Love’s Journey Home (23 page)

“Jah.” He couldn’t for the life of him think of anything else to say.

“Your boys are good volleyball players.” She nodded toward the good-natured game punctuated
by gales of laughter and teasing shouts. “The girls too.”

“We used to play all the time back home—back in Indiana.” He grabbed his glass of
cold tea and backed away from the table. “With so many kids, we can almost make our
own two teams.”

“George—my husband—was a big believer in playing games. He liked baseball the best,
but he was pretty good at volleyball. We played a lot before we were married and even
after.”

“Not anymore?” He didn’t mean for it to sound like a challenge, but it came out that
way. “I mean,
you
don’t play anymore. George—your husband—”

“I will if you will.” Her impish grin made her look ten years younger. Gabriel could
almost imagine what she must’ve looked like as a schoolgirl. “I used to be pretty
good.”

A challenge that couldn’t be ignored, it seemed. Why not? Everything was about to
change for these people. They could take a moment to have fun together, as a community.
Why not, indeed?

Still grinning, Helen rushed onto the field and yelled to her daughter Naomi that
she would take her place. Gabriel had no choice but to put his plate on the table
and follow. He squeezed in between Isaac and Seth in the back row and prepared to
make a fool of himself. He hadn’t played in years. Many years.

“Here goes.” Helen hoisted the ball in the air and smacked it over the net with an
overhand serve that sent Gabriel reeling back trying to keep the ball in front of
him. Helen clapped and crowed. “I still have it!”

“Whoa!” Gabriel raised both hands to knock it back and missed entirely. He stumbled,
nearly lost his balance, and grabbed Isaac’s shoulder to steady himself. “And I don’t.”

The kids roared with laughter. He joined them. “Ball’s all yours.” He trotted to the
sidelines, scooped it up, and tossed it back to her. “I didn’t know the girls’ team
had a secret weapon.”

“We can still come back,” Seth cried. “Come on, Daed, get ready!”

It didn’t take long to see that Seth’s optimism had no grounds in reality. If Helen
was clumsy in social situations, she proved to be completely the opposite behind a
volleyball net. She smacked the ball with great enthusiasm, dove for it, and rushed
about congratulating her teammates when they made good hits. Out of practice, Gabriel
could only laugh at his own awkward attempts to keep up with his boys, who humored
him by letting him get an occasional hit.

“You need to practice, Gabriel Gless,” Helen called to him, her face red with exertion,
her kapp askew, and her apron spotted with grass stains. “Your boys are making you
look bad.”

Gabriel popped the ball into the air and smacked it over the net. Mary Elizabeth met
the volley with a neat pop that set the ball up for Helen to return it. Despite her
short stature, she managed to spike the ball right back.

“Nice!” Isaac did his best to keep the ball from hitting the ground, but to no avail.
“Game!”

“Okay, that’s it. I’ve had enough,” Gabriel admitted breathlessly. “I’m old and out
of shape.”

“Giving up already?” Helen clapped her hands, then put them on her knees and heaved
a big breath. “Good. I’m done in too, if I were to admit it.”

“You were good, Mudder.” Naomi patted her mother on the back. “For a mudder.”

Everyone laughed, Helen the loudest.

“I need my glass of tea.” Gabriel returned her smile without thinking. She smiled
back, the picture of health and contentment. She looked happy. She looked…pretty.
Gabriel took another quick breath. “And that potato salad you made.”

“Worked up a powerful hunger, did you?” She fell into step next to him. “That was
fun. I haven’t had that much fun since…since I don’t remember when.”

“Me neither,” he conceded. “It’s a good way to spend a Sunday afternoon. Playing with
the kinner.”

“Makes for good memories.”

She didn’t say it, but he knew what the rest of the thought was. They both knew how
important it was to make good memories. Because tomorrow things would change and the
loved ones who’d played in that volleyball game might not be there for another game.
Whether they were forced to move by circumstances beyond their control or because
they were called home by God. When had he become aware of his own beating heart? So
aware of the sound of his own breath? When had he stopped taking for granted the hugs
and kisses of his little ones?
Laura
.

