The Postcard (32 page)

No amount of insistence or pleading on Adele’s part could diffuse the situation. She was ready to throw up her hands, not knowing what to do, when across the school yard a tall and slender young man came bounding toward the boys. His denim carpenter overalls exhibited a composite of sawdust and what appeared to be smudges of paint and possibly mustard. His yellow hair, cropped around his head, peeked out from under a straw hat. “Sam . . . Tom . . . time to head on home!” the man called to them, breaking up the fight.

Immediately, Samuel and Thomas ran toward the red schoolhouse, glancing over their shoulders as if they thought they’d better run for their lives.

She didn’t quite know what to say to the handsome blond man, but she brushed her hands against her skirt and smiled her thanks. “That was truly amazing,” she said, finding her voice.

He smiled back, and she noticed the apple green color of his eyes. “Those boys are my sister’s youngsters, and she asked me to come down and fetch ’em for her. They’re gut boys, really, just full of boundless energy, as you must surely know.”

“I’ve never had any trouble with them until today,” she said, glancing at the sky. “Must be a change in weather coming. Sometimes a falling barometer does strange things to children.” She smiled back at him.

“Well, weather or no, I’ll see to it that they don’t cause you any more bother.”

“I’m glad you came, because I was about to have someone run and get the bishop.”

“No . . . no, you don’t wanna do that,” he replied, his smile fading.

She didn’t tell him that Bishop Fisher was her greatuncle— one of the reasons she was able to land the substitute teaching position. “Why not?” she asked.

“It’s a long story.” He quickly removed his straw hat and introduced himself slowly and politely. “I’m Gabriel Esh, but my friends call me plain Gabe, and you can, too.” His gaze held hers.

“Well, it’s very nice to meet you, Gabe. My name is Adele Herr, and I’m filling in for Mary King until next spring.”

“Ah yes, she’s to be married next month.”

“Well, supposedly the wedding hasn’t been ‘published’ yet, but word has it she’s tying the knot with the bishop’s grandson real soon.”

“That she is,” he said, still holding his hat in his hands. “Are you from around here?”

“Reading’s my home, though I attended Millersville State Teachers’ College, so I’m familiar with this area.”

Gabe nodded, smiling again. “We don’t often get outsiders to teach our children.”

“Then I suppose I was in the right place at the right time, The Postcard though the parents and the board did scrutinize me, I must say.”

“Warned you not to instill worldly wisdom in the minds of their offspring?”

She was surprised. “Why yes. In fact, those were their exact words.”

The boys emerged from the schoolhouse, carrying their lunch pails and looking as sheepish as they were besmirched. “We’re sorry, Miss Herr,” Samuel offered.

“Jah, sorry,” said Thomas, his face beet red with embarrassment.

Gabe said, “You boys run along now. Your pop needs your muscle power in the barn.”

“Good afternoon, Miss Herr,” called Samuel, running.

“Good-bye, Miss Herr,” Thomas echoed.

“You won’t be havin’ any more scuffling out of those two,” Gabe promised. He flashed a heartening smile again before excusing himself, then ran to catch up with his nephews.

“Well, one never knows what a day will bring forth,” Adele muttered to herself, heading toward the schoolhouse steps.

Adele had her first outing with Gabe two days later. She was twenty-six, and he one year older. Folks had said that Gabe would never settle down and marry till he found a girl who’d be willing to put up with his incessant preaching, his roaming all over the county proclaiming the Gospel. Adele was glad he was still single, because she had been waiting a long time for a man like Gabe Esh to come along and catch her fancy. Only trouble was, he had been raised on an Amish farm, and she was a refined and thoroughly modern Baptist.

Love, they say, is blind, yet she wasn’t so sure she wanted to jump into such a peculiar relationship with both eyes closed. So she kept them wide open as they headed off north in Gabe’s open buggy, the only transportation he had, what with him still a carpenter’s apprentice, with little hope of owning a woodworking shop because of all the traveling he did.

