I WANT TO KNOW what there is to this rumor about you and John Miller.” Letty’s voice trembled a bit, and Tabitha glanced with sympathy at her best friend. She knew that Letty was thinking she’d kept things from her, and that hurt, especially since they’d shared so much over the years. Tabitha longed to tell her the truth but couldn’t bring the words out of her mouth.
They were outside together in the chicken pen, feeding the birds—the Leghorns, Anconas, and Minorcas, all of which fought and pecked for the handfuls of grain and grit. Letty had come over for the express purpose of speaking her mind—Tabitha recognized the rare set look on her friend’s sweetly rounded face, and she didn’t know if she was prepared to face that quiet confrontation. She’d told Letty everything for as long as she could remember, and to change that now seemed foreign and uncomfortable.
Tabitha sighed aloud over the noise of the hungry clucking. “Letty, I didn’t mean to hurt you. In fact, it all happened so suddenly that—well, it’s hardly been a day, and I—”
“What about Rob?” Letty interrupted, her voice sober and confused. “How have you told him?”
“I—haven’t.”
“Ach, but don’t you think that he deserves to know and understand before he comes home to his best friend . . . and you. I don’t understand, Tabby.”
Tabitha was about to try and explain when Onkel Fram came stomping past the coop area.
“Your friend had best head out,” the old man snapped, pausing outside the wire. “It’ll be time to cook lunch soon, and I’ll be quite hungry.”
Tabitha longed to roll her eyes. Did the man think of nothing but food? “Letty only arrived a few minutes ago, Onkel Fram.”
“Now don’t you try your fussin’ on me, girl. It might work with Lizzie, but I’ll not have it. Besides, you already had your courting fellow by this morning, and you don’t need to be discussing it with your friend here. Now, kumme.”
Tabitha longed to sink into the ground at her uncle’s revelation of John’s early morning visit.
Letty turned to her in disbelief. “John was here already this morning? You—you must be moving fast together. I feel as though I don’t know you anymore, Tabby. I—I guess I’d better geh.” Letty dropped the feed pan, and Tabitha heard her soft sob as she struggled with the wire latch.
“Letty,” Tabitha cried, ignoring Onkel Fram. “Sei se gut, wait. I’ll explain.”
But Letty had managed to open the gate and fled across the yard to her buggy, leaving Tabitha standing with tears in her own eyes.
She heard Onkel Fram clear his throat. “So . . . what’ll we be having for lunch?”
Elizabeth handed Tabby the cookie sheet that was covered with the crumbs of the fresh corn bread they had to accompany their lunch of corn and bacon chowder. Fram had pushed back from the table, declared his tepid satisfaction with the meal, and gone outside with a loud burp. Beth was thankful for the ensuing silence as her head was starting to hurt again.
But Tabitha distracted her by turning from the washing up and looking down with a wistful expression.
“What is it, child?”
“Ach, Aenti Beth, have you—have you ever been in love?”
Elizabeth felt her eyes fill with tears for the second time that day. “Ach, Tabby, ya, but it was a lifetime ago.”
Her niece bent and caught her hands with her own young, soapy ones. “Aenti Beth, tell me, sei se gut. What was it like? And what happened to him? I mean . . . where . . .”
Beth squeezed Tabby’s hands in her own and smiled despite her tears. “Ach, Tabby, it was indeed long ago, but I can still remember the feelings. His name was Nathan, Nathan Black, and oddly enough, John Miller has reminded me of him often in looks.”
Tabitha dropped her earnest gaze, then grabbed a dish towel, quickly drying her hands and then Elizabeth’s. “Ach, will you tell me more?”
“Ya, child, let’s go over to the table and have a cup of tea while we talk,” Beth said.
While Tabby got the teacups, Beth had time to compose herself and found thankfully that her headache had gone.
“So, Nathan looked like . . . John?” Tabitha asked, pouring the rose tea.
