Love Is Only A Letter Away

So what if Joann Yoder’s Amish community deems her a spinster? She’s content to stay single. In the meantime, she’s working hard to finally buy her dream house. So it’s problematic when she’s fired from her job to make room for the nephew’s owner, Roman Weaver. His blue eyes aside, she simply can’t stand him! Good thing she has the secret letters she’s been exchanging with a mystery man to keep her going. But who is writing her letters? And could she possibly fall for him in real life, too?

“My buggy is just around the corner. Would you care to share a ride?” Roman asked.

There wasn’t a cloud in the sky. He had no reason to offer her a lift today. “It doesn’t look like rain.”

“I thought since we were going the same way…” His voice trailed off. He cocked an eyebrow and waited.

It was a long walk after a long day, but she’d rather crawl home on her hands and knees than spend another minute in his company. Thankfully, Joann managed not to blurt out her opinion. “I have errands to run. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Tomorrow would arrive all too quickly.

“Suit yourself.” Without another word, he walked away and turned the corner.

Had he actually sounded disappointed?

PATRICIA DAVIDS

After thirty-five years as a nurse, Pat has hung up her stethoscope to become a full-time writer. She enjoys spending her new free time visiting her grandchildren, doing some long-overdue yard work and traveling to research her story locations. She resides in Wichita, Kansas. Pat always enjoys hearing from her readers. You can visit her on the web at www.patriciadavids.com.

Plain Admirer

Patricia Davids

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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And God blessed them, and God said unto them,

Be fruitful, and multiply, and replenish the earth, and subdue it: and have dominion over the fish

of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over every living thing that moveth upon the earth.

—Genesis 1:28

This book is lovingly dedicated to my father, Clarence—a man who can look at any stretch of water and tell just where the fish are. Thanks for teaching me, my daughter and my grandchildren to bait our own hooks. Love you. Let’s go fishing soon.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Dear Reader

Questions for Discussion

Chapter One

“This isn’t easy to say, but I have to let you go, Joann. I’m sure you understand.”

“You’re firing me?” Joann Yoder faced her boss across the cluttered desk in his office. For once, she wasn’t tempted to straighten up for him. And she didn’t understand.

“Ja. I’m sorry.”

Otis Miller didn’t look the least bit sorry. Certainly not as sorry as she was to be losing a job she really needed. A job she loved. Why was this happening? Why now, when she was so close to realizing her dream?

She’d only been at Miller Press for five months, but working as an assistant editor and office manager at the Amish-owned publishing house was everything she’d ever wanted. How could it end so quickly? If she knew what she had done wrong, she could fix it. “At least tell me why.”

He sighed heavily, as if disappointed she hadn’t accepted her dismissal without question. “You knew when you came over from the bookstore that this might not be a permanent position.”

Joann had moved from a part-time job at the bookstore next door to help at the printing shop after Otis’s elder brother suffered a heart attack. When he passed away a few weeks later, Joann had assumed she would be able to keep his job. She loved gathering articles for their monthly magazine and weekly newspaper, as well as making sure the office ran smoothly and customers received the best possible attention. She dropped her gaze to her hands clenched tightly in her lap and struggled to hang on to her dignity. Tears pricked the back of her eyelids, but she refused to cry. “You told me I was doing a good job.”

“You have been. Better than I expected, but I’m giving Roman Weaver your position. I don’t need to tell you why.”

“Nee, you don’t.” Like everyone in the Amish community of Hope Springs, Ohio, she was aware of the trouble that had visited the Weaver family. She hated that her compassion struggled so mightily with her desire to support herself. This job was proof that her intelligence mattered. She might be the “bookworm” her brothers had often called her, but here she had a chance to put her learning to good use. Now it was all being taken away.

She couldn’t let it go without a fight. She looked up and blurted, “Does he really need the job more than I do?”

Otis didn’t like conflict. He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his broad chest. “Roman has large medical bills to pay.”

“But the church held an auction to help raise money for him.”

“He and his family are grateful for all the help they received, but they are still struggling.”

She’d lost, and she knew it. Only a hint of the bitterness she felt slipped through in her words. “Plus, he’s your nephew.”

“That, too,” Otis admitted without any sign of embarrassment. Family came only after God in their Amish way of life.

Roman Weaver had had it rough, there was no denying that. It was a blessing that he hadn’t lost his arm after a pickup truck smashed into his buggy. Unfortunately, his damaged left arm was now paralyzed and useless. She’d seen him at the church meetings wearing a heavy sling and heard her brothers say the physical therapy he needed was expensive and draining his family’s resources.

Her heart went out to him and his family, but why should she be the one to lose her job? There were others who worked for Miller Press.

She didn’t bother to voice that thought. She already knew why she had been chosen. Because she was a woman.

Joann had no illusions about the male-dominated society she lived in. Unmarried Amish women could hold a job, but they gave it up when they married to make a home for their husband and children. A married woman could work outside the home, but only if her husband agreed to it.

Amish marriage was a partnership where each man and woman knew and respected their roles within the Ordnung, the laws of their Amish church. Men were the head of the household. Joann didn’t disagree with any of it. At least, not very much.

It was just that she had no desire to spend the rest of her life living with her brothers, moving from one house to another and being an unwanted burden to their families. She’d never had a come-calling boyfriend, although she’d accepted a ride home from the singings with a few fellas in her youth. She’d never received an offer of marriage. And at the advanced age of twenty-six, it wasn’t likely she would.

Besides, there wasn’t anyone in Hope Springs she would consider spending the rest of her life with. As the years had gone by, she’d begun to accept that she would always be a maiden aunt. Maybe she’d get a cat one day.

Otis folded his hands together on his desk. “I am sorry, Joann. Roman needs the job. He can’t work in the sawmill with only one good arm. It’s too dangerous.”

“I must work, too. My brothers have many children. I don’t wish to burden them by having them take care of me, as well.”

“Come now, you’re being unreasonable. Your brothers do not begrudge you room and board.”

“They would never say it, but I think they do.” She knew her three brothers had taken her in out of a strong sense of duty after their parents died and not because of brotherly love. Hadn’t they decided her living arrangements among themselves without consulting her? She stayed with each brother for four months. At the end of that time, she moved to the next brother’s home. By the end of the year, she was back where she had started. She always had a roof over her head, but she didn’t have a home.

She wanted a home of her own, but that wasn’t going to happen without a good-paying job.

“Joann, think of Roman. Where is your Christian compassion?”

“I left it at home in a jar.”

Otis scowled at her flippancy. She blushed at her own audacity. Modesty and humility were the aspirations of every Amish woman, but sometimes things slipped out of her mouth before she had time to think.

Why couldn’t someone else give Roman a job he could manage? She dreamed of having a home of her own, a small house at the edge of the woods where she could keep her books and compile her nature notes and observations unhindered by her nieces and nephews. Best of all, she’d be able to go fishing whenever she wanted without her family’s sarcastic comments about wasting her time. The only way she could accomplish that was by earning her own money.

