Chapter 8
So, tell me why you did it.”
Jacob entered the warm, morning-lit barn where Seth was tending to the mare’s wounds. It had always been like this between them—an unspoken ability to understand each other and to not have to ask too many questions. But he didn’t feel in the mood to give answers he wasn’t sure of himself.
“You should have got me up.” Jacob rubbed absently at his shoulder which had ached all night, leaving him drained and irritable.
“I guess I should have.”
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing.”
“What happened? Was she upset?”
“You mean your betrothed? Nee. We just—talked. She was fine.”
“Well, gut then.”
He blew hot air through his cheeks and lifted a bucket of feed with one hand. He felt like he had the beginnings of a cold, and recollecting Mrs. Lapp’s reaction to the engagement made his head throb.
“Don’t hurt that shoulder any worse.”
“Don’t worry about me, little bruder.”
Seth snorted. “Right. Now, tell me—why the engagement?”
Jacob put the bucket down and rubbed a hand on Thunder’s neck. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Maybe I wanted a way out of this mess in my head with Sarah, or I wanted to do what’s right for Lilly.”
“Jah, and getting married to an innocent woman while you’re still in love with another sounds like a gut plan.”
Jacob cast him a dark look. “It wasn’t like I planned it ahead of time. And I didn’t make Lilly say what she did about being with me.”
“You didn’t deny it either.”
“Look—what I said, well, I know it sounds narrish, but it just came out of my mouth, like I was supposed to say it.”
Seth turned from the mare to start rubbing wax on a saddle. “She has beautiful eyes, you know.”
“Who?”
“Lilly. Eyes like winter jewels.”
“Since when have you noticed?”
“I always notice girls’ eyes. Besides, I went to school with her too, remember?”
“Jah.”
Jacob ducked his head away from his brother’s prodding. He thought with shame about the kiss he’d taken from Lilly yesterday in his own desperation to escape thoughts of Sarah.
How could he have been so selfish to think only of escaping his pain without considering the ramifications of using her? And the engagement—what if that was only a means of putting something right in front of him to focus on, to cling to, a distraction from his painful reality? Was it wrong for him to continue?
Yet, she seemed to be willing, with all her foolishness about quilt scraps and second choices—and a dog from school days.
What hund?
“We’d best get outside. The buyer’s coming early.”
Jacob rolled his eyes. He was in no mood for the type of buyer his brother typically arranged.
“What?” Seth asked, sliding open the barn door.
“Nothing.”
They went to lean against the fence as a BMW swung down the lane.
“Here we go,” Seth said under his breath, a bit of pleasure edging his voice. “The game begins.”
“Jah. But it’s a game that grows old.”
“You’re growing old, big bruder. You know as well as I do that Englisch lady buyers who come here from Boston—or wherever— have an expectation of what us backward, innocent Amish boys are, and it’s not always pleasant. So, what’s wrong with treating the customer like a princess, changing her views, and getting us extra money for a horse to boot?”
Jacob sighed as the car ground to a halt. “I don’t know.”
Seth cocked his hat. “Think of it as advertising. The Wyse Brothers cater to a customer’s every whim as well as providing the best horseflesh on the East Coast. Now, smile.”
Jacob rubbed at his dark hair, then plastered a smile on his face. He felt like he’d rather be lying down nursing his shoulder instead of moving forward to greet the head-to-toe fur-clad, blond-haired woman who exited the car once the uniformed driver had opened the door.
“Mrs. Castleberrry.” Seth had his hat off and was shaking her hand. “I’m Seth Wyse. We’re so glad you made it despite the unpredictability of the weather this time of year.”
The woman smiled, a dazzling flash of white teeth and an appraising glance from makeup-lined eyes. “Perhaps the pleasure is mine,” she said, glancing past Seth to where Jacob stood.
Jacob yanked his hat off and extended his hand. “Ma’am.”
“Oh, please call me Victoria, and I’ll call you—”
“Jacob,” he muttered. Seth took a false step backward and dug him in the ribs as he hurried to respond. “Uh, we’ve got the horse we discussed on the phone. If you’d like to come inside the barn, it’s a bit warmer. Your driver is welcome too.”
She gave an airy wave. “James can wait in the car. He reads. Frankly, I was surprised that you were able to use the telephone; I had heard that you Amish do not.”
“Usually we don’t, but for business we are allowed, Victoria.” Seth had caught her arm against his lean side. “Please let me help you over this uneven ground.”
“Thank you.” She glanced over her shoulder at Jacob. “I should like to have the opportunity to see the area a bit while I’m here. Perhaps you might give me a private tour? It would also give me a chance to see the horse perform at an extended trot.”
Jacob ignored his bruder’s smiling profile and drew a deep breath. “I’d be glad to, Mrs.—uh, Victoria. My pleasure.”
“Marvelous.” She gave a triumphant toss of her fur-hatted head as Seth began to tell her about the farm in dulcet tones.
The beginning of Lilly’s school days were occasionally a time of peace for her, and today looked promising. She opened the back door of the one-room schoolhouse—which had no lock—and concentrated on starting the woodstove, letting the familiar routine soothe away the tumultuous thoughts in her head. She unpacked her satchel of books and graded papers, laying them on her desk, then wrote the schedule for the day on the blackboard. Foremost in her mind, besides the incredible idea of her wedding, were preparations for the Christmas program.