“Ya, but looks are only one part of love, child. I didn’t know the difference of that then with Nathan, though. I thought that being in love was the same as loving someone.”
Tabitha appeared puzzled for a moment. “What do you mean exactly, Aenti Beth?”
Elizabeth smiled faintly. “Being in love one day can often mean that you are out of love the next, as if it’s a baseball diamond with boundaries that are easily marked and moved. Loving someone . . . ach, that’s something else entirely—it’s not simply a feeling but a decision, a decision to endure together and meet life together as Derr Herr would will—not as you would will for yourselves.”
“And did you—love Nathan like that?” Tabitha asked softly.
Elizabeth sighed mournfully. “Ya, child. I did, but he—he was simply in love with me for a time even though he asked to court me, to marry me actually.”
“Ach, Aenti Beth,” Tabitha cried, reaching out to grasp her hand.
“Now, now, child, as I say, it was long ago.”
“What—what happened to Nathan?”
Elizabeth swallowed hard. “He married another and left the area. I heard two years after that he was killed in a buggy accident. I cried for a week . . . but I had to go on.”
Elizabeth watched slow tears seep down Tabby’s face. “And now, tell me, what of you, child? Is there someone whom you love truly?”
“I—I—”
Elizabeth held her breath as Tabby stumbled over her answer. Just then Fram barged back into the kitchen with a snap of his suspenders.
“You women should have things cleaned up already and started thinking about supper,” he said loudly.
Elizabeth knew the moment was lost as Tabitha looked away, but she still hoped that her words had made an impression on the dear child and that she could realize the truth of love—mature, enduring love—in her own young life.
John wielded the axe with ruthless precision, hacking up the pine knots that would be used as fire starters in the fall.
He jumped when his fater spoke from behind him.
“Are you upset about something, sohn?”
“Daed, be careful, or I’ll end up taking an ear off somebody—you nearly scared me to death.”
“Sorry, but the way you’re going after those knots tells me that something is up. I brought a jug of your mamm’s iced tea—do you want to have a bit of a talk?”
Nee . . . nee, I do not want to talk about why I’ve been running around all day like I’m narrisch because I love my best friend’s girl. He dropped the axe. “Sure, Daed.”
They sat on some stumps near the wood pile, and John took a long, grateful pull from the iced tea jug before meeting his fater’s eyes.
“I—I haven’t been sleeping well,” John admitted at last. “Trying to tire myself out, I guess.”
“Mmm-hmmm,” his daed agreed but then went on. “Let’s see—you did some plowing for your mamm, installed bookshelves for Matt, helped Esther lay out the kitchen garden plants, and now you’ve been at this wood for two hours. You’re soaked with sweat and bound to catch a chill I say, but surely, you might sleep well tonight.”
“Might?” John asked with a wry smile.
“Sohn, I’ve known you forever, and since you were a buwe, you’ve liked to work when something’s been bothering you. So, what is it? Your mamm’s worried—”
“It’s nothing, Daed, really.” And now I’m lying to my fater.
His father took a drink of the iced tea, then murmured reflectively. “I haven’t seen you this stirred up since you were nineteen.”
“Daed. . .”
“A woman’ll do that to you sometimes.”
John had to laugh, though it came out a bitter sound. “That’s probably true.”
“But the right woman, now she might stir you up for a bit, but then she’ll bring you peace. Peace in your mind and spirit and heart. And that’s something worth having, and it doesn’t kumme around too often and only as Gott wills.”
John couldn’t respond. He felt his throat work and stared at the wood chips on the ground instead.
His fater got to his feet after a few moments. “Well, I’ll leave you the iced tea, sohn.”
John found his voice. “Hey, Daed?”
“What?”
“You’re a great man, do you know that?”
His father shook his head and gave a low laugh. “Danki, John,” he said softly. “That means der weldt to me.”
John watched him leave the clearing, then got slowly to his feet. He bent to pick up the axe but found that he didn’t have the heart for abusing the pine knots any longer; his fater’s presence had given him peace for the moment.