Breath of Spring Read online

  Relieved that the bishop hadn’t railed at her for saying she’d seen a vision, Annie Mae relaxed. “Jah, I understand why you’re sayin’ that,” she murmured. “I think it’s partly because I saw Yonnie Stoltzfus in a brighter light yesterday, considerin’ some of the things he said and . . . wanted to do.”

  Tom nodded, remaining quiet so she would finish her thought. The cattle in the milking stanchions shifted their feet on the hard floor, yet he seemed in no hurry to turn his attention away from her.

  Annie Mae cleared her throat. “It was like I could suddenly see how he was usin’ that fancy car and his new apartment and a forty-dollar tip for pie—and even the roses he gave me for Valentine’s Day—to coax me into jumpin’ the fence with him,” she admitted. “And I realized that he might just as quicklike dump me after I did that, and—and he was usin’ the kids to lure me to Higher Ground, too. He’s workin’ for Dat now, ya know.”

  Tom’s eyes widened. “Let me shift another bunch of cows onto the milkers while I think about this, okay?”

  She nodded, observing how he spoke softly to his Holsteins as he removed the milkers . . . how gently he welcomed the next cows, who took their turns without any need for coaxing. As Tom cleansed their udders and hooked up the milkers again, Annie Mae sensed she’d made the most important statement of her life to exactly the right man.

  As he approached her again, Tom’s expression waxed more serious. “So how was Higher Ground lookin’?” he asked her. “And how was it that ya made off with your brothers and sister, yet your dat hasn’t called or come after them?”

  “Delilah said he was gone,” Annie Mae replied, thinking back to that fateful conversation. “Yonnie called himself the city commissioner. Said he was helpin’ with the layout of the town and other stuff. I suppose a dozen or more houses are mostly finished, plus a bank and a café and a school—and of course, Dat’s place sits on the highest hill and it’s the fanciest amongst them.”

  “Hmm . . . could be Hiram’s gone east to rustle up more folks to join his colony,” Tom replied. “And from what I saw of his haircut, and of that car Yonnie’s drivin’, I can only guess your dat’s shifted over to bein’ a really liberal Mennonite . . . maybe makin’ up his own version of their beliefs—not that it matters,” he added emphatically. “Right now, I’m just glad you’ve come to me this way, daughter. I’ll do my best to keep ya out of harm’s way.”

  “Denki, Bishop Tom,” Annie Mae murmured. “I think, deep down, that angel I saw was tellin’ me that the Old Order will be my refuge, my strength, for whatever comes at me. My father might’ve abandoned me, but the Heavenly Father will never, ever do that. So I’d best start payin’ better attention to Him.”

  Tom’s face took on a radiance that warmed Annie Mae all over. “Sounds to me like ya grew up—overnight,” he replied in a prayerful voice. “And that’s another way God works out His purpose. With some folks, it’s a gradual path and they get to where they always knew they were goin’. And some folks, like Saul in the Bible, have to be struck down before they’ll change their ways. But you, Annie Mae, came to a fork in the road and ya made your choice right there on the spot, believin’ there was no turnin’ back. I’m proud of ya.”

  Annie Mae bowed her head, feeling as though this servant of the Lord had just pronounced his benediction over her soul. For a moment, her eyes felt hot and her throat tightened, yet she wanted to whoop for joy at the same time. Then, an overwhelming sense of conviction cleared her mind and she simply basked in the goodness and compassion of the man standing before her. “Denki for listenin’, Tom. I—I knew ya would.”

  He gently squeezed her shoulder. “This has been the finest moment I’ve known as a bishop. We started up a class a few weeks ago, for Rhoda’s Andy and the Kanagy brothers—and Ben’s joined us so he can learn more about bein’ a preacher. You’ll be in gut company, Annie Mae. Meanwhile, I can catch ya up on what we’ve already discussed, so you’ll be up to speed by next Sunday.”

  Annie Mae lingered a few moments more, watching Tom tend his next batch of cows. It seemed the least she could do, to go in and start breakfast so good, solid food would await him and the others when they came to the table. When she stepped outside into the fresh snow, most of the world still slept in the serene darkness of a winter’s night, yet she felt the hope of a bright new dawn. Annie Mae raised her face, sighing deeply with the rightness of it all as she gazed up at the glowing moon.

