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Finally, her brother’s lane came into view. By the time they reached the turnoff, the rain had slowed to a few sprinkles. “I’ll get out here,” she said. “Thanks for the lift.”
Roman stopped the buggy. Joann bolted out the door into the gentle rain and hurried toward the house. Once she gained the cover of the front porch, she watched as he turned the buggy around and drove away. At least she could draw a full breath now that she wasn’t shut in with him.
What was it about being near him that set her nerves on edge? And how would she be able to work with him day in and day out if he did take the job?
“Please, Lord, let him say no.”
Chapter Three
Roman sat at the kitchen table that evening with his parents after supper was done. His conversation with green-eyed Joann earlier that day hadn’t helped him come to a decision. He wasn’t sure what to do. What would be best for him? What would be best for his family?
Although he lived in the dawdy-haus, a small home built next to his parent’s home for his grandparents before their passing, he normally took his meals with his family. He waited until his younger brother left the kitchen and his mother was busy at the sink before he cleared his throat and said, “Daed, I need to speak to you.”
“So speak,” his father replied and took another sip of the black coffee in his cup. Menlo Weaver was a man of few words. Roman’s mother, Marie Rose, turned away from the sink, dried her hands on a dish towel and joined them at the table. Roman realized as he gazed at her worried face that she had aged in the past months, and he knew he was the reason why.
He took a sip of his own strong, dark coffee. “I spoke with Onkel Otis today,” he said.
“And?” his mother prompted.
“He offered me a job.”
There was no mistaking his father’s surprise. Menlo glanced at his wife. She kept her gaze down. Roman knew then that it hadn’t been his father’s idea. That eased some of his pain. At least his father wasn’t pushing to be rid of him.
As always, Menlo spoke slowly, weighing his words carefully. “What was your answer, sohn?”
Roman knew his father well. He read the inner struggle going on behind his father’s eyes. Menlo didn’t want his son to accept the job, but he also wanted what was best for Roman. “I told him I’d think it over.”
His mother folded her dish towel on her lap, smoothing each edge repeatedly. “And have you?”
“Of course he’s not going to take it,” Menlo said.
Roman knew then that he had little choice. His father would keep him on, but the cost to the business would slowly sink it. If Roman had an outside job and brought in additional money for the family, they could afford to hire a strong fellow with two good arms to take his place and make the sawmill profitable again.
He looked his father square in the eye. “I’ve decided to accept his offer. I hope you understand.”
Menlo frowned. “Are you sure this is what you want?”
Roman didn’t answer. He couldn’t.
“You’ll come back to work with me when your arm is better, ja?”
Roman smiled to reassure him. “Ja, Papa, when my arm gets better.”
Menlo nodded. “Then I pray it is a good decision and that you will be healed and working beside me soon.”
Roman broached the subject weighing heavily on his mind. “You will have to hire someone to take my place. Andrew and you can’t do it all alone.”
“We can manage,” his father argued.
“You’ll manage better with more help. Ben Lapp is looking for work. He’s a fine, strong young man from a good family,” his mother countered.
Menlo glanced between his son and his wife. He nodded slowly. “I will speak to him. I thought you were going to tell us you had decided to wed Esta Barkman.”
Roman had been dating Esta before the accident. He’d started thinking she might be the one. Since the accident, he’d only taken her home from church a few times. It felt awkward, and he wasn’t sure how to act. He didn’t feel like a whole man. He avoided looking at his father. “I’m not ready to settle down.”
“You’re not getting any younger,” his mother said. “I’d like grandchildren while I’m still young enough to enjoy them.”
“Leave the boy alone. He’ll marry soon enough. The supper was goot.”
“Danki.” She smiled at her husband, a warm smile that let Roman know they were still in love. Would Esta smile at him that way after thirty years together? He liked her smile. Her eyes were pale blue, not changeable green, but it didn’t matter what color a woman’s eyes were. What mattered was how much she cared for him.
He wanted to wait until his arm was healed before asking her to go steady, but his mother was right. He wasn’t getting any younger. Now, more than ever, he felt the need to form a normal life.
Menlo finished his coffee and left the room. Roman stayed at the table. His mother rose and came to stand behind him. She wrapped her arms around him and whispered, “I know this is hard for you, but it will all turn out for the best. You’ll see.”
