Plain Admirer (7 page)

“I doubt she’ll notice. Why?”

“I’m going to write a note thanking this fellow for the plug. I thought I should put it in a plastic bag in case it rains.”

“Good thinking. And tell him how well it worked.”

* * *

Joann was on her way to town the next morning when Roman passed her in his buggy. He stopped the horse a few yards ahead of her and waited. When she came alongside, he said, “Good morning. I’m going your way.”

It wasn’t exactly a warm invitation. She thought she would have another two miles to mentally prepare herself to spend the day with him. That hadn’t happened. She tried to find an excuse, but none came to her. Oh, well, she could hardly refuse a lift this morning without appearing rude.

“Danki.”
She climbed into the passenger’s side, and he set the horse in motion. She wished she had taken more time with her appearance that morning. She had picked her oldest work dress, determined not to think about what Roman Weaver thought of her. Now, she was sorry she hadn’t chosen a newer dress. She felt dowdy and small next to him.

The silence stretched uncomfortably as the horse clipped along at a good pace. The steady hoofbeats and jingling harness supplied the only sounds. Joann racked her mind for something to say. She wasn’t much good at small talk, especially with men. Finally, she said, “It’s a nice morning.”

“Ja.”

She waited, but he didn’t say anything else. Apparently, he wasn’t one for small talk, either. As he concentrated on his driving, Joann had a chance to study him.

He seemed more at ease today, although he glanced frequently in the rearview mirror that was mounted on his side of the buggy. He held the reins in one hand. He hadn’t looped them over his neck as he had the first time she’d ridden with him. He was dressed as usual in dark pants with black suspenders over a short-sleeved pale blue shirt. It looked new. She couldn’t help noticing that he had missed two buttons in the middle of his chest.

She didn’t realize she had been staring until he said, “What?”

She jumped and looked straight ahead. “Nothing.”

He glanced down and gave a low growl of annoyance. “I was trying to hurry.”

He attempted to do up the buttons and hold the reins, but the horse veered to the left into the oncoming lane. He quickly guided the mare back to the proper side of the road.

Joann held out her hand. “I’ll drive for you.”

He hesitated, then finally handed over the lines. From the corner of her eye, she watched as he struggled with the buttons for several long seconds without success. Another low growl rumbled in his throat. “I’m as helpless as a toddling
kind.
”

Roman didn’t remind her of a child. Just the opposite. To her, he seemed powerful and sure of himself in spite of his injury. She’d never been more aware of being a woman. He gave up fumbling with his shirt with a sigh of exasperation.

She said, “Let me get them for you.”

He took the reins from her and raised his chin as he half-turned toward her. Joann felt the heat in her face and knew she was blushing bright red. This was the kind of thing a wife did for a husband, not a casual acquaintance. Her fingers fumbled with the buttons much longer than she would’ve liked. When she had them closed at last, she jerked her hands away from his broad chest. “Got it,” she said breathlessly.

“Danki.”
His gruff reply held little gratitude.

“You’re welcome. Have your mother cut open the buttonholes a little more. It will make it easier to get the buttons through them.”

“I don’t need my mother to do it for me.”

It was impossible for her to say the right thing to him. They rode the rest of the way in silence. Joann thought the ride would never end.

The awkwardness between them persisted throughout the morning. Joann tried to show him how to use the saddle binder but quickly realized it took two hands to position the pages and then remove them even though the actual staples were driven in by pressing a lever with her foot.

She pulled the pamphlet off the machine. “I’m sure Gerald can do any of the binding work that’s needed.”

Roman said, “I’ll find a way to make it work.”

“Of course.” Determined to get past the awkward moment, she said, “Over here we have the Addressograph and our address files. One set of cards is for the newspaper, the other is for our magazine.”

“This looks like something a one-handed fellow can manage,” he drawled.

Thankfully, she heard the jingle of the bell over the front door and went out to greet their customer. A middle-aged man in a fancy
Englisch
suit stood waiting at the counter with a briefcase in his hand. His black hair was swept back from his forehead. He wore a heavy gold ring on one hand.

“Good morning. How can we be of service?” she asked. He wasn’t someone she recognized.

“I was told that Roman Weaver works here. I’d like a few words with him.”

The man’s serious tone sent a prickle of fear down her spine. “He’s in the back. I’ll get him.”

