Chapter 21
Regret was a bitter cup of tea.
Jocelyn couldn’t get the taste out of her mouth.
She should’ve told Bonnie about Mr.
Knox’s visit.
Hoping he’d taken her strongly worded refusal had been wishful thinking. Time to nip this unwanted attention in the bud. Shoulders back, head up, she strode down the hallway to the shop’s main floor.
Marlin would’ve handled it better.
Marlin wasn’t here.
The ever-present voice that blared in her ear was famous for stating the obvious.
Not to mention Mr.
Knox would never have approached her front door if Marlin still lived there.
Mr.
Knox wasn’t by the front counter.
Jocelyn surveyed the shop.
The real estate agent had taken a chair by the front window.
He shared the table with a salt-and-pepper bearded man wearing faded jeans and a western-style, pearl-snap blue shirt that had long sleeves despite the fact that the May weather had finally decided to warm up. He wore cowboy boots and a Massey Ferguson cap. The two men were drinking coffee and eating the lemon-raspberry whoopie pies she’d made the previous evening after a long, hard day. For some reason, that last fact irked Jocelyn.
Those treats are for customers, the voice in her ear insisted.
They can go down to the coffee shop instead of mooching off my girl’s coffee bar.
Not a Christlike attitude.
There it was.
The voice in her other ear.
The one that sounded just like her mother.
She heaved a sigh.
Counted to ten.
Slowly.
Jocelyn took her own advice.
Or her mother’s. It was hard to say. She pinned a smile to her face and approached the table. “Mr. Knox—”
“Logan.”
“Logan—”
“This is Clyde Steadman from Charlottesville.
He’s the farmer who’s interested in your property.”
Both men stood.
Clyde Steadman smiled and offered his hand.
Jocelyn had no choice but to accept it.
“Nice to meet you, ma’am.”
Steadman had a firm shake and a kind face.
“I’m sorry for your loss.
I know it’s been two years, but I can’t imagine ever getting over losing my Lucy Lou, God forbid.”
He had one of those disarming voices, like warm maple syrup on a cold December morning.
Jocelyn’s pique disappeared in a puff of who-could-be-mean-to-a-person-so-bent-on-being-nice? Genuinely nice.
Not smarmy nice like Mr.
Knox.
“Thank you.
Please don’t stand on my account. Your coffee’s getting cold.”
“I’ll get you a chair.”
Mr.
Knox hustled to another table and returned with said chair.
“Please sit with us.
I know you said no, but I thought it would be a good idea to hear from Clyde before you make a final decision.”
“I’m sorry, but my decision is final.”
Jocelyn eased into the chair.
Not sorry, not really.
Were white lies sins if told to soften a blow? All lies were sins.
Jocelyn groped for a better response.
“Honestly, I’m not sorry I said no, but I am sorry if my refusal to sell puts a crimp in your plans.”
“Let me get you some coffee.
Sugar? Milk—that milk is delicious, by the way.
I bet it’s from the cows I saw on your farm,”
Mr.
Knox babbled.
“The whoopie pies are delicious.
Did you make them?”
“It is and I did.
None for me, thank you.
Please sit down.”
So they could get this over with.
“I don’t want to waste any more of your time.”
“I don’t consider it a waste of time.”
Clyde sipped from his still-steaming coffee.
His smile had disappeared, replaced by weariness.
No, not weary—sad.
“I didn’t think it was right to ask Logan to plead my case for me.
It’s personal. I should do it myself. I would truly appreciate it if you would do me the favor of hearing me out.”
Jocelyn intertwined her fingers and settled them in her lap.
“Of course.”
When you put it that way, it would be churlish to refuse.
“Last year my wife and I lost our youngest son to leukemia.
Todd was fourteen.”
“I’m so sorry.”
The least helpful words in the universe.
Personal experience had taught Jocelyn that lesson.
No words existed to encompass what people wanted to say when they confronted the heartbreak, grief, and sorrow billowing from a person devastated by the loss of a loved one.
