“Someone said Jake was working for a construction company in the Conewango Valley.” Stephen’s tone was somber. “He and I lost touch shortly after his older brother died.” He tugged his earlobe. “You must know his father always favored his older son over Jake.”
“Yes, Jake’s dad treated Jake unfairly. Finding fault in everything he did.”
“I figured that’s why Jake took off.” Stephen’s statement sounded like a question, the way it went up at the end.
“I’m still not sure. I was away then.” I didn’t want to bring up the rumors circulated about me, but I did wish to continue our conversation. “Is Jake… Is he married?”
“I don’t know. Possibly, after all this time.”
I expelled an audible sigh and felt my shoulders droop. Well, of course he’d be married by now and probably have several children. But if so, that news had never reached my ears.
“You know about that barn fire?” Stephen’s mouth grew hard.
“I’ll never forget it as long as I live. Praise the Lord no one was killed or even hurt. But I felt sorry for the calves.” I snuck a peek at his ruggedly handsome face. “Still an unsolved mystery?”
“Yes, but I do know Jake wasn’t guilty. He was with me that night, not that he was following the Ordnung. I was and still am Mennonite and not under the same restrictions. But I was acting like a knucklehead.”
“I’ve always wondered why Jake didn’t defend himself.” Finally, I might get a straight answer to the questions that had plagued me about that fire.
“Well, like I said, we were both up to no good. On a lamebrain lark, Jake bought his wreck of a Toyota sedan and hid it from his folks. As I recall, he was twenty-two and still in rumspringa. Fact is, he and I and some buddies were in that old barn that evening, drinking beer, playing cards, and joking around, but nothing more. We were using a battery-powered lantern and knew better than to smoke in there. When we left the barn, it was standing. None of us would’ve been foolish enough to do anything to start a fire. We knew the value of barns. Someone must have seen his car and reported it to the police.”
“Why didn’t you tell the police all that?” A better question would have been to ask why Jake hadn’t defended himself.
“The barn’s owner was and still is Amish. He didn’t press charges. I never have understood that way of thinking. But the whole community pitched in, including Jake and me. Our heads hanging low, we all helped rebuild that barn better than new. Tongues were wagging the whole time, but no one came out and accused us.”
“But still, you could have spoken up. You both should’ve come out and confessed to being in the barn.”
“You’re right, but that would have meant telling everyone Jake owned a car. His father was already angry with him. Jake sold that ill-fated Toyota a week later. I still feel as if it were my fault. I was two years older and should have set a better example for him.”
Stephen must have seen an expression of worry on my face. “A year later—I guess you were out of state—I heard Jake left. He’s only returned to Lancaster County a couple of times that I know of.”
“And you never hear from him?” What was I doing speaking of a subject so personal with a stranger? Yet for years I’d ached to have this conversation with someone who’d not only known Jake, but was willing to talk to me about him. A gravitational pull still drew me to him.
“I was surprised he did, but he made a couple of calls to my cell phone.” Stephen shifted his weight. “He asked about you.”
I held my breath and waited for him to continue.
“Jake said he’d heard you had a new boyfriend.”
“Did you tell him I didn’t?” My mouth was so dry I could barely get out the words.
“I’m sorry, Eva, but I had no way of knowing. I’d heard you were seeing someone in Ohio, but I didn’t know if that was true.”
“None of the stories about me are true.” I shuddered to think of what Jake and Stephen had heard. Rumors that I’d run off to Ohio to give birth to either Jake’s or another man’s child had swirled like a flock of crows throughout the county. But I’d been in Ohio taking care of premature newborn twins for an ailing cousin.
Rubbing his chin with his knuckles, Stephen appeared uncomfortable. “Shall I show you the café now?”
“Yah, sure.” I tried to insert a ring of enthusiasm into my voice. For an Englischer, Stephen seemed to know the Amish well.
He moved toward the door just as a young Amish woman carrying towels glided onto the porch. I had a multitude of questions I still wanted to ask Stephen, but our conversation would have to wait.
“Oh.” Her eyes widened. I was glad the door was open. The last thing I needed was to be seen as a loose woman, something I wasn’t and never had been. But shaking a bad reputation was like pulling your foot out of a wasp’s nest without getting stung.
“Eva, this is Susie.”
“Nice ta meetcha,” we said in unison and then both chuckled.
Susie seemed around seventeen. Maybe younger. “I brought ya clean towels.”
“I wasn’t expecting to be waited on, but I’m delighted. I neglected to bring towels and a washcloth.” What else had I forgotten?
“Edna left them. They’re nice and soft. So are the bed linens she left.” Susie stepped into the bathroom and spoke to us through the open door. “I do several