She turned around, but Roman had followed her and was standing a few feet away. “I am Roman Weaver,” he said.

“Good morning, sir. Your father told me that I might find you here. I’m Robert Nelson. I’m an attorney. I represent Brendan Smith. Is there somewhere we can talk privately?”

Otis had taken a carton of books to the bookstore next door. “We may use my uncle’s office if this won’t take long,” Roman said.

“Not long at all,” the
Englischer
assured him.

Joann had trouble stifling her curiosity as the two men went into the empty office.

Chapter Seven

R
oman closed the door and turned to face the attorney representing the man responsible for the accident that had altered his life forever. He didn’t invite him to sit down.

Mr. Nelson opened his briefcase on top of the desk. “As I’m sure you are aware, the trial for my client is under way. The jury has heard closing arguments, and we expect a verdict tomorrow or the next day.”

“Your
Englisch
law is of no consequence to me. I follow God’s laws.”

“Yes, that’s very admirable. I’ve heard the Amish offer forgiveness to those who have wronged them. Is that true?”

“I have forgiven Brendan Smith. I have already told your partner this.”

The junior attorney had come to Roman’s hospital room with a letter from Mr. Smith’s insurance company. They offered money to pay Roman’s hospital bill and repair his carriage. Roman rejected their offer.

“Yes, I was informed of the conversation. As you were told then, if you change your mind, the insurance company is still willing to make a settlement.”

“That is not our way. It would not be right to profit from this misfortune. It was God’s will.”

Mr. Nelson smiled. “If everyone felt the same way, attorneys such as myself would soon be out of business.”

“I am not responsible for how other people feel. Have you come to discuss something else? If not, I must get back to work.”

“Actually, I have come for a different reason. It is possible the jury will find my client guilty of vehicular assault. If they do, it will mean jail time for Brendan. As you know, he has had several run-ins with the law, minor things.”

“He deliberately destroyed Amish property. He and several of his friends beat an Amish man for no reason.”

“Bad judgment, bad company and too much alcohol. He has paid for those crimes according to the law. Hitting your buggy was nothing but an accident. Pure and simple.”

Roman wasn’t so sure. He remained silent.

“My client also has a family. He has a wife and a small child. He has parents and a younger brother who depend on him. If the judge gives him the maximum allowable sentence, it will be a hardship for more than Brendan.”

“I am sorry for his family. I will pray for them.”

“I was hoping that you could do more than that. We, Brendan and I, would like to ask you to come to the sentencing hearing if he is found guilty. We’re hoping for an acquittal, of course.”

“I have no wish to become involved with your
Englisch
court.”

“I can understand that, but if you come and speak on Brendan’s behalf, ask for leniency for him, the judge might be persuaded to hand down a lighter sentence.”

Roman remained silent as anger boiled inside him. He saw no reason to beg for mercy when Brendan had shown no remorse.

The attorney rushed on. “The Amish are well-known for their generous and forgiving nature. I’m asking you, I’m begging you, to speak on this young man’s behalf. Enough grief has already been caused by what was a terrible accident. We’ll be happy to reimburse you for any expenses involved. We realize you would have to hire a driver to take you to Millersburg, take time off from work, that sort of thing.”

This man had no idea of the damage that had been done to Roman’s life, yet he stood there offering to pay for his help. To buy forgiveness. In the
Englisch
world, money solved everything, but it couldn’t give Roman back a useful arm.

“Is he sorry for the pain he caused? I have not heard him say so.”

“I’m sure he is sorry, but we entered a plea of not guilty. You must shoulder some of the blame for the accident. You were parked in a poorly-lit location. You didn’t have hazard lights out.”

Bitterness swelled up inside Roman. He barely managed to keep his voice level. “I have said I have no wish to become involved with your
Englisch
court.”

He turned around, jerked open the door and left the room.

* * *

Joann watched as Roman stormed out the front door. A few moments later, Mr. Nelson came out of the office. He stopped at the counter, opened his briefcase and held out a card. “Tell Mr. Weaver if he changes his mind he can contact me at the phone number on the back of this. It’s my cell phone. He can reach me day or night.”

Joann took the card. “I’ll give him the message.”

“I thought you Amish were a forgiving people. That’s the way you’re portrayed on television.”

