A Simple Charity (15 page)

With that, the room filled with soft laughter. Fanny breathed a sigh of relief as she took in the happy faces of her family. She had made the right decision, difficult as it was, though she had come close to saying no to these lovebirds. Thank goodness Zed had been here to steer her right. Good, wise Zed.

12

F
our days later, Zed Miller had to duck beneath the low brim of the tent as he filed out of church with the other men for the first time in his life. His baptism at the beginning of the month had earned him the privilege of sitting in the men’s section. He smiled to himself, remembering how, as a boy in church, he had looked over at the men and wondered what it would be like to sit among them. Back then, he never imagined that it would take him so long to become baptized. He grabbed his hat from the assortment of black felt hats stuck onto the pikes of the fence and smiled as he pressed it onto his head. Gott was good.

It was the last Sunday in September, a bright and sunny church day with golden autumn light that glowed soft in the trees. The Almighty’s handiwork was all around him in the blue sky with clouds thin as spun sugar and bursts of color from crimson maples to orange beech trees and yellow oaks. There was joy in the air, joy
in the faces of the children sharing the leftover church cookies, joy in the lilting voices of women and the laughter of young boys.

These were the touches of home that were so ingrained in Zed, so much a part of him, that he wondered how he’d ever had the guts to leave. Here in Halfway, there was a rhythm to the days and weeks and changing seasons. A time for every purpose under Heaven.

Following his father, Zed joined a group of older men who talked of dry weather and the early corn harvest. Though not a farmer, Zed listened and nodded. This was his purpose under Heaven—living Plain and doing carpentry in Halfway. And over the past few months, since he’d started renovating the Lapps’ carriage house, Zed saw his purpose blossoming. All the while he’d been hoping for a job with a contractor to keep him busy, but instead, he’d found solitary work to quiet his mind and a good family to warm his heart.

Each morning he rose before dawn, glad to be on his way. Fanny was always the first out to the carriage house with a thermos of coffee and an invitation for Zed to join the family for breakfast. It was usually a simple meal—oatmeal and fruit or biscuits and eggs—but Zed was nourished by the conversation. He was the last child living with his parents, Rose and Ira, and he missed having a big brood gathered around the family table.

There was always plenty to talk about at the Lapp table. Caleb was learning the ins and outs of tending to the Stoltzfuses’ sheep. Emma shared stories of her young scholars at the one-room schoolhouse. Elsie asked advice on how to handle the growing business at the Country Store. Beth offered her own tales before dutifully helping their mamm clean up the kitchen. Most mornings, Will came out to the carriage house, where Zed was happy to assign him a task and teach him a thing or two about building. And Fanny … Fanny was loving tenderness, steely determination, and soft humility all woven into one beautiful cloth.

Trying to keep one ear on the men’s conversation, Zed lifted his gaze to search for her in the clusters of folk waiting to eat. The sight of Will playing by the Beilers’ woodpile brought a smile to his face. The boys were making a game of climbing onto the tree stump and jumping down. He looked toward the house, and there she was. The ribbons of her white kapp were tied under her chin as she carried a large platter of bread out to the serving table. That quiet smile, he knew it well. Time and again he longed to kiss those pink lips, to part them and taste the sweetness there, the way he and his friends used to suck the sweetness from a honeysuckle blossom.

He turned away, taking a breath to clear his head.

A quiet man by nature, Zed tended to watch others and soak up the things that were left unsaid. With Fanny Lapp, there were so many things under the surface: A deep sadness for her husband Thomas. A delight in each baby she brought into the world. And an endless well of support for her family.

Zed knew she was lonely, but she never said a word about it. And he didn’t push. Instead, he looked to the reddish sheen of lamplight on her hair, the glimmer of her blue eyes, the joy of her gentle laugh, like leaves shimmering in the wind.

He knew she was in mourning still. She had loved her husband, and she needed time to heal the heart.

Which made Zed’s feelings for her all the more forbidden. It wasn’t proper to court a widow so soon after her husband’s death. But Gott help him, he savored the moments they had together, and when they were apart, he couldn’t stop thinking about her. As each day unraveled at the Lapps’, Zed shared so much of his life—his search, his disappointments. She understood how he’d become lost among the English, and she supported his earnest efforts to join the Amish community. There was no condemnation or judgment in her clear blue eyes; only charity, pure and simple.

A firm hand clamped on his back, bringing Zed out of his reverie.
His father leaned in close, a gleam in his eyes. “You don’t have to stick with us old-timers,” Ira said quietly. “Go. See your friends.”

Zed enjoyed hearing the tales of the older men, but lately Ira Miller was always pushing Zed off to be social. Dat was determined that his youngest son find a wife, and soon. “Almost thirty, Zed?” he teased around the house. “You’re no spring chicken anymore.”

Nothing Zed said could calm his father’s worries. “Are you waiting to fall in love, son?”

I have found love
, Zed always wanted to answer, although he wasn’t sure she felt the same way.

“Because that will happen over time. The important thing is to find a good friend. A woman you respect.”

I’ve found her, Dat, but she’s not ready to take a husband
.

Zed’s father shifted from foot to foot. “Besides, you need to find Bishop Samuel. He wants to talk with you,” Ira said.

At least that would give Zed someone to search out in the crowd. Ya, he’d be content to find his friends, to sit with James Lapp and Caleb or talk with Ruben. But some folks gave odd looks when they saw a man as old as Zed passing time with younger ones.

