The Bridge of Peace (22 page)

He opened the box and screamed like a girl when four cloth-covered snakes pounced at him. Grey about choked on his cookie.

Lennie put her hand on Grey’s shoulder. “
Now
it’s a happy birthday.”

“Man,” Allen complained. “How come you do this to me and not Grey?”

Lennie raised an eyebrow and propped her chin in the palm of her hand. “Because he’s not my brother, which means he didn’t sow seeds that must be reaped.”

Grey cleared his throat. “As a kid, she did warn you regularly that she’d spend the rest of her days getting you back.”

“Ya, I did.” Lennie waggled her eyebrows. “Besides, I need a favor from Grey.”

Grey took another bite of his cookie. “Ah, that explains everything.”

“No, not everything.” Lennie reached into the box in front of him and stole a cookie. “You don’t know the favor.”

Conversations came and went as children ran in and out of the room. His grief remained thick and undeniable, but tonight gave him that moment of pardon he so desperately needed. Maybe he’d survive this season yet, at least with enough of him left so he could be a good Daed to Ivan. That was all he wanted in life now—to be the kind of Daed he needed to be.

When most of the group scattered—the women to clearing the table and washing dishes and Allen to checking on the children upstairs—Grey remained at the table, trying to think clearly enough to hear Israel as he talked. It’d become so easy to stay lost in thought.

“
Grossdaadi
.” Phoebe called for her granddad, and Israel excused himself.

With the table empty of plates and flatware, Lennie walked over and began scrubbing it with a wet cloth. “You doing reasonably okay?”

Grateful at least one person refused to pretend his grief wasn’t there, he considered her question. “What’s reasonable?”

“Somewhere beyond complete agony and just shy of willing yourself to die, I’d think.”

Did that mean how he felt landed in the normal range? He found that thought comforting. “Then I’m doing reasonably okay.”

“Gut.”

“How are Urie and Tobias?”

She took a seat near him. “Pretty good, I think. At times I have to stop class and just let the scholars talk and cry and draw pictures. Whatever they need.”

“And Peter?”

“Withdrawn and sullen. I … I’m still concerned about him. He carries a lot of guilt for being the reason you sent Elsie outside with the other students.”

Grey didn’t have the strength to talk about this. He carried enough guilt for both him and Peter. If he hadn’t been so angry with Peter, he wouldn’t have sent the others outside.

Grey shifted. “Elsie’s parents said Aaron’s taken to holing up in that cabin by himself most of the time.”

“Ya, I heard.”

“If losing a daughter wasn’t enough for Michael and Dora, Aaron’s making it worse. I’ve tried to talk to him, but … I don’t know what to say or do.”

“Ya, it’s hard to figure, but it seems to me all we can focus on is what we can do.” She reached down and picked up a wayward trick snake off the floor. “And it’s important for you to pull as many stunts on Allen as possible. That may not help
you
much, but it’ll do wonders for me.” She softly mocked an evil laugh, patted his arm, and headed for the kitchen.

“Lennie.”

She paused.

“You didn’t tell me the favor.”

“I need a donkey for this year’s Christmas pageant.”

“Real animals?”

“The class voted to do a live crèche.”

Her energy for life contrasted with his, and he felt old and even more tired. “I don’t own a donkey anymore. Haven’t for years.”

“Ya, I know. But you have a trailer for hauling creatures, and the Englischer family who bought your donkey will loan him out for a night, right?”

“Ya, probably so, but I’m beginning to think it’d been easier to have a gag pulled on me.”

Her lips curved into a smile. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”

Nineteen

Lena spread a little straw across a section of the schoolroom floor, mentally listing what else she needed to do for tonight’s Christmas play. She checked the clock, hoping Grey hadn’t forgotten. He’d been at Allen’s two weeks ago when she dropped by, and she’d reminded him then about tonight. He’d forgotten all about the play but assured her he’d get the donkey here.

She’d let her scholars off school today so she’d have plenty of time to prepare. Since the Amish didn’t take off extra days for Christmas break like the public schools did, she might get a few complaints from parents about her decision but surely not many.

Scholars were supposed to be off school only for Christmas Day and Second Christmas. She loved the Amish tradition of Second Christmas on December 26, which was treated like Christmas itself, only better in her opinion—more relaxed, more visiting time with friends and relatives. She moved to the potbelly stove and stoked the wood.

Someone clomped up the wooden steps. The door opened, and cold air swooshed inside as Grey entered.

“You’re here in time.”

“That I am.” Without looking at her, he moved to the potbelly stove.

He hadn’t been to this building since the day Elsie died, and seeing the stress etched across his face, Lena regretted asking this favor. Grey wasn’t the same man who’d come to her school nearly eleven weeks ago. His voice was so deep and heavy with grief that it didn’t even sound like his anymore. The circles under his eyes and the way he carried himself all spoke of a heartache she couldn’t begin to understand.

Loneliness for a future mate swept over her like a nor’easter, but she couldn’t imagine what it did to a man who’d lost his mate so very early in life.

He held his hands over the stove. “I put the donkey out back with the other animals.” He looked around the place. “Where are all the desks?”

“We lugged them to the lean-to.”

Her brothers and Daed had helped her move the desks into the lean-to and cover them with a tarp before they set up church benches and tables. She and her Daed had created the props—a mock stable complete with wooden stalls, a fence, and a cattle gate. The live animals waited outside, tethered to the nearby fence.