She was so close to realizing her dream. The very house she wanted was coming up for sale. The owners, her friends Sarah and Levi Beachy, were willing to sell to her and finance her if she could come up with the down payment by the end of September. If she couldn’t raise the agreed-upon amount, they would have to sell to another Amish family. They needed the money to make improvements to their business before winter.

What only a week ago had seemed like a sure thing, a gift from God, was now slipping out of her grasp. Joann didn’t want to beg, but she would. “Can’t you do anything for me, Otis? You know I’m a hard worker.”

“All I can offer you is a part-time position—”

“I’ll take it.”

“One day a week on the cleaning staff.”

“Oh.” Her last bit of hope vanished. Her book learning wouldn’t be needed while she swept the floors and emptied wastepaper baskets.

Otis leaned back in his chair. “Of course, your part-time position at the bookstore is yours if you want it.”

A part-time salary would be far less than she needed. Still, it was better than nothing. She wasn’t proud. She’d do a good job for him. In time, she might even get a chance at an editorial position again. Only God knew what the future held.

She nodded once. “I would be grateful for such work.”

Otis rose to his feet. “Goot. You’ll work afternoons Monday through Wednesday at the bookstore, and here on Saturdays. But there is something I need you to do for me before you switch jobs.”

“What is that?”

“I need you to show Roman how we do things here. He’s only worked in the sawmill and on the farm. The publishing business is foreign to him. I’m sure it won’t take you more than two weeks to show him the ropes. He’s a bright fellow. He’ll catch on quickly. You can do that, can’t you?”

He gets my job, but I have to show him how to do it? Where is the justice in that? She kept her face carefully blank.

Otis scowled again. “Well?”

“I’ll be glad to show Roman all I’ve learned.” It wasn’t a complete lie, but it was close. She would do it, but she wouldn’t be happy about it.

Otis nodded and came around the desk. “Fine. I hope my nephew can start on Monday morning. After you get him up to speed, you can return to the bookstore. That’s all, you can go home now.”

“Danki.” She rose from her seat and headed for the door. Pulling it open, she saw the man who was taking her job sitting quietly in a chair across the room. Did he know or care that she was being cast aside for him? They had attended the same school, but he had been a year behind her.

After their school years, she saw him and his family at Sunday services, but their paths rarely crossed. He’d run with the fast crowd during their rumspringa, their running-around teenage years. She had chosen baptism at the age of nineteen while he hadn’t joined the faith until two years ago. His circle of friends didn’t include her or her family. She studied him covertly as she would one of her woodland creatures.

Roman Weaver was a good-looking fellow with a head of curly blond hair that bore the imprint of the hat he normally wore. His cheeks were lean, his chin chiseled and firm. He was clean-shaven, denoting his single status. His years of hard physical work showed in the muscular width of his shoulders crisscrossed by his suspenders. He wore a black sling on his left arm. It stood out in stark contrast to his short-sleeved white shirt. His straw hat rested on the chair arm beside him.

Compassion touched her heart when she noticed the fine lines that bracketed his mouth. Was he in pain?

He looked up as she came out of the office. His piercing blue eyes, rimmed with thick lashes, brightened. He smiled. An unfamiliar thrill fluttered in the pit of her stomach. No one had ever smiled at her with such warmth.

His dazzling gaze slid past her to settle on Otis, and Joann realized she’d been a fool to think Roman Weaver was smiling at her. She doubted he even saw her.

“Hello, Onkel,” Roman said, rising from his chair.

“It’s goot to see you, nephew.” Otis stepped back to give him room to enter his office. Roman walked past her without a glance.

She kept her eyes downcast as an odd stab of disappointment hit her. Why should it matter that his smile hadn’t been for her? She was used to being invisible. She’d long ago given up the hope that she’d become attractive and witty. She wasn’t ugly, but she had no illusions about her plain looks. She was as God had made her.

She consoled herself with the knowledge that what the Lord had held back in looks He’d more than made up for in intelligence. She was smarter than her brothers and her few friends. It wasn’t anything special that she had done. She was smart the way some people were tall, because that was the way God fashioned them.

For a long time, she thought of her intellect as a burden. Then, an elderly teacher told her she was smarter than anyone he’d ever met and that God must surely have something special in mind for her. That single statement had enabled Joann to see herself in a completely new light.

Being smart wasn’t a bad thing, even if some others thought it was. When she landed this job, she knew being smart was indeed a blessing.

As Roman Weaver closed the door behind him, old feelings of being left out, of being overlooked and unvalued wormed their way into her heart. They left a painful bruise she couldn’t dismiss.

Crossing to her desk, she lifted her green-and-white quilted bag from the back of her chair and settled the strap on her shoulder. Roman Weaver might look past her today, but come Monday morning, he was going to find he needed her. He wouldn’t look through her then.

* * *

Roman forced a bright smile to his lips in order to hide his nervousness. The summons from his uncle had come out of the blue. He had no idea what his mother’s brother wanted with him, but the look on her face when she relayed the message had Roman worried. What was going on? What was wrong?

The better question might have been: What was right? He had the answer to that one: not much in his life at the moment. The gnawing pain he endured from his injury was constant proof of that.

Otis indicated a chair. “Have a seat.”

Roman did so, holding his injured arm against his chest, more from habit than a need to protect it. “I’ve often wondered what it is that you do here.”

He glanced around the room filled with filing cabinets, books and stacks of papers. The smell of solvents and ink gave the air a harsh, sharp quality that stung his nostrils. Roman preferred the clean scent of fresh-cut wood.

His uncle was the owner of a small publishing business whose target audience was Old Order Plain People, Amish, Mennonites and Hutterites. A small bookstore next door housed a number of books he published as well as a small library. Although Roman occasionally read the magazine his uncle put out each month, he’d only visited the office and bookstore a few times. He wasn’t a reader.

“How’s the arm?” Otis asked.

“It’s getting better.” Much too slowly for Roman’s liking.

“Are you in pain?”

“Some.” He didn’t elaborate. It was his burden to bear.

“I’m sure you’re wondering why I’ve asked you here. Your parents came to see me last Sunday,” Otis said, looking vaguely uncomfortable.

“Did they?” This was the first Roman had heard of it.

“Your father asked me for a business loan. Of course, I was happy to help. I know things have been difficult for all of you.”

Roman’s medical bills had already cost his family nearly all their savings. His inability to do his job in the sawmill was cutting their productivity, making his father and his brother work even harder. If his father had come to Otis for a loan, things must be dire.

“You have my gratitude and my thanks. We will repay you as soon as we can.”

“I know. I’m not worried about that. Before they left, your mother spoke privately with me. My sister is very dear to me, but I will admit to being surprised when she asked if I would offer you a job here at my office.”

The muscles in Roman’s jaw clenched. “I work at my father’s side in the sawmill. I don’t need a job. I have one,” he said.

Sympathy flashed in his uncle’s eyes. “You have one that you can’t continue.”

“My arm is better. I’m making progress.” He concentrated on his fingers protruding from the sling. He was able to move his index and middle finger ever so slightly.