It didn’t matter—although of course it should—what Scripture said about the number of days God intended for a loved one to be on earth.
As much as Jocelyn had faith in the living hope of Jesus Christ, the merest whiff of the thought of losing Bonnie still produced a paralyzing pain that reduced her to tears.
“I know those words are hollow, but they seem to be the best language can come up with.”
“Thank you.”
Clyde dabbed at his eyes with his napkin.
“I find working hard gets me through each day, but Lucy Lou’s not doing so well.
Our older boys are out of the house, one married, another one in college, living their lives.
Her nest is empty before it was supposed to be.”
“The chair is empty at the supper table,”
Jocelyn said.
“There’s not enough laundry to do.
No birthday to celebrate.
No one to scold for not wiping his shoes on the rug.”
The scenes spun themselves out in Jocelyn’s mind’s eye.
Familiar tears pressed against her eyes.
“No bed to make up.
No one to surprise with his favorite dish.
No one to play a little joke on.”
“The voice of experience.”
Clyde picked at a few remaining whoopie pie crumbs.
“She’s wasting away.
The doctor says it’s melancholy.
He wants to prescribe pills.
He don’t know my wife like I do. She wouldn’t take pills if she was dying.”
“She feels like she’s dying every day.”
“She does.”
“Can you tell me what this has to do with my farm?”
Clyde raised his head.
He peered directly into Jocelyn’s eyes.
“Your farm is my prescription for a fresh start.
Todd still lives in every corner of our house and our land.
He said his first words there, took his first steps, lost his first tooth, learned to ride a horse there, learned to ride a bike, learned to push a mower. He learned to drive the tractor. He loved to fish in the pond on the south forty. He mucked the stalls in the barn and gathered the eggs from the chicken shed. It would be easier to name the places he’s not been because there aren’t any.”
“Ach, I do understand.
I truly do.”
Marlin’s earthy scent enveloped Jocelyn the same way it did when she slid under the sheets at night even though they’d been washed many times since he left this earthly realm.
“It’s a hard season.
Are you and your wife believers?”
“We are.
Me more than her, I reckon.”
He scooted his chair away from the table, leaned back, and crossed his arms over the beginnings of a paunch.
“I know what you’re getting at.
We take comfort in knowing we’ll see him again, but it’s this side of heaven that’s the challenge.”
“Why our farm?”
Jocelyn swiveled.
Bonnie stood behind her.
She’d returned without a squeak of the rollator to give her away.
She took a seat on her rollator.
“There’s not much good farmland on the market in this area.”
Clyde spread his calloused hands.
“Yours is just the right size, the land is fertile, the house and outbuildings are in good shape.
It’s close to Lee’s Gulch and far enough from Charlottesville to give us that fresh start we need.”
“Each person grieves in their own way.”
Bonnie stared at her hands, then raised her head to gaze at Clyde.
“I know that, but I would think sorrow would follow a person wherever he went.
The absence would be felt regardless.
Plus, won’t your wife miss her family and friends there in Charlottesville? Your church family? It seems as if they would’ve been the ones to stand by you in your time of need.”
Bonnie spoke from her experience, her life.
Would an English woman see it the same way? Jocelyn started to speak.
Clyde held up his hand, the one with a thin silver band on the ring finger.
“I suppose you’re right in some respects, young lady, but I’ve seen how my Lucy Lou perks up when I talk about starting over in a new place.
We’ve talked about going to estate sales and auctions to buy farmhouse antiques.
New wiring and plumbing throughout the house, a coat of fresh paint and wallpaper in the bedrooms, remodeling the kitchen to make it state-of-the-art for two people who like to cook, making the place our own.”
Clyde nodded as if agreeing with his own words.
“Her only concern is being so far from Todd’s grave.
She’s afraid he’ll be lonely.”
His voice broke.
He cleared his throat.
“I remind her Todd’s long gone from that earthly body.
But I also tell her we’ll ride out for a visit to the cemetery as often as she likes.
