Chapter 22
A few minutes later, the envelope tucked into her canvas tote hanging by its strap from her shoulder, Jocelyn strode toward
Terri’s Diner, a staple lunch destination on Lee’s Gulch’s Main Street. Why did Clyde Steadman have to be such a nice man?
So courteous. So fair-minded. So sad. It would be far easier if he was an arrogant jerk trying to pull the farm out from under
them.
Nothing’s ever simple.
There will be trials in this world—
I know, I know.
Had she just interrupted the voice in her head in mid-recitation of Scripture? God surely would smite her with lightning on
this sidewalk on a sunny mid-May day in small-town USA.
If taking sandwiches to her dead husband in the cemetery didn’t get her committed, surely talking back to the voice in her
head would.
“You really are lost in thought.” Theo loomed over her. A step or two more and Jocelyn would’ve smacked into him. He wore
his usual lazy, amused grin. “I thought about letting you bulldoze into me, but that seemed rude, here on the street for all
of Lee’s Gulch to see.”
“Danki for saving me from that embarrassment.” Even so, heat flamed through Jocelyn’s body. At least she hadn’t talked aloud to herself. “What are you doing in town?”
The question was the first thing to come to her mind. Why would she care what her brother’s employee was doing in town? Why
did her words sound like a criticism? “Not that it’s any of my business.”
His grin growing, Theo lifted his hat and settled it farther back on his head. All the better to see those teak eyes. His
silver hair was a thick, unruly mess. Somehow that made him even more handsome. That smile. It was almost as if he knew what
she was thinking. “It’s okay to make conversation with someone you see on the street. A person could even say it’s polite
to inquire.”
Handsome? Handsome! Where had that random thought come from? Jocelyn’s heart fluttered. She patted damp palms on her apron. She shouldn’t be
standing on a public sidewalk, talking to a man she hardly knew. Her feet refused to move. “I’m... I’m g-getting lunch
for the girls.” Now she was stuttering like a teenager on her rumspringa. “I better— I mean, I should get going.”
“I’m sure they’re starving.” He didn’t move either. “I’m pretty hungry myself.”
“Didn’t you have an errand to run for Uri?”
“It’ll wait long enough for me to pick up something to go at Terri’s Diner. That’s where you’re heading, isn’t it?”
Jocelyn studied a dandelion that had worked its way through the cracks in the sidewalk with a half dozen buds ready to burst
into yellow blooms. The weeds were always the first to announce that spring had sprung. They were impossible to get rid of.
Kind of like a certain handyman.
Did she really want to get rid of him?
“Jah. I had a hankering for Terri’s Cobb salad.”
Theo did an about-face. “I’m more in the mood for a club sandwich with a side of curly fries. With a double-fudge brownie to finish it off.”
“So you have a sweet tooth?” Marlin used to tell Jocelyn she made the best brownies in the tri-county area. As if he’d sampled
them all. Her heart didn’t twinge. Her throat didn’t tighten. Not even a threat of tears. Guilt sidled up her spine and curled
around her neck. Why? Marlin wouldn’t mind. He would be happy for her. He was that kind of man. “I prefer carrot cake myself.”
Idle chitchat about cookies and cakes took them another block. The conversation dwindled, but not uncomfortably so. The sun
shone. Shoppers chattered as they threaded their way past Jocelyn and Theo. Banners advertised the weekly farmers market in
the town square. It was a nice day for a walk, especially when the company was good.
“Did you need to go to the post office first?”
“Hmm?”
Theo tapped the envelope sticking from her tote bag. “Were you supposed to mail this?”
Theo’s presence had knocked any thought of Clyde Steadman and his sad story from Jocelyn’s mind. Theo had regretted selling
his farm. Maybe he could help her sort through the tangled morass of her emotions about this offer.
She had finished her explanation by the time they arrived at the diner. His expression unreadable, Theo held open the door.
“I think it’ll take the walk back to the shop to unwrap this package.”
Chewing her bottom lip, Jocelyn inhaled the cornucopia of aromas that included frying chicken, hamburger, sausage, and bacon—a
paradise for those who loved fried meat. Nope. A nice salad to go would be fine. “The grapevine will shoot up to the heavens.”
“If people don’t have enough of their own business to mind, I’m sure Gott will find something for them to do.”
Good enough. After they placed their orders, Jocelyn took a seat in the row of mismatched wooden chairs designated for to-go
orders along the wall next to the double front doors. She pulled the envelope from her bag, opened it, and began to read.
The lunch crowd’s loud chatter, Miranda Lambert’s man-who-done-her-wrong lyrics blaring from overhead speakers, chairs scraping
on the tile floor, and the cook’s “order’s up” shouts all faded away. The only sound was her own gasp. She returned to the
first paragraph and read it again. “This can’t be right.”
“What? What can’t be right?” Theo dropped into the chair next to hers. “Gut or bad?”
“Mr. Steadman wants to pay me eight hundred thousand dollars for the farm, to include all buildings, farm equipment, and livestock,
minus any buggies and horses used to pull those buggies.” Jocelyn let the sheets of paper slip through her fingers and land
in her lap. “The offer excludes all household furnishings. It also excludes any pets.”
Shaking his head, his eyebrows raised and forehead wrinkled, Theo whistled. “That’s a humdinger of a price, to be sure.”
“You suggested seven hundred thousand dollars. Which is more money than I could even fathom. Why would Mr. Steadman offer
above the fair market value?”
“Can I read it?”
She scooped up the document and handed it over. “Be my guest.”