He could tell from the look on his uncle’s face that he wasn’t impressed. If only he knew how much effort it took to move any part of his hand.

“I give thanks to God for His mercy and pray for your recovery daily,” Otis said. “As do your parents, but your father needs a man with two strong arms to work in the mill if he is to earn a profit and meet his obligations.”

“He hasn’t said this to me.”

“I don’t imagine he would. I’m asking you to consider what is best for your family. I have work, worthy work, for you to do that requires a good mind but not two strong arms. Besides, your mother will rest easier knowing you aren’t trying to do too much.”

A sick sensation settled in Roman’s stomach. “She told you about the incident last week?”

“Ja.”

“It was a freak accident. My sling got snagged on a log going into the saw. The strap broke and freed me.” He tried to make it sound less dire than it had been. He would relive the memory of those horrible, helpless moments in his nightmares for a long time. His confidence in his ability to do the job he’d always considered his birthright had suffered a harsh blow.

“I understand you were jerked off your feet and dragged toward the saw,” Otis said.

“I was never in danger of being pulled into the blade.” He was sure he could have freed himself.

Maybe.

“That’s not how your mother saw it.”

No, it wasn’t. Roman’s humiliation had been made all the worse by his mother’s fright. She had come into the mill to deliver his lunch and witnessed the entire thing. Her screams had alerted his father and younger brother, but no one had been close enough to help. God had answered her frantic plea and freed him in time.

“I’m sorry Mamm was frightened, but sawmill work is all I know. I don’t see how I can be of use to you in this business,” Roman said.

“I fully expect you to give me a fair day’s work for your wage. Joann Yoder will teach you all you need to know about being a manager and an editor.”

Roman barely heard his uncle’s words. He stared at his useless arm resting in the sling. It was dead weight around his neck. He didn’t want to be dead weight around his family’s neck. Could he accept the humiliation of being unable to do a man’s job? He wasn’t sure. All his life he’d been certain of his future. Now, he had no idea what God wanted from him.

“Say you will at least think about it, nephew. Who knows, you may find the work suits you. It would please me to think my sister’s son might carry on the business my brother and I built after I’m gone.”

Roman glanced at his uncle’s hopeful face. He and his wife were childless, and his recently deceased older brother had never married, but Roman had no intention of giving up his eventual ownership of the sawmill. If he did accept his uncle’s offer, it would only be a temporary job. “Who did you say would train me?”

“The woman you saw leaving just as you came in.”

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t paying attention. Is she someone I know?”

“Joann Yoder. The sister of Hebron, Ezekiel and William Yoder. I’m sure you know her.”

Roman’s eyebrows shot up. “The bookworm?”

Otis laughed. “I had no idea that was her nickname, but it fits.”

“It was something we used to call her when we were kids in school.” She was a plain, shy woman who always stayed in the background.

“Joann can teach you what you need to know about this work.”

Roman clamped his lips shut and stared down at his paralyzed arm. He had trouble dressing himself. He couldn’t tie his own shoes without help. He couldn’t do a man’s job, a job that he’d done since he was ten years old. Now, he was going to have a woman telling him how to do this job, if he took it. How much more humiliation would God ask him to bear?

He looked at his uncle. “Why can’t you show me how the business is run?”

“I’ll be around to answer your questions, but Joann knows the day-to-day running of the business almost as well as I do.”

So, he would be stuck with Joann Yoder as a mentor if he accepted. Was she still the quiet, studious loner who chose books over games and sports?

Otis hooked his thumbs under his suspenders and rocked back on his heels. “What do you say, Roman? Will you come work for me?”

Chapter Two

Joann trudged along the quiet, tree-lined streets of Hope Springs with her head down and her carefully laid plans in shambles. Early May sunshine streamed through the branches overhead, making lace patterns on the sidewalk that danced as the wind stirred the leaves. The smell of freshly mowed grass and lilacs scented the late afternoon air.

At any other time, she would have delighted in the glorious weather, the cool breeze and the fragrant flowers blooming in profusion beside the neatly tended houses of the village. At the moment, all she could see was more years of shuffling from one house to another stretching in front of her.

If only I hadn’t dared dream that I could change my life.

A small brown-and-white dog raced past her, yipping furiously. His quarry, a yellow tabby, had crossed the street just ahead of him. The cat shot up the nearest tree. From the safety of a thick branch, it growled at the dog barking and leaping below. The mutt circled the tree several times and then sat down to keep an eye on his intended victim.

As Joann came up beside the terrier mix, he looked her way. She stopped to pat his head. “I know just how you feel. So close and yet so far. Take my word for it, you wouldn’t have liked the outcome if you had caught him.” The cat was almost as big as the dog.

Joann walked on, wondering if there was a similar reason why she couldn’t obtain the prize she had been working so hard to secure. Would the outcome have been worse than what she had now? Only the Lord knew. She had to trust in His will, but it was hard to see the good through her disappointment.

After a few more minutes, she reached the buggy shop of Levi Beachy at the edge of town. She passed it every day on her way to and from work. Across the street from the shop stood the house that had almost been hers.

Sarah Wyse, a young Amish widow, had lived there until shortly after Christmas when she married Levi. For a time they had rented the house to a young Amish couple, but they had moved away a month ago and the small, two-story house was vacant again.

Vacant and waiting for someone to move in who would love and cherish it.

Joann stopped with her hands on the gate. The picket fence needed a coat of paint. She itched to take a paintbrush to it. The lawn was well-kept, but if the home belonged to her, she would plant a row of pansies below the front porch railing and add a birdhouse in the corner of the yard. She loved to watch birds. They always seemed so happy.

She would be happy, too, if all it took to build a snug home for herself was bits of straw and twigs. However, it took more. Much more.

She gazed at the windows of the upper story. She’d been a guest in Sarah’s home several times. She knew the upstairs held two bedrooms. One for her and one for visitors. Downstairs there was a cozy sitting room with a wide brick fireplace. Off the kitchen was a room just the right size to set up a quilt frame. Joann longed for a quilt frame of her own, but she didn’t have a place to keep one.

“Joann, how nice to see you,” Sarah Beachy said as she came out of the shop with her arms full of upholstery material. She did all the sewing for the business, covering the buggy seats and door panels her husband made in whatever fabric the customer ordered.

“Hello, Sarah,” Joann returned the greeting but couldn’t manage a cheerful face for her friend.

“Joann, what’s wrong?” Sarah laid her bundle on a bench outside the door and quickly crossed the narrow roadway.

Unexpected tears blurred Joann’s vision. She didn’t cry. She never cried. She rubbed the moisture away with her hands and folded her arms across her chest. “Nothing,” she said, gazing at the ground.

“Something is definitely wrong. You’re scaring me.” Sarah cupped Joann’s chin, lifting gently until Joann had no choice but to meet her gaze.

She swallowed and said, “I’ve come to tell you that you don’t have to wait until September to put your house on the market. You can do it right away.”

“You mean you’ve decided that you don’t want it?”

“I’m afraid I can’t afford it now.”