She didn’t care for his snide tone. “We are commanded to forgive others as we have been forgiven.”

“You might want to remind Mr. Weaver of that.” Mr. Nelson snapped his briefcase closed and left.

Roman returned fifteen minutes later. He didn’t say anything when she handed him the card. He simply tore it in two and threw it into the trash.

For Joann, the rest of the week passed with agonizing slowness. She constantly managed to irritate Roman while he seemed to delight in irritating her. It got to the point that even Gerald and Leonard noticed the friction.

Gerald approached her when Roman had gone out with his uncle to purchase supplies they were running low on. He stood in front of her as she sat at the front counter. “Joann, what’s going on?”

“What do you mean?” She continued working.

“I’ve never known you to be so on edge. What’s going on between you and Roman?”

“For some reason we rub each other the wrong way. I’ll make more of an effort to be nice.”

Leonard came in wiping his stained hands on an equally stained rag. He scowled at her. “Joann, my wife told me this morning that you’re going back to the bookstore.”

“I am.”

“Why?” the two men asked at the same time.

Sighing, she propped her hands on the countertop. “Because that’s the way Otis wants it.”

Gerald crossed his arms over his chest. “We thought Roman was here as added help, not to replace you.”

Leonard grunted his annoyance. “He doesn’t know enough to replace her. Although, he does know the generator inside and out.”

She said, “He will learn what he needs to know. We just have to give him time. Please don’t tell him that he’s taken my job or hold it against him. I was here on a temporary basis, and now I’m going back to my old job.”

“It ain’t right,” Leonard grumbled as he turned away.

Gerald gave her a sympathetic half-smile. “Well, that explains a lot. I know you like what you’ve been doing here. It’s got to be hard giving it up.”

“It is, but all good things must come to an end, right?”

“So they say.” Gerald went back to his typesetting table.

Joann waited for Roman to return, determined to be kinder and more helpful. If only he didn’t insist on calling her teacher in that snide way.

No matter what had been said between them, each evening when she went out the door, Roman was waiting in his buggy to drive her home. Each morning, he was waiting at the end of her lane to give her a lift into town. When Friday evening rolled around, he was there as usual. She was delighted to have a real excuse not to ride with him.

“I’m staying in town this evening. I’m having supper with Sarah and Levi Beachy.”

Was that a look of disappointment in his eyes? It was gone before she could be sure. He said, “I reckon I will see you on Monday, then.”

“Actually, I’m driving my cart in on Monday so you won’t have to pick me up.”

“I see.”

He nodded toward her and then drove away, leaving Joann feeling oddly bereft. She watched until his buggy rounded a bend in the road and vanished from sight.

At Sarah’s home, Joann found her friend tending her garden. Long rows of green sprouts promised a bountiful harvest in the fall. Sarah was busy making sure the occasional weed that dared to sprout didn’t stand a chance of growing to maturity.

“Why don’t you put the boys to work doing that?” Joann called from the fence.

Sarah looked up from her work and leaned on her hoe. “Because I want my garden to flourish and not be chopped to pieces.”

“Are you saying the twins can’t tell a tomato plant from a dandelion?”

“I’m sure they can but it’s safer if I do this myself. I’m so glad you could come for supper. Sally and Leah are coming, too.”

“Wonderful.” The women had all become close friends after Sarah’s aborted attempt at playing matchmaker for Levi. The whole thing had been the brainchild of Grace, his sister. In spite of all the women Sarah had put in his path, he only had eyes for her.

Sarah chopped one last weed and then walked toward Joann. “How are you and Roman getting along?”

Joann sighed and shook her head. “Like oil and water. Like cats and dogs. Like salt and ice.”

Sarah grinned. “In other words, just fine.”

“Please, can we talk about something else?”

Sarah’s grin faded. “Is it really that bad?”

“Every time I open my mouth, I manage to say something stupid.”

“I always thought you would make a nice couple.” Sarah carried her tools to a small shed at the side of the barn and hung them up.

Joann was sure she hadn’t heard correctly. “You thought Roman and I would make a good couple? We barely knew each other. Why would you think that?”

From behind them a man’s voice said, “It’s just a feeling she gets. She can’t explain it. It comes over her like a mist. She sees two people groping their way toward each other.”

