Chapter 5
T hree weeks had passed since Jalon had sent Phoebe his last letter. The first week he didn’t panic. Phoebe had sent him a letter on the late side once before, around Christmastime when she’d been helping her aunt make quilts. There had to be a good reason why she was late again.
During the second week, however, doubt set in. By the third, he was kicking himself. Her lack of response to his letter told him he’d made a huge mistake by being so frank about his feelings and intentions. He’d taken a risk, and look where it ended up. I pushed her away.
Still, he hadn’t completely lost hope. When he’d arrived home from work that evening, he checked the mailbox.
Nothing except a couple of pieces of junk mail.
He shoved them back into the box and shut the lid.
He went inside and sat down at the kitchen table, not bothering to take off his coat, pausing only to yank off his hat and throw it on the table as his thoughts warred within him.
Should he write her another letter and explain that he hadn’t meant what he said?
Or should he try to make his feelings into a joke?
But he couldn’t do either of those things.
His feelings weren’t a joke and he meant what he said to her in the letter.
Backtracking was not only unwise, it was disingenuous.
In the end he figured whatever he’d write would make things worse, so he decided to not do anything.
A minute later he was drumming his fingers on the table. Inaction didn’t sit well with him either.
Maybe he had to face the truth—he’d scared her off and she didn’t want anything to do with him. He balled his hand into a fist and thumped it on the table. If only he’d thought that letter through. Stupid, stupid ...
A knock sounded at the front door and he hauled himself up from the chair, his body sore from working in frigid air and snow.
The temperature had steadily dropped over the past week, which made working outside difficult and tiring.
He opened the door to see Karen Yoder standing there.
“Hey,” he said, opening the door so she could come in.
Karen stepped inside, her hands tucked inside the sleeves of her navy blue coat, her nose bright red from the cold. “You’re invited for supper,” she said. “We’re having Salisbury steak, mashed potatoes, and canned corn.”
His stomach turned at the mention of food, making him pause. He rarely lost his appetite. Now food was the last thing he wanted, even though he knew from experience the meal, while simple, would be delicious. “ Danki for the offer, but I’m not hungry.”
Karen lifted her eyebrow. “What’s wrong?”
“ Nix. ” His gaze flicked to the side, then back to her.
“You’re always ready to eat, Jalon.” She gave him a knowing look. “Something is obviously wrong.”
“I’m ... tired.” Which was true. He was tired from working, and even more exhausted from stressing over Phoebe.
“You know if I tell Mamm that she’ll send me right back over. Probably with reinforcements.”
Jalon didn’t doubt her words. Once Mary Yoder got an idea in her head, she wouldn’t give up. Which meant he had no choice but to give in. “Let me get a quick shower, then I’ll be right over.”
When he arrived at the Yoders’, Mary greeted him with a mug of warm apple cider. “To take the chill off,” she said, her round cheeks rosy from the warmth of the woodstove in the living room. “Karen, there’s one for you in the kitchen. Please help Ivy with the dessert.”
Even the mention of dessert didn’t get Jalon’s appetite up, but he took a sip of the sweet, tart cider to placate Mary. “Where’s Freemont?” he asked, surveying the empty living room.
“Out back with the buwe splitting and chopping a load of wood Benuel dropped by earlier today.”
Jalon started to hand her his mug. “I’ll geh help him.”
“ Nee , you won’t.” Mary pointed to the couch. “You’ll sit in front of the fire and warm yerself . Supper will be ready shortly.”
He nodded, knowing it was useless to argue with her.
When she left to go to the kitchen, he made his way to the couch.
It was well-worn from serving a family of seven.
He took another drink of the cider, then set the mug on the coffee table, Phoebe back on his mind.
More accurately, the embarrassment and sting of rejection.
This was why he didn’t take chances or do impulsive things.
When he did, they never turned out well.
“Do you want more cider?”
He looked up at Karen, who was holding a ceramic pitcher. “I’m fine.” He picked up his mug and took a big gulp, not wanting to let Mary or Karen think he didn’t like or appreciate the drink.
She set the pitcher on the coffee table and sat down next to him on the couch.
Not too close, though. They had never been anything but friends, and he had always appreciated her friendship, even though she was five years his junior.
She had a steady head on her shoulders. She also had that annoying woman’s intuition. “What’s got you so out of sorts?”
“ Nix. ”
“I don’t believe you,” she said.