“I don’t understand. Just two weeks ago you told us you were sure you could earn the amount we agreed upon by that time.”

“I was fired today.”

“Fired? Why on earth would Otis Miller do that?”

“To give the job to someone who needs it more. He’s keeping me on as a part-time cleaning woman, and I can have my old job at the bookstore back, but I won’t earn nearly enough to pay you what you need by the end of the summer. It was really nice of you and Levi to offer to let me make payments over time, but I know how much you want to make improvements to the business before winter.”

“Levi would like to get the holes in the roof fixed and a new generator for the lathe, but I would rather see you happy. If you want, I can talk to him about giving you more time. Perhaps, instead of selling it we could rent it to you. We would both be delighted to have you as our neighbor.”

“Danki, but that isn’t fair to you. Selling your house outright makes much more sense. Besides, with only a part-time job, I wouldn’t be able to afford the rent, either. There will be another house for me when the time is right.”

She said as much, but she wasn’t sure she believed it. Her brothers didn’t feel she should live alone and they weren’t willing to cover the cost of another house. The local bank had already turned her down for a home loan. She didn’t have enough money saved to make a substantial down payment and her employment record wasn’t long enough. Only Levi and Sarah had been willing to take a chance on her.

Another home might come along in the distant future, but would it have such a sunny kitchen? Or such an ample back porch with a well-tended garden that backed up to the woods, and a fine sturdy barn for a horse and buggy? This house was perfect. It wasn’t too large or too small, and it was close to work.

To the job she didn’t have anymore. Her shoulders slumped.

“Come in and have a cup of tea,” Sarah said. “There must be something we can do. Perhaps you can find a different job.”

The wind kicked up and blew the ribbons of Joann’s white prayer kapp across her face. She glanced toward the west. “Danki, but I should get going. It looks like rain is coming this way.”

“I’ll have one of the boys hitch up the cart and drive you.”

Joann managed to smile at that. “I’m not about to get in a cart with Atlee or Moses. People still talk about how they rigged the seats to tip over backward in Daniel Hershberger’s buggy and sent him and his new wife down the street, bottoms up.”

Sarah tried not to laugh but lost the struggle. She giggled and pressed her hand to her lips. “It was funny, but my poor Levi was so upset. You will be safe with either one of the twins. Levi’s mischief-making brothers have been a changed pair since our wedding.”

“How did you manage that?”

Sarah leaned close. “I only feed them when they behave. They do like my cooking.”

Joann laughed and felt better. “Ah, Sarah, your friendship is good for my soul.”

“I cherish your friendship, as well. Who did Otis give your job to?”

“Roman Weaver. I’m to teach him everything I know about the business.”

“I see.” A thoughtful expression came over Sarah’s face. “So you will be working with Roman. Interesting.”

“Only until he has learned enough to do my job. What’s so interesting about it?”

A gleam entered Sarah’s eyes. “Roman is single. You are single.”

Joann held up her hand and shook her head. “Oh, no! Don’t start matchmaking for me. Roman doesn’t know I exist, and it wouldn’t matter if he did. I’m not the marrying kind.”

“You will be when God sends the right man your way. I’m the perfect example of that. I didn’t think I would marry again after my first husband died, but Levi changed my mind. Roman’s a nice fellow. Don’t let the disappointment of losing your job color your opinion of him.”

“I’ll try. Just promise me you won’t try any of your matchmaking tricks on me.”

“No tricks, I promise.”

After refusing a ride once more, Joann bid Sarah farewell and glanced again at the lovely little house on the edge of town before heading toward her brother’s farm two miles away. Her steps were quicker, but her heart was still heavy.

* * *

Roman left his uncle’s publishing house and stopped on the narrow sidewalk outside. The realization that he couldn’t do the job he loved left him hollow and angry.

He’d never once wanted to work anywhere except in the sawmill alongside his father. The business had been handed down in his family for generations. His mother used to say that he and his father had sawdust in their veins instead of blood. It was close to the truth. Now he was being asked to give it up. The thought was unbearable. He’d already lost so much. He tried not to be bitter, but it was hard.

He wouldn’t accept his uncle’s offer until he’d had a chance to talk things over with his father. Roman had to know if his father wished this. It hurt to think that he might. The gray clouds gathering overhead matched Roman’s mood. Thunder rumbled in the distance.

“What did Onkel Otis want?” The question came from Roman’s fifteen-year-old brother, Andrew, as he approached from up the street. His arms were full of packages.

“He wanted to see how I’m getting along. Did you find all that Daed needed at the hardware store?” He held open the door so his brother could put the parcels on the backseat. The job offer was something he wanted to discuss with his father before he shared the information with Andrew.

“I checked on our order for the new bearings, but they haven’t come in yet. I have everything else on father’s list.”

When Andrew climbed in the front, Roman moved to untie his mother’s placid mare from the hitching post. Meg was slow but steady and unlike his spirited gelding, she wouldn’t bolt if he lost control of the reins. Managing his high-stepping buggy horse with one arm was just one more thing that he couldn’t do anymore.

Maybe his uncle was right. Maybe he should move aside so his father could hire a more able man. It wouldn’t be forever.

His parents and Bishop Zook had counseled him to pray for acceptance, but he couldn’t find it in his heart to do so. He was angry that God had brought him low in this manner. And for what reason? What had he done to deserve this? Nothing. He climbed awkwardly into the buggy.

“Do you want me to drive?” Andrew asked.

“Nee, I can manage.” Earlier, Roman had tied the lines together so he could slip them over his neck and shoulder as he often did when he worked behind a team in the fields. That way he couldn’t accidently drop the reins. By pulling on first one and then the other, he was able to guide Meg along the street without hitting any of the cars lining the block. Driving still made him nervous. He cringed each time an Englisch car sped by, but he was determined to return to a normal life.

Just beyond the edge of town, they passed a woman walking along the road. She carried a green-and-white quilted bag slung over her shoulder. He recognized it as the one that had been hanging from a chair in his uncle’s office. This had to be Joann Yoder. He glanced at her face as he passed her and was surprised by the look of dislike that flashed in her green eyes before she dropped her gaze.

What reason did she have to dislike him? The notion disturbed his concentration. He tried to ignore it, but he couldn’t.

Dark gray clouds moved across the sky, threatening rain at any moment. Lightning flashed in the distance. The thunder grew louder. He pulled Meg to a stop.

Andrew gave him a quizzical look. “What are you doing?”

“A good deed.” He waited.

When the woman came alongside, he touched the brim of his hat. “Would you like a lift?”

“Nee, danki,” she replied coldly as she walked past without looking at him.

He studied her straight back and determined walk. If she were this unfriendly, it wouldn’t be a joy working with her. Why was she upset with him? He’d rarely even spoken to her.

Roman looked at his brother. “What do you know about Joann Yoder?”

“What is there to know? She’s an old maedel. She does whatever old maids do. Can we get home? I have chores to do yet this evening, and I’d rather not do them in the dark.”

