Amish Generations Page 12

  Jemima forced herself back inside. Everett and Steven were nowhere in sight, and she quickly entered the office to get her purse. She took a pad from the desk and scribbled a note.

  I quit.

  Jemima

  She dashed out the back door of the restaurant, running halfway home before she had to stop and catch her breath, feeling guilty. She hadn’t lasted more than a day at her first job, not to mention she was leaving the Wengerd family in a lurch. But at least Sarah was still there. They weren’t exactly down a waitress.

  That didn’t make her feel any better, though. She would apologize to Steven and Lucy—eventually. And as for Everett, she would stay far, far away from him.

  * * *

  Everett came back inside after weeding the flower bed in front of the restaurant and watering the flower baskets that hung from the eave. For once he was glad his father had given him a menial task, although it really wasn’t that bad. He didn’t mind gardening. But that wasn’t why he was thankful Daed had shown up when he did. If he hadn’t, Everett might have taken Jemima into his arms. And if he had, he would have kissed her. No maybe about it.

  He shook his head, then washed his hands at the kitchen sink. Jemima would have slapped him for sure if he’d kissed her, and he wouldn’t have blamed her. But even now his heart was hammering, thinking about how good it felt to hold her again—even if it was to make sure she wouldn’t fall. And because he was so entranced by her, he’d thought he’d seen something in her eyes that had reflected how he was feeling. But he knew that couldn’t be true.

  Daed stormed into the kitchen, clutching a small piece of paper. “Everett, what did you do?”

  What now? “The gardening,” he said, drying his hands. “Like you told me to.”

  “I’m talking about this.” He shoved the paper at Everett.

  Frowning, Everett read it. His brow shot up. “She quit?”

  “That’s what it says. She didn’t even fill out her time card.” He shook his head. “I knew it was a bad idea to hire her.”

  “But she caught on so quickly.”

  “Not that. I knew she would be a gut waitress.” He glared at him. “I shouldn’t have hired her because of you. That’s why she quit, isn’t it? Something happened between the two of you again.” He shook his head once more. “I shouldn’t have trusted you.”

  “Wait a minute,” Everett said, fighting the guilt crashing over him. “Nothing happened between us.” Then he frowned, thinking about how Jemima had felt in his arms and how he’d almost kissed her. But almost didn’t count. Or did it?

  “It doesn’t matter,” Daed said. “Nix has changed when it comes to you.”

  “You know that’s not true.” Everett shoved his hand through his hair. “I’ve done everything you’ve asked me to, without complaint. And I’ll keep doing it until you understand that I’m serious about working things out between us.”

  Daed paused. “I don’t see how that’s possible.”

  “It’s not if you don’t try too.” Everett’s throat constricted. “I made a mistake,” he said. “A couple of them, actually. But I’m trying to fix this one.”

  “Why?” Daed’s chin quivered. “We weren’t gut enough for you ten years ago.”

  “That wasn’t why I left. I left because I wasn’t gut ten years ago. I was selfish. All I thought about was myself. Not yer or Mamm’s feelings.” And not Jemima’s. “That night I left, you and I had a huge argument. I told you I was going to leave. Remember what you said?”

  “I remember yer leaving.”

  “You said nee one would try to stop me. Including you.”

  Daed glanced away. “I remember that too.” He blew out a breath and looked at Everett. “I shouldn’t have said that to you.”

  “Maybe not, but I deserved it. I wasn’t pulling mei weight around here, and I didn’t appreciate what you and Mamm wanted to do for me. I had to learn that the hard way.”

  His father’s shoulders slumped, as if he’d been carrying a burden for years. “You broke yer mutter’s heart, you know.”

  Shame washed over him at the reminder. “I know.”

  “And I guess I had better own mei part in that.” Daed scrubbed his hand over his face. “And I will. Of course, yer mamm forgives you, not only because it’s right but because she has a heart of gold.” Daed sighed. “Can I trust that you won’t hurt her again?”

  Everett realized his father wasn’t just asking for his mother. He had to earn both their trusts. “I promise not to.” He moved closer to his father. “And I’m going to back up that promise with action. I just need you to give me a chance. A real chance.”

  Daed looked at him for a few moments, long enough to make Everett squirm. “All right,” he said. “But you’ll still have to work yer way up. You can’t waltz in here after ten years and expect to be assistant manager like you were before.”

  “I understand.”

  Daed nodded, then sighed again. “I wish Jemima hadn’t quit. I think she would have made a gut employee. I’m sorry we had to lose her.” He turned and left the kitchen.

  Everett looked at Jemima’s resignation again. Me too. Reconciling with his father was one thing, but what had made him think his ex-fiancée would ever truly forgive him?

  * * *

  Jemima sat on the swing in the far corner of her backyard, surrounded by flowers, plants, and shrubs. When she was twenty-seven, she built this tiny prayer garden, and then she added the single swing when she was thirty. Growing up, she’d always wished to have a quiet place of her own, and she’d planned to have a similar garden when she and Everett married. When that fell through, it took her a few years to build one here.

