.