Once the house was completed and ready to show, Jonas worked on the picture book and began to plan for his trips to the outside. Every Saturday afternoon, Mariah helped him with the book, usually meeting him at the library since it would have been unseemly for either of them to have visited each other alone in their own homes. They often laughed about the old-fashioned social customs that the town held, but admitted that it was also part of the town’s charm. In exchange for observing the social customs, which at worst were nothing more than inconvenient, the town had no crimes, no assaults against persons or animals.
Not since the day of Shelley Windsprite, Jonas once said. Mariah was familiar with the story and looked away when it was mentioned. “That was a horrible, horrible thing to happen to these good people and innocent child. I believe that’s why they revised their social customs. They did it to protect themselves, every one of them and especially the most vulnerable. Even boys had to be protected so they too could not be out alone at night. You always have to have someone with you, or be in a public place.”
“Like the library or Mrs. Goodbread’s café,” Jonas interrupted.
“Yes,” Mariah turned back to him. “The town actually began to have more social events, public events, just so no one would feel like they were trapped inside their own home. They had always had quilting bees and work parties and church socials, but they knew the young people needed something for themselves. The library has always been here, but Mrs. Goodbread’s café grew out of the need for people such as ourselves to have a place to meet and talk.”
“I don’t mind it, you know,” Jonas said. “I like meeting here or at the café or in the gazebo at the town center. I like having something else to see besides my four walls.” Mariah smiled at him and gently touched his hand.
“What do you plan to do, Jonas,” she asked. “After the house is sold and you’ve fulfilled your contract with the town. Will you stay here?” He looked into her eyes. She seemed worried and he wondered why she would think he would leave. He had told her all about his family, except the part about his mother being related to the Kindfellows. Somehow he couldn’t bring himself to tell her that, at least not yet.
For now, she believed that he had come to Constance simply to get away from the pain of losing his parents and his family home and because he had wanted a simpler life than that chosen by his brothers. His parents had left him a modest trust and he could have lived on it frugally in the city. But he had wanted, not only to find the house, but also to find a place where his sensibilities would be respected and shared. He had told Mariah all this, yet she seemed afraid that he might leave.
“I haven’t made any particular plans,” he said, turning in his chair toward her. “I can’t imagine leaving here, if that is what you mean by plans. I’ve come to feel that Constance is my home. I can’t imagine being anyplace else.”
Mariah smiled at him with relief. “I’m glad. I feel the same way about Constance. Of course, it has been my home since birth,” she laughed. “But there was a time when I thought I might leave. When my parents died, I realized that there was no other home for me. My friends on the outside were very kind to me and tried to comfort me, but it wasn’t the same. It was like being comforted by strangers. I needed to be with my own and be comforted by them.” Her eyes soften with sadness as her voice drifted away. Jonas took her hands in his and they sat there, with their knees almost touching, looking down at their hands and not saying a word, until the librarian, Mrs. Hardcover, began turning off the lights.
