Where Love Grows (22 page)

“But, Mom,” Teresa interrupted, “you know you're welcome right here. And it would be much cheaper than renting your own place.”

“Cheaper but not practical,” Maurice said. “I need my own place if I'm going to stay a while.”

“Well, let's take this one step at a time.” Teresa sighed. “For now, we're going to make you at home here. And baby Samuel and I are going to enjoy your presence fully.”

“I really have to get back home,” Susan said. “Work awaits.”

Teresa gave her a hug, and Maurice kissed her cheek. “You be a good girl now!” Maurice said.

“Oh, I will,” Susan said with a laugh. As she made her way downstairs and through the living room, she caught sight of James in a field behind the barn. He was driving a wagon and glancing toward the house. When she got out on the porch she waved, and James lifted his hand in greeting, his hat pushed back on his head.

How different James had turned out to be from his friend Thomas, Susan thought as she untied Toby and got into the buggy. James was loyal and faithful, sticking by Teresa's side even when his own father wouldn't give his blessing. Now things had turned around for them, almost like the
Englisha
fairy tales she'd read in the school library.

Susan drove out of the driveway, turning to cross the bridge that spanned the little creek nearby. The running water made a soft gurgling sound, reaching her ears now that she was alone. It was strange how one heard things when alone that were missed when in the company of others. Had she perhaps been missing something else in her life? Something that was near at hand but drowned out by the racket? Susan laughed at the thought.

What a silly mess she was in to grasp at such straws. Life was exactly the same now as it had been before. She was apparently the problem, not the boys. That had to be the answer. Maybe she didn't have what it takes to be an Amish wife. Painful as that idea was, perhaps it was time to face it. Was life among the
Englisha
what she really needed? The driver's license was still hidden in her upstairs drawer.
Mamm
would have a fit if she knew she had it, especially with what she was going through now.

Allowing Toby to take his time, Susan thought the matter over and came to a decision long before she arrived home. There would be no more running away. It was time she faced the worst. Even if the worst was Amish life as an old maid. Perhaps that was all
Da Hah
had in store for her.

With another sigh, Susan pulled into the driveway at home and stopped beside the barn. While she was climbing down, Steve appeared from the doorway, his hat pulled down to shade his eyes.

“Did you get Maurice dropped off safely at Teresa's place?” he asked with a smile that was barely visible under his hat.

Susan laughed. “Well, I certainly didn't lose her along the way.” She undid the tugs on her side.

“Didn't drop her in the creek then?” he joked as he unfastened the tugs on his side.

“No, I like her better than that. Now some boys I know…maybe that would be a good idea.”

“I understand,” he said, leading the horse forward while she held a buggy shaft. “I think you're holding up really well, considering. And also with your
daett
's situation.”

She stared at him in surprise. “Well thanks, Steve. That's nice of you to say.”

“I think your heart belongs here, Susan. I hope you stay.” He took off toward the barn with the horse and didn't look back.

Now why in the world would he say that? Susan wondered as Steve disappeared into the barn. How could he know what her thoughts had been on the ride home?

A
few evenings later, Susan was washing the supper dishes and looking out the window at the field of stacked corn sheaves. The setting sun turned the brown leaves golden on one side and dark on the other, while casting long shadows behind the shorn cornstalks.

This is like my life right now, she thought. Sunny and bright on one side with the memory of Teresa and her wonderful wedding. On the other side was Thomas leaving his shadowed mark. Even
Mamm
's best attempts to cheer her this evening hadn't helped. Everyone had their problems,
Mamm
had said. It was all in how people dealt with them. Look at
Daett
. His joy in his son was still present even though the threat of church discipline hung over his head. Burdens were placed on people's shoulders by
Da Hah
to strengthen their faith. It was part of life and must be borne with as much good cheer as one could muster.

Last night Susan had almost taken a small step in that direction. She had held her driver's license between her fingers in one hand and the scissors in the other. In a way it would have felt
gut
cutting the thing in half and then melting the plastic in the fire of the stove. She could even have told
Mamm
—after the fact, of course—and watched her smile grow wide at this final victory.

But she hadn't.

The questions racing through her mind wouldn't let her. Was this the life she wanted? Was she willing to accept life as an Amish old maid? Was that the lot
Da Hah
had for her? The search for answers was leaving her with a throbbing headache. She had to stop thinking like this and find some resolution. She was growing older every day, and being an old maid was not the life she had always imagined for herself.

Perhaps she could do something really unexpected, like run the farm for
daett
. Plowing the fields of the farm by day and keeping the house by night. That would surprise people. Susan choked back her laughter at the thought. A woman simply couldn't do such a thing. Not run a farm by herself. It would be unacceptable, even if she somehow managed to handle all the hard field work. There had to be another answer.

Daett
had been extra quiet this morning at breakfast. Did he blame her for Thomas giving up on her? Surely not.
Mamm
would have explained by now. Maybe he was thinking only of his own problems, which were coming into sharp focus as pre-communion Sunday drew near. Surely the leaders were contemplating some form of punishment for his youthful transgression and keeping it a secret for so many years.