  She pushed the swing back and forth with her toe, inhaling the sweet fragrance of the flowers and listening to the birds chirping as the sun set. When her mother asked how her first day at the restaurant went, she’d told her parents she didn’t work there anymore. As expected, they were relieved. Unexpectedly, neither one of them had given her something to do—which gave her some time in the prayer garden, where she hadn’t been since she’d returned from Maine.

  Now that she was here, she was struggling with the guilt she felt over quitting her job without notice. And her feelings for Everett didn’t make sense. She should be over him—completely. But she wasn’t. She felt guilty about him too. She should have forgiven him a long time ago, but she hadn’t. Now when she tried to muster the anger and resentment that had fueled that unforgiveness, it was difficult. To say she was confused was an understatement.

  She noticed a few weeds by the pink begonias, and she got off the swing and pulled them out. When she stood, she saw Everett striding toward her. Panicking, she dropped the weeds on the ground. No doubt he was here to scold her for walking out on his family. How ironic that the tables had turned.

  He stopped a few feet in front of her and glanced around the garden. “Nice,” he said. “Yer handiwork?”

  She nodded, remembering the bite of heartache she’d felt as she planted what was supposed to be theirs together. That steeled her resolve. “If you’re here to convince me to come back to work, don’t bother. I’ll apologize to yer parents, but I’m not coming back.”

  He shook his head. “That’s not why I’m here.” Then he added, softly, “I know why you quit the job, and it’s mei fault.”

  Although he was right, his words annoyed her. “It’s always about you, isn’t it? Did you ever stop to think that maybe I didn’t like the job and that’s why I left?” But her words didn’t have their usual sharpness.

  “Nee, because it’s not true. I could tell you not only liked the job but were gut at it. Much better than I was when I worked there before.”

  His patience and self-effacing manner were getting to her. “What do you want, Everett?” she said, tired of fighting her feelings, her past, her pain.

  “To ask for forgiveness. And to explain why I came back to Middlefield.”

  “You’re forgiven, and you don’t have
to explain anything.” She turned her back to him, a lump in her throat.

  He let out a bitter chuckle. “That sounded sincere.”

  Jemima squeezed her eyes shut. She could never fool him, and apparently that hadn’t changed. She turned around, lifting her chin. “Say what you have to say.”

  He met her eyes. “Jemima, I’m sorry. I know that’s not enough for what I did, but I really am. Not long after I got to Shipshewana, I realized I’d made a mistake leaving here . . . and especially leaving you.”

  Her heart thawed a little, but she froze it again. “It was such a mistake that you stayed away for ten years.”

  “I’m stubborn. You know that better than anyone. So instead of coming home, I decided to prove I knew what I was doing, which was just as immature and selfish as leaving in the first place.” He drew in a deep breath. “But I had another reason for not telling you I was leaving. I didn’t want to hear you say nee when I asked you to come with me.”

  “I wouldn’t have—”

  “Ya, you would have. When I brought up moving to Shipshe before, it was clear you were too stuck on yer familye to leave them.” He looked at her more intensely. “I wasn’t enough for you, Jemima. I knew you loved them more than me.”

  Chapter 8

  Everett’s stomach was in knots. Not only had he confessed his immaturity back then, but he’d admitted something he’d never told anyone until now—even to himself. He finally met Jemima’s gaze, expecting her to agree with him. Instead, he saw a spark of anger in her eyes.

  “So, I didn’t love you enough? That’s why you left without a word and broke mei heart? You’re saying it’s mei fault?”

  “That’s not what I meant.” But wasn’t that it exactly? He hadn’t wanted to be stuck working at the restaurant, but the real reason he fled was because the woman he loved more than anything didn’t feel the same way about him.

  “I don’t see how you could have meant it any other way.” Her nostrils flared. “I am loyal to mei familye, that’s true. But when you asked me to marry you, I said ya, without hesitation. I wouldn’t have agreed to be yer wife if I hadn’t loved you.”

  “Just not enough.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  This was going in an awful direction, and it hadn’t been his intention to bare his soul like this. He couldn’t explain that when she hadn’t tried to contact him, he’d realized their relationship had been lopsided. Yes, he had been wrong to go, especially without telling her he was going to. But if she had loved him more, wouldn’t she have at least asked his mother for his address and written to him? Or asked her about him? He knew how ridiculously immature that sounded now, but at the time, the hurt had been real.

  He shored up his feelings again. “Look, the main thing is that I’m telling you I was wrong. I’m sorry, and I’ve spent the last ten years living with regrets.”

  “And I spent the last ten years living with a broken heart.”

  Ashamed, he stared at the ground. “Why didn’t you marry?” he whispered.

  “What?”

  He looked at her, a stab of pain in his heart, and all his efforts to protect his emotions dissolved to ash. “You should have married. I expected you’d have a husband and a passel of kids by now. Is it because . . . Is it mei fault?”

  The wind seemed to drift out of her sails. “Ya,” she said, her voice low.

  “Because I broke yer heart.” The pain he was feeling was wrenching.

  She nodded.

  He’d never felt so low. How could he make it up to her for something like that? It was impossible. Tears formed in his eyes. “I never meant to,” he said, choking on the words. “All I wanted was for you to be happy. And when I didn’t hear from you, I figured you would be.”

