“I don’t know about being a leader.”
“You could still be a good example—point others toward her business.”
“I do want to see her be successful.”
“Of course you do.”
“I just don’t think that I personally need her help. I’ve been running my own business for quite some time.”
“Still, it couldn’t hurt to listen.”
He let out a long sigh. This conversation would end more quickly if he stopped contradicting her. He understood now that she’d obviously come over with an agenda. She wouldn’t leave until she had what she’d come for, and apparently that involved extracting a promise from him.
“What do you want me to do?”
“Just schedule an appointment. Let Faith do...whatever it is she does with business plans. You don’t have to follow her suggestions.”
“Indeed, I don’t.”
“So you’ll call her?”
He drummed his fingers against the table. It wasn’t as if it would hurt anything. As his mamm had pointed out, he didn’t have to take her advice.
“I could do that.”
“Gut.” She actually clapped her hands. Standing, she walked to the sink and rinsed out her cup. After she’d pulled on her coat, scarf and bonnet, she turned to him and put a hand on each of his shoulders. His mamm wasn’t usually demonstrative about her emotions, but she cocked her head, then kissed his cheek. “And remember to be patient.”
“I am patient.”
“Don’t take that bossy tone you have with her.”
“What bossy tone?”
“Treat her like that injured fawn you raised when you were eight. Do you remember that? I never thought you’d have the patience, but you did. It was quite amazing.”
And with that, she left.
Women were a mystery to Elijah—didn’t matter if it was his mamm, his schweschder or Faith Yoder. But if it would satisfy his mamm and cause her attention to hop over to one of his other siblings, he’d call Faith and make an appointment.
After all, what could possibly go wrong?
Chapter Six
Something told Faith that Elijah might be avoiding her.
At church, he’d made quite the point of staying on the other side of the barn where they held their service, even during the meal and socializing afterward.
And he hadn’t been by Leslie’s even once to check on the finished room. It just seemed odd after he’d shown such interest in where she would settle. But then again, perhaps he was glad to be rid of her, not that he was responsible in any way. So he had offered her a ride on that cold snowy night at the Mercantile. She had to smile when she considered how she must have looked—like a lost orphan.
She slapped her dusting cloth against the desk where she did her accounting work, banishing the dust with renewed vigor.
She wasn’t lost.
And she wasn’t an orphan—well, she was but that was beside the point.
She certainly didn’t care if Elijah was avoiding her.
So it was that you could have knocked Faith over with a clean nappie when she checked the phone shack and had a call from Elijah—not just any call, but apparently he wanted to make an appointment to discuss his business.
Something suspicious was going on.
She knew for a fact that the last thing Elijah wanted was her advice. Then again, maybe he’d thought about what she’d said and come to his senses.
She called him back at his phone shack’s number and left a message telling him what items she’d need to see and that he could bring them over anytime.
It was almost as if he was waiting for her to leave, because he brought the accounting records over the one time she went to town with Hannah. She hadn’t taken Hannah to a doctor since moving to Shipshe, and she wanted to stay current on both her doschder’s inoculations and well visits. Some Amish didn’t. Some said such things were a waste of time and money, but she knew better. She’d suffered enough from such old-fashioned thinking.
Nein. Hannah would have whatever medical care she needed.
The doctor pronounced Hannah as healthy as a newborn lamb, and gave Faith some literature on one-year-olds.
By the time she arrived back at Leslie’s, Elijah’s accounting books were waiting for her. Later that night, she dived into her analysis.
It took her three days to properly go over his books, do some research at the library and combine it all into a business plan. Before she’d had Hannah, she could have done it in half that time, but she didn’t resent having to stop and feed or bathe or play with her doschder. Hannah was the joy of her life, and if it meant work took twice as long then so be it.
Faith was quite aware that in the blink of an eye her little girl would be going to school, and she’d have all day to work. Before she knew it, Hannah would be dating, then marrying, and she’d be alone with all the time in the world. She was having just such dark thoughts when Leslie walked into the room.
“What happened?”
“Happened?”
“You look as if you’ve been crying.”
“Maybe a little.” Faith felt foolish. She used a corner of her apron to dry her eyes. “I was just thinking of how fast it all goes, how Hannah will be grown and moved away in no time at all.”
Leslie smiled and sank into the chair across from her. “Mommy blues.”
“Huh?”
“You have mommy blues. Most everyone gets them at one time or the other.”
“Did you?” Since moving in nearly a month before, Faith had met all of Leslie’s family. They were a boisterous, loving group, and it was easy enough to imagine Leslie as a young mother. But a mom who cried in the middle of the day for no reason? That was harder to imagine.
“Indeed, I did. Seems like it was worse after my second and...” She drummed her fingers against the table and stared up at the ceiling. “Sixth. Those were the hard ones.”
“Why don’t you live with one of your children, Leslie? I’ve met them all, and they’re perfectly nice people.”
