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