“It does.” He cleared his throat. “Can’t have too many of those.”

“No, you sure can’t.” She straightened her kapp, dabbed at her sweaty face with a
crumpled handkerchief, and then brushed ineffectually at the stains on her apron.
She seemed a jumble of motion. “If my daed were here, he’d say I should act my age,
but I’d tell him I am. Acting my age, I mean.”

“He wouldn’t approve of you playing?”

“He worried about what others might think.”

“You don’t?”

“I’m trying to do better.”

“It shows. You seem a little less…”

“Doplich?” She smiled as if to show no offense had been taken.

“Less nervous.”

She cocked her head and picked up her glass from the picnic table. “I’m trying,” she
said again. “I feel…”

“Mudder, Mudder, I fell out of the tree. I hurt my finger.” Her daughter Ginny darted
toward them, holding her hand against her chest. “I think I broke it.”

“Out of the tree? What were you doing in the tree, child? You’re a girl, not a squirrel.”
Helen examined the girl’s hand. “You probably need to put some ice on it.”

She looked up at Gabriel, a curious expression on her damp face. “It’s nice to have
ice around the house, even if it is a break from the old ways. I’d best tend to her.”

“Take care of her.” He nodded back, not sure why she felt she owed him an explanation.
Was that a jab at him, who’d moved his family here because the district had a stricter
Ordnung? Clinging to a traditional way of life kept them from the way of the world.
He didn’t have to apologize for that. “Good game, all things considered.”

“Good game.” The uncertain Helen disappeared again. She grinned like a teenager. “For
an older man.”

Older. Whom was she calling older? She took her daughter’s hand and trotted toward
the house.

Still feeling out of breath—and not from playing the game—he took his time with his
plate and his glass. Helen Crouch reminded him of the salamanders he used to see at
home. Changing colors with the landscape, camouflaging themselves. They wanted to
protect themselves so they changed in order to blend in. He never knew which Helen
would appear. There was challenge in that. And mystery.
Ridiculous
. He looked around to make sure he hadn’t said the word aloud. Loneliness had given
him mush for brains.

Still giving himself a silent tongue lashing, he joined the other adults in a row
of lawn chairs under a row of massive oaks. No one commented on the game or his participation,
for which he felt grateful. Someone brought up the unseasonably nice weather. Luke
mentioned a wolf sighting. The women chattered about a quilting frolic they would
have next week. Everyone avoided giving voice to what occupied their minds. Would
this be the last time they all sat together under these trees?

A nice breeze ruffled his beard. The smell of fresh cut hay mingled with barbecued
brisket. They accepted their lot. That was what it came down to. No sense in talking
about what they couldn’t change. He needed to accept his lot, and in doing so, he
felt almost at peace. Almost. If Laura were sitting in the chair next to him, chattering
on about something the boys had said or done, that would have made the picture complete.
He had to stop doing that. Imagining her in every scene in his life. Now, he had to
stop.

He let his gaze roam. Thomas had both elbows on his knees, deep in conversation with
Luke. Planning their trip? He couldn’t tell from his seat.

Babies on each of their hips, Miriam and Annie replenished the dishes at the picnic
table and giggled about something while Emma sat in a chair, little Lilah in her arms.
Leah sat on the porch rocking Jebediah, who had been fussing since company arrived.
Gabriel looked down at the neatly bandaged cut on his hand. Since the day Helen had
wrapped it for him, he’d been confused whenever he thought about her. Why, he didn’t
know. Something about her soft touch had unnerved him and he didn’t like it. At least
that was what he kept telling himself.

Better to think on other things. The house was ready. They would move in within the
week, most likely. Then he could focus on the shop and getting his business up and
running. If it was successful and things improved in this community, maybe he wouldn’t
have to think about moving his family yet again. He didn’t want to face that possibility.
Please, God, if it is Your will, let this be home
.