It’s only an hour and a half’s drive. We could go every Sunday after church.”
The elders would frown on Jocelyn’s monthly habit of visiting Marlin’s grave rain or shine with a picnic basket containing his favorite Reuben sandwiches, homemade potato chips, fruit salad, and double-fudge brownies.
Afterward they would share a cup of extra-strong coffee laced with fresh milk and too much sugar—just the way he fancied it.
He wasn’t there, but it was the last place they’d been together.
The oak trees gave shade to his plain marker.
She would kick off her shoes, sit cross-legged on an old quilt after her lunch, and offer Marlin a soliloquy on life in the district since her last report. If anyone saw her jabbering to herself, they’d be certain she needed her head examined. Maybe she did. Or maybe she’d found a way to comfort herself when no one else could.
The Plain cemetery was only five miles from the farm.
“I feel for your wife.
I truly do, but I don’t need a new start.
My Marlin put years of sweat and muscle into that farm.
I like knowing he’s in every nook and cranny.”
Jocelyn liked getting under the comforter on a cold winter night and imagining she could tuck her cold feet under Marlin’s.
His arm would come around her and tug her closer, keeping her warm all night long.
Plain women didn’t share those intimate details with anyone, let alone two English men.
“I can’t imagine living anywhere else.”
“Let’s not be hasty,”
Mr.
Knox piped up.
He reached for the briefcase sitting on the floor next to his chair.
“We haven’t talked money.”
“Hold your horses, son.”
Clyde shot the other man a frown.
“The lady said she’s not interested.
We’ll just have to keep searching.”
No self-pity marred the words.
Yet they hurt.
Defeat lurked in the slump of his broad shoulders.
Jocelyn glanced at Bonnie.
Her daughter inclined her head a fraction. Her shoulders moved a tiny bit. She, too, felt for Clyde, but not enough to give up the only home she’d ever known.
With a grunt, Clyde hoisted himself to his feet.
He nodded at Jocelyn and Bonnie.
“I better get back.
I told Lucy Lou I’d be home before it gets dark, and I have a couple of other stops to make.
It was a pleasure meeting you both.”
He picked up his coffee cup and paper plate.
“Nee, nee, we’ll get that for you.”
Jocelyn collected Logan’s trash and added Clyde’s to it.
“Godspeed to you both.”
“I’m going to visit the little boy’s room.”
Mr.
Knox hadn’t moved.
“I’ll meet you at your truck, Clyde.”
The older man nodded and kept going.
The real estate agent waited a beat.
Then he opened the briefcase and pulled out a manila envelope.
“I just think you should know what you’ll be missing out on before you make a final decision.”
He laid the envelope on the table, then stood.
“You have my card, Mrs.
Yoder, and my office is just a hop, skip, and jump away.”
Without using the facilities, he made his way to the door and was gone.
“He has a lot of gall.”
Bonnie shook her head in disgust.
“Clyde seems like a gut man who wants to do right by his fraa, but not at the expense of a wittfraa and her dochder.”
“That’s likely what makes him a gut real estate agent.
He doesn’t take nee for an answer.”
“I guess he didn’t grow up around here.
I don’t remember seeing him, and he surely doesn’t know how Plain folks think.”
Bonnie smoothed her fingers over the envelope.
“As if money could make you change your mind.”
“Plain folks like a little pocket change as much as the next person.”
Jocelyn moved the envelope beyond Bonnie’s grasp.
“Shouldn’t you get back to work?”
Bonnie got to her feet.
“You’re not taking the offer seriously, are you?”
“I feel as if I should at least read the offer eventually, but first I need some air.
I’m going to walk over to the diner and bring back Cobb salads for us and whatever Sophia and Carol want.
Could you ask them for me?”
“Sure.”
Bonnie put the men’s mugs and trash on her rollator seat.
“You don’t want some company? You might not be able to carry everything.”
“I’ll be fine.”
Carrying lunch orders was the least of her problems.