If only he could believe that. Ever since he was old enough to follow his father into the mill, Roman had known what life held for him. At the moment, it felt as if his life had become a runaway horse and he’d lost the reins. He had no idea where it was taking him. He hated the feeling.
“Are you worried about working for my brother? Otis is a fair man.”
“It’s not Onkel Otis I’m worried about working with. It’s his employee, Joann Yoder. She’s taken a dislike to me for some reason.” It was easier to talk about her than about his self-doubts.
“Nonsense. I can’t imagine Joann disliking anyone. She’s a nice woman. It’s sad that no man has offered for her. She has a fine hand at quilting and a sweet disposition.”
“Not so sweet that I’ve seen.”
“She is a little different. According to her sister-in-law, she spends all her time with her nose in a book or out roaming the woods, but it can’t be easy for her. Be kind to her, my son.”
“What do you mean it can’t be easy for her?”
“Joann gets shuffled from one house to another by her brothers. I just meant it can’t be easy never having a place to call home.”
“I don’t understand.”
“She’s much younger than her brothers. When her parents died, her brothers decided she would spend four months with each of them so as not to burden one family over the other. I honestly believe they think they are being fair and kind. I’m sure they thought she would marry when she was of age, but she hasn’t. She’s very plain compared to most of our young women.”
“She’s not that plain.” She had remarkable eyes and a pert nose that matched her tart comments earlier that day. Why hadn’t he noticed her before? Perhaps because she seldom looked up.
His mother patted his arm. “She’s not as pretty as Esta.”
“Nee, she’s not.” He rose from the table determined to put Joann Yoder out of his mind. He had much more important things to think about.
* * *
“Joann, we’re going fishing. Come with us.”
Looking up from her book, Joann saw her nieces come sailing through the doorway of the bedroom they shared. Ten-year-old Salome was followed closely by six-year-old Louise.
Joann didn’t feel like going out. Truth be told, all she wanted was to sit in her room and pout. Tomorrow they would all travel to Sunday services at the home of Eli Imhoff, and she was sure to see Roman Weaver there. She had no intention of speaking to him.
On Monday, she would learn if she still had her job or if she had lost her chance to buy a home of her own. Last night she prayed to follow God’s will, but she really hoped the Lord didn’t want Roman to take the job any more than she did. She had tried to find pity in her heart, but the more she thought about him, the less pity entered into the picture. He seemed so strong, so sure of himself. She’d made a fool of herself trying to talk him out of working for Otis.
Why couldn’t she stop thinking about him?
Because he was infuriating, that was why. And when he turned his fierce scowl on her, she wanted to sink through the floor.
“Come on, Papa is waiting for us.” Louise pulled at Joann’s hand.
She shook her head and said, “I don’t think I’ll come fishing today, girls.”
“You love fishing, Aenti Joann. Please come with us,” Salome begged.
Louise leaned on the arm of the chair. “What are you reading?”
Joann turned her attention back to her book. She’d read the same page three times now. “It’s a wonderful story about an Amish girl who falls in love with the Amish boy next door.”
“Does she marry him?” Louise asked.
Joann patted the child’s head. “I don’t know. I haven’t finished the book. I hope she does.”
Louise looked up with solemn eyes. “Because you don’t want her to be an old maedel like you are?”
Joann winced. Out of the mouths of babes.
“That’s not nice, Louise,” Salome scolded. “You shouldn’t call Aenti Joann an old maid.”
Louise stuck out her bottom lip. “But Papa says she was born to be a maedel.”
Joann was well aware of her brother’s views on the subject of her single status. Perhaps it was time to admit that he was right. A few months ago, she had cherished a secret hope that Levi Beachy would one day notice her. However, Levi only had eyes for Sarah Wyse. The two had wed last Christmas. Joann was happy for them. Clearly, God had chosen them for each other.
Only, it left her without even the faintest prospect for romance. There was no one in Hope Springs that made her heart beat faster.
She closed her book and laid it aside. “Salome, do not scold your sister for speaking the truth.”
Joann wanted to know love, to marry and to have children, but if it wasn’t to be, she would try hard to accept her lot in life. When did a woman know it was time to give up that dream?
Salome scowled at Louise. Louise stuck her tongue out at her sister and then ran from the room.
Salome turned back to Joann. “It was still a rude thing to say. Never mind that baby. Come fishing with us.”
Joann shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
“But your new fishing pole came. Don’t you want to try it out?”