  * * *

  Jemima couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She’d always thought he left because his freedom meant more to him than she did. He thought she didn’t love him enough. How could they have been so wrong about each other?

  “If I could make it up to you, I would,” he said, wiping his eyes with the heel of his hand. “But I can’t replace ten years. I can’t turn back time.” He sighed, then gave her a watery smile. “Just know that I realize how badly I messed up everything.” He turned and started to leave, only to halt and look back at her. “I never stopped loving you, Jemima. Ever.” He turned around again and walked away.

  The dam of ice in her heart gave way, and she hurried after him. “Everett,” she said, tears pooling in her eyes, “wait. You’re not the only one who messed up.” She touched his cheek. “I’m sorry I didn’t make you feel as loved as I should have.”

  “It’s all right.” He removed her hand from his cheek. “I understand.”

  “I don’t think you do. You were right when you said I was angry with myself. I was. I am. I spent years regretting that I didn’t get in touch with you. I was too angry to try at first, and I held on to that bitterness for far too long. I always wished I hadn’t let you get away from me.”

  “You did?”

  She nodded. “You want to know why I never married? I never stopped loving you either.” Tears streamed down her face. “Besides, who could measure up to Everett Wengerd?”

  “Plenty of people,” he said.

  “Not in mei eyes.” She reached up and put both hands on either side of his face. “How were we so wrong about everything?”

  “I’m not sure. Maybe it’s proof that neither of us were ready to get married. We were old enough but not mature enough. That’s for sure the truth in mei case.”

  Hers, too, she was realizing. Forgiving Everett wasn’t about letting him off the hook. It was about healing her heart. She could see that now, and her bitter stubbornness had stood in the way. He’d been right about that too. “What do we do now?”

  He took a step closer. “I didn’t come back to Middlefield for a short visit. I’m here to stay. Being back in the restaurant, even doing the jobs I didn’t like when I was younger, has shown me this is where I’m supposed to be. I even missed the business a little bit, believe it or not.”

  “I do find that hard to believe.”

  “God has changed me. I’d like to think he’s grown me up a bit.” He squeezed her hands. “We can’t geh back to what we were, but we can start over. Only if that’s what you want, though. I know I have to earn back yer trust.”

  “I have to earn back yers too.” She squeezed his hands back. “If you’re willing to try, so am I.”

  * * *

  When Everett left—after sitting with her on a garden bench to talk and watch the sun set—Jemima went inside the house. The empty, lonely place in her heart was filled in a way she hadn’t expected. She and Everett had decided to take things slow, and she was looking forward to discovering the man he had become.

  When she stopped in the kitchen to get a glass of water, she found her mother seated at the table, the baby quilt she was making spread out in front of her. Mamm took the pins out of her mouth and looked at her. “Was that Everett I saw in the garden with you?”

  Jemima nodded, still stunned by everything that had just happened. Stunned but hopeful.

  “Did he ask you to come back to work?”

  Jemima saw the apprehensive look in her eyes. “Nee,” she said. “And I won’t be going back there.”

  Relief washed over her features, and she went back to pinning the quilt. “Gut. I hope you’ve got the job idea out of yer system.”

  She stepped closer to the table, hoping her mother would at least try to understand. “I’m going to look for another one, though.”

  “Jemima, we told you—”

  “I know, and I was listening. But I’m thirty-four years old. I need to do something other than housework, mending, and babysitting.”

  Mamm’s chin lifted. “Those are virtuous tasks, Jemima Anne.”

  It was on the tip of her tongue to ask Mamm why she didn’t do them if they were so virtuous, but she held in the words. “I know they are. B
ut when do I get time for myself? When do I get a chance to live mei life?”

  Mamm sighed. “I didn’t realize yer life was so difficult. You don’t have any bills or responsibilities, like the rest of us do.”

  “Maybe I want those things. Maybe I want mei own haus. Mei own familye.”

  Her mother sniffed. “There isn’t an unattached man of appropriate age in this district.” Then she gasped. “You’re not talking about Everett, are you?”

  “Nee, I’m not.” She knew better than to jump to that conclusion when they were barely getting to know each other again. “But even if I was, that’s not the point. I’ve always done what everyone in mei familye wanted me to do. Am I not allowed to think about a future for myself?”

  “You can thank Everett for ruining that.” Mamm frowned. “It’s not our fault he left you.”

  “I’m not saying it is.” Was her mother being deliberately obtuse? Jemima couldn’t tell, but then again, sometimes Mamm didn’t seem to realize what was obvious right under her nose.

  After a long pause, her mother nodded. “You’re right,” she said. “You should be able to have yer own future. I guess I’ve just become so used to yer help around here.” She looked at her and patted Jemima’s hand. “I couldn’t have raised yer siblings without you.”

  “Ya, you could have,” Jemima said, sitting down.

  “It wouldn’t have been as easy.” Tears entered Mamm’s eyes. “After what happened with Everett, I never imagined you leaving. What am I going to do without you?”

  “You and Daed will be fine. So will everyone else. And it’s not like I won’t be around to help. I just won’t have as much time to anymore.”