Seasons of Tomorrow (14 page)

Esther set the salt and pepper in front of him. “Go on.”

He sprinkled salt on his eggs. “In the movie a guy is able to travel back in time and change what happened. He realizes two of his childhood buddies were traumatized from events when they were young, and as adults, one is suicidal, and the other has become a predator.” He ate a few bites of food. “So the guy goes back in time on numerous occasions, changing different events, trying to help both of them have a better future. He finally realizes if he can get them under the influence of one good adult—someone who loves, sacrifices, and makes good decisions—they will grow up to be happy and fulfilled.”

“Sounds like a disturbing movie.”

He nodded. “Sandra had a really rough childhood, and she deals with bipolar disorder, but she had such high hopes for her baby. When I saw that movie, I felt as if God were saying to me,
With your help Sandra can be the good adult she longs to be
.”

“That was a lot of responsibility to take on.”

“I’ve hardly watched a movie since. I mean, if TV is going to saddle me with lifelong responsibilities, I’d just as soon avoid it.”

She stared at him with those expressive brown eyes that he couldn’t read.

“That was a joke, Esther. You were supposed to at least smile.” But she didn’t.

“What happened to her husband?”

“Not long after Casey was born, he disappeared. We’re still not sure if he’s alive or dead, so I’ve tried to be there for her—emotionally and financially. But at times I feel like an idiot for going out of my way to try to stabilize a home life for Casey.”

“Then, by all means, choose to be an idiot all day long for the rest of your life.”

He laughed. “My parents would not appreciate that advice.” But he did. “Let’s talk about something besides me.”

“But I’ve had one question since you talked to Sandra on the phone the night I was on the curb regaining my wits. Do you mind?”

“Probably not.” He hadn’t minded anything else she’d asked. “What is it?”

“How do you get away with being gone from home so long and spending Christmas with an Englisch person?”

“Did you overhear the whole conversation?”

“I think so. Sorry, but it was really quiet except for your voice.”

“Not a problem. I was just curious. About how I spent Christmas, see … I was in the middle of joining the faith when the breakup occurred. I left Maine and went to work for my uncle in Lancaster.”

“He’s the one I talked to on the job site?”

“That’s him. He’s a preacher, and he was really worried I wouldn’t join the faith or stay connected with my family, so he went to the bishop and got some concessions for me.”

“Oh, I’d say he got more than just some.”

“True.” He ate another bite of eggs. “Your turn. How did you get into salvaging goods?”

“Ah, I fell in love with it while visiting my Mamm’s parents, who live in Lancaster, Pennsylvania.”

“Maybe my uncle knows your grandparents.”

“Maybe so. They don’t live in his district, though, or I would’ve seen him at the few Sunday meetings I’ve been to over the years. So my grandparents were taking down their grandparents’ old, abandoned house. It had been considered unsafe, so until a week before the demolition, I hadn’t been allowed to step into it. Once I got inside, I begged to be allowed to get the doorknobs and anything else a young girl could dismantle and carry away.”

“What is it with you and doorknobs?”

“When one of those knobs is on a door inside a home, and you use it to open a door to a room, it’s like using a portal from the past to enter your future. Where was the first house you helped build?”

The conversation never slowed, even when he returned to the warming plates for seconds. It was a complete surprise to discover how much they had to talk about. Apparently there was no end of topics between someone who helped build houses and someone who helped deconstruct them.

He ate the last bite of biscuit and gravy. “So you’re contacted by various historical societies to give your opinion on the value of raw materials in old homes?”

“Sometimes they want my thoughts. Mostly I’ve become friends with people on the committees, and they know I love looking at old houses. So they tell me when one is being assessed, and I get to tag along. It’s like offering free drinks to an addict.”

He laughed. “That’s how I started out feeling about construction work. Then I made some stupid mistakes, and I couldn’t pick up a hammer for a long time.”

“I could
not
handle losing my love for salvaging goods. Do you mind telling me what happened?”

He took a drink of his coffee before setting the cup on his plate and taking them to the kitchen sink. “I don’t mind. We can talk about it while we’re working.”

Her eyes met his, and she smiled. His heart skipped a beat.

Who was this woman?

Moreover, was he making a mistake to open up to her like this when she was married?

TWELVE

Leah tried to pull air into her lungs, along with some hopeful and fresh perspectives. Her body demanded oxygen, but the simple act of breathing deep seemed too difficult.

Moving like an old woman, she hung another wet dress on the line. It was only Monday midmorning, yet since arriving on Friday, her Daed had somehow, rule by rigid rule, managed to strap three hundred years of the Ordnung onto every part of her: Her limbs. Her back. Her shoulders. Her eyes. Even her skin prickled. All of it was a side effect of what he’d done to her heart—confused her.

Who was God, and what did He expect of her? When she and Landon had prayed together months ago, she’d been so sure she knew Him.

She shoved the basket with the toe of her shoe until it sat under an empty line. How had she so quickly forgotten what it was like to be trapped inside a life she had no control over? Only this time even sleep didn’t bring relief. Whispers filled her dreams, saying she’d lose more than a piece of her soul and her self-respect—she’d lose her mind—if she didn’t get free. What would she do if her Daed continued to insist she return to Pennsylvania with him?

What
could
she do?

Thoughts of her old life in Pennsylvania haunted her. She used to drink and party, at least until Rhoda found her passed out in her fruit garden. Not long after, at barely seventeen, Leah thought she was pregnant. The memory of that awful time made her cringe. She couldn’t tolerate the idea of having to go back. There were too many humiliating memories … and people to face.

