Shelter From The Storm. Patricia Davids
red as she sputtered, “Jesse Crump, you’re as big as an ox and dumber than a post.”
All because he had rebuffed her offer of marriage.
She had barely been twenty-one at the time, not old enough to know what love was, but she’d taken the notion that she was in love with him. He’d suffered through weeks of her attempts to gain his affection. She tried everything from fresh-baked pies delivered to him at work, letters full of her newfound love, even getting her father to hire him to do handiwork on their farm, where she was always close by, chatting about how wonderful it would be to marry and have children.
He was almost eight years her senior and not interested in settling down until he had enough land to support a family. Her proposal wouldn’t have been so bad if they had been alone, but they hadn’t been. A half dozen people overheard her offer, his pointed rejection and her scathing words in reply.
The snickers, taunts and jeers that had made his school years and young-adult life miserable were only in his head but in that moment, Gemma had unlocked feelings of inferiority he had lived with for years and worked hard to overcome. If she saw him that way, surely others did too.
He kept to himself after that day, hoping her remarks would be forgotten, but they stayed stuck in his head, even though no one else echoed them. He strove to avoid being anywhere near Gemma for the next six months. Big as an ox and dumber than a post. It wasn’t until she left New Covenant that he stopped hearing her words. In spite of her comment, he hadn’t disliked Gemma. She was loyal to her friends. She was a hard worker. She had a good sense of humor, but she was also headstrong and willful.
It had been nearly a year and a half since the embarrassing incident. He thought he’d put it out of his mind, but it seemed he hadn’t.
Gemma’s father, Leroy Lapp, worked with Jesse at the bishop’s business. Leroy had recently been chosen to become the community’s second minister. The influx of six new families in the spring had swelled the congregation, making it more than Bishop Schultz and his first minister, Samuel Yoder, could manage. Especially now that plans were underway to start their own Amish school.
“Maybe she’s making a surprise visit,” Dale said when the silence stretched too long to suit him.
“Maybe you could drive faster. It’s almost noon.”
“What’s your hurry? We’ve got all day.”
“I’ve got to get back before the bank closes. I need to get a cashier’s check for the earnest money the auction company requires I put up before I can bid on the property I’ve got my eye on. They want ten thousand dollars to prove I can afford the land.”
“Oh, right. The land auction. I almost forgot about that.” Dale shot Jesse a sheepish glance and focused his attention on the road.
The farm Jesse owned was small, but he had plans to expand. The money he’d made building sheds over the last few years would help pay for more land. He had his eye on eighty acres that bordered his property to the west. It was fertile land ready for planting in the spring. He couldn’t ask for a better piece of property. It was going up for auction the day after tomorrow. The auction company required earnest money in the form of a cashier’s check or cash before anyone was allowed to bid and Jesse wasn’t about to miss out on the opportunity of a lifetime.
He gazed out the passenger’s-side window at the farms that lined the highway, interspersed with heavy forests already covered with the first snow of winter. His thoughts drifted from the land he intended to purchase back to Gemma. If Gemma did come to visit her family in northern Maine, it wouldn’t be in the middle of November. Gemma didn’t like the snow. To hear her tell it, she didn’t like much of anything about Maine.
He was sure his name topped the list of things she disliked most about the North Country.
* * *
“There won’t be another bus going that way until the day after tomorrow.”
“Are you sure?” Gemma stared at the agent behind the counter in stunned disbelief.
The tall thin man with thick glasses stopped writing in a logbook of some sort and peered at her over the top of his glasses. “Of course I’m sure. I work for the bus company.”
She held up the flyer she had picked up in Boston. “The schedule said there is a bus going to Caribou every day.”
“Look at the small print. There is, until the fifteenth of November. After that, bus service drops to every other day until the fifteenth of April. Today’s bus left two hours ago. Won’t be another one until the day after tomorrow. Next,” he called out, leaning to look around her.
Only one elderly man stood behind her. He held out a piece of white pipe. “Do you have a J-trap that will fit this size and PVC glue?”
“I sure do, but you’ll need cleaner, as well.” The agent came out from behind the counter and led the man to the plumbing section of the hardware store that doubled as a bus station in Cleary.
Gemma waited impatiently for him to come back. When he did, she clasped her hands together tightly, praying the tears that pricked the back of her eyes wouldn’t start flowing. She couldn’t afford a motel room for two nights. “I don’t have much money with me. Are there any Amish families in this area?”
The man behind the counter rubbed his chin. “Let me think.”
The Amish opened their homes to other members of their faith even if they had never met. She would be welcomed, fed and made to feel like one of the family. The command to care for one another was more than a saying. It was a personal commitment taken seriously by every Amish family, no matter how poor or how well-to-do they were. Many times, she had seen her mother stretch a meal for three into a meal for twice that many when Amish travelers appeared unexpectedly at their door. She waited hopefully for the clerk’s answer.
He shook his head. “Nope. Not that I’m aware of anyway.”
She sniffed as her vision blurred. “Thank—thank you.” She started to turn away, humiliated by her runaway emotions. They were one more unhappy part of her horrible situation.
“You might check with the sheriff,” the agent offered with a hint of sympathy in his tone. “He may know of some.”
She managed a half smile for him. “Where do I find the sheriff?”
“I’ll call him for you. He’s usually home for lunch at this time of day. You are welcome to wait here.” He gestured to a wooden bench sitting in front of a large plate-glass window.
She nodded, unable to speak for the lump in her throat, and wheeled her suitcase over to the bench. Sitting down with a sigh, she moved her suitcase in front of her, so she could prop up her swollen feet. She leaned her head back against the glass and closed her eyes. After two solid days on a bus, she was ready to lie down. Anywhere.
“Miss? Excuse me, miss.”
Gemma opened her eyes sometime later to see the agent standing in front of her. She blinked away the fog in her brain. “I’m sorry. I must have fallen asleep.”
“You’ve been snoozing for a couple of hours. The sheriff just got back to me. He’s been working an accident out on Wyman Road. He doesn’t know of any Amish in these parts. You’ve been here for quite a while. I thought you might like something to eat. You mentioned you were short on funds, so I brought you a burger from the café down the street.” He held out a white paper bag.
“Danki. Thank you. That’s very kind.” She sat up surprised by the unexpected gift. What did he hope to gain by it? She rubbed her stiff neck and waited to hear the catch. “It smells wunderbar.” She slowly took the bag from him.
“You’re welcome to use our phone to call someone. The store will be closing in an hour, but the diner down the street stays open all night.” He sent her an apologetic glance and walked away.
She bit her lower lip to stop it from quivering. She