Leslie laughed. “You’re right about that, but still... I’m not quite ready to give up this dream that John and I had.”
“I’m excited about your business.”
“As am I. Did I tell you I scheduled David Lapp to start building as soon as the weather clears?”
“Have I met him?”
“Nein. He specializes in tiny houses for Englischers, but he attends the other church district here in Shipshe.”
“So all we need is for the snow to stop.”
“Ya. That would be gut. David said not to worry. He said once the weather clears, he can work pretty quickly.”
They spoke about plans to create a B and B from tiny houses scattered around her property. Faith hoped they’d turned away from the topic of mommy blues, but when she stood to go and check on Hannah, Leslie stopped her with a hand on her arm.
“You’re done with Elijah’s business plan?”
“Ya. I am. I only need to go to the phone shack and tell him to come and pick it up.”
“Tomorrow the weather is supposed to be better, and there are some things I could use from town. Why don’t you meet him at the coffee shop while you’re there?”
It sounded like a setup to Faith, but Leslie had done so much for her that she didn’t have the heart to say no. So when the snowfall let up later that afternoon, she bundled up in her coat and walked down the road to the phone shack. February and still no sign of spring. Well, what did she expect? Flowers to pop out of the snow?
She didn’t know if it was leaving the message for Elijah, having some time outside or looking forward to a few hours in town, but she did feel better as she walked back toward home.
Home.
It was a funny word to use for someplace she’d lived only a month, bu
t Leslie’s place felt like the spot they were supposed to be. It was safe, and more than that Leslie’s house was where Hannah could thrive—a place filled with love. So she felt a little lonely. And yes, at times she wondered about her own future and the things she’d lost. She desperately missed her husband. She longed for the feel of a man’s arms around her, sharing an early morning coffee, talking about their day together. She wondered if Gotte had that in mind for her, or perhaps she was meant to be a single mamm for the rest of her life.
Regardless, she was grateful for what she had.
As for the loneliness, she’d do what she’d done since Jonas’s death—she’d push it down inside and pretend it wasn’t there.
* * *
Elijah walked into the coffee shop the next morning, ten minutes later than they had agreed. He hurried over to where Faith was waiting.
“Sorry. Boots first didn’t want to take the harness, and then when he did... Let’s just say my gelding thought he should be in charge of our route.”
Faith chuckled. “It is a beautiful morning to play in the snow.”
“Boots agrees with you.”
Elijah thought Faith looked exceptionally pretty. There was color in her cheeks, and if he wasn’t mistaken she was wearing a new frock. He mentally slapped his forehead. How would he know if her dress was new or not? More than likely it was from the bags of clothes that folks had given to her on the work day. He couldn’t bring that up, and so he supposed complimenting her was out of the question.
“Problem?” She watched him, waiting.
“Only that I’ve never seen you wear that color of blue before. It looks gut on you.”
“Oh.” Her cheeks blushed an even darker shade of pink, but she murmured “danki” before glancing away.
“Let me grab some coffee. Would you like anything?”
“Sure. Decaf coffee with whipped cream on top.”
“Think I’ll order the same, only I need mine caffeinated.”
She had to move the stack of folders to an adjacent chair when he came back. He’d also purchased a cinnamon pretzel roll, a blueberry muffin and a croissant, since he hadn’t known what she liked.
“Hungry?”
“Yes, but I didn’t buy it all for me.”
“Oh...”
“Not hungry?”
“Actually I’m starved. That was very kind of you.”
Once they had divided up the food, he asked how Hannah was doing.
“Gut.” She seemed surprised that he’d asked.
“She reminds me of my oldest niece—when she was a boppli.” He stared out the window, then looked at her and wiggled his eyebrows. “She’s driving a buggy now, and don’t ask me how that happened. They grow up fast.”
“Funny you should say that. It’s exactly what I was brooding over yesterday.”
They spent the next fifteen minutes talking about how days could go so slow but the years seemed to fly by.
“I thought Jonas and I would have at least fifty years together.” Faith stared down at her half of the cinnamon pretzel, then met his gaze and shrugged. “Life doesn’t always turn out the way we expect.”
Which exactly mirrored what his mamm had said. Elijah pushed away the food, crossed his arms on the table and looked directly at Faith. “You’ve never mentioned how he died.”
When she hesitated, he added, “Of course, if you don’t want to talk about it...”
“Nein. It’s just, well, people don’t ask. I guess they’re afraid it will upset me, but sometimes it seems like Jonas didn’t exist. I look at Hannah, and I know he did. I remember, though, and sometimes I’m afraid that if I don’t ever talk about him that I’ll forget.”
“It must be hard.”
“It is, though it’s been almost two years now. I was in my first trimester with Hannah when he died.”
“What happened?”
“Sleep apnea.”
