She picked up her now sleepy child and cradled her in her arms. “We’re going to find our way through this—the two of us will. Never worry, Hannah. Mamm will take care of you.”
And with that promise, Faith squared her shoulders and walked out into the kitchen.
“There’s a cradle at the far end of the table.” Mary Ann stood at the stove, waiting on the kettle to boil. “Being as she’s small, she’ll still fit in it. Go ahead and put her there, then sit. You look dead on your feet.”
“Danki.”
“Mary Ann keeps several extra cradles around the house,” Eli explained.
Eli had gray sprinkled throughout his beard, though his hair was still quite brown. Smile lines fanned away from his eyes. Mary Ann was short and round, and the hair that peeped from her kapp was completely gray. There was something about her expression—about the way that she looked at Faith and Hannah—that suggested she understood more than Faith had yet explained. No doubt she’d seen much, as the wife of a bishop. How often had the couple had strangers appear at their door in need of help? Probably they’d heard every conceivable story, even one as woeful as Faith’s.
She took courage in that. While her life had been difficult the past two years, she wasn’t alone. Others had it worse.
“Seems there are always babes visiting.” Mary Ann smiled and pushed a mug of hot tea in her hands. “It’s herbal, won’t keep you awake at all. Are you sure you won’t have a bite to eat?”
“Nein. I had a sandwich on the bus.”
Eli and Mary Ann exchanged a knowing glance, but they didn’t call her on the fact that the sandwich was probably her lunch and not her dinner.
Faith sipped the tea, allowing the chamomile to warm her, soothe her. Finally she raised her eyes to the couple who were waiting so patiently.
“I’m in a bit of a jam, and I could use some help.”
“People who care about each other take care of one another,” Eli said.
Mary Ann added, “It’s not a duty. It’s a pleasure.”
“But you don’t even know me.”
“Yet, Gotte has brought you to our doorstep. We’re happy to help. Share what you feel like you can, and take your time. No one is in a hurry here.”
The hands on the clock showed it was nearly eight, and Faith realized that the bishop and his wife would be rising sometime between four and five. She’d imposed enough. No need to keep them up later because she was embarrassed.
Setting down her mug, she clasped her hands on the table. “I was headed for Michigan when the bus put me out.”
“Because of the snowstorm.” Old Eli glanced at the window. “It’s still coming down and the weather people are predicting over a foot.”
“If you could provide me a place to stay until the buses are running again, I would be grateful.”
“Of course we will.” Mary Ann reached out and covered Faith’s hand with hers. “How could we do any less?”
Mary Ann picked up her knitting—a soft blue yarn that could have been a shawl or a scarf or a blanket. She was just beginning the project, so it was impossible to tell what it might turn out to be—rather like Faith’s life at the moment. The thought simultaneously depressed and intrigued her.
As for Mary Ann, she seemed willing to listen and knit and let her husband pick up the threads of the conversation.
Old Eli tapped the old oak table. “We’ll contact your husband too, so he won’t be worried. I can send one of the kinner to the phone shack at first light—or now if you think it necessary.”
“No need. My husband passed two years ago.”
“I’m sorry to hear that—we can call your family, then. Surely they’ll be worried.”
Faith met his gaze. This wasn’t the time to indulge in embarrassment or cowardice. The moment she’d stepped on that bus, her life had changed, and she needed to be willing to do whatever was necessary to ensure Hannah’s best welfare. She knew that being honest with Old Eli wasn’t just the right thing to do, it was the most expedient thing to do.
“That’s just it. That’s why I’m going to Michigan. I don’t have any family. Hannah and I...” Why was this so hard? Why did tears sting her eyes every time she tried to speak of it? Not that she’d spoken to anyone about her trials. In Fort Wayne she hadn’t been afforded the luxury of friends.
“Hannah and I are alone. We don’t have anyone who will be worried about us.”
Old Eli was silent as he sat back and studied her, but Mary Ann tsked and murmured, “We are all family in Christ, my dear.”
“No family where you’re coming from...”
“Fort Wayne.”
“What about where you’re going...in Michigan?”
“Nein. I answered an advertisement in the Budget. A widowed woman in the Mio district was looking for someone who would be willing to live on the property with her and help run a small farm.”
Mary Ann and Old Eli exchanged another look. She wondered about that, the way they were able to communicate without words. She hadn’t been married to Jonas long enough to develop such a thing, and his parents—well, Gerald rarely bothered to speak to Sara. When he did, it was usually a command that was meant to be heeded immediately.
“Putting aside for a minute just how difficult it might be for you to help run a farm...” Old Eli held up his hand to stop her protests. “Even a small one, I’m sure you’ve looked at how far it is to Mio. It’s another three hundred miles from here, nearly to the Canadian border.”
“And it’s a small community besides—and cold. The wind and snow that come off Lake Superior can both try a person’s soul.” Mary Ann raised her eyes from her knitting. “Are you sure that’s where you want to go?”
