Chapter 18
“Not staying for supper?”
Theo had a way of sneaking up on a person that was disconcerting.
Jocelyn turned from her buggy to face him.
His face was even redder than it had been earlier in the day.
Dirt decorated his faded shirt.
Mud caked his boots and the bottom of his pants. He looked tired. His scent of sweat and dirt wafted on the cooling evening breeze. It reminded her of Marlin. She dug for the apology Uriah claimed she owed Theo. “About what I said earlier—”
“Don’t worry about it.
You were right.”
The words seemed to come easily to him.
“I’m always sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong.
You said so yourself the first time we met.”
“I didn’t have to be so nasty about it.
Sometimes I forget my place.”
“I imagine it’s hard to adjust to having a bruder run your life after your mann did it for so long.”
“Bart would say I should submit.
It’s a woman’s lot to submit.
Gott loves an obedient believer.
Gott forgive me for being so full of hochmut.”
“I wondered sometimes why Gott gave my fraa a mind of her own if He didn’t intend her to use it.”
A full-fledged smile accompanied Theo’s chuckle.
He, too, was beginning to meet happy memories halfway, it seemed.
“She had a way with words, that woman.
And the staying power of a Percheron.
I got an earful when we disagreed.”
“I’m sure she’d say it was for your own gut—or the gut of your family.”
“I’m sure she would.
I reckon that’s your excuse as well.
It was one of the many things about her I liked.”
He scraped at dirt on his sleeve, smudging it more.
“I always knew where I stood with her.
I also liked the fact that once the decision was made, she accepted it.
She stood by it and me, whether she liked it or not.
I suspect you did the same for your mann.”
He liked this thing about his wife.
Which meant, by association, he liked it about Jocelyn.
Why did that revelation make her want to wiggle like a child about to enjoy an ice cream cone?
Grow up.
Get over yourself.
Jocelyn was out of practice at giving herself a talking-to.
It had been twenty-six years.
Jocelyn had spoken her piece on every occasion, but Marlin had the last word.
He was the head of the household.
Occasionally he was wrong.
When he was, he said so and changed course.
She loved him all the more for it. Tears gathered behind her eyes.
None of that.
Focusing on the past served nothing for either of them.
“To answer your question, I’m not staying for supper because my dochder and I try to eat together when she gets home from the shop.
I don’t want her to eat alone.”
It only served to remind her of her loss.
It reminded Jocelyn of the inability to give her dochder a bruder or schweschder.
“Because you’re also a gut mudder as well as a gut fraa.”
He was determined to compliment her.
No need.
She simply did what a Plain woman was expected to do.
Plain women performed these roles every day.
“I better get going. Bonnie will wonder where I am.”
Theo scratched the bridge of his offending nose.
Truth be told, it wasn’t so big.
“Before you go, can I just say I spoke out of turn? I shouldn’t have sold my farm when I did, and you shouldn’t sell yours if it doesn’t feel right.
Of course, I reckon I could still be speaking out of turn, what with my tendency to stick my gigantic nose where it doesn’t belong.”
Jocelyn dropped the reins.
It took a lot for this man who hardly knew her to admit that not only had he said the wrong thing, but he also regretted it.
A page from Marlin’s book.
“Danki for saying that.
I’m sorry you didn’t have someone there to help you see that it was a mistake.”
“I did.
I just wouldn’t listen.”
“You were hurting.”
Jocelyn glanced at the house.
The curtains lifted in the breeze.
Frannie had opened the windows to release the heat generated by the canning—and a bunch of women chattering nonstop.
No one had come to see what she was doing standing out in the yard, yakking about deeply personal topics with the farmhand.
Uriah had started this. He had no business objecting. When was the last time she had this kind of unguarded exchange with anyone? Not since Marlin.
Not exactly what Uriah had intended, no doubt.
Her brother was the last person she’d expected to be a matchmaker.
This wasn’t that kind of connection.
Not at all.
Nope. More misery loved company. “I’m the opposite. I still haven’t let go of Marlin’s things.”
The admission was jagged glass on her tongue.
Plain folks were expected to give such items to folks who needed them.
They shouldn’t go to waste sitting in a drawer or hanging on a hook.
Jocelyn had failed in her duties.
Marlin’s black woolen jacket he had worn to church every other Sunday glared at her from its hook every time she entered the room.
Giving away Marlin’s clothes would be tantamount to letting go of the last little piece of him.
