Zeb’s day couldn’t have gone much worse. He and Josh walked out to the parking area, neither saying much. It had been that kind of day. Even his young, energetic son was silent.
Ben Gold was in charge of pasturing the horses, caring for them, then helping workers to harness them when it was time to go. But Ben wasn’t who met Zeb at his buggy. Instead, Amos had fetched Beauty and was guiding her out of the pasture.
“Amos.”
“Afternoon, Zeb. Fine mare you have here.”
“Ya. My parents bought her four years ago, while I was in Lancaster.”
Beauty and the buggy were given to Zeb and Samuel when his parents moved. It wasn’t as if they could ship a horse, and they understood that both sons were working hard to find a way to purchase the farm. He was grateful for the mare. She had a gentle and patient nature. Something Zeb realized he might be able to learn from the horse.
“How are you doing, young Josh?”
“Not so good.” Josh blew out a big breath, causing his lips to make a propeller sound. “Been in trouble most of the afternoon.”
“Ah.”
“We had rather a rough day,” Zeb admitted.
Amos seemed to consider that, then nodded as he patted Beauty’s neck.
“God won’t lead you where His grace can’t keep you,” Amos said, then winked at Josh. “Sounds like something one of my doschdern might stitch onto a pillow case, but I believe it to be true.”
“Sure. That makes sense.” Zeb had a bad feeling though.
Why was Amos working parking detail? Had one of the guests complained about the day’s tour? Was he about to be fired? He wasn’t sure he wanted to make a career out of being a tour guide but at this moment in time, he needed this job.
As if reading his thoughts, Amos said, “I was wondering if we could talk for a moment.”
“Of course. Josh, why don’t you go and play for a few minutes. And—”
“Be careful. I know.” The boy walked away, his head down as if he was expecting to be hollered at.
Zeb glanced up at Amos. The man was a fair boss, and he’d raised five daughters on his own. Maybe he could offer some advice because Zeb was completely out of ideas.
“Did you hear about Esmerelda’s accident?” Amos asked.
“Nein. What happened?”
“Tripped over a garden hose. Broke her ankle pretty badly. She’ll be going to live with her schweschder in Middlebury until it heals.”
“So, she’s off the tour.”
“I’m afraid so.”
Jiminy Cricket. The day just continued to get worse. “What does that mean as far as the tour?”
“I think we definitely do need a fourth stop.”
“Sure. Ya. I agree.”
“I’ve talked to Becca and Eunice.”
“About—” Zeb stopped there because he couldn’t for the life of him think of anything that Becca and Eunice would have to do with his tours.
A smile tugged at the corners of Amos’s mouth. “I spoke to Eunice about being the fourth stop on the tour.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Eunice is quite good at repairing small machines. It might be interesting for the tour group to see an Amish woman in a less than traditional role.”
Zeb shook his head. Not because he disagreed. But because he couldn’t imagine Eunice wanting to have anything to do with him after the brusque way he’d spoken to her. And even if she had said yes, which apparently she had, there was still the issue of childcare.
“I guess you heard about Josh’s accident yesterday.”
“Ya. How’s he feeling?”
“Fine. Just fine. But I’m going to be honest with you, Amos. I tried taking Josh with me on the tour today, and it didn’t go well. In fact, I thought you might be about to fire me.”
“I wouldn’t do that, Zeb.”
An unexpected release of tension caused him to feel momentarily lightheaded. Had he even eaten lunch? Or breakfast? He pulled his attention back to the man standing in front of him. “Okay. That’s good to know. But today’s tour here at the market was a disaster. When we went into the canteen’s kitchen, Josh pulled an entire platter of cookies down on the floor, burning his finger in the process.”
“I noticed the bandage on his finger.”
“Ya. Fortunately, it wasn’t bad. But before that we’d gone to the Backyard Barnyard, and this time instead of falling off a cow, he let out the sheep. Took the girls working there a full half hour to round them back up.”
The day’s misadventures came spilling out of Zeb. On one level, he realized he might look back and laugh at this day when Josh was grown with kinder of his own. But today? Today, it just felt as if everything had gone wrong. As if he hadn’t done enough to make sure things went right.
“There’s more. At the RV park, he tripped over someone’s sewer hose, then he fell on the ground into the liquid that was spilling out of the hose. The mess was on Josh, spread out over the guy’s camping area, everywhere.”
“That would explain his pants and the smell.”
“I’m doing it all wrong, Amos.” Zeb took Beauty’s lead and walked her to his buggy.
He needed to be doing something. He couldn’t look at Amos as he confessed his shortcomings. “I’m short-tempered, exhausted all the time and I am constantly behind on something. I thought being a farmer was hard, but...”