Elijah almost choked on the sip of coffee he’d swallowed. “I didn’t know you could die from that.”
“It weakens the heart.”
“Wow.”
“The most difficult part of it was that we knew that he had the condition. I’d wake and hear him stop breathing, or it seemed like it. Perhaps it was only a long pause. He went to the doctor, and the doctor told him it was important to get a CPAP machine.”
“I’ve heard of those. Not many Amish have them.”
“Right. And Jonas’s dad, well... I think I’ve already told you about him.”
“You did, but what does that have to do with this?”
“He said it was a waste of money, said until Jonas was living on his own, supporting his own family, he wouldn’t be wasting money on Englisch gadgets.” She broke off a piece of the pretzel, but left it on her napkin. “He died two weeks after the doctor’s appointment. We were... We had made plans to move out on our own, but we didn’t move fast enough.”
“His death wasn’t your fault, Faith.”
“I know that.” She nodded emphatically, picked up the piece of pretzel and popped it in her mouth. “I know that now. I met with my bishop regularly after that—working through my anger and grief. Some days, though... It’s still hard.”
She cleared her throat and focused on folding the napkin in front of her.
“You miss him.”
“I do, though in truth now I realize that we barely knew one another. It’s just that raising Hannah alone... I worry about her.” She sat up straighter, pushed aside the coffee and food and grabbed a folder off the top stack. “But we didn’t come here to talk about my problems. Let’s discuss your business.”
Perhaps it was the fact that she’d lowered her guard and shared her heart with him, but Elijah found himself really listening to her business ideas for the first time. He wasn’t too proud to admit that what she laid out for him over the next half hour made sense.
“You want me to expand my business to Goshen?”
“Or Middlebury. Ya. I think it would be a gut idea.”
“I wouldn’t know where to start.”
She rifled through his folders and pulled out an employment sheet. “I think you start here.”
“What does Mose have to do with it?”
“He’s a gut employee?”
“Ya. He’s been with me the longest.”
“But he lives in Goshen.”
“He does. His cousin is a Mennonite and gives him a ride to whatever work site we’re at.”
“Don’t you see? He’s in Goshen and you’re in Shipshe. He could supervise the Goshen work, and you could both split the work in Middlebury. This would triple your market. You’d have enough work to last at least ten more years.”
“Wow.”
Faith sat back, a smile brightening her face. “So you’ll consider it?”
“I will, and I’ll talk to Mose.”
“There’s one other thing.”
Elijah sat back and pretended to be completely put out. “There always is one more thing with women.”
“Uh-huh. I think you should approach Old Eli about providing solar panels to the schools.”
“The schools?”
“Sure. Why not?”
“Who would pay for them?”
“It could come out of the benevolence fund.”
“I don’t know about that.”
“Or maybe parents whose children attend the schools would be willing to split the cost.”
“That’s a possibility.”
Faith leaned forward and tapped the stack of folders they’d gone through. “There are twenty-three schools in the Shipshe/Middlebury/Goshen area.”
“That’s a lot of schools.”
“Indeed it is.”
Elijah had been hunched down in his chair, but now he sat up straight. “Why not? I’ll ta
lk to Old Eli about it.”
Together they bussed the table, and as they walked out of the coffee shop, he asked her about Leslie.
“She’s doing gut.”
“You’ve done a business plan for her?”
“I have.”
“And?”
“I suppose it’s no secret. She’s going to have David Lapp build six tiny houses on her property. She’ll space them out in a semicircle around the meadow to her east, starting with the building pads she already had done.”
“Wow.”
“I know. Right?”
“Why mini-houses?”
“Englischers like their privacy, but they also want to experience the simplicity and minimalism of Amish life. It’s a nice compromise.”
He understood then what the thing was that Faith possessed, the thing that helped her be so gut at writing business plans. She could envision the future, and she could understand what other people needed. That’s what business was, after all, meeting the needs of people.
He walked her to Leslie’s buggy. After she’d climbed in, he said, “Danki for telling me about Jonas.”
“I appreciate your asking and listening.”
“It could be that I’m being bold, or maybe it’s all the caffeine talking, but I think I know what you and I need.”
Faith’s eyes widened in surprise.
“A gut friend.”
“Ya. You might be right about that.”
And beginning that afternoon, that’s what Elijah vowed to be—a gut friend. Over the next two months, he visited Leslie’s place often, took small gifts to Hannah and generally made a nuisance of himself. No one seemed to mind.
Through February and into March, he spent at least two nights a week playing Dutch Blitz with Faith and Leslie.
When sweet little Hannah contracted the flu in late March and had to be hospitalized, he was at the hospital almost as much as Faith.
And gradually she began to relax around him.
Hannah began babbling whenever he walked into the room, though she’d yet to say his name. He understood then what had been missing from his life, and the length he was willing to go in order to readjust his priorities.
An Amish Winter (Love Inspired) Page 7