“My schweschdre took it upon themselves to do that after the funeral.
She was barely in the ground.”
Theo’s voice faltered.
He cleared his throat.
“They served the meal and cleaned up afterward.
When I went to bed that night, everything was gone.”
“It’s something women do, I reckon.”
Had her family done such a thing, could Jocelyn have forgiven them? “They thought they were helping by taking care of a hard thing.”
Theo nodded.
He shifted his feet and stared over her shoulder at something likely long gone and far away.
“I know.
They meant well.
They also told me not to sell the farm. I did it anyway. Turns out they were right about that too.”
It hadn’t even occurred to her to sell the farm Marlin loved, that they loved together.
That Bonnie loved.
“So you don’t think I should sell the farm?”
“Not unless you want to.”
Theo had a small scar over his left eye, standing white against his red forehead.
How had it happened? “Not unless you want a fresh start.”
“It wouldn’t be a fresh start like the one you’ve had.
Bonnie and I would have to move in with Uriah or one of my other breider or my schweschdre.”
Women didn’t get to strike out on their own.
They didn’t get to leave everything behind.
Not that Jocelyn wanted to leave Bonnie behind.
Her daughter needed her.
She was the only person left who did. Being needed gave Jocelyn a reason to rise in the morning. To plan for the next day before she lay down at night.
“Fresh starts aren’t as great as they’re cracked up to be.”
His smile was lopsided, faint.
“Ask my suh.”
“You mentioned he wasn’t happy about it.”
“Noah and me should be farming the land together, land he would inherit one day.”
Theo plucked a piece of straw from Buster’s mane and let it drop to the ground.
Buster tossed his head and neighed as if offering his thanks.
Poor horse, caught in the middle of a personal conversation for the second time in a day.
“Instead he’s working for my bruder.
He’d likely be married by now if he had the farm.”
“Have you tried talking to him about it?”
“Jah.
He’s not much interested.
I’m not sure how long it’ll take him to get over it.
If ever.
He’d lost his mudder. Now he feels like he’s lost the farm and me. He’s bitter.”
Consequences of a decision made in the murky, endless dark night that followed the loss of a person loved like no other.
“You can’t buy it back?”
“Some mistakes can’t be undone.”
“I wish Uri could see that.”
“He just wants to do what’s best for you.
Try talking to him when you’ve had time to simmer down.”
Good advice.
The voice of experience.
“I’m sorry about your suh.”
“I’m praying Gott softens his heart.”
“I’ll pray that too.”
“Danki.
I need all the prayers I can get.”
“Have you thought of going back to Berlin? At least then you’d be close to him.”
“I have.
I left a message at his phone shack last week.
He called me back yesterday.
He told me not to bother.”
“In those words.”
“Nee, he said there were no jobs for farmhands up that way.
They’ve already been filled earlier this spring.
There might be some need come harvesttime.”
“That sounds like he’s saying not now, but not never.”
“It was the way he said it.”
“Es dutt mer.”
“I deserve it.”
“Nee.
As he grows older, he’ll learn that eldre make mistakes too.
That you can’t hold them to a standard of perfection.
We all fall short.”
“Kind words.”
His voice had gone hoarse.
His gaze caught and held hers.
A need she recognized filled his teak eyes.
He longed for a human connection a person didn’t get at a frolic or sitting on the church bench or eating supper with people he was just getting to know.
Joceyln’s breath caught in her throat.
Her heart fluttered.
Tiny petals of knowing, of touching something so intimate it boggled the human mind, opened and brushed against her skin.
“Truth.”
Her own voice trembled.
“I should go.”
Right now, before his need collided with hers and neither were able to back away.
Theo ducked his head.
“Safe travels.”
The longing had receded, replaced with the usual niceties a person offered to a mere stranger.
Jocelyn climbed into the buggy.
She looked down at Theo.
Somehow they’d turned a corner during an unexpected walk together.
“Gut nacht.”
He nodded.
Jocelyn snapped the reins.
Buster whinnied and took off with a jolt.
She couldn’t help herself.
Halfway down the road she swiveled.
Theo hadn’t moved. He waved.
The gesture held promise.
She hadn’t dreamed that small, sudden moment in time.
It had happened.
He’d felt it too.
Jocelyn faced front. A scalding wave of embarrassment, as if she’d been caught eavesdropping on a private conversation, drenched her. Wave back.
I can’t.
Jah, you can.
Just do it.
She swiveled.
Theo had already turned away.