* * *
“Joann, we’re going fishing. Come with us.”
Looking up from her book, Joann saw her nieces come sailing through the doorway of the bedroom they shared. Ten-year-old Salome was followed closely by six-year-old Louise.
Joann didn’t feel like going out. Truth be told, all she wanted was to sit in her room and pout. Tomorrow they would all travel to Sunday services at the home of Eli Imhoff, and she was sure to see Roman Weaver there. She had no intention of speaking to him.
On Monday, she would learn if she still had her job or if she had lost her chance to buy a home of her own. Last night she prayed to follow God’s will, but she really hoped the Lord didn’t want Roman to take the job any more than she did. She had tried to find pity in her heart, but the more she thought about him, the less pity entered into the picture. He seemed so strong, so sure of himself. She’d made a fool of herself trying to talk him out of working for Otis.
Why couldn’t she stop thinking about him?
Because he was infuriating, that was why. And when he turned his fierce scowl on her, she wanted to sink through the floor.
“Come on, Papa is waiting for us.” Louise pulled at Joann’s hand.
She shook her head and said, “I don’t think I’ll come fishing today, girls.”
“You love fishing, Aenti Joann. Please come with us,” Salome begged.
Louise leaned on the arm of the chair. “What are you reading?”
Joann turned her attention back to her book. She’d read the same page three times now. “It’s a wonderful story about an Amish girl who falls in love with the Amish boy next door.”
“Does she marry him?” Louise asked.
Joann patted the child’s head. “I don’t know. I haven’t finished the book. I hope she does.”
Louise looked up with solemn eyes. “Because you don’t want her to be an old maedel like you are?”
Joann winced. Out of the mouths of babes.
“That’s not nice, Louise,” Salome scolded. “You shouldn’t call Aenti Joann an old maid.”
Louise stuck out her bottom lip. “But Papa says she was born to be a maedel.”
Joann was well aware of her brother’s views on the subject of her single status. Perhaps it was time to admit that he was right. A few months ago, she had cherished a secret hope that Levi Beachy would one day notice her. However, Levi only had eyes for Sarah Wyse. The two had wed last Christmas. Joann was happy for them. Clearly, God had chosen them for each other.
Only, it left her without even the faintest prospect for romance. There was no one in Hope Springs that made her heart beat faster.
She closed her book and laid it aside. “Salome, do not scold your sister for speaking the truth.”
Joann wanted to know love, to marry and to have children, but if it wasn’t to be, she would try hard to accept her lot in life. When did a woman know it was time to give up that dream?
Salome scowled at Louise. Louise stuck her tongue out at her sister and then ran from the room.
Salome turned back to Joann. “It was still a rude thing to say. Never mind that baby. Come fishing with us.”
Joann shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
“But your new fishing pole came. Don’t you want to try it out?”
Joann sat up. “It came? When?”
“The mailman brought it yesterday.”
“Where is it?”
Salome pointed to the cot in the corner of the upstairs bedroom. “I put it on your bed.”
“It’s not there now. It wasn’t there when I went to bed last night.”
“Maybe Louise was playing with it. I told her not to,” Salome said, shaking her head.
Joann cringed at the thought. If the younger girl had damaged it, she wouldn’t be able to get her money back. She’d foolishly spent an entire week’s wages on the graphite rod and open-faced spinning reel combo. In hindsight, it was much too expensive.
Oh, but when she’d tried it out in the store, it cast like a dream. Maybe she should keep it.
No, she gave herself a firm mental shake. She couldn’t afford it now. If her hours were cut, she would have to make sacrifices in order to keep putting money in her savings account. Otherwise, she faced a lifetime of moving her cot from one household to another.
Salome dropped to the floor to check under the other beds in the room. Finally, she found it. “Here it is.”
Joann breathed a sigh of relief when Salome emerged with the long package intact. Taking the box from her niece, Joann checked it over. It bore several big dents.
“Did she break it?”
“I don’t think so.” Joann carefully opened one end and slid out the slender black pole. The cork handle felt as light and balanced in her hand now as it had in the sporting goods store. She unpacked the reel. It was in perfect shape.
From the bottom of the stairs, Joann heard her brother call out, “Salome, are you coming?”
“Yes, Papa. Joann is coming, too.” She ran out the door and down the stairs.
Joann stared at the pole in her hands. Why not try it out once before sending it back? What could it hurt? It might be ages before she had a chance to use such a fine piece of fishing equipment again. She bundled it into the box, grabbed her small tackle box from beneath her cot, exchanged her white prayer kapp for a large black kerchief to cover her head and hurried after her niece.
On her way out of the house, Joann paused long enough to grab an apple from the bowl on the kitchen table. Outside, she joined the others in the back of the farm wagon for the jolting ride along the rough track to a local lake. It wasn’t far. Joann walked there frequently, but she enjoyed sitting in the back of the wagon with the giggling and excited girls at her side.
The land surrounding the small lake belonged to an Amish neighbor who didn’t care if people fished there as long as they left his sheep alone and closed the gates behind them. Joann had been coming to the lake since she was a child. Joseph Shetler, the landowner, had been friends with her grandfather. The two men often took a lonely little girl fishing with them. Occasionally, Joann still caught sight of Joseph, but he avoided people these days. She never knew why he had become a recluse. He still came to church services, but he didn’t stay to visit or to eat.
The wagon bounced and rumbled along the faint wheel tracks that led to the south end of the lake. It had once been a stone quarry that had filled with water nearly a century ago. When they reached the shore, everyone piled out of the back of the wagon and spread out along the water’s edge. The remote area was Joann’s favorite fishing place. She knew exactly where the largemouth bass, bluegill and walleye hung out.
She’d spent many happy hours fishing here peacefully by herself, but each time served to remind her of the wonderful days she’d spent there with her grandfather. He had been the one person who always had time for her.
If she closed her eyes, she could still hear his craggy voice. “See that old log sticking out of the bank, child? There’s a big bass right at the bottom end of it. Mr. Bass likes to hole up in the roots and dart out to catch unwary minnows swimming by. Make your cast right in front of that log. You’ll get him.”
Joann smiled at the memory. It had taken many tries and more than a few lost lures before she gained the skill needed to put her hook right where she wanted it. Her daadi had been right. She caught a dandy at that spot.
She was always happy