Being disciplined by the church was much worse than having no one to take care of the farm.
Mamm
at least was practicing what she preached. She had smiled at
Daett
this morning and chattered away about what Ada's children were doing, even as she hovered over
Daett
like a hen watching her warm nest. In a way it was
gut
that Maurice was no longer staying here. The coming dark time was best walked through without visitors in the house.

If excommunication really happened,
Mamm
said she planned to walk the path with
Daett
. Her courage was admirable if a bit misguided, Susan thought.
Daett
could make it on his own, even if he had to sit at a table in the living room by himself. Susan shuddered. This was going to be more than awful. Like watching a star fall from heaven. Her own father, the one she had always looked up to, the one whose word was law in the house, shoved off into a corner to eat alone.

Washing another plate, Susan heard
Mamm
's soft steps behind her. “What's that, Susan? Outside the window?”

Startled, Susan looked up and out. She could see nothing but open fields with the corn sheaves no longer golden now that the sun was lower in the sky.

“There's a flickering on the dark side of the sheaves,”
Mamm
said. “It can't be anything but a fire reflection. But where is the fire?”

“A fire?” Susan paused with a dish halfway to the drainer.

“It's not from our place. Could it be coming from Ada's? But why would they have a fire going this early in the evening?”

While they both stared out the window, a loud patter of feet came from the outside. The sound rushed across the front porch and the door burst open.

“Our barn is on fire!” Ada's daughter Joan shouted, terror in her voice.

Mamm
gasped. Susan and
Mamm
twirled around together. As they ran out of the kitchen, Susan hit the edge of a kitchen chair, sending it clattering across the floor. In the living room
Daett
was on his feet, hopping around as he quickly pulled on his shoes.

“Let's go!”
Daett
hollered, waving them out the door. He followed close behind as Joan led the way, still gasping for air. In the distance the sound of sirens pierced the air. Coming around the corner of the house they could see flames leaping from the eaves of their neighbor's barn.

“What happened?”
Daett
asked as he ran past them.

“I don't know,” Joan hollered after him. “
Mamm
told me to run and tell you. We just saw the fire a few minutes after supper.”

Susan,
Mamm
, and Joan soon slowed to a walk while
Daett
ran on ahead. His figure was a strange sight with his shoe laces flying, his beard pushed off to one side, and his head hatless. Taking Joan's hand,
Mamm
slowed even more.

“It's just the barn,”
Mamm
told both of them. “There's nobody in there. The men will get the livestock out. At least no one is in danger.”

“I'm going to help.” Susan didn't look back for approval as she took off after
Daett
. She caught up with him at the barnyard gate where he'd stopped to catch his breath and tie his shoes. The angry glow of flames danced on the grass.

Someone was shouting inside the barn as smoke poured out the open door. Ada and the younger children stood close to the house, but there was no sign of the men.

“We have to help!”
Daett
hollered, seeming to see Susan for the first time. “There's another door in the back. The horses are still inside.”

Following him, Susan helped push open the sliding door. Smoke tumbled out, and from somewhere above them the fire crackled.

“It'll take a while for the fire to burn through those floor timbers,”
Daett
yelled, pulling off his shirt and tearing it in half. “Here, take this. Smoke is our main problem, so stay low. Remember, the horses are scared and won't move unless you cover their eyes.”

Menno plunged into the rolling smoke, almost crawling on his hands and knees. Susan followed him, the sting and smell of smoke choking her. Bending over, she ran toward the stalls. When she arrived,
Daett
already had the first stall open, appearing in the ghostly smoke with his half of the shirt wrapped over a Belgian's eyes as he yanked hard on the halter.

Daett
was choking, and his eyes were barely open. Tears were running down his face. Lowering his head, he moved past her. Susan waited for only a moment before entering the next stall. A driving horse stood near the back, slamming its back feet against the wooden slats. The sound repeated like rapid gunfire.

“Come on, girl.” Susan reached up to stroke the horse's nose. She jerked her head around and rolled her eyes back. Wrapping the shirt over the horse's face, Susan pulled on the halter. Slowly the animal followed her, a few steps at a time, shying when loud cracks came from overhead.

“I'm going back in again!”
Daett
hollered in Susan's ear when he appeared suddenly in the smoky air. “Don't come in after me. It's getting too dangerous.”

Susan said nothing as she continued to pull on the horse's halter.
Daett
would say such a thing, of course. But he was going back in…and she would follow—especially if he didn't come back out by the time she had this horse away from the barn.

Bursting into the fresh air, Susan gasped for breath and wiped her face. For the first time she felt the wetness of her tears. Leading the horse to the gate separating the barnyard from the pasture, she took her through before taking the shirt off her head. The animal glanced back at the burning barn before racing along the fence toward the other horses.

Ada and Reuben's son Duane came around the other side of the barn leading a horse, and Susan waited until he was through the gate before closing it. The ends of his hair were burned, and wild pieces of it curled skyward.