  Denki to You, too, God, for listenin’. And for shinin’ a light when I didn’t know just how dark it was....

  Chapter Sixteen

  When he and his brother opened the barn door early Sunday morning, Adam headed directly to the red blinking light on the wall phone. “Hope this isn’t bad news,” he remarked as Matthias lit a lantern. “Can’t think who might’ve left us a message after we got back from the Hooleys’ last night.”

  “I’m not keen on drivin’ clear over to Ruth’s on these snowy roads, but we don’t have squat in the house for dinner, either,” Matthias remarked. He stood in the glow of the lantern, waiting to listen to the message.

  Adam pressed the PLAY button. You fellas better stay right where you are today. Their older sister’s voice resounded in the barn. The kids’ve all caught the flu, and I’m sure you don’t want it. Have a blessed Sunday and we’ll catch up to you later.

  “Jah, that makes me feel blessed all right,” Matthias said sourly. “One of us should’ve stopped by Zook’s Market yesterday.”

  “Well, one of us was delivering the bishop’s boxes and got sidetracked with a passel of Knepp kids,” Adam shot back. “And meanwhile that got us invited to Miriam’s for a gut supper last night.”

  Matthias’s eyebrows could’ve swept the cobwebs out of the rafters. “Are ya sayin’ I should’ve laid aside that English fella’s tack I was workin’ on to—”

  “Did you even think to get meat out of the freezer?” Even as he asked the question, Adam regretted the way their voices were rising along with their tempers.

  “At least it wasn’t me chasin’ around Higher Ground, checkin’ up on Yonnie Stoltzfus’s girlfriend,” his brother countered. “Now there’s a useless pursuit, seein’s how Annie Mae’ll never quit runnin’ around to give you a second look—and seein’s how she’s just askin’ for her dat to come back and slap her around for snatchin’ his kids.”

  Adam clenched his jaw against another comeback. He pivoted on his heel and went to fetch hay for the horses. “Somebody got up on the wrong side of the bed,” he muttered to Jerry as he passed behind his gelding’s stall. “Not that there seems to be a right side to it.”

  “Jah, well at least I’m not moony-eyed over a gal who looks right over the top of my head!” Matthias retorted.

  Adam stopped. Turned around slowly. Consciously let out his breath as he counted to ten. “This is no way for us to be talking, Matthias. The Lord gave it a rest on the Sabbath and so should we.”

  “Fine.” Matthias shrugged stiffly. “I’ll not be doin’ any work, so you’re on your own, far as meals are concerned today.”

  “Fair enough.”

  Adam climbed into the loft and then tossed down three bales of hay to divide among the horses’ stalls. Already it felt like an endless, aimless day and the sun wasn’t even up. Until Matthias had snapped about neither of them buying any groceries, Adam had been in a fairly decent mood, but now resentment hung around him like low-lying winter storm clouds. Why did Matthias talk as though it was such a terrible thing, helping Annie Mae and the Knepp kids? And why did his brother think he was getting interested in her, anyway? Moony-eyed? Really?

  Adam took his time feeding Herbert and Jerry and their other horses, careful to stay out of his brother’s way as Matthias filled the water troughs and then stomped out of the barn. He began to shovel out the stalls, taking his time. As this was a visiting Sunday, he entertained thoughts of driving over to Bishop Tom’s—to see how the kids were doing, of course—but that would seem like an obv
ious play for a dinner invitation . . . and maybe Tom and the Hooley sisters would think he was there to see Annie Mae.

  And maybe I would be.

  Adam shook his head to rid himself of that thought. But if he didn’t go somewhere, he’d either have to avoid Matthias all day or he’d be scrapping with him until they said things they would regret. The hungrier they both got, the nastier they’d feel, too. His gaze wandered to the back stall, then to the blue tarp. . . .