I don’t care. “Really, I’m fine. Everything’s fine. Other than this weather.”
“Yeah, it’s a mess out there.” She looked toward the window, then back at him. “That’s not what’s got you bent out of shape, though.”
She was as relentless as her mother. “I’m just ... deep in thought.”
“About what?”
“Karen, it’s none of yer business.”
“True.” She folded her hands over her knees, not insulted in the least by his straightforwardness. “But that’s not stopping me. The only times I’ve seen you like this are after you’ve ...” She glanced down. “You know.”
“Been drinking too much.” He flinched, remembering the few times she’d seen him hungover, usually when she was visiting Leanna.
Her sister, Ivy, had seen him, too, stumbling down the stairs, bleary-eyed, his sister and his mother pretending he was fine in an attempt to save face.
None of them had called him out on it. But if they had, it wouldn’t have changed anything.
He had to come to the decision to quit drinking on his own.
Still, he hated that he’d put his family and friends through such worry.
“ Ya. ” She looked up. “Is that what’s going on?”
He relaxed his shoulders. “ Nee. I’m not hungover, and I haven’t had a drink in a long time. I’m past that, Karen.”
“ Gut. ” She smiled. “That’s what I wanted to hear.” She started to get up. “I better finish up in the kitchen.”
“Wait.” Something made him stop her from leaving, and despite telling her his problem wasn’t any of her business, he was about to make it her business. Lord, I’m so confused. “I think I need some advice.”
She sat back down. “All right. I’m listening.”
He rubbed his palm along the top of his pants leg. “I ... uh, I ...”
“Female problems?”
His head shot up. “Maybe.” He sighed. “I’m not sure.”
She grinned. “I didn’t know you were seeing someone.”
“I’m not.”
“Then you’re trying to see someone.”
“Not exactly.”
“Jalon, if you want to play twenty questions, we can, but wouldn’t it be easier if you just told me what’s going on?”
“For you, probably.” At her annoyed look he explained about Phoebe and the letters, without giving too much detail. “Then I wrote to her three weeks ago, and I said some things I shouldn’t have.”
“You fought through the mail?”
He shook his head. “The opposite.”
“Oh. Oh. ” She nodded.
“Since then I haven’t heard from her. We’ve been writing for months, and her letters have always arrived like clockwork. The only exception was around Christmas.”
“So you’re thinking it’s not a coincidence that you haven’t heard from her yet?”
“Do you?”
Karen shrugged. “I don’t know her, Jalon. Maybe she’s just late with her letter, like she was before. Or maybe she needed time to think about something so serious. Maybe there’s something wrong—”
“Wait.” He moved to the edge of the couch.
He hadn’t thought about that. What if she was in trouble?
He knew something was going on at her aunt’s house, a subtext in her letters despite her effort to be vaguely complimentary of her aunt every time she wrote.
“What if something has happened to her?” He jumped up.
“Jalon, that was only a possibility—”
“I’ve got to talk to yer daed .” Without waiting for her to respond, he left the living room, went out the front door, and walked around the house.
Behind the barn was a huge pile of wood, with three of the Yoder boys processing it like a well-oiled machine as Freemont supervised.
Seth, the oldest boy at sixteen, was manning the ax, splitting the short, fat logs.
Judah, the youngest at seven, was piling the split logs up against the back of the barn.
A blue tarp lay on the ground, which they would put over the woodpile to keep the rain and snow from soaking the wood.
Ira, who was fourteen, was piling up the unsplit wood within Seth’s easy reach.
The cold air burned Jalon’s lungs as he walked over to Freemont. He was about to jump out of his skin with impatience, but he didn’t want to startle the boys.
“Hi, Jalon,” Freemont said, not moving his eyes off his sons. The man must have eyes in the back of his head to have noticed Jalon. “Mary said you were coming over for supper tonight.”
“ Ya , but I can’t stay. I also have a favor to ask, if you don’t mind.”
Freemont looked at him. “What do you need?”
“I’m going to be gone for a couple of days. Could you take care of the animals for me? Or the buwe could do it, and I’ll pay them when I get back.”
“ Nee need to pay them and we’ll take care of it. When are you coming back?”
“I’m not sure.”
He arched a brow, and Jalon could see where Karen had inherited the gesture. “A few days? A week?”
“A few days,” he said, having no idea if that was accurate. “I’ll contact you when I know for sure.”
Freemont glanced at his sons, then turned his attention fully to Jalon. “Something wrong?”