Naomi and Amos sat down on the bench near the pond. Lizzie and Esther called it the courting bench, and Naomi recalled all the time she’d spent on this bench watching the sunset with Thomas. She hadn’t been back to this spot since he’d left. The only other person who used the bench was Gus. Naomi had seen him fishing here a couple times. There was an area between Gus’s cottage and the daadi haus Mary and John lived in, where the bench was visible. It was otherwise hidden from view behind a cluster of trees.
“This is a great spot to watch the sun set.” Amos stared straight ahead. “The colorful backdrops of those trees behind the corn are reflected in the water. This would be a perfect scene to paint, to capture the beauty of the sunset.”
Naomi arched an eyebrow. “Do you paint?”
Amos turned to look at her and grimaced. “I used to. It relaxed me and challenged me to reproduce the beauty of a great landscape.” He paused, looking back over the water. “I haven’t painted in a long time.”
Naomi assumed he hadn’t painted since his fiancée died. “I paint,” she said before she bit her bottom lip. “At least, I used to.”
“I haven’t painted since Sarah died.”
Naomi took a deep breath. “I haven’t since Thomas left.”
They were both quiet.
“Did you ever paint this?” Amos waved his hand across the pond just as a duck fluttered its wings and landed amid the colorful hues, followed by three more who gracefully landed atop the sun-kissed water.
“Ya, I did. Several times.” She turned to him and smiled. “But it’s so hard to capture the beauty of what God created. I’m actually not a very gut painter, but like you, it relaxed me and challenged me.”
“I’d like to see one of your paintings.” His gaze met hers. “You can tell a lot about a person through their art, whether it’s putting a brush to canvas, writing a book, or some other form of creative outlet.” She felt her cheeks begin to flush, as she was strangely flattered.
“I-I’ve never shown anyone the painting I consider to be my best one. The canvas is underneath mei bed.” She frowned. “Probably covered in dust.”
“I understand. I never thought mei paintings were worthy replicas of the landscapes I attempted to recreate. Do you paint with oils or acrylics?”
She was glad he didn’t push the issue about seeing her painting. “Acrylics. What about you?”
“Same.” He rubbed his chin as his eyes stayed on her. “Oils take too long to dry, in mei opinion.”
They were quiet, both turning their attention to the sun making its final descent. It would be dark in about thirty minutes.
“I’m dreading this wedding on Thursday.” Amos shook his head, still peering out over the pond. “I know that’s a terrible thing to say, and I should be rejoicing for Suzanne and Isaiah.” He chuckled. “Although I’ve never even met these cousins of mine, and I’m still not sure how we’re related.”
Naomi squeezed her eyes closed before she turned to him and sighed. “I’m dreading it, too, and it feels so freeing to say that out loud. I’m not related to Suzanne and Isaiah, but I’ve known them all of mei life. They are a lovely couple, very much in love, and so deserving of all the happiness in the world.” She paused as she attempted to explain her feelings. “But if it were up to me, I’d sit this one out.”
“Um . . . I hope I’m not being too forward by asking this, but will your, uh . . . The man you were supposed to marry, will he be at the wedding?” Amos scratched his chin again. “I would think that would make it unbearable.”
Naomi had mixed feelings. A part of her longed to see Thomas. Had he missed her? He hadn’t written to her since he moved. Would seeing her rekindle their romance? She reminded herself the reason he gave for breaking up with her and decided that seeing him would only twist the knife that was still in her heart.
“I don’t know if he will be there.” She squinted as the sun lowered even more, casting powerful rays directly into their eyes.
Amos took off his hat and laid it gently atop her prayer covering, tilting it slightly downward to block the glare. “I’m a carpenter and work outside all day. I’m used to the bright sunlight.”
Naomi didn’t think his eyes were any more accustomed to the intense glare than hers, but it was a nice gesture.
He laughed. “It’s a gut look for you.” He gently tapped the rim of the hat, and Naomi giggled.
“You’re lying, but danki.”
I laughed. And it felt good. But just as quickly as joy tried to force its way into her heart, the door slammed. Her thoughts returned to the wedding in two days. Would Thomas be there?