“I’m sure that I don’t have any other options.”
Old Eli grinned and pushed back from the table. “Then that is where we will begin.”
“Begin?”
“We will pray for options, and that Gotte reveals them to you quickly.”
Thirty minutes later, Faith was tucked into a bedroom that was barely large enough to hold the twin bed and cradle. She thought it might be the room of one of the teenaged girls as there were books stacked in one of the cubbies—including several Christian romances from the public library.
Though the room was tiny, she was grateful for it. The smallness almost felt cozy, and after sitting on the bus for so long, she welcomed the chance to lie down.
Hannah was fast asleep.
Faith checked Hannah’s nappie a final time before turning out the room’s small battery lantern. As she lay there in the dark under Mary Ann’s clean sheets and hand-sewn quilt, her mind wouldn’t quit wrestling with the trials of the day.
Gerald’s haughty coldness as he’d dropped her at the bus station, wishing her good riddance and proclaiming he hoped never to see her again.
Sara’s tears.
The increasing snow and finally the bus driver’s pronouncement that everyone needed to get off the bus before they reached the Michigan border.
Being the last one on the bus.
Getting out at the deserted station.
And then Elijah.
She almost smiled when she thought of Elijah. The look on his face when she’d asked if he was a kidnapper... She would have laughed if she hadn’t been so frightened. How did she know what a kidnapper looked like? She doubted they wore a T-shirt proclaiming their intentions.
Elijah King struck her as a guy looking for a woman to rescue.
Well, she didn’t need rescuing.
She didn’t need a man.
She’d tried that already, and it hadn’t worked out so well.
What she needed was a safe place to raise Hannah, and as far as she could tell that place was in far northern Michigan in the little community of Mio. Sure, she understood it would be cold and isolated, but at
the moment a place to live mattered much more to her than convenience.
Old Eli might be a gut bishop and a wise man, but he was wrong about one thing.
Options.
She knew better than anyone that at this point, she didn’t have any.
Chapter Two
The next morning dawned gray and cold. Faith stood at the window staring at the snow that continued to fall creating giant drifts. She didn’t need a weather report to tell her she wouldn’t be traveling to Mio. She knew it before Old Eli informed his children that they wouldn’t be walking to school, which raised a chorus of happy responses. Not that school was canceled. Amish schools were rarely closed for weather, and today would be no exception.
Still his children laughed and grabbed their coats and lunch pails. Apparently a ride in the buggy on a weekday morning was quite the treat.
“The snow is supposed to continue through tomorrow. Looks like you’re stuck with us, dear.” Mary Ann patted her shoulder, then hurried into the kitchen to finish the breakfast dishes.
Hannah sat on Faith’s lap, playing with a plastic yellow duck, trying to fit the toy in her mouth. She managed to chew on the orange beak, then laughed and showed it to Faith.
Faith was so lost in her own misery that she barely noticed when Mary Ann finished the dishes and left the room. She was startled out of her reverie when the dear woman placed a box next to the kitchen table and sat down across from her. “There might be some things in there that Hannah could use.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Actually you’re doing me a favor. I’ve been meaning to go through them since Sara’s been out of diapers.”
Faith’s head jerked up at the name.
“She’s my youngest and in the first grade now. I don’t expect the Lord will be blessing us with any more.” Mary Beth had been pawing through the box, but she stopped when she noticed Faith’s expression.
“Is something wrong?” Mary Ann sat back, apparently in no hurry. “You looked suddenly pale—more pale.”
“My mother-in-law’s name was... Well, it is Sara.”
“Ah.”
“She isn’t a bad woman, only ineffectual.”
“Odd way to describe someone.”
“It’s the kindest way I know.” In order to avoid Mary Ann’s compassionate stare, Faith pulled the box closer and began pulling out onesies and dresses, stockings and socks, even small shoes.
“I can’t take all of this.”
“Well, some of those items are already too small, and others are probably much too big. But anything you think your doschder can use in the next few months, you should take.” She held up a dress with a ripped seam. “Sara was an energetic child. She still is, for that matter. Some of these are going to need mending.”
Which was how they spent the next several hours—dividing items into piles, then mending any small tears.
It was one of the most peaceful mornings that Faith could remember. She felt the muscles in her shoulders loosen up, and the cloud of constant anxiety that seemed to hover over her finally began to dissipate. She found it was possible to actually pull in a full breath. Even Hannah seemed to relax in the cheery, warm kitchen. She played with her duck, then nursed and finally fell asleep in the cradle next to the table.
Faith was thinking on those things, of how much your environment could affect your feelings, when there was a knock at the front door.
She assumed whoever it was had come to see Old Eli, since it was he who answered the front door and then escorted their guest into the kitchen.
Elijah King.
Still tall.
Still handsome.
Still looking at her as if she held the answer to some question he’d yet to ask.
