CHAPTER
15
It hadn’t taken Harley long to realize there was something special about his cousin Jacob’s daughter. Lena Rose’s comment last evening at supper about taking Uncle Solomon to see James Zook was just one more indication of that. And even though he’d planned to go over today to help at the Grants’ between milkings, Harley didn’t mind letting Lena and Solomon have the carriage for their trip up Stumptown Road to James Zook’s redbrick farmhouse.
While Lena held Solomon’s cane, Harley helped the man into the family buggy. Harley also supplied Lena with several hot bricks to put at their feet, along with an exceptionally thick buggy blanket made by Mimi years ago. It was the warmest of those they owned.
Solomon and James will have themselves an enjoyable time, he thought, heading back to the barn, scuffing his work boots against the snow in the yard and remembering when the children were little, running around and playing after chores. One year, the three older boys—Aaron, Caleb, and Will—had decided to make a large snowman, which took a couple of hours. Another year, Caleb and Will had made a fort for protection against the onslaught of Eli and Ada’s snowballs. What a time that was! Harley recalled that Mimi had worried they were making the snowballs too hard with ice before hurling them at each other.
“All in fun,” he’d assured her.
But in the end, Will had gotten his eyeglasses smashed and had to walk around half blind without them till they could get down to the Grants’ and call for an appointment to replace the shattered lenses and bent frames.
It was one of a number of times over the years when Mimi’s worries had been founded. A wise one, she is, Harley thought, smiling at himself for making such a good choice in his mate. I married well.
He hoped Mimi’s former concerns about Rebekah weren’t also on target, and that her spending time with Lena Rose wouldn’t pose a problem. Truth was, Mimi would have been hesitant about having Rebekah around, back before her husband died, when the woman had first come to Leacock Township. It wasn’t so unusual for a grandmother to help her daughter after the birth of a baby, but Rebekah’s coming long before the twins were born had caused plenty of talk, and Harley had learned in confidence from Abram Mast that Rebekah and Cora Ruth weren’t saying all there was to say. In fact, if what Abram had told Harley was true, Rebekah’s husband, Michael, had needed more than a good talking to years before he passed so suddenly.
Nee, Lena Rose needn’t know all the ins and outs of poor Rebekah Petersheim’s life. . . .
Harley shook his head. “All of that’s in the past,” he murmured while stepping into Barney’s stall, where the horse was nose-deep in his feed.
Occasionally, Lena caught a glint off a not-too-distant silo as, now and then, the sunshine broke through the leaden clouds that morning as she and Solomon made their way to see James Zook. She had expected Solomon to be talkative today after her short visit with him last evening, but for the first fifteen minutes of their trip, he was silent except to remark about how pretty the landscape looked in the wintertime.
It wasn’t that he didn’t feel well, she was certain. Rather, he seemed calm and content to just ride along and watch the countryside go by—the landscape of his childhood, he said later, before pointing out one or two of his friends’ farms. For a man who had never married—unusual for an Amishman—Solomon seemed quite happy.
Lena decided not to press for conversation and simply took in the view. She was becoming accustomed to not talking much during the day, other than when Rebekah Petersheim came for her Friday lesson, which Lena found to be a highlight of the week. The woman was just so eager. “A willingness to learn makes all the difference,” Mamma had often said of young students, which Lena recalled as they came up on Mascot Roller Mills on the left side of the road. The place had been owned by three generations of the Ressler family.
Solomon sat up straighter and broke the stillness. “Say now, has anyone told ya any stories ’bout that old gristmill?”
“Only what Harley mentioned the other day.” Lena glanced at the stone mill.
“The owner’s close to retiring, but he still grinds corn for some of the neighboring farmers,” Solomon told her. “Harley says the floor shakes real gut when the dried corn goes through the mill.” He chuckled. “It’s like goin’ back in time to my grandfather’s day.” Solomon seemed to be enjoying himself.
He pointed out James Zook’s house as it came into view. “Sure hope the old fella’s up and around.”
“Jah, and I hope he’s happy to see us,” Lena said, glad she’d baked chocolate squares to deliver along with the repaired trousers and a few other mended items.
When she had tied the horse to the hitching post and covered the horse with a blanket, Lena went around to help Solomon down from the carriage. She took it ever so slow, thinking she could catch him if he slipped and fell, unsteady as he was.
Together, they picked their way through the snow toward the side door, where Lena knocked and listened for signs of life.
“Might need to rap harder,” Solomon suggested. “James is hard of hearin’, and he prob’ly doesn’t bother wearing his hearing aid at home.”
Lena began to worry that they’d come all this way for nothing.
A few more minutes passed, and she looked at Solomon. “Shall I go round to the front, maybe?”
Just then, they heard someone coming.
“Thank goodness,” Lena breathed as an older gentleman swung the door wide open, a bright smile appearing on his deeply lined face when he spotted Solomon there with her.
“Thought we’d drop in for a visit,” she