  Anything involving a motorized vehicle was strictly forbidden on the Sabbath. Adam had purchased fresh oil and gasoline a while back, when Rebecca had told him to clean up the motorcycle before she ran an ad online for him. He hadn’t had time to work on it these past weeks—and work was the wrong thing to be doing on a Sunday . . . but who’s to say I consider it work? Taking the cycle apart to clean it and then putting it together again isn’t any different than assembling a jigsaw puzzle. It would be a labor of love, considering how keeping myself busy today would help Matthias and me love each other more....

  Adam recognized the serpent’s whisper when he heard it, yet as he headed toward the house, he knew he’d be spending his day in the barn after he’d found something to eat. No one would be out and around today—with the Knepp house sitting empty, nobody had any reason to come down their road—so no one would be the wiser about how he kept his idle hands from becoming the Devil’s workshop. Cleaning the cycle would remind him how his mother had died because of his carelessness, and how he had no business daydreaming about Annie Mae embracing him behind the wagon yesterday . . . how they had gripped each other’s hands last night . . .

  In the kitchen, Adam spread peanut butter on stale graham crackers. His brother was stirring the last can of pork and beans into the can of tomato soup he’d hoped to snag for himself, but Adam said nothing. Clearly, if he didn’t find any meat in the deep freeze that would thaw quickly, driving to New Haven for subs or pizza was their only alternative for hot food, as grocery shopping was another forbidden activity on Sunday.

  Matthias sighed forlornly. “It was a lot easier when Sadie and Mamm cooked, and all we had to do was come to the table and eat it,” he remarked.

  Adam nodded, glancing at the table, which was cluttered with dirty dishes and mail. He scraped the last of the store-bought peach preserves from the jar onto half of his graham crackers, mentally shaking his head. He and Matthias made good money, yet they couldn’t seem to get the cleaning or the laundry or the cooking routines down. And what kept both of them so all-fired busy that shopping had slipped their minds again?

  Adam washed his unsatisfying breakfast down with the last of the milk. “Later,” he said as he headed for the barn.

  “Jah, see ya,” Matthias muttered.

  As he hurried toward the barn, Adam inhaled the cold morning air—so much fresher than what the house smelled like. He tingled with the anticipation of cleaning and restoring his motorcycle, even as he twitched because this was a sin on Sunday. But it seemed the lesser of two evils, keeping himself busy rather than sacrificing another day to the bitterness, grief, and despair Matthias preferred to wallow in. Later, Adam planned to treat Matthias to a large, steaming pizza covered in ham, sausage, and bacon with lots of olives and green peppers and sauce at the pizza place in New Haven. Just the thought of a meal that neither of them had to cook bolstered his mood.

  Once inside the barn, Adam set to work. It was comforting to occupy himself here while the horses contentedly munched their hay and dozed, standing in their stalls. To get past staring at the sleek machine and the guilt it carried as an invisible passenger, he hooked up its battery to the solar panel—with which they recharged the car batteries that ran the lights and windshield wipers on their buggies. His hands knew what to do without much conscious thought, so Adam happily lost himself in the maintenance chores: changing the gas and oil . . . inflating the tires . . . cleaning the spark plugs . . .

  In his mind, he recalled the forays he used to take on the back roads of Willow Ridge, way past Morning Star and on toward Warrensburg. Driving and balancing on this cycle had come as second nature to him. With coaching from Allen Stoltzfus, he’d obtained his license shortly after he’d traded a horse to Allen for this vehicle . . . this wicked, forbidden machine that had carried him beyond Plain limitations. Adam could still feel the wind in his face and the inimitable thrill of revving the engine as his heartbeat accelerated with each change of gears.

  For the first couple of months, when he’d spent all his spare moments on this cycle, he’d known the exhilarating speed of freedom . . . halcyon hours when he’d been accountable to no one. Before his mamm’s death, he fully explored the lure of the open road and the English lifestyle that would make such a dream possible beyond his rumspringa, if he chose to leave the faith . . . and to leave his family.

  But then, as now, reality butted in. Adam quickly dismissed the disturbing images of Mamm’s buggy getting hit full-on by a truck in that intersection. It really was time to let go of those painful memories—or at least to release the crippling guilt they inspired. How could he do that?

  When he opened the cycle’s storage compartment to clean out any dead insects, he found his driver’s license—complete with his photo on it, for he hadn’t yet joined the Old Order when he’d earned it.

