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  Coveting the scene, I remembered another minister expounding last year about overcoming envy—how it served to embitter a person and angered the Lord. I knew I should focus on my blessings.

  An hour later, from way down the road, I spied the Yoder’s Nursery sign. The name was inscribed in tall letters. I’d driven by the nursery many times, but I had never entered because my parents either ordered their seeds by mail or insisted we shop locally at an uncle’s small establishment. And I steered clear of the barn across the road. My Jake had been accused of burning down the barn that stood there before. This new barn had been promptly built, but I couldn’t bear to look at it. I was thankful Dat made no further mention of the appalling incident that still haunted me—the beginning of the end of my world.

  As we neared the nursery’s front driveway, I sat forward and gawked out the window. Dat piloted the buggy onto the gravel parking lot large enough to accommodate fifty or more vehicles, although only a half-dozen automobiles were present today. Several horses and buggies were stationed at a railing. I canvassed a retail shop’s exterior—a smallish structure made of gray stone—and four large-scale greenhouses. Behind them spread acres of deciduous and evergreen trees planted in neat rows.

  Despite the marvelous surroundings, my stomach clenched. I felt like a child might on her first day of school in a different district where she knew no one.

  Dat slowed us to a halt. “Look at all those fine Amish men working here.” He stroked his graying beard. “Most are single.”

  “Yah, I see they’re clean-shaven. But they’re too young for me.”

  “You look youthful for your age, Evie.”

  “Denki, but you know age is not my only problem.”

  “I thought that whole misunderstanding got cleared up. If the deacon and a minister thought you were guilty of any indiscretion, they would have stopped by to speak to us years ago.” He patted my knee. “Although your mamm and I prayed for you many a time, that you wouldn’t run off and do something foolish.”

  “Yah, I know, but—”

  “Now, now. Most everyone in the county has forgotten those rumors.”

  “I wish that were true, but last month in the fabric store I noticed two women staring at me and whispering.”

  “Is it possible you overreacted? Were they one of us or Englisch tourists?”

  “Probably tourists, but—”

  “There’s your answer. Are you not used to Englischers gawking at you by now?”

  “Denki, Dat.” My father was the kindest man on earth.

  “We’ve been taught that the Lord abhors malicious gossip. ‘Death and life are in the power of the tongue.’ ” He jiggled the reins and steered the mare away from the greenhouses toward the far end of the parking lot. A three-story white house with black shutters framing the windows grabbed my attention. Even under the grayish sky the structure’s brightness made me stare. Next to the house, a colossal maple tree spread mammoth limbs not yet bearing unfurling leaves.

  “Is that the owner’s house?”

  “Sure is. And his new Englisch wife’s.” Dat turned to me, his eyes sympathetic. “They both married later in life. He’s in his early forties and she’s in her late thirties. They already have a child.”

  His heart was in the right place. He was trying to make me believe I could still bear children at my age. I’d let my parents down by not giving them grandchildren.

  Dat seemed oblivious to my musings. “The owner did a fine job fixing up this old house. It was run-down when he purchased it.”

  “Yah, it’s a beautiful home. But where’s the cottage where I’ll live?”

  “Hold on.” He brought the mare to a halt and waved an arm to an Amish worker, who strode over to us.

  “Can you help?” Dat asked. “We wish to speak to the owner, Glenn Yoder.”

  “Glenn’s out of town.” The young man’s gaze wandered over to me before returning to Dat. “And our manager, Stephen, is running an errand.” He gave me another looking over. “Is this the new girl? We weren’t expecting her yet.”

  He’d called me a girl? I sighed. I was ten years this lad’s senior. But I was used to being called a girl by Englisch customers in the fabric store.

  “Yah, this is my dochder.” Dat’s tone was friendly. “We’re looking for the place where she’ll live, if that’s all right.”

  “Of course. Stephen said you could move right in. The cabin is around back of the big house. The Yoders’ housekeeper is in the main house, and she has a key if it’s locked.”