“This looks really … different.” He took off his hat. “You’ve gone to a lot of trouble just for a play.”

“It’s not just a play. It’s a reminder of the birth of Christ and all that we hold dear.” Lena went to a box of goods sitting on a serving table. “So”—she got out a coffee cup and spoon and moved back to the wood stove—“will Ivan come tonight with his
Grossmammi
and Daadi?”

“Ya. I’m not staying.”

Disappointment stung, but she tried to hide it. Lifting the percolator from the wood stove, she asked, “Coffee?”

“Ya.”

She filled the cup and passed it to him before returning to the box. As she pulled out items and began to set the table, Grey put his mug on a bench and peeled out of his coat. “What can I help you do?”

His offer caught her off guard.

“The children will start arriving soon to get into their costumes.” She passed him a box filled with goodies. “I’d like to have snacks set out for their parents to munch on.”

He began unloading the items while she set various empty containers on the table. Without another word Grey opened a bag of chips and one of pretzels.

She tossed him a can of peanuts. “These too, please.”

He opened them and dumped some in a couple of containers.

She set a cake box in front of him. “Would you get the cake out and put it down there?” She pointed to the far end of the table.

He looked at the box and pushed it her way. “You open it. I’ll put it wherever you want it.”

“You too?” She huffed at him and opened the box.

“I apologize, Lennie. I accused you unjustly.”

She slid the cake his direction. “Just put it down there. There’s a candle inside the box. Stick it in the top of the cake, will you?”

Keeping watch out of the corner of her eye, Lena took a few steps farther away from him. She’d intended to give the cake to Jonathan, and she hoped she didn’t regret changing her mind.

As he tried to wedge the candle in place, the top of the cake popped open, and confetti sprang at him. But brightly colored paper wasn’t all that landed on him. Icing did too, and she bit her bottom lip to keep from laughing.

He stared at her, frosting spattered across his shirt. The shock on his face struck her as hilarious, and she had to cover her mouth with both hands in order to stifle her laughter.

Watching her reaction, he chuckled. “What’d you do that for? If I don’t eat cake, what makes you think I want to wear it?”

She moved in closer and swiped her finger through a dollop of frosting on his shirt before placing it in her mouth. “Who doesn’t like cake?” As she feigned innocence, she was poking a little fun at her sister-in-law. The woman never remembered that Grey didn’t like cake. Never.

“Lennie. I … I’m tellin’.”

“You do that, Grey.” She passed him several napkins. “And we’ll see who’s sorry then.”

“Send me out in this cold weather to do you a favor, splatter my shirt with frosting, and then threaten me?”

“What are friends for?”

“Clearly they’re to make
you
laugh. How much time did it take you to build that?”

Her Daed walked inside and glanced at Grey. “Man, Grey, I thought you didn’t like cake. How’d you end up with it all over you?”

“Tricked by your daughter.”

Israel looked at her.

Pretending complete innocence, Lena shrugged. “I have no idea what he’s talking about, Daed.”

Her Daed poured himself a cup of coffee. “She has no idea what you’re talking about, Grey.”

“And you believe her?”

“Of course I believe her. If she chooses not to cook, I have to.”

Lena choked back laughter, liking the little bit of joy she saw in Grey’s eyes. “So who are you going to tell now?”

“You win.”

“Wow, you give up easily. I think I like that.” Lena took a clean shirt from the huge stack of things she’d brought for tonight. She held it out to him.

He just stood there, looking leery of taking it.

“It’ll fit.”

“The school’s oldest students are eighth-grade boys, so just why do you have an extra shirt with you that will fit me?”

“Because you and Jonathan are very close to the same size, and you happen to be wearing his cake.”

A hint of his lopsided smile worked its way into his eyes, and his countenance seemed less heavy.

“Ah.” He motioned at the split-rail fence, manger, and hay. “What is all that?”

“The temperature dropped, so the live crèche is taking place inside.”

“All those animals are coming in?”

“Sure, why not?”

Grey looked to Lennie’s father.

Her Daed shrugged. “You ever tried to change her mind about something?”

Grey shook his head. “Not and been successful. I’ll just slip into a clean shirt and take a seat. This I gotta see.”

Carrying a shoofly pie, Deborah stepped into Lena’s packed classroom. Gas pole lamps were lit and placed in various areas of the room. She shivered, almost aching with cold after her long carriage ride from Hope Crossing. Ada, Cara, and Lori were already here, having arrived in Dry Lake a couple of hours ago via a warm car.

Jonathan had needed to come by carriage so he could return a rented horse to its owner in Dry Lake. Since Deborah’s pie hadn’t finished baking in time for her to come by car, she rode for an hour in Jonathan’s carriage, enduring freezing temperatures. It hadn’t snowed in a week, but a foot of the white stuff covered the grounds.

Lena stood at the far end of the room, helping her scholars get into their costumes and practice their lines. She didn’t look a bit frazzled as dozens of children asked their teacher questions all at the same time. Actually … she appeared to be having a great time.

Jonathan’s hand gently directed Deborah to step forward to allow the people behind them to get inside also.

Grey’s parents spoke as they walked in with Ivan. The little boy quietly weaved around people, heading for the bench where his Daed sat. She’d seen Grey last week during the between Sunday when she came to Dry Lake to visit. Seeing Grey was like looking at a used, half-torn dessert box. You could tell he’d once held something good. Tonight he didn’t seem as empty or as battered as he talked with people near him, but he kept glancing at the commotion around Lena.