The Bridge of Peace (6 page)

“She’s not fit, and every one of you know it,” Peter’s Mamm said.

“Michael,” Dora called, stopping the conversation cold.

In only a brief moment the looks on their faces turned from one of studious consideration to awkward remorse. “Lena.” Michael stood. “Would you care to join us?”

Join them?
If they’d wanted her here, they would have invited her. Besides, she needed fresh air. She was good at her job, and she loved teaching. That was all she’d ever wanted to do, and no one had ever taken a teaching position at a younger age than she had. Would they take it from her because of Peter’s nonsense and her one mistake with John Detweiler? “No … no thank you. I didn’t mean to interrupt. I was looking for Aaron.”

Michael placed his hands on the table, looking stiff and in pain. “I think he’s still at the barn. We almost never see him before bedtime anymore, not since I hurt my back and can’t do much farm work.”

“He … he’s”—Dora stammered—“sleeping there some nights. But you’re free to go down and look for him.”

“Denki.” Shaken, Lena hurried outside, still holding the box with the cake in it. She drew in air, trying to fill her lungs. It wasn’t so much that they were having a meeting but that they were having it behind her back. Couldn’t they have told her about it and said she didn’t need to come? Still determined to do what she’d come here for, she strode toward the barn. It only took a few seconds to figure out Aaron wasn’t there. She went back to her horse, removed the reins from the small tree, and climbed into the buggy.

“Lennie?” Grey’s smooth voice caused her to stop. He hurried over to the buggy. “You okay?”

She tried to swallow her embarrassment. “I’ve certainly been better.”

“Michael saw no reason to upset you with these complaints. We’re just hearing them out. If we have any concerns when tonight’s over, we’ll talk to you.”

“It seems I should get a say in front of my accusers.”

“You will, if it comes to that.”

“It has come to that, Grey. Don’t you think I need someone in there to defend me?”

He studied her, as if waiting for her to answer her own question.

And then she knew. He’d do a better job defending her than she would. Where she might get riled and make matters worse, he wouldn’t. He’d never failed to stand up for her since becoming a member of the school board a few years ago. It was possible he defended her out of pity. She’d certainly overheard him saying he felt sorry for her on more than one occasion when they were young. The thought stung. Maybe Peter was more right than she was willing to admit. She took a deep breath, refusing to allow her fears and insecurity to get the best of her. Whatever Grey’s motivation, he wouldn’t let rumors or nonsense cloud the school board’s judgment. She hoped he took her side because he trusted and respected her as a teacher, but she couldn’t ask. If that wasn’t his reasoning, what answer could he possibly give except denial? She drew a deep breath and decided to tease. “You better do a good job in there, Grey, or I’m tellin’ Daed.”

He laughed and tipped his hat. “No doubts on that one, Lennie.”

She slapped the horse’s back, trying to assure herself she wouldn’t lose her job.

Before she got to the end of the lane, she spotted an Amish man in a nearby field. She watched as he walked with purpose toward a large patch of woods. She directed the rig off the beaten path and toward where the man was headed. She soon saw what he saw—a cabin, one that used to be for farmhands. He went inside. It was on Blank property, so Aaron might be there. She’d forgotten about the old cabin sitting in the woods, just out of sight. An Englischer family had owned this farm about seven years ago, before the Blanks moved from Ohio. And then Grey met his future wife—Elsie Blank.

Lena’s rig groaned as she went down the rough path and stopped in front of the place. Music blared, and electric lights shined through the windows. Four or five horses grazed nearby, but an old, half-rusted car sat in the dirt driveway.

A hangout
.

Since there were no electric lines running to the place, she assumed a generator provided the power. Its existence as a hangout was news to her. Probably a secret from all the parents too.

She took the cake with her and knocked on the screen door. “Hello?” She raised her voice over the din of music.

From the door she could see the living room, where young men lounged in chairs and couches or sat on the floor. One guy, with a beer in hand, turned toward the screen door. “No one in Amish costume welcome. Thanks anyway.”