“I’ll go find the bishop, then.” Zed turned on his heel and was headed toward the tables when he discovered Becca Yoder and her friend Sarah Eicher watching him from the garden a few yards away. His heart sank. Becca was always swooping down on him, an eager bird looking to feather her nest.

“Nice day,” he said, nodding at the young women, their faces lit with bright smiles.

“So warm for September,” Sarah said. “Did you hear the crickets chirping last night? They chirp faster when it’s warm outside. That’s a fact.” Sarah was a bit of a chatterbox, and her detailed accounts of weather and events often made it into the Amish paper.

“Ya,” Zed said slowly, “we can learn a lot from Gott’s creatures.”

Sarah babbled on about how the noises of frogs and donkeys
predicted rain. “You know the saying? ‘If the donkey blows his horn, it’s time to house your corn.’ ”

Becca laughed softly. “That one always makes me chuckle. Do you think it’s true, Zed?”

“Don’t know. I’m not really much of a farmer.” As he spoke he scanned the area for the bishop. Once again, his eyes lit on Fanny, who was now talking with two Amish women, both of them cradling newborns. Her smile was bright enough to light the darkest night. That’s how Fanny was when she was around the babies. She had told Zed that she was drawn to being a midwife because it gave her a chance to see miracles over and over again.

“But you’ve been around donkeys,” Becca prodded.

“Ya. My parents have one.” He tore his gaze from Fanny and faced Becca’s broad, smiling face. He didn’t want to disappoint her, but her attempts at courtship would go nowhere. Couldn’t she see the wide chasm between them? No amount of smiling could build a bridge across that divide.

“Zed? There you are,” called a female voice.

Zed was beginning to feel like a cornered animal when he recognized Dorcas Fisher traipsing up the grassy incline, a basket on her arm. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

“You found me,” he joked, though no one laughed.

Becca’s smile had disappeared, and she and her friend wore bland expressions that might have been cast in stone as they studied Dorcas. In the eyes of those single women, the tall woman from the bakery was fierce competition.

“These are the last of the church cookies I baked. Folks like them so much, it’s hard to keep any around for after church.” Dorcas extended the basket toward Zed. “I wanted to be sure you got a taste before they were all snatched up.”

His stomach wrenched at the thought of sweets right now. “Maybe later, Dorcas. They look good, but I haven’t had a sandwich yet.”

His answer seemed to please Becca, but Dorcas thrust the basket closer to him. “But you have to try one. Everyone loves this recipe. It’s not just the chocolate chips; I add coconut, too.”

“Is that so?” He picked up a cookie and held it aloft. He would have liked to hand it to one of the children playing Frisbee on the lawn, but Dorcas faced him squarely, like a simmering bull. He took a bite and smiled. “Very good.”

Dorcas nodded. “I knew you would like it. Sometime when you come into the bakery for bread, you can try some of the other cookies and pies.”

“Denki.” He swallowed hard, searching the yard and house beyond for an escape from these three single maidens. In the line of men descending the porch step, he spotted Bishop Samuel. “And there’s someone I need to speak with.” With a polite nod, he ducked away.

As he moved from the garden path to the grass, Zed felt Fanny’s eyes upon him. She sat on a bench by the fence with some other young mothers. Tommy was in her arms, chewing on a rubber toy. She had seen him talking with the women, but he saw no jealousy in her expression. Only grace.

He smiled, and her face brightened for a moment.

How he wished he could go to her and sit beside her on the bench. Talking with Fanny wouldn’t be the chore it was with Becca and Dorcas. Words and quiet pauses flowed between them like a fresh, clear spring. But it would be wrong to spend time with her here on a church afternoon, with the whole community around. Folks would cluck and whisper at the sight of a single man enjoying the company of a widow in mourning.

Zed made his way over to the bishop, who brought him to meet one of the Amish builders in their community, Tim Ebersol.

“Samuel mentioned that you’re good with a hammer,” Tim said,
tucking a thumb under one suspender. “And I’m looking to take on some workers. You interested in a job?”

A job with an Amish builder … it was exactly what Zed had wanted, until he had started working for Fanny. He lowered his chin, not wanting to appear proud. “That sounds like right good work,” he said. “I could start as soon as I finish doing the renovations on the Lapp carriage house. That’ll be December, I reckon. Maybe January.”

“Mmm.” Tim’s discontent was obvious as he ran his hand up and down the suspender strap. “That’s a ways off.”

“I took the job on in the summer, and I promised to see it through.” Zed met the older man’s steely eyes. This was one thing he would not back down on; he wouldn’t leave Fanny’s family in the lurch.

“I need to expand my crew now, but it’s a good man who sees a job through to the end.” Tim nodded. “A job worth doing is worth doing right. Let me know when you’re free to work, and I’ll find a place for you.”

“So the new center will be open in December?” Bishop Samuel’s steely eyes were magnified by his spectacles. “It will be helpful for the women to have a place right here in Halfway. Keeps friends and family closer to home.” He gave Zed a brusque nod. “You’re doing a good thing for the community, Zed. It’s good to have you back.”

The bishop’s words, the job offer from Tim, the steadfast woman he shared his days with—all these things lifted Zed’s mood on this golden September day. After all this time, it was a fine welcome home.

13