“Elijah came by to see if there’s anything we need, Mary Ann.” Old Eli snagged his coat out of the mudroom. “Wasn’t that kind?”
“It was indeed.”
“I’m off to visit Widow Lapp.”
“Should I fix you an early lunch?”
“Nein. The widow’s children always insist that I eat with them, and I think she enjoys the company. After that I’ll head to town to fetch some supplies that were supposed to come in. Can I pick up anything else up for either of you?”
“Danki, no.” Faith had precious little cash in her purse. She couldn’t imagine anything she’d need from town that would justify parting with it.
“Actually I have a list.” Mary Ann pulled a slip of paper from her pocket, handed it to her husband, then stood on tiptoe and kissed him on the cheek. “Be safe, dear.”
“Always, and I’ll be back in plenty of time to pick the children up from school.” With a smile and a wink, he was gone.
The moment felt oddly intimate. Faith stared down at her lap wondering why seeing two people who obviously loved each other stirred such confusing feelings in her heart. Certainly there were healthy marriages and happy households. Just because she hadn’t experienced one didn’t mean that they didn’t exist. Her marriage with Jonas hadn’t been so terrible—only strained and much too short.
Mary Ann poured Elijah a cup of coffee, then suddenly remembered something she needed to attend to upstairs. Which left Faith alone with Elijah. As if they’d hadn’t spent enough awkward moments together the night before.
“How’s Hannah doing this morning?”
“Gut.” They both stared at her doschder, who was lying in the cradle, staring up at a teddy bear mobile.
Seeing Elijah, Hannah began waving excitedly.
“Can I pick her up?”
“Sure. Ya.”
She was surprised at how confidently he picked up Hannah. Hadn’t Mary Ann mentioned he was a bachelor?
“Nieces and nephews,” he said to her unasked questions.
“Oh, ya. You mentioned that last night.”
“I’m surprised you remember a thing I said. You looked exhausted.”
“I remember suggesting you might be an Amish kidnapper, and I’m sorry.”
To her surprise Elijah laughed at that. He was certainly a good-natured man, or he appeared to be that way. Not that it was any of her business.
“I guess you’ve heard the buses still aren’t running.”
“Old Eli told me.”
“You’ll be another day late.”
“I doubt it will matter.”
The little farm in Mio wasn’t going anywhere, and the old widow she’d corresponded with had been looking for someone for over a year. She’d gone so far as to tell Faith that if she changed her mind she would understand. “Mio’s not for everyone,” she had written in her last letter. “But come north and we will see if we’re a gut fit.”
“So you have family there?”
“Nein. Not family.”
“Oh, I just assumed you were going up to...” His voice faded as he tried to figure out her story and failed.
She could have watched him struggle—there was practically an empty thought bubble above his head—but she decided to have mercy on him.
“My husband passed before Hannah was born.”
“Oh.”
“Living with my in-laws wasn’t... Well, it wasn’t safe.”
Elijah’s mouth formed another O, but nothing came out.
“I found a job in Mio that included a place to live. I corresponded with an Amish woman there who has been a widow for some time. She offered me the job. That’s where I was headed.”
“Mio, Michigan?”
“The same.”
“It’s nearly to Canada.”
“I’m aware.”
Elijah stared down at Hannah, then repositioned her on his lap facing away from him, where she could watch Faith. He reached for the toy duck and plopped it into Hannah’s hands.
“I went to Mio once—snowmobiling with a
cousin of mine who’s Mennonite. I’ve never been so cold in all my life.”
“You don’t have to lecture me on the weather in Mio.”
“I wasn’t lecturing.”
“It seemed like you were.”
“Not lecturing, but you might want to reconsider.”
“Oh, really? You know so much about my life after two brief conversations that you know what’s best for me and Hannah?”
“I know you don’t want to be in Mio. There’s a reason it’s a small settlement.” He began ticking points off on his fingers, while still effortlessly holding Hannah. “Short growing season. Doesn’t thaw once it freezes. The Amish there use sleighs instead of buggies. Less than four hundred Amish in all, which if you do the math is ten to twelve families.”
“Just stop.”
“Stop what?”
“Stop giving reasons I shouldn’t go. It’s my decision, Elijah. I thank you for your concern, but it’s... It’s my decision.”
Elijah stood, moving Hannah to his shoulder and pacing back and forth.
“Why Mio?”
“Excuse me?”
“Do you need to be a certain distance from your husband’s family? Are they looking for you or coming after you?”
“Of course not, though it’s none of your business if they were.”
He ignored her jab, still pacing with Hannah on his shoulder. She stared at Faith, smiling as she drooled all over Elijah’s shirt. The polite thing would have been to offer him a burp cloth, but at the moment she didn’t feel very polite. Elijah King seemed to have everything figured out. Surely he could figure out how to handle a drooling baby.
An Amish Winter (Love Inspired) Page 2