“I’m looking for Aaron Blank. Is he here?”

A girl in a tank top and jeans came to the door. Lena didn’t recognize her, so she could be a rumschpringe Amish from another community, but more than likely she was an Englischer girl.

“Hi.” She unlatched the screen door. “Come on in.”

“Is Aaron around?”

“Uh, well.” She turned back toward the others. “Come on, guys. Stop goofing off and help the woman.”

One of the guys stood and took a long drink of beer before belching. “I’ll get him.” He went to a door and pounded on it. “Aaron! Somebody’s here to see ya.”

The group returned to their lounging around as if Lena weren’t standing there. Aaron came out, rubbing his eyes like he’d been asleep. She couldn’t imagine sleeping with all this noise. He staggered a few times, but he made his way to her. “Lena, hi. What’s up?”

“Lena?” a man’s voice boomed. “As in Kauffman?” Disbelief and sarcasm marked his voice as he stood up so he could see her better. When he rose, something small and metallic fell from his lap and onto the floor, but he didn’t notice. “It is you. Has to be.” He wiped his cheek several times as if trying to remove her birthmark from his face. “You fit the description.”

Unsure who he was but quite confident he was drunk, Lena ignored the man. “Aaron, we talked about this before, but we still have a problem.”

“What?” The drunk scowled at her. “Making my brother miserable during school ain’t enough? Now you’re gonna come here and pick on my friend Aaron?”

The drunk had to be Peter’s brother. She knew all her other scholars’ families. She stayed focused on Aaron. “The bull was in the field next to the schoolhouse.”

“So?” the drunk barked.

Lena didn’t answer him. “Aaron, surely you know how dangerous that is. The Nicols owned this farm for generations and always kept bulls and steers out of the pasture closest to the school.” She held the cake out to him. “Please.”

Aaron stared at the box.

“It’s a cake.”

He smelled of stale beer as he took it from her. “Ya, ya, you’re right. I’m sure a fence needs mending. I’ll see to it that it doesn’t happen again.”

“What?” Peter’s brother took a step, sending the object he’d dropped earlier skidding across the linoleum floor. Lena looked down when it bumped her shoe.

A pocket watch?

He came toward the doorway. “You are kidding me. There’s a fence there, right?”

“Of course,” Aaron said, “but sometimes the boys hit their baseballs or volleyballs into that field during recess.”

“Yeah?” the drunk scoffed. “If she knew how to control a class, inside or outside the schoolhouse, it wouldn’t be a problem.”

“I’m Lena Kauffman.” She held out her hand. “And you are?”

“Not interested.” He walked off.

“Sorry, Lena,” Aaron mumbled. “Dwayne’s had a case too many.”

Lena reached for the watch and noticed it looked like the one her Daed had lost. But it couldn’t be. It’d been missing for months. She’d never really thought her Daed lost it. For a while she wondered if Cara entered their unlocked home and took it, along with a huge roll of tens. She’d been suspected of a few burglaries when she’d first arrived in Dry Lake, but she had proven the accusations were false.

Lena picked up the watch, opened it, and read the inscription:
To Israel with love
.

She held it out toward Dwayne. “This is my Daed’s watch.”

“What?” Dwayne gawked at her.

“My Daed lost his watch last spring. It was the last gift my mother gave him before she died.”

“Well, that’s a real sad story and all, but I found it along the shoulder of a road when walking, and it’s mine now.” He reached for it, but Lena clutched it tightly and put her hand behind her back.

“I’m glad you found it, and I’ll give you a reasonable reward, but it’s my Daed’s watch.”

Dwayne hovered over her, swaying back and forth. What was it with these Bender men, Peter and Dwayne, that they liked to stand so close while peering down at her? Aaron set the cake on an end table. “Clearly it’s her Daed’s. Just let her have it.”