  Adam stared. Had he really looked so reckless and young and daring a mere six years ago? By comparison, he surely must be in his forties now, judging from the heaviness he felt some days.

  That was then, this is now, he reminded himself. Every man he knew—including Bishop Tom—had indulged in a few daredevil activities when he was out of school and not yet married or committed to the church. The faith’s founding fathers had understood the wisdom of letting young people—especially young men—sow their wild oats during rumspringa before settling down.

  And while Adam didn’t resent the settling-down part so much, he sure did miss the happiness he’d known in those days before Mamm had passed. But he had a successful, thriving business and a roof over his head. No room to complain.

  Just room for improvement.

  With a soft cloth, he lovingly cleaned the leather seat and the matching silver-studded saddlebags behind it. Annie Mae would be just the sort of girl to climb on behind me and hang on for dear life as we shot down the straightaways.

  That pretty vision was a waste of mental energy. Yet it made Adam smile as he buffed the black fenders and the chrome pipes back to their original shine. His stomach rumbled, reminding him that several hours had passed since he’d eaten his peanut butter and graham crackers. Yet the contentment he felt compelled him to lavish a little extra elbow grease on the tires—

  The barn door slid open on its track, letting in daylight and a rush of young voices.

  “Adam Wagler! We came out to see ya—”

  “Jah, and we’ve got presents!” two boys proclaimed in identical voices.

  “We been colorin’ perty cards!” a little girl chirped.

  Before Adam could steer them away from his deepest, darkest secret, the four little Knepps charged around the corner of the stalls, their faces alight with smiles and sunshine.

  Then Joey and Josh halted, their eyes wide. “Holy cow!” one of them cried out, while the other one said, “That is one hot—cool—motorcycle ya got there!”

  “Is it yours, Adam?”

  How will you explain this? Adam’s conscience taunted as he stood up, the polishing rag in his hand. “Well, look who’s here!” he hedged, happy to see these little guys and Sara even if they’d surprised him at an awkward moment. “And how is it, living at Bishop Tom’s with Nazareth and Jerusalem?”

  The twins edged closer to gaze at the cycle, while Sara demurely approached him with several folded pieces of paper flapping in her tiny hand. “These are for you,” she said as she held them up.

  Adam’s heart rose into his throat. Instead of taking her homemade cards, he swooped her up to rest against his shoulder. Her dark braids, which were wound and
pinned to the back of her head, looked shiny and clean. She wore a dress that reminded him of the “pink pill” candies he’d loved as a kid. “Denki, Sara,” he whispered around the lump in his throat. “Awfully nice of you to draw these—”

  A movement behind the boys made him look up and his heart plummeted into his stomach. Annie Mae and Nellie had halted at the sight of the black motorcycle, their eyes wide as they looked from the bike to him.

  “And gut afternoon to you ladies, as well,” Adam croaked. “As you can see, I, um, wasn’t expecting any company.”

  Was that a spark of admiration in Annie Mae’s eyes—or was she gleefully planning to tell Bishop Tom what she’d walked in on? Just moments ago Adam had been thinking about her, and now she’d appeared, as though summoned by his wayward thoughts.

  “Well, now,” she murmured as she slowly approached, never taking her eyes from the black vehicle. “This must be the motorcycle Rebecca was talkin’ about a while back. I can see why she was so excited about it.”

  Adam exhaled, aware that Sara was fiddling with her papers on top of his head. Why hadn’t he figured Rebecca would tell Annie Mae or Rhoda about the transaction she was setting up for him? For that matter, Ben and Miriam probably knew about it . . . and even so, no lightning bolts have shot through the ceiling, calling God’s wrath down on you.

  “Jah, I figure it’s been stashed in here plenty long enough, considering how I’m not to be riding it anymore,” Adam said quietly. And that’s all he intended to say, too. No need to delve into why he’d stopped riding it, or why he’d had such trouble getting rid of it.

  Nellie’s hand went to her mouth as she giggled. “Adam, ya gotta hold real still now,” she said as her focus settled above his face. “Sara’s makin’ a hat for ya.”