The road ahead was empty. The next farm was over a mile away. A few drops of rain splattered against the buggy top. Roman clicked his tongue to get Meg moving. She plodded down the road until she came even with Joann and then slowed to match the woman’s steps. They traveled that way for a few dozen yards. Finally, Joann stopped. The mare did, too.

She smiled as she patted the animal’s neck. When she turned toward Roman, her smile vanished. She kept her eyes lowered. He was surprised by a sharp desire to make her look at him again. He wanted to see if her eyes were as green as he thought.

“Did you need something?” she asked.

“Nee. We are just on our way home.”

“At a snail’s pace,” Andrew added under his breath.

Roman ignored him. “Allow us to give you a ride. We are obviously going in the same direction. It looks like rain.”

“I won’t melt.”

“But you will be uncomfortable.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Won’t your books get wet?”

She looked down at her bag and back at him. A wary expression flashed across her face. It had been a guess on his part but it appeared he was right about the contents of her bag.

As she stared at him, he saw her eyes were an unusual shade of gray-green. They seemed to shift colors according to the light or perhaps her mood. Why hadn’t he noticed that about her before now? Maybe because she was always looking down or away. A raindrop struck her cheek and slipped downward like a tear.

For a moment, she didn’t say anything, then she nodded and wiped her face. “A lift would be most welcome.”

“Goot. Where can we take you?” He was ashamed to admit he didn’t know where she lived.

“I’m staying with my brother, Hebron Yoder. His farm is just beyond the second hill up ahead.”

“We don’t go that far,” Andrew said under his breath.

“It won’t hurt us to go a little out of our way.” Roman ignored Andrew’s put-upon sigh and waited as Joann rounded the buggy and opened the door on the passenger’s side. Maybe he could find out why she disliked him.

* * *

Joann wasn’t sure what to make of Roman’s unusually kind gesture. He’d passed her dozens of times when she was walking along this road without offering her a lift. What was different about today? Did he know she was being fired in order to give him a job? She didn’t believe Otis would share that information, but perhaps he had.

Was Roman feeling guilty? If so, then it was up to her to grant forgiveness and get their working relationship off to a good start.

She leaned forward to look around his brother, determined to overcome the shyness that had gotten ahold of her tongue. “Congratulations on your new position.”

“What new position?” Andrew demanded.

She caught the annoyed glance Roman flashed at her. She sat back and looked straight ahead. So much for a good start.

“Onkel Otis offered me a job at his publishing office,” Roman admitted reluctantly.

“Why?” Andrew looked incredulous.

Roman didn’t reply. Joann immediately felt sorry for him. The answer was so obvious.

The reason finally dawned on Andrew. “Oh, because of your arm. You didn’t take it, did you?”

Joann hadn’t considered that possibility. Hope sprang to life in her heart. Was her job safe after all? She waited anxiously for his reply.

“I’m considering it,” he said.

Considering meant he hadn’t said yes. Was there some way she could convince him to turn down the offer? She had to try. “I’m sure the job wouldn’t be to your liking.”

“Why do you say that?” he asked.

She racked her mind for a reason. “The work is mostly indoors.”

“Not working in the hot sun this summer sounds nice.”

She chewed the corner of her lip as she tried to think of another reason he wouldn’t want the best job in the world. “It’s very noisy when the presses are running.”

“I seriously doubt it’s noisier than a sawmill.” His amusement brought a flush of heat to her face. How silly of her.

All that was left was the truth. She took a deep breath. “It requires hours of reading, excellent comprehension and a firm grasp of writing mechanics as well as an inquisitive mind,” she said.

He pulled the mare to a halt and turned to face her. Andrew looked from his brother to Joann and then leaned back out of their way. Roman’s brow held a thunderous expression that rivaled the approaching storm. “You don’t think I possess those skills?”

She swallowed hard. The truth was the truth. Just because he was upset was no reason to change tactics now. Her chin came up. “I doubt that you do.”

“Is that so?”

Joann was tempted to tell him his uncle only offered the job out of pity, but she wisely held her tongue. Nothing good could come from speaking out of spite. She tried to match his stare, but her courage failed. She dropped her gaze to her clenched hands. Why had she started this conversation? It was up to God to decide which one of them was best suited for the job.

In the growing silence, she chanced a glance at Roman’s face. His dark expression lightened. Suddenly, he burst out laughing.

“What’s so funny?” Andrew asked.

“She’s right. I’m not a fellow who enjoys reading or writing.”

Joann’s hopes rose. “So you don’t intend to take the job?”

Roman slapped the reins to get the horse moving. “We’ll see. I can learn a new thing if I set my mind to it. Do you always speak so frankly, Joann Yoder?”

Embarrassed, she muttered, “I try not to.”

“And why is that?” he asked.

Did he care, or was he trying to make her feel worse? She repeated the phrase her brothers often quoted. “Silence is more attractive than chatter in a woman.”

“Says who?” he asked.

“A lot of people.”

He wasn’t satisfied with her vague answer. “Who, specifically?”

“My brothers,” she admitted.

Andrew nodded sagely. “I have to agree.”

“I think it depends on the woman,” Roman replied.

She glanced at him and thought she caught a glimpse of humor shimmering in his eyes, but she couldn’t be sure. Was he laughing at her? Most likely he was. He held her gaze for a long moment before staring ahead again.

Raindrops began splattering against the windshield and roof of the buggy. Joann was every bit as uncomfortable inside as she would’ve been out in the rain but for a very different reason. Being near Roman made her feel fidgety and on edge, as if something important were about to happen. Thunder cracked overhead and she jumped.

“How long have you worked for our uncle?” Roman asked, looking up at the sky.

“About five months.”

“He said that you’ll be my teacher if I take the job.”

“That’s what he told me, too.”

“What kind of things would you teach me?”

Andrew interrupted. “I don’t know why you’re considering it. Daed and I need your help in the sawmill. We can’t do it all alone.”

“I didn’t say I was taking it, but I need to know enough to make an informed decision. What things would I have to learn?”

“Many things, like how to set type and run the presses and how to use the binding machines. Eventually, you will have to write articles for the magazine. Many people send us stories to be printed. You’ll have to learn how to check any facts that they contain. We don’t want to hand out the wrong advice.”

“Give me an example.”

She thought a moment, and then said, “People send in home remedies for us to publish in our magazine all the time. Sometimes they are helpful, but sometimes they can be harmful to the wrong person, such as a child. When in doubt, we check with Dr. White or Dr. Zook at the Hope Springs Clinic.”

He glanced her way. “Have you written any articles?”

“A few.”

“What were they about?”

“I wrote a piece about our history in Hope Springs. I’ve submitted several tips for the Homemaker Hints section that were published. I’ve even done a number of poems.”

“Interesting. What else would my job entail?”

Andrew rolled his eyes. “I can just see you writing homemaker tips and poetry, bruder.”

Roman paused a moment, then said, “Roses are red, violets are blue, pine is the cheapest wood, oak is straight and true.”

Roman chuckled and smiled at his brother. Andrew grinned and said, “That’s not bad. Maybe uncle will use it.”