“Oh, I’ll be more than glad to let her have it.”

His words were as immature and threatening as Peter’s, but she wasn’t giving up the watch. It meant too much to her Daed, and he’d not stopped searching for it yet.

Aaron stepped between them. “
Kumm
.” He motioned Lena to the door. “Keep the watch. But it’d be good if you didn’t come back here again. I’ll see to it the bull stays out of that field, okay?”

“Denki, Aaron.” Clutching her Daed’s watch, she went to her carriage.

Five

Grey walked out of his bedroom at the same time Elsie walked out of hers. Startled and a bit curious what had kept her in her room past daylight, he stopped in his tracks. They stood in their small hallway, staring at each other under the soft glow of early morn. His shirt was not yet buttoned, and his suspenders were attached to his pants and dangling near his knees. She stood as erect and graceful as a deer when watching for danger. Each part of her clothing was tended to as perfectly as women did on their wedding day.

Sing for me, Grey
. The memory of their earlier years echoed inside the emptiness of who they now were.

She lowered her gaze. “May I fix you breakfast?”

The question came at him most mornings, as if she were giving him a choice. It didn’t matter that he hated breakfast. A wife cooked each meal for her family. At one time he’d thought it was her way of showing respect, maybe even love, but he knew better now.

“Ya.”

While she moved about the kitchen, he sat at the table, reading the newspaper.

Saturday. Regardless of what he did to use up the day, Saturdays were a reminder of the emptiness between them. The aroma of bacon frying filled the room. Sunlight and cool air streamed in through the open windows. He and Elsie were in the same room, about to sit at the same table. Those things made it look and smell as if normal life went on inside this house.

The clock ticked louder by the minute, telling him time was moving, and yet he wasn’t. He and Elsie were in the same place they’d been for at least three years. With each week and month that passed, he was getting farther and farther from all chance of contentment. He’d let go of wanting happiness quite a while ago. But life was too long to live it like this, wasn’t it? He closed his newspaper and set it to the side. “Any plans for today?”

“Usual. You?”

The morning begged to be enjoyed, and he knew what they needed to do. “I’m taking Ivan fishing. Would you like to go?”

“There’s work to be done.”

“There always is, and it’ll still be waitin’ after we’ve caught a few fish.”

Cracking another raw egg into a bowl, she shook her head. She beat the eggs mercilessly with the whisk, but one would have to know her well to notice the slight, sharp movements as she dumped them into the pan and set the glass bowl firmly, but not too loudly, into the sink. She didn’t let her movements reflect too much emotion. If she did, he could point it out and try to get her to open up.

She’d held her silence for years, never saying what really ailed her. Her complaints ranged from not liking the way he breathed to not understanding how he could get so dirty during a workday. If he dared to hum, she’d walk out. But, contrary to how he’d felt over the last few years, he wasn’t a fool. When one person picked apart everything about another, the things being mentioned weren’t really the problem. They were the side effects.

He understood the grief that had captured her when she gave birth to a stillborn son. He’d mourned the loss deeply, but it’d been three years since then. Did that painful time still cling to her? Her response to burying their second son hadn’t seemed much different than her reaction to Ivan’s birth. Perhaps that’s how she dealt with pregnancy hormones, or maybe it was just her ways. Without them talking, he had no way of knowing.

When he tried to unravel the binding that held them prisoner, she grew more distant, more quiet. So as she carefully and yet sharply plunked his plate in front of him, he wasn’t going to ask what was wrong. It could be that she wanted the work done before he went fishing, or that she resented that both Ivan and Grey would return with dirty clothes smelling of fish, or that he’d leave some fish scales in the yard after cleaning them. Even if he asked or tried to prod her to talk, they’d land in the same place they always did—only with a little more deadness between them each time.

No matter what or where they were right now, he still held on to hope that one day they’d really talk and she’d decide to accept her disappointments in being married to him, own up to her part of where they were and why, and be willing to start from there.