He stopped talking then.
He simply could not voice the fact that he felt like an abject failure.
Amos had followed him to the buggy. Now he helped to harness Beauty, then nodded toward Josh who was dashing back and forth under the trees trying to catch leaves as they fell. “He’s a fine child, Zeb. And I imagine you are doing a gut job.”
“How could you possibly say that?”
“Because he’s happy. He’s happy chasing leaves.” Amos grinned broadly and there was no doubt that he meant what he said. Then his expression sobered a bit. “That’s not true of all children in this life. It’s not even true of all children in this town. The fact that he is happy, it speaks to the fact that he knows you love him and care for him.”
It couldn’t be that simple. Zeb appreciated Amos trying to cheer him up, but it really could not be that simple.
“I know a little about being a single dat. It’s difficult. I wouldn’t lie and tell you that it’s easy. But it is worth it. Seeing our children grow into well-balanced, healthy adults...” Amos’s voice had taken on a softer tone, and his gaze was focused on the horizon—as if he were looking into the past rather than across the parking area. “It’s worth everything we go through.”
Zeb patted the mare, then stood with his back against the buggy, staring at his son. He stood beside Amos and tried to believe the wisdom his boss was sharing. Then he remembered the current pressing problem. “I still don’t have any childcare,” he admitted.
“I might have an idea that will help with that.”
Zeb drove home ten minutes later. He wasn’t convinced that Amos’s solution would work, but it had to be better than his own failed attempt at solving the problem. Because if it wasn’t, he wasn’t sure what his next step would be.
Eunice would have liked to have avoided Zeb until their first tour the following week. She was still incensed that he’d fired her as a childcare provider. Honestly, she thought he’d come back apologizing and begging her to give him one more chance. That didn’t happen. Instead, her dat had brokered the deal where Becca was watching Josh.
But it was hard to avoid someone during church. Even harder to stay out of their way at the luncheon afterward.
“Just go over and talk to him,” Becca advised.
“No.”
“Why?”
They were both working the dessert table. Zeb had actually bypassed the sweets so that he wouldn’t have to face her. She thought that was amazing. The guy had a sweet tooth, but it seemed the pull of double chocolate cake wasn’t enough to overcome his embarrassment.
“Why should I? He’s the one in the wrong.”
“Oh, Eunice.”
Eunice pinned her with a stare, causing Becca to raise her hands in surrender, then push the strawberry pie to the front of the table. Sighing, Becca moved the platter of oatmeal cookies to the right and the brownie bars to the left. Then switched them back again.
“Just say it.”
Becca smiled gently. “But you don’t want me to.”
“Better than you taking it out on the desserts.”
Becca looked up at her, suddenly serious, and Eunice felt bad for causing such concern on her schweschder’s face. She was always concerning her family. It seemed that everything she did, every decision she made, resulted in someone feeling the need to explain why it had been wrong.
Which wasn’t true.
She knew it wasn’t true. She wasn’t always wrong. But she felt off today. She felt as if she’d rolled out of the wrong side of the bed, but her bed was positioned against a wall so that wasn’t even possible. “I’m just in a bad mood. Didn’t sleep well.”
“Why?”
“Because I was arguing with Zeb in my head. I’ll have you know, I won every single time.”
Everyone had been through the line except for the women and girls working at the food tables. Becca tugged on Eunice’s arm and nodded toward the path that circled the Glicks’ small pond.
“Aren’t you hungry?” Eunice asked.
“It’ll still be here. Let’s walk.”
So they did, and by the time they were halfway around the pond, some of the restless energy had drained out of her. They sat in the grass and watched the group of families on the opposite side of the water. She could just make out Zeb and Josh, sitting with the older people. Why would he sit with the older people? This was his chance to let Josh be around children his own age.
“Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“Right now? Right now I’m thinking that Zeb should be sitting with people his own age.”
“Ah.”
“Ah, what?”
“Maybe he’s uncomfortable with people his own age.”
“Because—”
“Because most of them are married, and he’s not.”
Ugh. Eunice hated it when Becca looked at the compassionate side of things. It always made her feel like such a snake.
“You think he should have moved on.”
“I don’t know,” Eunice hedged. “Maybe. Okay, yes. I do. It’s time to put his son first.”
“Probably an easier thing to say than do, and maybe—in his mind—he is putting Josh first.”
“I guess.” Eunice circled her arms around her knees. It felt childish, but it also felt comforting. “Why can’t he just be Zeb? The Zeb I grew up with. Why does he have to be so ornery and cranky all the time?”