“Is this seat taken?”

Gabriel looked up from his reverie to find Bethel Graber, Leah’s sister, standing
over him, a plate of peach pie in one hand and a glass of iced tea in the other. She
wore a wide, dimpled smile, something he’d yet to see on Leah’s face.

“Nee.”

She sank into the chair next to him with a contented sigh. “Some mighty deep thoughts
you were having, I reckon.”

“Hmm?”

“I asked you twice before you even looked up.” Bethel gave him a quizzical look. “I
thought maybe you were sleeping with your eyes open.”

“Now that would be a trick.” He shifted in the chair, sat his glass on the ground
next to it, and settled back. “No deep thoughts. I don’t sleep very well, eyes open
or closed.”

“New place, new surroundings.”

He would let her believe that was the problem. “You’re Leah’s sister?”

“Jah, and I’ll be Seth’s teacher come the end of August.” She took a big bite of pie
and chewed, a blissful look on her face. “Annie’s outdone herself, as usual.”

“You help with the kinner in the summer too, Leah and Annie’s little ones?”

“I do. I enjoy all of them very much. It’s hard for Annie, but she makes the best
of it, all things considered.”

“I reckon that’s what we’re all called to do.” Bethel looked to be in her early twenties.
He wondered why she hadn’t married. Working as a schoolteacher was an honorable calling,
but the look on her face when she talked of caring for Noah and the other bobbeli
told Gabriel she wanted more. “I figure it’s pointless to try to figure it all out.
My gnat-sized brain can’t do it.”

“Still, it’s hard to understand.” She set aside her plate. “David was a good man and
a good husband. He’d have been a good father.”

“Hard to understand.” He stopped. He didn’t know her. Didn’t know Annie’s husband.
How had they moved to this topic so quickly? He gave her a sideways glance, realized
she was doing the same, and returned his gaze to the volleyball game where his three
oldest sons, along with Mark and Mary Beth, proceeded to make mincemeat out of the
rest of the Shirack and Brennaman children.

“I didn’t mean to be forward.”

“It’s all right.” He stood and looked at her full face for the first time. She had
blue eyes, wheat-colored hair, smooth skin, and an easy smile. Nothing like Leah in
looks or attitude. And she looked at him with a direct gaze that seem to hide nothing.
“I best make sure my little ones aren’t getting into trouble.”

She nodded and smiled. “It was nice talking to you.”

Something about her tone seemed to hold an invitation. He whirled and nearly stumbled
in his haste to get away. After three years he should be ready for this, but he couldn’t
quite get a handle on how to start. He was too old for flashlights and buggy rides.
True, the older boys and girls were old enough to watch over the little ones if he
left the house after dark. But it had never occurred to him to do so. He strode toward
the house, pausing only long enough to ask if Emma or Annie had seen Abigail and the
little girls.

“I saw them headed toward the barn earlier. I think she was going to show them the
new batch of kittens.” Annie brushed Caleb’s hand from the plate of brownies. “Nee,
little one, you’ve had enough sweets for one day. You’ll give yourself a tummy-ache.”

Gabriel headed for the barn. He trusted Abigail to watch the girls, but she should
have some fun too. She was sixteen and her rumspringa should’ve started a few months
earlier, but in the move and the upheaval she’d said very little about it. She took
far more responsibility for the household than did Mary Beth, who was only two years
younger. Time for them to switch places for a few hours. And it gave him an excuse
to get away from the social tomfoolery he couldn’t make heads or tails out of.

He pushed open the barn door and peered inside. Light streamed through the loft overhead.
“Abigail?”

She sat on a bale of hay. Edmond Crouch sat next to her.

“Abigail!”

“Daed.” She rose hastily. Edmond did the same. “I was just…we were just…”

“Where are the girls?”