  “Denki.” Dat clucked to the mare, and she rolled us forward, skirting the house.

  “A cabin? Olivia said it was a cottage.”

  He fingered the reins. “What’s the difference?”

  “Nothing, I suppose.” Men and women each saw the world from a different perspective, I reminded myself.

  Not far from the house stood a sturdy cream-colored structure with a hunter-green door. A rocking chair rested on its narrow porch. In a couple of front windows, forest-green shades were rolled partway down.

  Dat hauled back on the reins and jumped out of the buggy. He tied the mare to a hitching post, mounted the porch’s three wooden steps, and strode to the front door.

  I sat, paralyzed. I couldn’t recall ever being so anxious.

  “Evie, you look like you saw a ghost. Are you okay?”

  “Guess I’m a little naerfich.” To put it mildly.

  “No need to be nervous.” He knocked, waited a moment, and then turned the knob. The door opened. “Guess they don’t keep it locked.”

  I climbed out, landing hard. The earth beneath my feet seemed to undulate, but I steadied myself as I grabbed the handle of the wicker basket.

  I walked up the steps. “Maybe you’d better go in first.” I motioned to Dat. “What if someone’s in there and just didn’t hear your knock?” I often pretended I was fearless, but I was barely strong enough to carry the basket.

  Dat chuckled as he stepped inside. “Come on, dochder. It’s nice in here.”

  I peeked around him to see a tidy room with a single bed against the far wall, and a small couch and a propane lamp—its tank housed in a wooden base—near a fireplace. I could tell a woman or two had spent time cleaning this cabin. The white porcelain sink under a paned window and the kitchen counter were spotless. On either side of the counter stood a gas stove and a small propane refrigerator. Through a partially opened door I saw a bathroom—a white-tiled cubicle with a shower and a sink with a mirror above it. Nice!

  The walls were painted a buttermilky cream, and the varnished solid wood kitchen cabinets, trim, and bathroom door were honey-colored. The taupe linoleum floor begged for some throw rugs, but all in good time.

  Dat hauled my suitcase inside, and then we brought in the rest of my belongings. I strolled over to the bed and pulled back the blanket to see clean white sheets. Good. I’d forgotten to bring my own linens. “My quilt will fit on this nicely.”

  “You’re all set.” He kissed my cheek. “I best be getting back to see how your bruder and his family are doing, not to mention helping your mamm get settled in the daadi haus.”

  “Leaving already?” I had a panicky feeling in the back of my throat. “If only the owner were here to greet me. I’d planned to come meet him in person before moving in.”

  “He’ll no doubt be back soon and you’ll have your chance.”

  “Wait. Are you sure this is all right?” My voice came out with a quaver, sounding so timid I barely recognized it.

  “Glenn Yoder is a fine man, even if he broke his parents’ hearts by not joining the Amish church. He married an Englisch woman older than you are. And like I said, she gave birth to their first child several months ago.”

  Maybe there was still hope for me.

  TWO

  As I listened to Dat’s buggy roll away, I second-guessed my decision to move here. I’d been hired on Olivia’s recommendation without a proper interview. If I hurried, I could catch
up with him and return home.

  Hold on. That was downright silly, immature thinking. I was a grown woman and needed to take care of myself. Why wouldn’t they like me as much as Zook’s owner had?

  First things first. I stowed Mamm’s food in the pint-sized refrigerator. I’d rarely seen an empty refrigerator, and it was so clean inside too. Our refrigerator at home was always jam-packed with meats, cheeses, and yummy leftovers. Well, I doubted I’d starve working near a café, which must stand behind the greenhouses. I supposed it depended on when they served food. I knew Olivia’s baked goods would be available if employees were allowed to eat meals there. Still, after laboring in the soil all day, they might not be permitted to dine with the café’s patrons.

  Deciding I’d have a snack later, I unclasped and opened the suitcase and then spread an armload of clothes across the bed. A tall bureau stood ready and welcoming. Above it hung an oval wood-framed mirror with a bedraggled woman gawking into it.