They spent an early evening together, that first date, walking along a wooded area. Ideal for a picnic. And what a picnic it was! Complete with every possible food a young man would enjoy; Adele had seen to that. She even asked Gabe’s sister, Nancy—the mother of Samuel and Thomas— to nose around a bit and find out what sandwiches he liked best. Turned out that beef tongue was his favorite, with plenty of Swiss cheese, mayonnaise, and lots of mustard.

After the meal, they hiked farther into the woods, stopping to rest on a stone fence, about three feet high. The sun, sinking fast, shimmered over the rocky surface, providing a warm and cozy spot on that October eve.

“I hope to have a place like this someday,” he said rather confidently. “It would be ideal for a spiritual retreat, where folks could come and get away from the humdrum of their lives and meet God.”

“It’s real pretty here.” She held her breath though, hoping he wouldn’t rush things and say something about the two of them owning a place like this together. Instead, he reached for her hand and they sat in awkward silence. Several orioles flapped their wings and chirped down at them, but she paid them little heed. Her hand fit perfectly in Gabe’s, as if they were designed to fit together. Honestly, it was hard to think of anything else.

When Gabriel stood up, she did too, and they walked hand in hand all the way into the deepest part of the forest, where red sugar maples were so high they had to crane their necks back to see the tip-tops. They laughed together, trying to catch a squirrel, though when Gabe cornered the furry gray creature and put his hand down into a tree hole, she worried that he might get bit. That was the first sign she knew she cared, possibly a little too much.

A few days later, they went for another walk, and the day after that they drove Adele’s car to Honey Brook for hamburgers, where no one knew either of them, though folks gawked at the likes of him in his Amish getup and her in a best dress and pumps.

After that, Gabe dropped by the schoolhouse several times a week, usually after school. He said it was to check up on the wood stove or help with anything that might need to be fixed, but, of course, there wasn’t anything needing his attention . . . except Adele herself. She struggled with her feelings toward him, wondering how such a relationship could possibly work in the long run. Yet her heart longed for his, Plain or no, and they spent joyous hours together, sharing each other’s dreams. They talked of everything under the sun, except that one painful thing, too caught up with each other to broach the chasm that kept them truly apart.

Gabe accompanied her with the children on several snowy field trips in late November, and she observed him with the younger students, especially, noting how they seemed drawn to him. “I love the small ones,” he said later when she brought it up. “Maybe it’s ’cause I never had any little brothers or sisters—since I was the caboose.”

It was early in December, a night when Gabe had borrowed his friend’s car for a hymn sing in Strasburg. They were listening to the radio, soft music in the background, enjoying the quietude of the moonlit evening, when Gabe said, “I don’t know if you know it, Adele, but I believe I must be fallin’ in love with you.”

Her heart leaped at his words, yet she felt she could not return his ardent affection. Although she cared for him deeply, she could not offer him hope of more than friendship. She knew, as sure as she was a modern woman—“fancy,” as he called her—the two of them must remain merely good friends, lest they break each other’s hearts.

Gabe was silent for the length of time it took to drive her home. When he pulled into the long, narrow lane of the Troyer farmhouse, where Adele was renting a room, Gabe stopped the car and turned to her, reaching for her hand. “I know we’ve managed to avoid talkin’ out our cultural differences, but perhaps with God’s help we could work through our future . . . together.”

Her eyes clouded with tears. “As much as I care for you, Gabe, as my dear, dear friend, I don’t see how we . . .” She paused, struggling with her choice of words. “Oh, Gabe, we’re worlds apart, you and I.”

“Jah.” His eyes held her gaze. “Yet I believe the Lord surely must’ve brought us together for a purpose.”

Adele didn’t know what to say to that. Gabe was especially sensitive to God and His ways; she knew it by observing his life and the way he truly relied on the Lord, walking wholly in tune with Him.