“Perhaps what you’re calling orneriness and crankiness is simply grief.”
“Maybe so.”
“And grief sometimes feels like fear.”
Eunice turned her head so that her cheek was rested against her knees but her gaze was on Becca. “Amish proverb?”
“C.S. Lewis.”
“Oh, I remember that book about the lion. What was his name?”
“Aslan, but we’re sliding away from the point here.”
“Is the point that Zeb is afraid?”
“It’s a possibility.”
“Of what?”
Becca pulled Eunice to her feet, looped her arm through her schweschder’s and started walking them the rest of the way around the pond. Toward the food tables. Toward the people. Toward Zeb.
“Maybe everything.”
“Huh?”
“Maybe Zeb’s afraid of everything. Grief can color your world, Eunice. When I worked with Mennonite Disaster Services, people were very grateful for the help that we offered. But they were still grieving. It wasn’t always sunshine and roses.”
“Ada would have said sunshine and ponies.”
“Probably.” Becca squeezed her arm. “My point is that people need time to heal after a terrible loss.”
“How much time?”
“Depends on the person.”
Eunice realized as they finished the walk and she filled her plate with food that she didn’t want to let go of her anger toward Zeb. Her certainty, her self-righteousness was like a sweater that she’d grown very comfortable wearing.
But it wasn’t their way.
Becca had reminded her of that though she hadn’t said those exact words. The commandment to love one another often went unsaid, though it was very important in the way they tried to live like Christ. Holding a grudge, being angry, harboring ill will was not their way. They were called to love. Hadn’t the sermon they’d just heard been on that very thing? Love your neighbor as yourself.
She sat with her family, pushed the food around on her plate, stole occasional glances at Zeb. Ada inched closer, lowered her voice and said, “Doesn’t really matter if the buggy or the horse is first. Just get over there.”
“I don’t know what that means, Ada.”
“I think you do.” Ada kissed her cheek, then hopped up and followed Ethan and baby Peter, who were headed toward the pond.
“She’s right.” Sarah nodded toward her plate. “You’re not eating that food anyway. Might as well do what needs to be done.”
How was it that her entire family knew her business? Eunice offered the ham on her plate to the Glicks’ dog and scraped the rest of her food into the trash bin. As the couples and families and even old people finished with their meals, they all headed to the pond. So, Eunice went the opposite direction. She did not want to answer any more questions about her mood.
Of course, when she walked around to the back of the barn, she was nearly bowled over by one small boy, straw hat pushed back on his head, a grin adorning his face. “Look at this, Eunice. A rabbit. And it even likes me holding it. Isn’t that amazing? I need to show Lydia and Mary.”
And then Josh was gone.
Leaving Eunice standing there, alone, and less than five feet from the one person she was trying to avoid.
“Eunice.” Zeb’s perpetual frown was in place, but he didn’t look away. He watched her, as if he was waiting for something. As if he was waiting for her to take the first step toward reconciliation. Which was what he should do, since he’d been in the wrong. She didn’t say that though.
She said, “Sorry, I... I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“Do you look like you’re interrupting? Pretty much just me and the other rabbits back here.”
Sure enough, there was a large rabbit hutch with a variety of bunnies. Eunice couldn’t resist. She moved closer and peered down. There were tan ones, white ones, brown ones and one fellow that was a combination of all three. She suddenly wanted to pick one up more than she’d wanted anything all day. She opened the gate, stepped inside and reached for the white bunny, which immediately hopped in the other direction.
Zeb cleared his throat as if something were lodged there. “Same thing happened to Josh. He finally cornered one over by the water bowl.”
Which worked. She cuddled the tri-colored bunny in the crook of her arm, stepped back through the gate and sat on the bench. What was it about holding a rabbit that made the world feel right? This little guy pushed his nose into the crook of her arm, ears alert, nose twitching back and forth causing her to giggle like a schoolgirl.
“He’s not that funny looking.”
Zeb had moved closer, and Eunice jumped at the sound of his voice.
“He’s tickling my arm.” She rearranged the rabbit so that it was looking out and over the bend of her elbow. “That’s better.”
“Didn’t know you were an animal person,” Zeb said.
“I live on a farm. Of course I love animals. Plus, I lived with Ada when she first went through her animal rescue phase. Try caring for a blind donkey.”
Zeb chuckled. It wasn’t a laugh exactly, but it was an improvement over the scowl. “I sense that you’re still put out with me.”
“Yup.”
“And...” He sighed dramatically. “I suppose you have a right to be.”
“Yup.”
“You’re not going to cut me any slack.”
“Nope.”