  Ach, my heart-shaped kapp had collapsed like a failed soufflé. Clumps of my hair Mamm thought was the color of caramel straggled out from under it. I untied my kapp’s strings. My beige dress and black apron did nothing to improve my appearance, but I’d fix my hair later.

  I knelt on the floor and pulled open the bottom drawer of the bureau. I was pleased to see plenty of room for my black socks. As I arranged them neatly, I imagined moving into my future husband’s home someday. Always his face looked like blond and striking Jake’s, my first love, whom I hadn’t seen for seven years. Silly musings. I was determined to replace his face with another man’s. Soon, I hoped.

  Without warning, the door blew open, and I let out a surprised yelp.

  “Sorry I startled you.” A tall man dressed in jeans and a yellow collared work shirt stepped into the room carrying an LED lamp—not Amish, judging by his clothing and Englisch haircut. “Are you the new employee?” he asked.

  I got to my feet and put out my hand to shake his. “Yes. Hello. I’m Eva Lapp.” I scanned the bed and felt heat flushing my face when I saw my nightgown draped across it. I bundled it up and stuffed it in another bureau drawer.

  He tilted his head. “We weren’t expecting you for a couple of days.”

  “I’m sorry. I should have called ahead to warn you I was coming early.” I’d spare him the details of my mad dash to get packed and leave home.

  “No matter. I’m Stephen Troyer, in charge of the nursery while the boss is out of town for a couple of weeks. I was just stopping by to make sure everything is okay.” He set the lantern on the small table next to the bed. “We’re happy to have you, Eva. The café has practically had to run on its own since Olivia left.”

  “Café? I thought I’d be working in the nursery with plants. And perhaps maintaining a vegetable garden.” Gardening was my passion.

  “No, we need a replacement for Olivia in the café. We have plenty of staff in the nursery. Although the little herb garden behind the main house might need tending now that Edna’s gone. She’s the Amish woman who used to live here and was my boss’s housekeeper for many years. But she had a stroke, and her family moved her to Indiana to live with one of her nieces.”

  My mind spun with the impossibility of the situation. Why hadn’t Olivia been clear about this? “But I know nothing about running a restaurant.” Or much about cooking.

  The corners of his mouth dragged down. “Can you manage a cash register and credit cards?”

  “Yah, I did that in the fabric store, my last place of employment.”

  “And can you brew a decent pot of coffee?”

  “I’m used to making it for large crowds after church services and such. Nobody has ever complained.”

  “Anything will taste better than the coffee made by the two girls we have now.” He raked a hand through his nutmeg-brown hair. “Olivia said you could accomplish anything if we give you directions. We were so relieved when she suggested you and said you needed a place to live.”

  “I’m afraid my cousin might have stretched the truth a little.” I scanned the cabin and reminded myself she was doing me a favor. “I don’t possess half of Olivia’s culinary skills. Only what I’ve done at home. I always favored the garden and helping Dat with the milking when he needed me.”

  “No cows to be milked around here. But we do have chickens and fresh eggs you’re welcome to gather and eat for breakfast.” His hazel-brown eyes probed mine. “Should I find someone else for the job?”

  I canvassed my cozy new abode. “Nee. I’m used to working with the public. I’m sure I can learn what’s needed.” I hoped.

  “It’s still early in the year, but we expect to get busy once the flowers are in bloom. Our goal is to have the café cover its overhead and make a profit. My boss was determined to build the place. It was his dream, so there you go. The nursery’s a bustling place spring through autumn. In winter, we sell Christmas trees. Glenn plans to have the café open all year.”

  “I’m used to waiting on impatient customers. We would get buried at the fabric store during a sale. And I’m here now.” My being here must be God’s will. Wasn’t it?

  “Come on. Let me walk you over there before you settle in.” I understood him to mean, before I have to kick you out in favor of someone more suitable for the job.

  He glanced down at me. “I feel as if I know you, Eva. Have we met before? Wait. Didn’t you date Jake Miller?”

  I cringed. “Many years ago.”