* * *
“I don’t know why you bother being nice to that cantankerous old coot.” Lizzie thrust her chin forward, pushing her lip into a pout.
“Language, Lizzie.” Esther finished covering a plate of leftovers from supper. She briefly put a hand across her stomach and took a deep breath. Something wasn’t right. She’d had a burning, nauseating feeling on and off since supper. “Besides, there was a lot left, and the man has to eat.”
“Ha!” Lizzie said much too loudly. “Look at him. He ain’t missing any meals.”
“I’m sure he misses an occasional home-cooked meal.”
“Well, you’re a better person than I am. Every time we do anything nice for him, he returns our kindness with bitterness and no thanks at all.”
“That doesn’t mean we should stop being kind.”
“Well, there is the old saying . . . Kill ’em with kindness.” Lizzie grinned. She’d already shed her teeth for the evening and was in her nightclothes. “So, go kill him.” She snickered as Esther left the kitchen.
Esther couldn’t help but smile. This house would be a dull place without Lizzie in it. She was often inappropriate and sometimes rude, but not a day went by when there wasn’t laughter—either at her or along with her.
Naomi had wandered in just before dark, Amos by her side. And the girl was smiling, which was rare. Esther tried not to swim in the pool of hope too long, but it was hard not to keep the emotion afloat, at least a little.
She put on her black cape since the night air would be chilly, hoping the pangs in her tummy would settle soon. Then she began the walk to Gus’s cottage, her steps lit by the propane lamp in the yard, and then only by her flashlight. She stepped onto the worn path that connected the three properties. In the distance, she saw a glow from a lantern. It was early, and Gus was probably still awake. Even though he wasn’t Amish, the cottage had never had electricity, so Gus had to suffer through the hot summers like the rest of them. Tonight he likely had his windows open to enjoy the crisp breeze.
Esther slowed her stride and took a few moments to appreciate a cloudless sky filled with stars, then she breathed in the scent of burning wood. Mary and John already had a fire going so early into fall. She glanced at the daadi haus, and all was dark. Esther smiled. The couple was likely tucked in early and trying to make a baby. They’d been married five years, but the Lord had yet to bless them with a child. Esther had overheard Mary weeping about it more than once, and a few times she’d even cried on Esther’s shoulder. They were all on God’s timeframe, but Esther prayed Mary would become pregnant soon.
She lumbered up the steps to the cottage and knocked on the door. Esther preferred to leave nonperishables in a tin on the porch—muffins, cookies, or other snacks—to avoid a conversation, more like a confrontation, with Gus. But when she brought him an occasional hot meal, she thought it best to hand it to him directly.
She took a breath and braced herself. Their renter would likely accuse her of disturbing him from whatever mundane task he’d been doing, something he would insist was very important. And as Lizzie had said, the old grump had never once said thank you. Esther did her best to tolerate him, and Gus seemed more tolerant of her than Lizzie. Maybe because Esther didn’t kick him or provoke him the way her sister did, but Gus was still insufferable.
Esther would always be bewildered why her mother took pity on this man. She and Lizzie had asked about it not long after Gus became a tenant in the cottage, citing the disrespectful way Gus treated people. Their mother’s response was vague but firm, saying only that he needed a home. Regina Yoder was a good woman, but Esther’s gut told her there was more to the story.
The door flung open, and Esther’s jaw dropped as she took a step backward. She blinked a few times, not sure it was Gus in front of her. He held up a lantern. There was plenty of light. It was him.
Then a string of curse words flew from the man’s mouth, language so foul that Esther almost dropped the plate of food. She set the meal on a small table next to Gus’s rocking chair, then covered her ears. When he appeared to be done with his obnoxious rant, she lowered her hands.
“What have you done?” Esther should have turned and high-tailed it back home, but she was too curious not to ask.
Gus pointed to his gray hair, no longer in a ponytail, but chopped raggedly to his jawline. He’d shaved his beard and had two nicks trailing blood from his chin. She wondered if maybe he had gone mad. To Esther’s knowledge Gus had never cut that ponytail. Lizzie used to constantly tell him he needed a haircut, but he’d counter, saying he’d cut his hair if she did. Since Amish women don’t cut their hair, that usually ended the conversation.