The program was a joyful annual tradition in many Amish communities. Almost everyone would come and crowd the schoolhouse to watch naerfich pupils perform. Only English was spoken in the program, and many of her younger students still struggled during practice to remember to speak English and not to slip into their Pennsylvania Dutch dialect. And, since even the bishop would attend to see how well the students’ English was coming along, this gave both students and teacher reason to fret. This year was no exception in terms of anxiety, despite her forethought and planning to make the program unique. But there was never any telling how the students would perform. So, practice was key, and every school day afternoon from late November to the day of the program itself was spent rehearsing.
Lilly looked up from her desk as the stomping of boots on the back porch alerted her to her first students’ arrival. John and Mary Zook, two of the eldest students in the eighth grade, and twin siblings as well, came well-bundled into the room. They wished her “gut morning,” then went on squabbling in a friendly fashion over the lunch their mamm had packed to be shared. The little trio of Mast children arrived, ranging from first grade through the fifth. Then Lucy Stolis, in the seventh grade, came in shivering, bearing an apple for Lilly. She accepted it with pleasure, considering her own lack of breakfast. By the time she rang the handbell on the back porch, all fourteen of her students had arrived and found their seats.
News spread faster than spilled water in the little community, and Lilly could tell by the students’ suppressed whispers and stray giggles that they knew of her engagement to Jacob Wyse.
“Is there something I should know?” she asked innocently, surveying the excitement on their faces.
“We think you know already, Miss Lapp,” John Zook said, and the others laughed in delight.
To Lilly’s surprise, Mary Zook slid a large handmade card of construction paper from beneath her desktop. “We wanted to say congratulations, Miss Lapp.” She offered the card shyly.
Lilly took it with genuine pleasure, admiring the hearts and flowers and the signatures of all the students. Here was abundant goodwill that cheered her heart and helped set aside her worries of the future for the moment.
“Thank you, thank you all. I’ll cherish it.” She let her smile envelop the class, then she made a sudden decision. “And I have a surprise for all of you—I’d like each of you to come to the wedding. I know that students usually stay in school during wedding ceremonies, but as young ladies and gentlemen, I want you to be there.”
The delight on their faces affirmed to her what an honor she was giving them; even the older boys looked pleased. She just hoped that Jacob wouldn’t mind. She then pushed thoughts of the wedding away and focused on the moment at hand.
“All right, now let’s look at our plans for the day.”
There was a collective groan when they’d reviewed the schedule she’d written on the blackboard, and Matthew Mast raised his small hand.
“Yes?” Lilly asked with good humor.
“Miss Lapp, if we offer to give up Christmas holidays, can we not have the program?”
Several students nodded eagerly in agreement and Lilly had to suppress a laugh. “No, Matthew. You all know it won’t be so bad.”
“Badder than the dentist,” Matthew suggested.
“Worse.” Lilly smiled. “Worse, Matthew. And, no, it won’t be.
“Now I’d like each of you to take the quilt square you’ve been working on. You should be just about finished. I plan to baste them together this evening. Then, as you may know, some of your mothers have kindly volunteered to put our class quilt together for us.”
Again, there was a chorus of faint groans, this time from the boys of the class, and Lilly had to stifle a smile. Making a class quilt to display at the Christmas program was something that was done in many schools, but the boys were naturally opposed to the idea. In the past, she’d seen more than one boy bring in a square that had obviously been completed by a mother or a schweschder, so she’d solved that problem by having them work on the squares only in class. Mothers had donated scraps from their quilting bags, and Lilly had given the option to either glue or hand sew to create a picture on the squares of cotton she’d passed out.
This year’s class quilt theme was “Trees.” Lilly had encouraged her students to think about all aspects of a tree, from seedling beginnings, to the multitude of colors during the fall and the stark beauty of winter. Now, as she walked among the desks, surveying their work, she was surprised and amazed at the variations of colors and patterns that made up the individual trees. The younger students’ work was especially sweet with oddly shaped tree trunks in brown calico and masses of purple and red leaves.
She passed Lucy’s desk, especially impressed by the dozens of tiny hand stitches the girl had used.
“That’s lovely, Lucy.”
The child’s face glowed with the praise and she lifted her head to meet Lilly’s eyes. “Will you have time for a wedding quilting, Miss Lapp?” she whispered.
Lilly paused, trying to think of what to say. She would dearly love a wedding quilting, but there was one secret part of her that questioned whether or not she actually deserved such a joyful celebration. After all, she’d done everything so impulsively with Jacob, upside down and out of order. Wedding quiltings were things of planning and coordination; legacies of a rich past and dear hopes for the future. It was enough, she decided with an inward sigh, if God would bless their life together. A wedding quilting was not necessary for marital happiness. She laid her hand on Lucy’s shoulder.
“I promise to let you know if I do.”
The girl flushed with pleasure and then returned to her stitching as Lilly passed on to the next desk. The idea of a wedding quilt led to other half-formed, tangled thoughts of what it might be like to lie in Jacob’s embrace against a backdrop of imagined patterns. She wondered how often he’d be thinking of Sarah, then snapped her thoughts back ruthlessly to the moment at hand.