“First woman I’ve met who could answer questions with single syllables.”
“So, you’ve met a lot of women, have you?”
“Not really.” He leaned closer, ran a hand down the rabbit’s back, sighed again. “I know I’ve messed up. Just tell me the worst of it and we’ll muddle through.”
He attempted a smile. It fell flat. Something about that pathetic attempt to lighten the moment ignited the anger that Eunice had been trying to tamp down since Josh fell off the cow.
“Fine. Here.” She pushed the rabbit into his arms and began to pace back and first. “Where should I start? You’re arrogant.”
“Arrogant?”
“You think you’re the only one who has ever raised a child. And another thing. You’re mopey.”
“I’m mopey?”
“All hangdog looks and long sighs. Would it kill you to actually smile at something?”
“I suppose it wouldn’t.”
Still, she was on a roll. Why stop? “And the thing that gets my goat, the part that makes me want to stomp my foot, is that you’re holding my future in your hands.”
He’d been petting the rabbit, but now his hands froze. “How so?”
“I’ve already agreed to be part of your tour, which mind you could be very humiliating to me. I don’t know if that was my dat’s idea or yours.” She held up a hand. “Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know. My point is that if you up and decide I’m not doing that well—if you fire me again—then it’s off to Kentucky for me. Just throw me on a bus and send me away.”
She tried to make it sound funny, but that last part came out rather pitiful. Maybe Zeb’s solemnness was catching. She turned away from him, rapidly blinking back tears, wishing she were still holding the rabbit.
Eunice heard him stand, walk to the hutch, open the gate and say, “Off with you, little fellow,” then close the gate. By the time he’d joined her at the pasture fence, she’d reined in her emotions.
“I’m not arrogant,” he said. “I’m afraid.”
His words so echoed what Becca had said that Eunice flinched.
“I’m afraid all the time. That I’m going to do something wrong. Something tragically wrong. Something that will cost me not just my wife but also my son.”
“Zeb...”
“Let me finish. You’ve had your say. And I hear your frustration and anger, Eunice. But I have a lot at stake here.”
“As do I.”
“True. That’s true. As for being mopey, yeah, maybe so. Maybe I need...some sort of change.”
Something in her heart lurched. “I thought Shipshe was the change you needed?”
“I did too.” He walked a few steps down the fence line, stared out past the rabbit enclosure to the trees beyond. “I did too.”
Now he turned toward her, all emotion gone, purely business. “But my future is as dependent on you as you claim yours is dependent on me.”
“How so?”
“Because if these tours don’t work—if my bruder and I can’t raise the money for a down payment on the farm—then my son loses not just his mamm and his grandparents but also the family home. And I’m not going to let that happen, Eunice.”
“Okay.” Where was he going with this? How was this all her fault?
“We’re not children anymore, Eunice. We’re adults with adult responsibilities. You were wrong about one thing. It’s not my fault if your dat sends you to Kentucky. That’s on you.”
“Me?”
“You’re the one that needs to make your agreement with your dat work. It’s not as if there aren’t half a dozen men who would court you in a minute.”
“And you could have a new fraa anytime—”
“I don’t want a new fraa.” The words sounded as if they’d been torn from his heart.
They stood there, staring at each other.
She’d crossed a line. She shouldn’t have gone anywhere near the subject of Suzanne. “I’m sorry.”
“Nein. Not good enough. You need to help me make this tour work.”
“I thought you were doing fine at the market.”
“The market’s closed, Eunice. If you haven’t noticed.”
“Oh, yeah. But there’s the Christmas market...”
“I can’t wait until Christmas.”
He stood there, hands on his hips, and again a little of his emotion peeked through. She had a glimpse of his desperation. Was Pennsylvania so bad? Why was he dead set on not moving back there? At least he’d have Suzanne’s family to help.
Is that what she wanted?
Did she want Zebedee Mast out of her life for good?
A small voice reminded her that her problems would remain even when he was gone. She realized, in that moment, what she missed was her friend. She missed the guy who understood her and accepted her for who she was. And she wasn’t sure that guy even existed anymore. The person standing in front of her? He was no longer that young man who had grown up with her, who had been filled with optimism and fun.
This person—she didn’t even know him.
Zeb was still waiting on an answer.
“You certainly don’t have to worry about my part of the tour.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning that I’ll make sure it’s every one of your tourists’ favorite stops.” And with that pronouncement, she turned and hightailed it back to her family.
She didn’t know how she was going to accomplish what she’d just claimed she could and would do. But one way or another, she would see this through. Zeb’s life might be miserable. But it wouldn’t be miserable because of her.