Theo slipped on a pair of silver-framed reading glasses. No gasping, but Theo did grunt and wrinkle his nose a few times. Otherwise he didn’t speak while perusing the long contract. Finally he raised his head and peered at her over his spectacles while returning the paperwork. “It’s a mighty fine offer. Much better than what I got for my property.”
Someone had taken advantage of Theo’s desperate need to flee from the home he’d shared with his wife. The desire to give that
person a large piece of her mind flooded Jocelyn.
“Don’t look at me like that. It was my fault. No one else is to blame.”
“It wasn’t very kind of the buyer.”
“Believe me, I did a gut job of hiding my true state of mind. He had no idea. He lowballed it, expecting me to dicker, and
I didn’t.”
“How can I turn down an offer like this? It would pay all of Bonnie’s medical bills. She’d be taken care of when I pass. We
could put some of it into the district’s medical insurance fund to replenish all we’ve taken from it. We could upgrade the
electrical wiring in the shop.”
Breathless, Jocelyn stopped, even as other ideas bombarded her.
“Or you could hang on to the farm, hire someone to work it with you so you have a steady income for years to come. Bonnie
and her mann can live there and work it when you get older. You can live in the dawdy haus until you pass.”
His dry tone poked a hole in Jocelyn’s excitement. It drained away. “You have it all figured out, don’t you?” Her tone was
more snippy than she intended. “I pray for Gott to give Bonnie a mann, but it hasn’t happened yet. It might never.”
“Jocelyn, your order’s ready.”
Terri’s bullfrog voice sliced through the thick tension. Waving her receipt in one hand, Jocelyn popped up. She grabbed the
four large Styrofoam containers and thanked the diner owner. “I’d better get going. The girls will be starving by now.”
“Theo, yours is up too.”
His expression penitent, Theo rose as well. “My big nose got into your business again, didn’t it?”
She’d invited him into her business, and now she didn’t like his advice. “It’s not so easy.”
“I know.” His soft eyes held a sweet kindness, and Jocelyn’s throat clogged. His hand touched hers for the briefest second,
then dropped. If only it could’ve stayed longer, held on longer. It had been forever since she’d felt a comforting touch.
“Our seasons aren’t exactly the same. I know that.”
Jocelyn opened her mouth. “I—”
“Theo... Jocelyn.” Only a few syllables, but the familiar voice from church services and Gmay meetings hung heavy and somehow
accusing in the air.
Jocelyn squared her shoulders. No helping it now. She joined Theo in facing the dining room area crowded with red Naugahyde
booths across from a long counter where customers sat on stools, hunched over full plates. Bart Plank, Jed Knepp, and Martin
Hershberger sauntered into the foyer. All three Gmay elders had the same curious expressions.
Theo raised one hand and offered a half wave. “Hallo.”
Was the pause that followed awkward, or was it simply the twenty-six years of being married to the same Plain man? Jocelyn
had never stepped out in public with another man other than with family. Plain women in her Gmay didn’t do that.
Courting couples did so privately.
She and Theo weren’t courting. An odd sensation, like disappointment, took root.
The bishop pursed his lips. His glance seemed to drill holes in her heart. Jocelyn forced a smile. “Hallo.” She edged toward
the door. “Just picking up lunch for the maed .”
“Uh-huh.” He tapped a toothpick into his palm from the container next to the cash register. “And you, Theo?”
Theo held up his smaller white bag and a large drink. “Grabbing my lunch to-go.”
“The diner is a popular place. Just about everyone from the Gmay comes here at least once a week.”
Was that an admonition?
“Families do, anyway,” Martin added. He had a sliver of something brown between his buck front teeth. “The youngies know how
to court in private.”
Definitely an admonition. Guilt slow-danced in Jocelyn’s head. She pushed on the door with her elbow. In her haste, her tote
bag’s strap slipped from her shoulder. She grabbed it before it fell to the floor. Instead the Styrofoam box on top of her
pile slid to one side, teetered, and fell.
Lettuce, sliced tomato, cucumber, green pepper, chunks of meat and cheese, bacon bits, and slices of hard-boiled eggs spilled
onto the floor directly in front of the restaurant’s double doors.
The door’s bell dinged. An English woman stepped in the mess before Jocelyn could open her mouth. She slipped, slid, and squealed.
Theo grabbed one arm. The man behind her grabbed the other. Her suntanned face snarled in disgust, and she righted. “Seriously?”
“Ach, I’m so sorry.” Jocelyn bit back a groan. She squatted, set aside the other lunches, and went to work scooping her salad
back into the container with her bare hands.
Theo snatched a wad of napkins from a dispenser on the counter. He knelt next to her. “Let me help.”
“Nee, nee. Don’t. Just let me.” Wave after wave of embarrassment crashed over Jocelyn. Her heart beat so fiercely that her chest hurt. The heat was worse than any fever. She glanced up. The three district elders looked on with the same expressions that landed somewhere between concern and disbelief at what they were seeing. “Really, I don’t need your help.”
Theo’s gaze met hers. His concerned expression faded to neutral. “Okay.” He picked up his lunch and arose with the ease of
a much younger man.
“Out of the way, gentlemen.” Terri pushed a mop bucket on wheels between Bart and Martin. “I’ve got this. You all run along,
scat.”
Amazingly the four men did as they were told. Relief made Jocelyn’s legs weak. Her knees hit the floor.
Which was worse? The surprised look on her bishop’s face? Or the hurt one on Theo’s?
The latter. Definitely the latter.
What did that say about her understanding of the Gmay’s rules?