  “I heard he still lives in New York.” Again he gave me an inquisitive look, waiting for my response.

  “I heard that too.” Jake had sent me only two letters—both without a return address—and left me one voice message on the phone shanty recorder, just to say hello. But he never explained why he left or what was to become of our relationship. He just told me he was fine, all in the vaguest of terms. And then I never heard from him again.

  “Someone said Jake was working for a construction company in the Conewango Valley.” Stephen’s tone was somber. “He and I lost touch shortly after his older brother died.” He tugged his earlobe. “You must know his father always favored his older son over Jake.”

  “Yes, Jake’s dad treated Jake unfairly. Finding fault in everything he did.”

  “I figured that’s why Jake took off.” Stephen’s statement sounded like a question, the way it went up at the end.

  “I’m still not sure. I was away then.” I didn’t want to bring up the rumors circulated about me, but I did wish to continue our conversation. “Is Jake… Is he married?”

  “I don’t know. Possibly, after all this time.”

  I expelled an audible sigh and felt my shoulders droop. Well, of course he’d be married by now and probably have several children. But if so, that news had never reached my ears.

  “You know about that barn fire?” Stephen’s mouth grew hard.

  “I’ll never forget it as long as I live. Praise the Lord no one was killed or even hurt. But I felt sorry for the calves.” I snuck a peek at his ruggedly handsome face. “Still an unsolved mystery?”

  “Yes, but I do know Jake wasn’t guilty. He was with me that night, not that he was following the Ordnung. I was and still am Mennonite and not under the same restrictions. But I was acting like a knucklehead.”

  “I’ve always wondered why Jake didn’t defend himself.” Finally, I might get a straight answer to the questions that had plagued me about that fire.

  “Well, like I said, we were both up to no good. On a lamebrain lark, Jake bought his wreck of a Toyota sedan and hid it from his folks. As I recall, he was twenty-two and still in rumspringa. Fact is, he and I and some buddies were in that old barn that evening, drinking beer, playing cards, and joking around, but nothing more. We were using a battery-powered lantern and knew better than to smoke in there. When we left the barn, it was standing. None of us would’ve been foolish enough to do anything to start a fire. We knew the value of barns. Someone must have seen his car and reported it to the police.”

>   “Why didn’t you tell the police all that?” A better question would have been to ask why Jake hadn’t defended himself.

  “The barn’s owner was and still is Amish. He didn’t press charges. I never have understood that way of thinking. But the whole community pitched in, including Jake and me. Our heads hanging low, we all helped rebuild that barn better than new. Tongues were wagging the whole time, but no one came out and accused us.”

  “But still, you could have spoken up. You both should’ve come out and confessed to being in the barn.”

  “You’re right, but that would have meant telling everyone Jake owned a car. His father was already angry with him. Jake sold that ill-fated Toyota a week later. I still feel as if it were my fault. I was two years older and should have set a better example for him.”

  Stephen must have seen an expression of worry on my face. “A year later—I guess you were out of state—I heard Jake left. He’s only returned to Lancaster County a couple of times that I know of.”

  “And you never hear from him?” What was I doing speaking of a subject so personal with a stranger? Yet for years I’d ached to have this conversation with someone who’d not only known Jake, but was willing to talk to me about him. A gravitational pull still drew me to him.

  “I was surprised he did, but he made a couple of calls to my cell phone.” Stephen shifted his weight. “He asked about you.”

  I held my breath and waited for him to continue.

  “Jake said he’d heard you had a new boyfriend.”

  “Did you tell him I didn’t?” My mouth was so dry I could barely get out the words.

  “I’m sorry, Eva, but I had no way of knowing. I’d heard you were seeing someone in Ohio, but I didn’t know if that was true.”

  “None of the stories about me are true.” I shuddered to think of what Jake and Stephen had heard. Rumors that I’d run off to Ohio to give birth to either Jake’s or another man’s child had swirled like a flock of crows throughout the county. But I’d been in Ohio taking care of premature newborn twins for an ailing cousin.