The affection between the two brothers was evident. Joann wished for a moment that she could joke and laugh with her brothers that way. They were all much older than she was. She had come along as a surprise late in her parents’ lives. Hebron, the youngest of her brothers, had been fifteen when she was born. They were all married and starting their own families by the time she went to school. Her brothers pretty much ignored her while she was growing up. It was only after their parents died that they decided they knew what was best for her.

Roman clicked his tongue to get Meg to pick up the pace. “Tell me what else I would have to learn.”

“You would have to proofread the articles that Otis writes or that others send in to be published. You’ll have to attend special meetings in the community in order to report on them, such as the town council meetings and school board meetings. We report the news weekly as well as publish a monthly magazine.”

“Sounds like a piece of cake.”

“Do you think so?” If he didn’t value what they did, how could he do the job well?

When he didn’t say more, she leaned forward to glance at him. His face held a pensive look. Was he thinking about taking the job or rejecting it? If only she could tell.

Finally, her brother’s lane came into view. By the time they reached the turnoff, the rain had slowed to a few sprinkles. “I’ll get out here,” she said. “Thanks for the lift.”

Roman stopped the buggy. Joann bolted out the door into the gentle rain and hurried toward the house. Once she gained the cover of the front porch, she watched as he turned the buggy around and drove away. At least she could draw a full breath now that she wasn’t shut in with him.

What was it about being near him that set her nerves on edge? And how would she be able to work with him day in and day out if he did take the job?

“Please, Lord, let him say no.”

Chapter Three

Roman sat at the kitchen table that evening with his parents after supper was done. His conversation with green-eyed Joann earlier that day hadn’t helped him come to a decision. He wasn’t sure what to do. What would be best for him? What would be best for his family?

Although he lived in the dawdy-haus, a small home built next to his parent’s home for his grandparents before their passing, he normally took his meals with his family. He waited until his younger brother left the kitchen and his mother was busy at the sink before he cleared his throat and said, “Daed, I need to speak to you.”

“So speak,” his father replied and took another sip of the black coffee in his cup. Menlo Weaver was a man of few words. Roman’s mother, Marie Rose, turned away from the sink, dried her hands on a dish towel and joined them at the table. Roman realized as he gazed at her worried face that she had aged in the past months, and he knew he was the reason why.

He took a sip of his own strong, dark coffee. “I spoke with Onkel Otis today,” he said.

“And?” his mother prompted.

“He offered me a job.”

There was no mistaking his father’s surprise. Menlo glanced at his wife. She kept her gaze down. Roman knew then that it hadn’t been his father’s idea. That eased some of his pain. At least his father wasn’t pushing to be rid of him.

As always, Menlo spoke slowly, weighing his words carefully. “What was your answer, sohn?”

Roman knew his father well. He read the inner struggle going on behind his father’s eyes. Menlo didn’t want his son to accept the job, but he also wanted what was best for Roman. “I told him I’d think it over.”

His mother folded her dish towel on her lap, smoothing each edge repeatedly. “And have you?”

“Of course he’s not going to take it,” Menlo said.

Roman knew then that he had little choice. His father would keep him on, but the cost to the business would slowly sink it. If Roman had an outside job and brought in additional money for the family, they could afford to hire a strong fellow with two good arms to take his place and make the sawmill profitable again.

He looked his father square in the eye. “I’ve decided to accept his offer. I hope you understand.”

Menlo frowned. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

Roman didn’t answer. He couldn’t.

“You’ll come back to work with me when your arm is better, ja?”

Roman smiled to reassure him. “Ja, Papa, when my arm gets better.”

Menlo nodded. “Then I pray it is a good decision and that you will be healed and working beside me soon.”

Roman broached the subject weighing heavily on his mind. “You will have to hire someone to take my place. Andrew and you can’t do it all alone.”

“We can manage,” his father argued.

“You’ll manage better with more help. Ben Lapp is looking for work. He’s a fine, strong young man from a good family,” his mother countered.

Menlo glanced between his son and his wife. He nodded slowly. “I will speak to him. I thought you were going to tell us you had decided to wed Esta Barkman.”

Roman had been dating Esta before the accident. He’d started thinking she might be the one. Since the accident, he’d only taken her home from church a few times. It felt awkward, and he wasn’t sure how to act. He didn’t feel like a whole man. He avoided looking at his father. “I’m not ready to settle down.”

“You’re not getting any younger,” his mother said. “I’d like grandchildren while I’m still young enough to enjoy them.”

“Leave the boy alone. He’ll marry soon enough. The supper was goot.”

“Danki.” She smiled at her husband, a warm smile that let Roman know they were still in love. Would Esta smile at him that way after thirty years together? He liked her smile. Her eyes were pale blue, not changeable green, but it didn’t matter what color a woman’s eyes were. What mattered was how much she cared for him.

He wanted to wait until his arm was healed before asking her to go steady, but his mother was right. He wasn’t getting any younger. Now, more than ever, he felt the need to form a normal life.

Menlo finished his coffee and left the room. Roman stayed at the table. His mother rose and came to stand behind him. She wrapped her arms around him and whispered, “I know this is hard for you, but it will all turn out for the best. You’ll see.”

If only he could believe that. Ever since he was old enough to follow his father into the mill, Roman had known what life held for him. At the moment, it felt as if his life had become a runaway horse and he’d lost the reins. He had no idea where it was taking him. He hated the feeling.

“Are you worried about working for my brother? Otis is a fair man.”

“It’s not Onkel Otis I’m worried about working with. It’s his employee, Joann Yoder. She’s taken a dislike to me for some reason.” It was easier to talk about her than about his self-doubts.

“Nonsense. I can’t imagine Joann disliking anyone. She’s a nice woman. It’s sad that no man has offered for her. She has a fine hand at quilting and a sweet disposition.”

“Not so sweet that I’ve seen.”

“She is a little different. According to her sister-in-law, she spends all her time with her nose in a book or out roaming the woods, but it can’t be easy for her. Be kind to her, my son.”

“What do you mean it can’t be easy for her?”

“Joann gets shuffled from one house to another by her brothers. I just meant it can’t be easy never having a place to call home.”

“I don’t understand.”

“She’s much younger than her brothers. When her parents died, her brothers decided she would spend four months with each of them so as not to burden one family over the other. I honestly believe they think they are being fair and kind. I’m sure they thought she would marry when she was of age, but she hasn’t. She’s very plain compared to most of our young women.”

“She’s not that plain.” She had remarkable eyes and a pert nose that matched her tart comments earlier that day. Why hadn’t he noticed her before? Perhaps because she seldom looked up.

His mother patted his arm. “She’s not as pretty as Esta.”

“Nee, she’s not.” He rose from the table determined to put Joann Yoder out of his mind. He had much more important things to think about.

* * *

“Joann, we’re going fishing. Come with us.”

Looking up from her book, Joann saw her nieces come sailing through the doorway of the bedroom they shared. Ten-year-old Salome was followed closely by six-year-old Louise.