Joann sat up. “It came? When?”
“The mailman brought it yesterday.”
“Where is it?”
Salome pointed to the cot in the corner of the upstairs bedroom. “I put it on your bed.”
“It’s not there now. It wasn’t there when I went to bed last night.”
“Maybe Louise was playing with it. I told her not to,” Salome said, shaking her head.
Joann cringed at the thought. If the younger girl had damaged it, she wouldn’t be able to get her money back. She’d foolishly spent an entire week’s wages on the graphite rod and open-faced spinning reel combo. In hindsight, it was much too expensive.
Oh, but when she’d tried it out in the store, it cast like a dream. Maybe she should keep it.
No, she gave herself a firm mental shake. She couldn’t afford it now. If her hours were cut, she would have to make sacrifices in order to keep putting money in her savings account. Otherwise, she faced a lifetime of moving her cot from one household to another.
Salome dropped to the floor to check under the other beds in the room. Finally, she found it. “Here it is.”
Joann breathed a sigh of relief when Salome emerged with the long package intact. Taking the box from her niece, Joann checked it over. It bore several big dents.
“Did she break it?”
“I don’t think so.” Joann carefully opened one end and slid out the slender black pole. The cork handle felt as light and balanced in her hand now as it had in the sporting goods store. She unpacked the reel. It was in perfect shape.
From the bottom of the stairs, Joann heard her brother call out, “Salome, are you coming?”
“Yes, Papa. Joann is coming, too.” She ran out the door and down the stairs.
Joann stared at the pole in her hands. Why not try it out once before sending it back? What could it hurt? It might be ages before she had a chance to use such a fine piece of fishing equipment again. She bundled it into the box, grabbed her small tackle box from beneath her cot, exchanged her white prayer kapp for a large black kerchief to cover her head and hurried after her niece.
On her way out of the house, Joann paused long enough to grab an apple from the bowl on the kitchen table. Outside, she joined the others in the back of the farm wagon for the jolting ride along the rough track to a local lake. It wasn’t far. Joann walked there frequently, but she enjoyed sitting in the back of the wagon with the giggling and excited girls at her side.
The land surrounding the small lake belonged to an Amish neighbor who didn’t care if people fished there as long as they left his sheep alone and closed the gates behind them. Joann had been coming to the lake since she was a child. Joseph Shetler, the landowner, had been friends with her grandfather. The two men often took a lonely little girl fishing with them. Occasionally, Joann still caught sight of Joseph, but he avoided people these days. She never knew why he had become a recluse. He still came to church services, but he didn’t stay to visit or to eat.
The wagon bounced and rumbled along the faint wheel tracks that led to the south end of the lake. It had once been a stone quarry that had filled with water nearly a century ago. When they reached the shore, everyone piled out of the back of the wagon and spread out along the water’s edge. The remote area was Joann’s favorite fishing place. She knew exactly where the largemouth bass, bluegill and walleye hung out.
She’d spent many happy hours fishing here peacefully by herself, but each time served to remind her of the wonderful days she’d spent there with her grandfather. He had been the one person who always had time for her.
If she closed her eyes, she could still hear his craggy voice. “See that old log sticking out of the bank, child? There’s a big bass right at the bottom end of it. Mr. Bass likes to hole up in the roots and dart out to catch unwary minnows swimming by. Make your cast right in front of that log. You’ll get him.”
Joann smiled at the memory. It had taken many tries and more than a few lost lures before she gained the skill needed to put her hook right where she wanted it. Her daadi had been right. She caught a dandy at that spot.
She was always happy when she came to the lake. She kept a small journal in the bottom of her tackle box and made notes about of all her trips. She used the information on weather conditions, insect activity and water temperature to compile information that made her a better angler.
Normally, she released the fish if she was alone. Today, she would keep what she caught and the family would enjoy a fish fry for supper.
When everyone was spreading out along the lakeshore, she said, “I haven’t had much success fishing on this end of the lake. The east shore is a better place.”
“Looks goot to me.” Hebron threw in his line.
Joann shrugged and headed away from the lake on a narrow path that wound through the trees for a few hundred yards before it came out at the shore again near a small waterfall. This was where the fishing was the best.
Carefully, she unpacked her pole and assembled it. From her small tackle box, she selected a lure that she knew the walleye would find irresistible and began to cast her line. Within half an hour, she had five nice fish on her stringer.
