his head, and everyone did the same, reciting the blessing in silence. When Isaac raised his head, signaling the prayer was finished, the business turned to eating. The talk was minimal until the meal was over.
After finishing his peach cobbler, Isaac leaned back in his chair and patted his stomach. “It was a goot meal.”
“Danki, husband. What time do you expect to start the frolic in the morning?”
“I imagine most workers will be here by eight o’clock as long as the rain holds off.”
All the members of the Bowman family had arrived to help with the work party set for the following day. The women had spent the day cooking and cleaning since Isaac and Anna were hosting the party. Most of their Amish community would come to help clear the logjam beneath the only bridge into and out of the valley on the far side of the river. While the men worked, the women would usually visit then serve coffee and a hearty lunch, but tomorrow there was to be a quilting party for the women, too. As the rest of the men went into the living room, leaving the women to clean up, Mark went upstairs to his room at the back of the house.
His window was open, and the evening breeze fluttered the simple white curtains his aunt had in all the upstairs bedrooms. Outside, the spreading branches of a huge ancient silver maple tree kept the room cool, but it obstructed the view of the river from this room. Mark didn’t mind. It was more practical to have a cool place to sleep in the summer than a view.
His uncle had been talking about cutting the tree down. The old thing was past its prime, having as many dead limbs as live ones branching off its enormous trunk. Silver maples were notorious for breaking in wind storms. Two large limbs had come down in the last storm, fortunately on the side away from the house, but it was only a matter of time before one fell on the roof. Mark’s aunt was the reason the tree hadn’t been taken down already. She had an irrational, sentimental attachment to it because Isaac’s parents had planted it the year Isaac was born.
Mark pulled out his letter and sat on the edge of his bed. Angela’s letters came like clockwork every Tuesday, and today was no exception. She normally wrote about the weather and the people back home, about her father’s lumber milling business and about what changes she hoped to make to the farm when she and Mark were married. Unlike with the overly emotional woman on the bus, he knew exactly what to expect from Angela.
His letters to her were about his work and the ways he saw he could incorporate his uncle’s teachings into the business he would own one day. The day was fast approaching when he could put his plan into effect.
It had been her father’s business and the location of their farm that first gave Mark the idea to build his future workshop there. Otis Yoder’s small farm had poor, rocky soil, but it fronted a busy road in an area where tourists flocked to gawk at Amish folks and buy Amish-made goods. The fact that Otis could supply almost all the raw lumber Mark would need cinched the plan in his mind.
When Mark had approached Otis about buying some of his land, Otis wasn’t interested. He saw value in Mark’s idea but wanted his farm and business to go to Angela, his only child. Mark persisted, and eventually Otis made a surprising counteroffer. If Mark would marry Angela, then Otis would enter a partnership with him. Angela was a widow a few years older than Mark. She was quiet, hardworking and practical. To his amazement, she agreed with her father’s proposal.
Getting a wife along with the land was a bonus in Mark’s eyes. He’d never had the time or the inclination to date women, but he did want a family one day. He wanted sons to carry on the business he would build. The idea of romance and falling in love to achieve that didn’t make sense. Why base one of the most important decisions a man could make on something as flimsy as a feeling? In his mind, it was much better to base it on mutual respect and shared goals than love.
He and Angela had settled on a long-distance courtship while Mark apprenticed with his uncle. Mark sent her a portion of his paychecks each month as a down payment on the land.
Little by little he had been accumulating the machinery and tools he would need and had them stored in his father’s barn not far from the Yoder farm. Isaac had put him in contact with people who were interested in purchasing Pennsylvania Amish–made furniture. Things were almost ready for him to open his business.
He slipped his finger under the envelope flap and tore it open. He quickly skimmed through her short letter. It didn’t contain any of the usual news. Mark couldn’t believe his eyes. He read the note again. Angela wanted to end their engagement.
For almost two years he had been working toward a goal that would provide them with a lifetime of security and now, two months before he was due to return home, she was tired of waiting for him?
They had talked about this before he left, and she had assured him that two years would pass before they knew it. Angela agreed they had to stick to a plan if they were going to succeed. He read her words again. She was sorry, but she no longer wished to marry him.
What was the plan now? What about the land? What about his partnership with her father? What about the money he’d sent? He had no idea where all of that stood. He crumpled the note into a ball and threw it toward the wastebasket in the corner. It bounced off the rim.
The door opened, and Paul stuck his head in. “What did the fair Angela have to say? Did she send you a hug and kiss with an x and o ?”
“My business is my own, Paul,” Mark snapped. He wasn’t ready to share this news, certainly not with Paul.
“Hey, you look a little funny. Is something wrong?” Paul took a step into the room.
“Your harassment is what’s wrong. I’m tired of your jabs.”
Paul held up both hands. “Bruder, I never mean you harm. I hope you know that. Forgive me if I have offended you.”
Mark rose from the bed. “Please forgive me also. I’m tired tonight, that’s all.”
He took Paul by the shoulders and turned him to the door. “I need my sleep and so do you. We’ll have a hard day tomorrow.”
“You might. I intend to have fun.”
“When do you have anything else?” Mark gave him a friendly shove out into the hall and closed the door behind him. He bent to pick up the crumpled letter. Instead of throwing it into the trash, he smoothed it out. He had planned a future with her for so long that he wasn’t sure how to plan one without her.
If she didn’t want to marry him, that was fine, but what about the land? All she said was that her feelings toward him had changed. How was that possible if they hadn’t seen each other? Although their intentions hadn’t been made public, he saw her request as a breach of contract. With a few strokes of her pen she upset his carefully thought-out plan and left him twirling in the wind like a new-fallen leaf.
He needed to consider all the ramifications of what this meant. He didn’t have enough information. He sat down to write and ask for more details. Even if Angela’s father still intended to sell Mark the land, he now faced the distasteful task of finding another woman to marry. In his opinion, courting was a waste of a man’s time.
Unbidden, the memory of the woman from the bus slipped into his mind. She was the perfect example of why he dreaded looking for a mate. All he had done was try to help. In the first instance, his words had sent her fleeing in tears. In the second, they had made her spitting mad, and he still had no idea why.
Who was she? Why had she been crying? Abner had said