“I tried to cut my hair!” Gus shouted, but as he pointed to his horrendous haircut, it was hard to miss his fingernails. They were usually long and dirty, but tonight they were trimmed and clean.
“I see that.” Esther awkwardly cleared her throat and pointed to the small table. “I-I brought you leftovers from supper, and—”
He abruptly turned around and pointed to the back of his head. He’d tortured those tresses even worse than in the front. Then he started throwing curse words all over the place again. Esther covered her ears again before rushing down the steps.
“Woman, where are you going?” he yelled.
Esther spun around, stomped back up the stairs, and pointed her finger at him. “Gus Owens, I will not tolerate that language.” Her stomach cramped even more as anger built. “And ‘Woman’ is neither mei name nor Lizzie’s. Do you hear me?”
It was unlike Esther to lose her cool this way. She prided herself on staying calm, no matter the situation, but she had listened to years of Gus’s trashy talk. And the fact that she wasn’t feeling well left her less tolerant of his behavior.
To her surprise, he didn’t start hollering back at her, and she turned to leave, expecting him to lash out before she got very many steps away.
“Wait!”
Esther kept going.
“Wait!” he yelled again. Then Esther heard a faint “Please?”
She stopped but didn’t turn around, instead glancing at the sky again to make sure it wasn’t a full moon. Did she just hear Gus Owens say please?
Turning around slowly, she didn’t move toward the cottage, but she shone the flashlight in his face. He quickly put a hand up to block the glare.
“What do you want, Gus?”
“What do you think I want, Woman? I need some help!”
Esther didn’t think she’d ever cursed in her life, but this moment was trying her patience as she spun around and starting walking again. Whatever was going on with her stomach was becoming a priority, and she wasn’t in the mood for Gus.
“Wait, Esther. I’m sorry I called you ‘Woman.’ Thank you for the food. Now will you please get back here and help me?”
Sorry. Thank you. Please. All in one sentence. Tempted to keep walking, she turned and trudged back to the cottage, laying a hand across her stomach again. “Think before you speak, Gus. If I turn around to leave again, I won’t be coming back.” She flinched. Blood was drying in a trail down his chin.
He stepped aside so she could go into the cottage. Usually the smell kept her from ever stepping inside, but now she noticed a welcoming aroma, something lemony. And when Gus held up the lantern, Esther dropped the flashlight. She was too shocked to immediately reach for it.
“The cottage is clean.” She looked at him, again wondering if he’d gone mad or was drunk. “It, uh . . . looks quite nice.” Finally, she bent to get the flashlight.
“Oh, oh.” He went back outside and returned with the plate of food. He stashed it in the refrigerator, then with pleading eyes, said, “Can you fix my hair?”
“Is it clean?” Esther reminded herself that sometimes she needed to think before she spoke, too, but previously she’d wondered what might be growing in that hair and beard.
“Yeah, it’s clean!” He grabbed a stool and carried it from a small bar separating the kitchen from the living room. Slamming it on the floor, he went back to the kitchen and returned with a small pair of shears, the kind used for trimming bushes.
Esther laughed. “You’re sure you want me to cut your hair with those?”
Gus’s face was so red he looked like he might explode, but he got up again and returned with a pair of utility scissors. She’d cut Joe’s hair throughout their entire married life, so the only haircut she knew how to give was cropped bangs with the back trimmed above the collar. But she’d used scissors that were made for cutting hair and smaller than what Gus held out now. She supposed he was sprucing up for Suzanne and Isaiah’s wedding on Thursday, but that didn’t explain the clean house.
“I’ve never given a haircut to an Englisch man before, but I’ll do mei best.” Esther held out her hand, and right before Gus handed over the scissors, he pulled back. “You’re not going to stab me or anything, are you?”
She grinned. “Now, Gus, why in the world would you ask that? You’ve been nothing but pleasant and kind to us for all these years.”
He grumbled.
“Give me the scissors. I don’t have all night.” Although she really did. The only thing waiting for her at home was a book about gardening. It wasn’t very interesting. Maybe because it wasn’t gardening season, but lately, she had trouble falling asleep, and reading helped sometimes—especially if the book wasn’t holding her attention. Lizzie had a library of books, but they were all a bit too steamy for Esther’s taste.
