He watched now as she smiled shyly while Mr. Hartford bragged about her cooking skills to a couple of giggly female tourists out for a day of “experiencing all things Amish.”
Ava Jane listened and smiled and answered their questions with grace and patience. After the women bought a bagful of the baked goods right out of her basket, Mr. Hartford took the rest and placed them near the register.
Then Ava Jane turned to shop, her eyes meeting Jeremiah’s, her serene smile fading into a wisp of air.
He caught up with her in the produce aisle, where tender seedling plants lined the bins near the fresh produce. “Hi.”
“Hello, Jeremiah,” she said, her dainty hand patting her bonnet. “How are you?”
“Gut,” he said. “Just gathering some supplies to fix things around the place.”
Sympathy colored her eyes a sad blue. “It must be hard, seeing your daed like this. He was such a fine, strong man. I’m so sorry.”
Jeremiah had to swallow the lump in his throat. “He hasn’t woken once since I’ve been home. I talk to him but...”
“He hears you,” she said, something shifting in her attitude, her eyes softening, almost as if a wall had crashed down around her. “He hears you. It’s gut you came home.”
“Is it?” he asked, wishing it so. Wishing he could have come home to friendly greetings and a welcoming community. Everyone tolerated him, but Jeremiah wasn’t sure he’d ever belong here again. The bishop and the ministers and the deacons were all probably shaking their heads about what to do with him.
He had to stay on course, stay on the straight and narrow. Surprisingly, his military training was coming in handy. He could focus. He could go into a zone and see things through to the finish. Because he wanted this now as much as he’d wanted that then.
He prayed every night. He prayed while he sat with his father. He prayed when he looked into Ava Jane’s eyes.
Ava Jane looked shocked at his question. “It can be good, ja. Isn’t that why you came back? To make things right again?”
He nodded and wished he could snap his fingers and fix everything. But the bishop had warned him this would be a long, hard journey. “I have a lot of work to do yet,” he said. “I guess I’d better get going.”
“Not all of your work will be out in the fields, Jeremiah,” she said. Could she see into his heart?
He nodded, understanding. He had a lot to work through and most of it revolved around his feelings for her.
He was almost to the door when Mr. Hartford called out to him. “Jeremiah, you’ve been doing a lot of carpentry work since you returned. Ava Jane was just asking me yesterday about someone to help repair her back porch. What did you say, Ava Jane? A couple of rotten boards?”
Ava Jane turned pale, panic frozen on her face. Mr. Hartford had no idea about her relationship with Jeremiah. “It’s nothing, really. I can find someone else. I shouldn’t have even brought it up.”
“I don’t mind,” Jeremiah said, sending Mr. Hartford a nod. “I’ll come by later this week to see what needs to be done,” he said to Ava Jane. “If that’s all right with you.”
She lowered her head and fidgeted with her apron. “That is fine. Mamm has been complaining about it and Daed keeps forgetting to fix it. Besides, I try to do things on my own and not run to my parents for every little thing.”
Jeremiah’s heart hurt for her. A woman alone with two growing children, trying to keep things together. She probably got up early to get her baking done.
“You don’t have to run to anyone,” he said. “I’ll be by to look at your porch first thing next week.”
He turned to leave before she could tell him no.
* * *
Sunday morning dawned bright and sunny with a slight crispness in the wind. But springtime freshness filled that same wind with various scents rising up: herbs and baked bread, bacon frying, the earthy scents of hay and animals and trees blossoming.
Ava Jane stood at her favorite spot in front of the kitchen sink, where the view of the valley and the water beyond always took her breath away. The sun peeked out over the rolling hills and winked through the newly budding trees. She remembered so many mornings waking up to this. Jacob would come up behind her and tug her close, his chin against her hair.
The water reminded her of two men. Jacob and Jeremiah. In a way, she’d lost them both to water.
Dear Father, how do I remember one when I’m trying to forget the other?
Ava Jane finished washing the breakfast dishes and called to the kinder, “Kumm.”
Sarah Rose came rushing down the stairs, chattering like a magpie. “Eli won’t hurry, Mamm. He’s got one boot on and one in his hand. His hair needs combing—”
“Stop spluttering so,” Ava Jane said with a smile. “Eli, what’s taking so long?”
Her son seemed to move at a slow pace at times. He was a good boy but he did tend to get into trouble a lot.
She added one more prayer to her morning list. She needed strength to raise her children. Strength and wisdom and purpose. She needed to teach her kinder obedience first and foremost.
Her parents were so good with the children, but Ava Jane knew she had to be tough on them in order to teach them the right paths in life. Eli was a constant challenge and Sarah Rose had a strong-willed personality.
Ava Jane might have softened since Jacob’s death but she was gaining strength every day. Hadn’t she managed to be kind to Jeremiah the other day at the general store?
And she’d be kind to him if he showed up to fix her porch. But that would be an uncomfortable situation.
At least it would save her having to pester her daadi about it. He had a bad back and she wouldn’t have to add to that.
“Eli!” she called, frustration edging her tone.
Her son ambled down the stairs, his dark hair flying out in shiny clusters around his head. “I forgot my hat,” he said, turning to head back up the stairs.
Sarah Rose shook her head and put her little arms across her midsection in frustration. “I don’t like being late.”
“Nor do I,” Ava Jane confirmed. “Eli, you have sixty seconds. Sarah Rose will count.”
She knew Sarah Rose could only make it to fifty, but Eli came rushing down the stairs, his black felt hat crooked. “Here, Mamm.”
“I’m not finished counting,” Sarah Rose whined, her eyes going big and misty.
“You can finish counting on the walk over to the Miller place,” Ava Jane said. “Now, let’s gather our things and get on the road. It’s a nice Sunday morning.”
The Millers held services in their big barn. Jacob and most of the other men of the district had helped them build it a few years ago. The women had gathered and made food for the event. Barn buildings were always an event to see.
Now the tall, sturdy building had weathered a bit but it would stand the test of time. Not like her old farmhouse. Jacob had tried to keep up with the many repairs around the twenty-acre farm, but he’d never been able to get the place the way he wanted. He loved working the land and they’d made a passable income selling produce and grain, but in spite of her family’s best efforts, she’d been forced to let some of the field go fallow. Now she sold baked goods, eggs and canned goods to make a living and tended a small garden so she could sell fresh produce and fruit at the local farmers market. She also made quilts, doilies, pot holders and aprons to help bring in extra income.
It wasn’t a bad life, but it was a tiring life. Constant worry