Dozens of scenarios ran through her mind, but short of breaking all ties and running away, she couldn’t come up with one solution. If she did run away, it would allow Landon to continue working the farm, and she could return when things cooled off. Unlike the times she’d thought of running
away as a minor, if she chose to leave now, she had money in the bank, job skills, and a reasonable knowledge of how the outside world worked.

What was she thinking? Even she couldn’t be so selfish or rash as to hurt and worry everyone while trying to live without any support system. Not only would she be gone from here, but so would Landon and others who would search for her.

“Hallo.” Her father’s voice crackled through the two-way. “Meeting in the kitchen in twenty.”

Now what?
More talk of her returning to Pennsylvania with him?

“Oh.” The two-way pulsed again. “The meeting is to include Landon also.”

Leah’s head spun, and her stomach knotted. Her Daed
wanted
to talk to Landon?

A cold wind made the strings to her prayer Kapp flap across her face. She pulled them away and stared off into the distance. The God her Daed described was very different from the God in the Scriptures she studied while at the local church. Her Daed talked of God as One who criticized how women wore their hair or what color shoes people wore or how they traveled to others’ homes, meetings, or stores.

Did God hold people to those things? Her Daed certainly had Bible verses that said He did.

“Leah.”

The whisper from somewhere drew her from her thoughts.

She saw Landon slowly walking toward the house. With her Daed staying by her side until she came to hang out laundry, this was her first glimpse of Landon. He held up something shiny for just a moment and nodded toward the front door. She pinned the last garment onto the line and grabbed the laundry basket.

They met on the path to the porch steps, and he slid something into her coat pocket. “This way, no matter what happens, you can text me during the day and call me when you’re in your room where no one can see or hear you.”

She felt in her pocket. “A phone?”

“Yeah. Granny picked it up for me yesterday.”

She and Landon had been trying to respect the rules in this Amish district as long as it didn’t clash with their faith, but apparently drastic times called for drastic measures. “Thanks.”

Landon grabbed her hand. “Be patient.”

The door swung open, making them jolt and separate.

Isaac ran between them. “Daed!”

Iva’s eyes moved from their hands to the kitchen. Apparently, Iva had seen them holding hands. She gave Leah a warning look.

“Isaac,” Iva called, “
geh zu die Scheier
.” After telling Isaac to go to the barn, she hurried Leah inside, putting space between her and Landon. Iva or Phoebe must’ve seen Steven heading for the barn and was letting Isaac join him there.

Leah’s Daed entered the room, studying Leah and then Landon. Daed pursed his lips and nodded at Landon. “There’s coffee on the stove.”

Leah passed the basket to Iva and scurried into the bathroom. Once the door was locked, she grabbed the phone from her pocket. A quick look through the contacts indicated he’d added several numbers: his, the farm’s, his grandmother’s, and Jacob’s. She went back to the home page and realized there was already a text message from Landon with a time stamp of five that morning. It read:
Good morning, Leah. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to respond to this message the moment you read it
.

Should she? She’d messed with his phone enough to know how, but he was in the house with her Daed. One thing she knew about Landon: he was skilled at hiding his phone when he needed to. He’d proved that a few times while they were sitting in Sunday evening class or sharing a meal with everyone in this home—before her Daed arrived, of course. Landon could slide his phone out of hiding, text someone, and make his phone disappear again without anyone seeing him do it.

She smiled and keyed in a response:
Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to respond while in the house with you know who
. She hit send and waited.

It vibrated. He’d answered already:
One guess. Your dat. Done. Now what?

She smiled at him spelling
Daed
the way it was pronounced. How many times did she do that with the English language and Landon said nothing? Feeling as if she could breathe again, she typed:
what r we going 2 do?

A moment later the phone vibrated again.
Seek wisdom. Be patient. Wait on God
.

She typed:
Easier said than done
.

It took longer for him to respond this time. Was her Daed looking right at him or something? Should she continue to wait or rescue him from one of her Daed’s lectures? Finally her phone buzzed.
It’s not easy, but don’t let your emotions lie to you. We can win this
.

She sighed. Landon’s life seemed to be built on keeping events in perspective. Couldn’t he just once feel the depth of disappointment in what was happening?

She typed:
Maybe your “look on the bright side” emotions are lying to you
.

She waited, but he didn’t respond. She washed her face and brushed her teeth. When he still hadn’t answered, she removed her prayer Kapp, unwound her hair, combed it, and pinned it up again. Still no answer.

After taking off her coat, she turned the phone on silent and slid it into the hidden pocket of her apron. She tiptoed out of the bathroom, and her heart skittered when she saw Landon and her Daed in the kitchen talking in low tones.

“Leah.” Phoebe was on the couch with Arie in her lap. Phoebe patted the spot next to her.

Leah sat beside her. “What are they talking about?”

“Oh, I think you know.”

Fear grabbed her by the throat. “Me. All Daed’s done since he arrived is go to each of you, one by one, and share his concerns.”

“He’s a horrible man.” Phoebe pushed her lopsided belly, and Leah assumed the little one needed a bit of repositioning.

“It’s not funny.”

“I know.” Phoebe put her arm around Leah. “And he’s been out of sorts and panicked, but he does love you.”

“Maybe.” Would he care what she did if it didn’t have the potential to embarrass him in front of other Amish?

The front door opened, and Samuel and Rhoda walked in. Steven entered behind them, ducking low because Isaac was on his shoulders. Steven put his son’s feet on the floor, telling him in Pennsylvania Dutch to go to the playroom with his sister. “Iva?”