I folded the application. “How about today? Right now.”
“Yes, okay. The place I worked at closed last week, so I’m free as a bird.”
Ten years my junior, she looked free as a bird in her flowered dress and her rosy, blemish-free cheeks.
I introduced Annie to Beatrice and Sadie. Beatrice’s grin stretched wide, and she whispered. “Good for you, Annie.”
“You two know each other?”
“Remember I told you about the young woman from my church?” Beatrice’s smile was wry. “Is there a problem?”
“Not at all. Just caught me off guard.”
I gave Annie a tour of our kitchen and then showed her where we stored the folded white aprons. She tied one on and got busy clearing tables and washing dishes as if it were second nature to her.
“I dare not leave the active café until three,” I told Beatrice.
“Go ahead.” Beatrice practically shooed me out the door. “We are more than capable of serving our customers. Stephen is coming any minute to take the extra soup across the street. Plus, I made several dozen extra sandwiches.”
As if on cue, Stephen appeared at our back door looking disheveled, soot smudging his cheeks and clothes and mud caking his boots.
“I figured I’d better not come in the café’s front door looking like this.” He used a paper towel to wipe his face. “No use getting myself too cleaned up since I’m going back into the mess. Wayne told you Ralph Hastings may have escaped that fire in the barn, right?”
We all nodded, but his glance seemed to slide past mine, making me wonder if he regretted his ardent profession of affection. No, when Beatrice inserted a ladle and set a lid on the metal vat of soup, I saw he was watching me with the same expression he’d had earlier. But he said nothing. With Beatrice close at hand, we’d have to wait to continue our discussion.
Stephen lifted the heavy vat from the stove top and stepped toward the back door.
“Wait a minute,” Beatrice said. “I also made a tray of ham-and-cheese sandwiches. Why doesn’t Eva carry them?”
“That would be great.” I tried to tame the anticipation in my voice.
Beatrice led me back to the refrigerator to retrieve a tray mountained with sandwiches sliced diagonally and covered with plastic wrap. She dipped her chin. “Sorry, Eva. I should have asked your permission first to make sure it was okay. But when I saw Stephen earlier, he said making sandwiches was a good idea since we had plenty of bread, cheese, and ham.”
“Of course it’s okay.” I lifted the heavy tray. “I wish I’d thought of it first.”
THIRTY-FIVE
When Stephen and I crossed the road, I caught sight of the demolished barn. My heart sank in on itself, as if I were attending a funeral. A mammoth yellow backhoe belching diesel exhaust pushed debris into heaps off to the side. Another filled a truck with blackened scraps of timber and roofing. Dozens of men, some wearing straw hats, others baseball caps and dressed Englisch, helped in the cleanup. But no Jake. He must have gone home to check on his parents and their farm.
I followed Stephen to the tables set up for food. He placed the soup vat on several newspapers to keep the metal from melting the plastic tablecloth. I set our sandwiches down next to fruit, breads, and deviled eggs. Another table housed coffee, juice, and water.
“I’m going to stay here,” Stephen said. “I put Mark in charge of the nursery this afternoon.” Stephen strode over to speak to Harvey and two other older men, who all seemed to be coordinating the effort.
As I scanned the crowd for Jake, an aged Amish woman said, “You’re Eva Lapp. I’m Hannah. My husband and I own this farm.” Her hair was as snowy white as her kapp. I steeled myself as I waited for her to unleash her indignation, but instead she shook my hand.
“Hannah, I feel terrible if in any way I caused this catastrophe.”
“It doesn’t sound as though you did. And even if you had, we wouldn’t hold it against you. In the end, Gott will do the judging, yah?” She put out Styrofoam bowls and plastic spoons to use for the soup and a pot of beef stew sitting on a trivet.
“Yah, but—”
“We’re grateful to you for saving our horses and Daisy, our one remaining cow.” Her gaze lifted to the blue sky. “And we’re grateful for this beautiful sunny day. The mud may dry and grow firm by tomorrow. Bishop Harvey thinks the barn’s floor is gut enough to keep and so does the fire chief. A gift from Gott as we just replaced it six years ago. Or was it seven? When you get to my age, the years all blend together.” Her weary face divulged no animosity. “And we’re grateful for the mostly volunteer fire department, brave Englisch and Amish men who risked their lives. The Lord blessed us with no injuries.”
I wondered how I’d react if I were in her shoes.
“Last fire we lost our calves and two horses,” she said. “It was a bitter disappointment for my husband. But he’d already decided he wanted out of the dairy business.”
“You never found out how the fire started?”
“No matter. We asked the police to give up their search for the arsonist.”
Jake sauntered over to us. “Hannah.”
“You two know each other?” I asked.
“Yah.” Hannah put out more paper napkins. “Jake came to us after the first fire to offer assistance as needed. He was of most help rebuilding that old barn better than it had been for years. We’d let the farm decline and were thinking about replacing the leaking roof. Fortunately, we waited.”
“It’s gut to see you again, Hannah.” Jake wore a tool belt and a baseball cap with Phillies written on it.
“You too. We’ve missed seeing you.”
In other words, Jake had made peace with the Schmuckers while I’d held on to the past.
After Hannah returned to help with the food tables, Jake spoke
