about that, you know.”
“What did you worry about then?” Rebecca asked.
“After his parents went Mennonite. He didn’t stay on at the school for the rest of the year. I sure hoped you didn’t have your heart too set on him. He was a nice boy and all. But
Mennonite.
That’s another matter, I would say! I’m just so glad that you are getting a good Amish boy in John Miller.”
“I am too,” Rebecca said truthfully. Not just because he was Amish, but because she knew she loved him.
C HAPTER F OURTEEN
W ith a last look at Emma’s house from the end of the driveway, Luke slapped the reins and headed down the road. His horse’s hooves, once they hit the blacktop, made a hollow noise in the snow, muffled and deep.
Money.
He breathed the smell of it in deeply, becoming fully aware of the existence of vast quantities of the stuff and what it could mean in relation to himself.
That it should even make a difference in love, he had never supposed possible. Yet, there it was, the realization that now he would get to enjoy Susie as his girlfriend all because he would be sure that money came his way…one way or another.
But it would take more than what was contained in his tin can under the hay bale. Although, he supposed, even his savings would have been sufficient eventually. It just might have taken him longer to get there.
Now though, things were suddenly and swiftly different, possibly coming much sooner than he had imagined. This very Sunday Susie Burkholder might very well be riding beside him after the singing. That look in her eyes would be his to enjoy. He would call her his own—his girl.
This did put things in quite a different light. Maybe money was more important than he had ever supposed. His father said that it wasn’t important, and Luke had always leaned in that direction himself. The advice was, after all, coming from a deacon of the church and his father. Thus it ought to bear quite a bit of weight.
Now though, he had seen with his own eyes, felt with his own heart, some of the things that money could do. It had brought the idea of love to him, the love of a girl who wanted him. He was sure he would not have entertained the notion if it were not for the presence of money. Plenty of it, he reminded himself.
Too much money, his father often warned, was dangerous. Well, this must not be too much yet because it was causing good things for him. He let the memory of Susie’s eyes run all the way through him. How would it be to have her beside him in his own buggy? He wasn’t sure, but his mind enjoyed trying to get a firm hold on it.
“Susie,” he said the name softly, as his horse’s hooves hit the blacktop, pounding away in the snow. Why had he never fully noticed how beautiful her name sounded before? That was because of the money too, he reasoned.
How strange,
he thought, but that was what had happened.
Yet fear pushed at him. If it was money that was responsible for his newfound notions, then maybe money could also take away one’s happiness. Was that not possible? He clutched himself with both arms, nearly jerking on the reins in the process.
He pushed the thought away, afraid it might be true and decided that for now he would have to play it safe. He would take the package to the post office and buy the proper postage. That way, wherever this package was going to, Emma would receive no inquiries as to why it had been opened en route.
I could take it home and let Mother open it. She could get it back together without anyone being able to tell.
Startled at the thought, he considered this for a moment. That would be a way to cover both of his bases, and he might come out the best in the end.
Just when he was at the point of turning east on 900 instead of west toward Milroy, he remembered Emma. Could he really betray her trust? Was it fair after all she had done for him? After she was responsible for his little savings account in the haymow?
No, he would not betray her.
“What did you worry about then?” Rebecca asked.
“After his parents went Mennonite. He didn’t stay on at the school for the rest of the year. I sure hoped you didn’t have your heart too set on him. He was a nice boy and all. But
Mennonite.
That’s another matter, I would say! I’m just so glad that you are getting a good Amish boy in John Miller.”
“I am too,” Rebecca said truthfully. Not just because he was Amish, but because she knew she loved him.
C HAPTER F OURTEEN
W ith a last look at Emma’s house from the end of the driveway, Luke slapped the reins and headed down the road. His horse’s hooves, once they hit the blacktop, made a hollow noise in the snow, muffled and deep.
Money.
He breathed the smell of it in deeply, becoming fully aware of the existence of vast quantities of the stuff and what it could mean in relation to himself.
That it should even make a difference in love, he had never supposed possible. Yet, there it was, the realization that now he would get to enjoy Susie as his girlfriend all because he would be sure that money came his way…one way or another.
But it would take more than what was contained in his tin can under the hay bale. Although, he supposed, even his savings would have been sufficient eventually. It just might have taken him longer to get there.
Now though, things were suddenly and swiftly different, possibly coming much sooner than he had imagined. This very Sunday Susie Burkholder might very well be riding beside him after the singing. That look in her eyes would be his to enjoy. He would call her his own—his girl.
This did put things in quite a different light. Maybe money was more important than he had ever supposed. His father said that it wasn’t important, and Luke had always leaned in that direction himself. The advice was, after all, coming from a deacon of the church and his father. Thus it ought to bear quite a bit of weight.
Now though, he had seen with his own eyes, felt with his own heart, some of the things that money could do. It had brought the idea of love to him, the love of a girl who wanted him. He was sure he would not have entertained the notion if it were not for the presence of money. Plenty of it, he reminded himself.
Too much money, his father often warned, was dangerous. Well, this must not be too much yet because it was causing good things for him. He let the memory of Susie’s eyes run all the way through him. How would it be to have her beside him in his own buggy? He wasn’t sure, but his mind enjoyed trying to get a firm hold on it.
“Susie,” he said the name softly, as his horse’s hooves hit the blacktop, pounding away in the snow. Why had he never fully noticed how beautiful her name sounded before? That was because of the money too, he reasoned.
How strange,
he thought, but that was what had happened.
Yet fear pushed at him. If it was money that was responsible for his newfound notions, then maybe money could also take away one’s happiness. Was that not possible? He clutched himself with both arms, nearly jerking on the reins in the process.
He pushed the thought away, afraid it might be true and decided that for now he would have to play it safe. He would take the package to the post office and buy the proper postage. That way, wherever this package was going to, Emma would receive no inquiries as to why it had been opened en route.
I could take it home and let Mother open it. She could get it back together without anyone being able to tell.
Startled at the thought, he considered this for a moment. That would be a way to cover both of his bases, and he might come out the best in the end.
Just when he was at the point of turning east on 900 instead of west toward Milroy, he remembered Emma. Could he really betray her trust? Was it fair after all she had done for him? After she was responsible for his little savings account in the haymow?
No, he would not betray her.
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