After Gus handed her the scissors and sat on the stool, Esther willed her stomach to settle and got busy straightening the jagged haircut.
“Don’t move or I might accidentally nip off part of your ear.” To her surprise, Gus didn’t respond and sat so still that Esther wondered if he was breathing.
When she was done, she ran her fingers down the sides, smoothing it out, which seemed strange, to touch the man. Then she handed him back the scissors.
“That’s the best I can do.” She stepped back to have a better look, and even in the dim lighting, the improvement was nothing short of amazing. Beneath all that hair and beard, Gus was a fairly attractive man for his age, even with his jiggling jowls and protruding belly. “You might want to wash that blood off your face.”
He grumbled some more as he carried the stool back to its spot. After he stashed the scissors in the drawer, he took a napkin, wet it, and dabbed at his chin.
Esther folded her hands in front of her, hoping for any type of acknowledgement, but he threw himself down on the couch and ran a hand through his short hair. It was silly of her to expect thanks. Saying it twice in one night might cause Esther to faint.
“Goodbye, Gus.” Esther shook her head as she moved toward the door.
“Wait!” His voice had that frantic edge to it again.
Esther drew in a long, deep breath. What now? She turned around and held up a palm. “Gus, I’ve fixed your hair. I think it’s lovely that you are cleaning yourself up for Suzanne and Isaiah’s wedding, and—”
“Wedding! Woman, are you out of your mind? I hate weddings. I hate churches even more.” He waved a hand in the air. “Yeah, yeah, I know your people get married in barns and houses, but weddings aren’t for me, no matter where they’re held. What would make you think I’d do all this for a wedding?”
Esther held her arms stiffly on either side of her as patience abandoned her.
But he just groaned. “My daughter is coming for a visit.”
Esther’s mouth fell open. “Daughter? What daughter?”
“The only one I’ve got.” He snickered. “That I know of. She’ll be here tomorrow.”
“I didn’t know you had a daughter. How long has it been since you’ve seen her?”
His expression sobered as he rubbed his clean-shaven chin.
“Uh, not since she was fifteen and told me she never wanted to see me again.” He growled. “I’m sure she only said that because her no-good mother told her to.”
“Ya, I’m sure that was it.” Esther pulled a Lizzie and rolled her eyes. She’d heard rumors that Gus had been married once, a long time ago, but even her mother hadn’t been sure if it was true. “What is her name? How old is she?”
“Her name is Heather.” He closed his eyes, tapping his fingers together, barely moving his lips as if he was counting. “Let’s see . . . I’m seventy-four. She was fifteen . . .” He opened his eyes and started counting on his fingers, mouthing numbers. Esther was trying to process this new information. He opened his eyes and snapped his fingers. “She’s fifty-four.”
Esther glanced around the one-bedroom cottage. “Where is she going to sleep?”
“I guess on the couch. I’m too tall to sleep on it.”
“What if she is tall too?” Esther tried to picture Gus’s grown daughter, what she might be like, and more curiously, why did she want to see Gus now, after almost forty years? “Why don’t you invite her to stay at the main haus?” At least Esther could make sure the woman had meals to eat and a bed to sleep in.
“I ain’t paying for a room when—”
“Free, Gus. She can stay for free.” It was a good thing she and Lizzie weren’t in need of money, since they were offering a lot of free rooms this next week.
He slowly stood up and shuffled toward her, scratching his cheek. His expression left him more vulnerable than Esther had ever seen him.
“What if she doesn’t like me?”
Under normal circumstances Ether would have burst out laughing, but something in Gus’s eyes tugged at her heart. This was important to him. But what could she say—be yourself? The woman would run back to where she came from within the first five minutes.
“Just . . . be kind.”
And this time Esther left, closing the door behind her, and half expecting Gus to rush out onto the porch to thank her. It was a hope she didn’t cling to for long.
As she reached the steps to the main house, she tried again to picture what Gus’s daughter might be like. How she’d love to be a fly on the wall to witness that meeting. But when she climbed into bed later, she felt called to pray for Gus and his daughter’s reunion to go well.
Gus has a daughter. It still seemed surreal.