Sarah turned around and fisted her hands on her hips. “Do not make fun of my matchmaking skills, Levi Beachy. I found a wife for you, didn’t I?”

He moved to stand close beside her. “If I remember right, I’m the one who found a husband for you,” he said softly.

Joann chuckled. “If you two are gonna start kissing, I’m going to leave. However, I would like to point out that I knew before you did, Sarah, that Levi was in love with you. And I told you that, didn’t I?”

Levi slipped his arms around his wife. “I remember all the effort she put into convincing me that she loved fishing. It was a ploy to get you and me together on a fishing trip, Joann. She hates fishing.”

Sarah cupped his cheek with one hand. “I don’t mind fishing. As long as I don’t have to touch them, clean them or take them off the hook. If you wanted a fishing buddy instead of a wife you should’ve asked Joann to marry you.”

Levi looked at Joann. “If I had only known, I would’ve given you much more serious consideration.”

Joann giggled. “I’m afraid Sarah is the only one brave enough to take on you and the twins. I wouldn’t have the heart for it.”

“Speaking of the twins,” Levi said as he looked around, “where are they?”

“They went to a singing party at David and Martha Nissley’s place.” She whispered to Joann, “The Miller twins are going to be there.”

Levi scowled. “Those girls are too young to be going out.”

Sarah patted his arm. “They’re old enough to catch our boys’ attention. Get used to it, Levi. Once Grace is married, the boys will soon follow suit.”

“Hey, that will leave us all alone, my love. Nice.”

“Until the babies start arriving,” Joann added with a chuckle.

Sarah took Levi’s hand and began walking toward the house. “We should go in. I’m sure Grace has supper about ready.”

He stopped in his tracks. “Grace is cooking supper?”

Sarah blew a strand of blond hair off her face.
“Ja.”

He turned to Joann. “If we hurry, we can beat the crowd to the Shoofly Pie Café.”

Sarah yanked him toward the house. “Stop it. Grace’s cooking has gotten much better.”

He gave her a quick peck on the cheek. “She’ll never make a peach pie better than yours,
liebchen.
Remember that, Joann. The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. Good looks fade, good cooking never does.”

Joann followed her friends to the house. Finding a way to a man’s heart wasn’t an issue for her. Her looks were nothing special, so it wouldn’t matter if they faded. Her last thought before she stepped into the house was to wonder what type of pie Roman liked best.

It wasn’t until early Saturday morning that Joann had a chance to get away and go fishing again. She packed a couple of pieces of cold fried chicken left over from lunch, a few carrots and an apple along with a pint jar filled with lemonade into her quilted bag. She left a note for her brother and his family telling them she wouldn’t be home for the noon meal. When she arrived at the hollow log, she wasn’t surprised, but she was disappointed when there was no message waiting for her.

She left her pole in its hiding place. She didn’t really feel like fishing. She just needed to be by herself. The day had been warm, so she slipped off her shoes, gathered up her skirt and waded knee-deep into the cold water.

The muck and moss squished between her toes. When she stood still, she could see tiny minnows swimming around her feet, eager to investigate the new intruder in their watery domain. She looked over the calm surface of the lake and blew out a deep breath. It was such a good place. She always felt happy when she was here.

A splash off to the left made her look that way. She didn’t see the fish, but something white caught her attention. She waded toward a stand of cattails. Nestled among the reeds at the edge of the water was a plastic bag. She picked it up and recognized her letter tucked inside. With growing excitement, she opened the bag and pulled out her note. On the back, she saw her unknown friend had written another letter. Quickly, she waded back to shore and sat down to read it.

Dear Happy Angler,

I’m glad the pole has been returned to its rightful owner. Strange how things work out sometimes. You don’t owe me any thanks, but I appreciate the lure. I caught two nice four-pounders with it in the spot you suggested. Your gift brought me much more than a pair of fish. It brought me closer to someone I care about. Thank you for that. Like you, little seems to be going right in my life. I won’t bore you with the details. I will say that something about this peaceful spot makes my troubles seem smaller. Perhaps it’s only that I’ve gained some perspective while enjoying the quiet stillness of this lake. It’s a good place to sit and refresh my soul. I hope it has refreshed yours. The sunset tonight leaves me in awe of the beauty God creates for us. It is a reminder for me that He is in charge and I am not. Sometimes, it is hard to accept that.