Joann didn’t feel like going out. Truth be told, all she wanted was to sit in her room and pout. Tomorrow they would all travel to Sunday services at the home of Eli Imhoff, and she was sure to see Roman Weaver there. She had no intention of speaking to him.

On Monday, she would learn if she still had her job or if she had lost her chance to buy a home of her own. Last night she prayed to follow God’s will, but she really hoped the Lord didn’t want Roman to take the job any more than she did. She had tried to find pity in her heart, but the more she thought about him, the less pity entered into the picture. He seemed so strong, so sure of himself. She’d made a fool of herself trying to talk him out of working for Otis.

Why couldn’t she stop thinking about him?

Because he was infuriating, that was why. And when he turned his fierce scowl on her, she wanted to sink through the floor.

“Come on, Papa is waiting for us.” Louise pulled at Joann’s hand.

She shook her head and said, “I don’t think I’ll come fishing today, girls.”

“You love fishing, Aenti Joann. Please come with us,” Salome begged.

Louise leaned on the arm of the chair. “What are you reading?”

Joann turned her attention back to her book. She’d read the same page three times now. “It’s a wonderful story about an Amish girl who falls in love with the Amish boy next door.”

“Does she marry him?” Louise asked.

Joann patted the child’s head. “I don’t know. I haven’t finished the book. I hope she does.”

Louise looked up with solemn eyes. “Because you don’t want her to be an old maedel like you are?”

Joann winced. Out of the mouths of babes.

“That’s not nice, Louise,” Salome scolded. “You shouldn’t call Aenti Joann an old maid.”

Louise stuck out her bottom lip. “But Papa says she was born to be a maedel.”

Joann was well aware of her brother’s views on the subject of her single status. Perhaps it was time to admit that he was right. A few months ago, she had cherished a secret hope that Levi Beachy would one day notice her. However, Levi only had eyes for Sarah Wyse. The two had wed last Christmas. Joann was happy for them. Clearly, God had chosen them for each other.

Only, it left her without even the faintest prospect for romance. There was no one in Hope Springs that made her heart beat faster.

She closed her book and laid it aside. “Salome, do not scold your sister for speaking the truth.”

Joann wanted to know love, to marry and to have children, but if it wasn’t to be, she would try hard to accept her lot in life. When did a woman know it was time to give up that dream?

Salome scowled at Louise. Louise stuck her tongue out at her sister and then ran from the room.

Salome turned back to Joann. “It was still a rude thing to say. Never mind that baby. Come fishing with us.”

Joann shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

“But your new fishing pole came. Don’t you want to try it out?”

Joann sat up. “It came? When?”

“The mailman brought it yesterday.”

“Where is it?”

Salome pointed to the cot in the corner of the upstairs bedroom. “I put it on your bed.”

“It’s not there now. It wasn’t there when I went to bed last night.”

“Maybe Louise was playing with it. I told her not to,” Salome said, shaking her head.

Joann cringed at the thought. If the younger girl had damaged it, she wouldn’t be able to get her money back. She’d foolishly spent an entire week’s wages on the graphite rod and open-faced spinning reel combo. In hindsight, it was much too expensive.

Oh, but when she’d tried it out in the store, it cast like a dream. Maybe she should keep it.

No, she gave herself a firm mental shake. She couldn’t afford it now. If her hours were cut, she would have to make sacrifices in order to keep putting money in her savings account. Otherwise, she faced a lifetime of moving her cot from one household to another.

Salome dropped to the floor to check under the other beds in the room. Finally, she found it. “Here it is.”

Joann breathed a sigh of relief when Salome emerged with the long package intact. Taking the box from her niece, Joann checked it over. It bore several big dents.

“Did she break it?”

“I don’t think so.” Joann carefully opened one end and slid out the slender black pole. The cork handle felt as light and balanced in her hand now as it had in the sporting goods store. She unpacked the reel. It was in perfect shape.

From the bottom of the stairs, Joann heard her brother call out, “Salome, are you coming?”

“Yes, Papa. Joann is coming, too.” She ran out the door and down the stairs.

Joann stared at the pole in her hands. Why not try it out once before sending it back? What could it hurt? It might be ages before she had a chance to use such a fine piece of fishing equipment again. She bundled it into the box, grabbed her small tackle box from beneath her cot, exchanged her white prayer kapp for a large black kerchief to cover her head and hurried after her niece.

On her way out of the house, Joann paused long enough to grab an apple from the bowl on the kitchen table. Outside, she joined the others in the back of the farm wagon for the jolting ride along the rough track to a local lake. It wasn’t far. Joann walked there frequently, but she enjoyed sitting in the back of the wagon with the giggling and excited girls at her side.

The land surrounding the small lake belonged to an Amish neighbor who didn’t care if people fished there as long as they left his sheep alone and closed the gates behind them. Joann had been coming to the lake since she was a child. Joseph Shetler, the landowner, had been friends with her grandfather. The two men often took a lonely little girl fishing with them. Occasionally, Joann still caught sight of Joseph, but he avoided people these days. She never knew why he had become a recluse. He still came to church services, but he didn’t stay to visit or to eat.

The wagon bounced and rumbled along the faint wheel tracks that led to the south end of the lake. It had once been a stone quarry that had filled with water nearly a century ago. When they reached the shore, everyone piled out of the back of the wagon and spread out along the water’s edge. The remote area was Joann’s favorite fishing place. She knew exactly where the largemouth bass, bluegill and walleye hung out.

She’d spent many happy hours fishing here peacefully by herself, but each time served to remind her of the wonderful days she’d spent there with her grandfather. He had been the one person who always had time for her.

If she closed her eyes, she could still hear his craggy voice. “See that old log sticking out of the bank, child? There’s a big bass right at the bottom end of it. Mr. Bass likes to hole up in the roots and dart out to catch unwary minnows swimming by. Make your cast right in front of that log. You’ll get him.”

Joann smiled at the memory. It had taken many tries and more than a few lost lures before she gained the skill needed to put her hook right where she wanted it. Her daadi had been right. She caught a dandy at that spot.

She was always happy when she came to the lake. She kept a small journal in the bottom of her tackle box and made notes about of all her trips. She used the information on weather conditions, insect activity and water temperature to compile information that made her a better angler.

Normally, she released the fish if she was alone. Today, she would keep what she caught and the family would enjoy a fish fry for supper.

When everyone was spreading out along the lakeshore, she said, “I haven’t had much success fishing on this end of the lake. The east shore is a better place.”

“Looks goot to me.” Hebron threw in his line.

Joann shrugged and headed away from the lake on a narrow path that wound through the trees for a few hundred yards before it came out at the shore again near a small waterfall. This was where the fishing was the best.

Carefully, she unpacked her pole and assembled it. From her small tackle box, she selected a lure that she knew the walleye would find irresistible and began to cast her line. Within half an hour, she had five nice fish on her stringer.

She pulled the apple from her pocket and bit into the firm, sweet flesh. The sounds of her crunch and of the waterfall covered approaching footsteps. She didn’t know she wasn’t alone until her brother said, “Joann, I’ve been calling for you.”