“I’m glad for
one
thing,” she replied, fighting tears. “We’re brother and sister in the Lord, therefore we belong to each other in the family of God. You know what I’m trying to say, don’t you?”

“That if we can’t be together as husband and wife, at least our spirits are knit together in the Lord?”

“Yes,” she whispered. It
was
a comfort of sorts. Still they struggled with their background differences in the weeks that preceded Christmas, never so much as exchanging an innocent hug or kiss on the cheek, though Adele secretly longed for his embrace.

Adele did not anticipate her father’s severe reaction to her friendship with Gabe, during the Christmas holiday. Evidently, word had gotten back to Reverend Herr via Bishop Fisher that Adele was spending lots of time with one of the Amish fellows in the Bird-in-Hand area. This nearly spoiled their family celebration, especially hers and her ailing mother’s. “I suspect that you’re in love with this . . . this Plain farmer,” her father said one evening at supper.

“Gabe and I are true friends” was all she would admit, though with each day of separation came an intense desire to see her Amish friend again.

Upon her return to Bird-in-Hand, Adele told Gabe that she was the grand-niece of the bishop. “Seth Fisher married my father’s aunt—that’s how we’re related. There was a break away from the Amish several generations back,” she explained. “Most of my father’s people are Baptists. Isn’t that interesting?”

“And very unusual, seeing as how they all came from the same Anabaptist roots.” Gabe actually took the news of the connection to his People as an encouraging sign. “Maybe we’re not so far apart after all.”

She smiled at his attempt to dissolve the gap between them. “Three generations ago someone was shunned, excommunicated from the Amish church. I don’t see how that’s such a good thing.”

They joked about it—that they were nearly distant cousins in a vague sense—and Gabe continued to stop by after school or made arrangements to spend time with Adele nearly every day.

For four bliss-filled months they enjoyed somewhat of a dating relationship, though purely platonic, until mid-April, the end of the Amish school year. Three days before she was scheduled to return to Reading, Gabe invited her on a final buggy ride.

“I chose Dat’s oldest horse for tonight on purpose,” he confessed to her, giving a quiet laugh. “This way we’ll have plenty of time to talk.”

The night was warm, filled with the sweetness and the promise of springtime. “I wonder what you’d say if I told you I’d like you to think about marryin’ me,” said Gabe, his eyes intent on her as the horse pulled them forward into the starry night.

Again her heart was drawn to him. “I . . . I
do
care for you, Gabe,” she said softly, “but . . .”

Before she could say more, he moved close to her, gathering her into his arms. “Please, my dearest one, you mustn’t decide tonight.”

“Oh, Gabe, I wish . . .” She yielded to his warm embrace as his lips found hers.

“I know,” he said breathlessly. “I know, my darling fancy girl.” And he kissed her again.

She snuggled close to her beloved, under the dim covering of a partial moon, and knew in her heart of hearts there could never be another night like this. She would return to her father’s house and never see Gabe Esh again. As fond as they were of each other, their love was not meant to be.

They rode in utter silence, except for the occasional snort of the mare and the quaint
clip-clop
against the road. Adele watched the moon come and go under a smattering of clouds, a lump in her throat and a tear in her eye. “Gabe, I don’t have to wait to give you my answer. The past months have been the most wonderful of my life. I thought I’d never meet someone like you, someone gentle, who loves children, someone sensitive to the Lord and to me. Oh, Gabe, we both know it can never be.”

“Shh, don’t say any more. I understand why you feel that way, Adele, but I also believe that if we are both willing, we could make it work.” He held his “fancy” girl close to his heart, oblivious of what was to come, as they watched the moon slide under a cloud.

Lily sighed, still clutching the postcard. “Not long after that night, Gabe witnessed of God’s saving power to one Amish farmer too many.”

“What do you mean?” asked Philip.

“He went over to Benjamin Zook’s place, and right there in front of Ben and his wife and their little children, Gabe preached to them of Jesus.”