Startled, she turned to face him. “I’m sorry, Hebron, I didn’t hear you. What do you need?”

“We’re getting ready to go. The fish aren’t biting today.”

“I’ve been catching lots of walleye. Have you tried a bottom-bouncing lure?” She set her apple beside her on a fallen tree trunk and opened her tackle box to find him a lure like the one she was using.

He waved aside her offering. “I’ve tried everything. What’s that you’re fishing with?”

“An orange hopper.”

“I meant the rod. Where did you get that?”

She extended her pole for him to see. “I ordered it from the sporting goods store in Millersburg.”

“Mighty fancy pole, sister.”

“It works wonderfully well. Try casting it, you’ll see. You’ll be wanting one next.”

“My old rod and reel are good enough.”

She turned back to the water. “Okay, but I’m the one catching fish.”

“Be careful of pride, sister. The Englisch world has many things to tempt us away from the true path.”

“I hardly think a new fishing pole will make my faith weaker.”

“May I see it?” he asked.

“Of course. You can cast twice as far with it as your old one. Give it a try.” She handed it over, delighted to show him how well-made it was and how nicely it worked. She picked up her apple and took a second bite.

Hebron turned her rod first one way and then another. “A flashy thing such as this has no place in your life, sister.”

“It does if I catch fish for you and your children to eat.”

“Are you saying I can’t provide for my family?”

“Of course not.” She dropped her gaze. Hebron was upset. She could tell by the steely tone creeping into his voice.

He balanced the rod in his hand, nodded and drew back his arm to cast.

Eagerly, she sought his opinion. “Isn’t it light? It really is better than any pole I’ve owned.”

He scowled at her, and then threw the rod with all his might. Her beautiful pole spun through the air and splashed into the lake.

“No!” she cried in dismay and took a step toward the water. The apple dropped from her hand.

“False pride goes before a fall, sister,” Hebron said. “I would be remiss in my duty if I allowed you to keep such a fancy Englisch toy. Already, I see how it has turned your mind from the humble ways an Amish woman should follow. Now, come. We are going home. I will carry your fish. It looks as if God has given us enough to feed everyone after all.” With her stringer of fish in his hand, he headed toward the wagon.

She stood for a moment watching the widening ripples where her rod had vanished. Now she had nothing to return and nothing to show for her hard-earned money. Like the chance to own a home, her beautiful rod was gone.

Tears pricked against the back of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.

* * *

Late in the afternoon on Saturday, Roman took off his sling and began the stretching exercises he did every day, four times a day. His arm remained a dead lump, but he could feel an itching sensation near the ball of his shoulder that the doctors assured him was a good sign. As he rubbed the area, the uncomfortable sensation of needles and pins proved that the nerves were beginning to recover. He had been struck by a pickup truck while standing at the side of his buggy on a dark road just before Christmas. The impact sent him flying through the air and tore the nerves in his left shoulder, leaving him with almost complete paralysis in that arm.

Dr. White and Dr. Zook, the local physicians he saw, were hopeful that he would regain more use of his arm, but they cautioned him that the process would be slow. Unlike a broken bone that would mend in six or eight weeks, the torn nerves in his arm would take months to repair themselves. Even then, there was no guarantee that he would regain the full use of his extremity.

Roman tried to be optimistic. He would work for his uncle until his arm was better. When it was, he would return to working with his father in the sawmill as he had always planned. He held tight to that hope. He had to.

The outside door opened and his brother Andrew came in. He held a pair of fishing poles in one hand. “I’m meeting some of the fellows down at the river for some fishing and a campout. Do you want to come along?”

Roman put his sling back on. He didn’t like people seeing the way his arm hung useless at his side. “I don’t think so.”

“Come on. It will do you good. You used to like fishing.”

“I like hunting, I like baseball, I like splitting wood with an ax, but I can’t do any of those things. In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve only got one good arm.” The bitterness he tried so hard to disguise leaked out in his voice.

“You don’t need to bite my head off.” Andrew turned away and started to leave.

“Wait. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

Andrew’s eyes brightened. “Then you’ll come? There’s no reason you can’t fish with one arm.”

“I’m not sure I can even cast a line. Besides, how would I reel in a fish? That takes two hands.”

“I’ve been thinking about that and I have an idea. It only takes one hand to crank a reel. What you need is a way to hold the rod while you crank. I think this might work.”

Andrew opened his coat to reveal a length of plastic pipe hooked to a wide belt and tied down with a strap around his leg.

Roman frowned. “What’s that?”

“A rod holder. You cast your line and then put the handle of your pole in this. The inside of the pipe is lined with foam to help hold the rod steady. This way it won’t twist while you’re cranking. See? I fixed it at an angle to keep the tip of the rod up. All you have to do is step forward or backward to keep tension on the line.”

Roman looked at the rig in amazement. “You thought of this yourself?”

It was a clever idea. It might look funny, but the length of pipe held the rod at the perfect angle. “It just might work, little brother,” Roman said.

“I know it will. With a little practice, you’ll be as good as ever. Come with us.” Andrew unbuckled his invention and held it out.

Roman took it, but then laid it on the counter. “Maybe next time.”

He didn’t want his first efforts to be in front of Andrew and his friends. A child could cast a fishing pole but Roman wasn’t sure he could.

Andrew nodded, clearly disappointed. “Yeah, next time,” he said.

He left Roman’s pole leaning in the corner and walked out. After his brother was gone, Roman stood staring at the rod holder. He picked up his brother’s invention. Surely, he could master a simple thing like fishing, even with one arm.

There was only one way to find out. After checking to make sure no one was about, he gathered his rod and left the house. Since he knew Andrew and his friends were going to the river, Roman set off across the cornfield. Beyond the edge of his father’s property lay a pasture belonging to Joseph Shetler. Wooly Joe, as he was called, was an elderly and reclusive Amish man who raised sheep.

It took Roman half an hour to reach his destination. As he approached the lake, he saw Carl King, Woolly Joe’s hired man, driving the sheep toward the barns. Roman knew Carl wasn’t a member of the Amish faith. Like his boss, he kept to himself. The two occasionally came to the mill for wood for fencing or shed repairs, but Roman didn’t know them well. When Carl was out of sight, Roman had the lake to himself.

He glanced around once more to make sure he was unobserved. In the fading twilight, he faced the glasslike water that reflected the gold and pink sunset. Lifting his rod, he depressed the button on the reel and cast it out. He hadn’t bothered adding bait. He wasn’t ready to land a fish and get it off the hook with one hand. Not yet.

He slipped the handle of his rod into the holder his brother had made. It was then he discovered that actually reeling it in wasn’t as difficult as he had feared. When he had all the line cranked in, he pulled the rod from the holder and flipped another cast.

This wasn’t so bad. Maybe he should have brought some bait. He’d only reeled in a few feet when he felt his hook snag and hang up. He yanked, and it moved a few feet but it wouldn’t come free. What was he snagged on?

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