The Amish Widower's Twins and the Amish Bachelor's Choice

by Jo Ann Brown

  “Oh, you sweetie.” Picking up the pup, she cuddled him against her chest. His warm squirming weight fitted into her arms, and her empty heart, like a puzzle piece. Closing her eyes, Ruth hugged him and smiled as he licked her cheek. Her eyes popped open and both she and the pup turned their heads at the exasperated call from up the lane.

  “There you are, you rascal. Are you all right, Ruth?” Hannah Lapp strode down the lane, a frown on her pretty face. “I’m so sorry. We can’t seem to keep the little stinker inside. All the rest of the pups stay put, but this one must be some type of magician, because he keeps escaping. Much to the dismay of the chickens and the pigs and the goats, and basically everyone on the farm.” She stopped beside Ruth, hands on her hips as she regarded the errant pup.

  “I don’t think he made a good first impression on Bess, but no harm’s been done. In fact,” Ruth added after tucking her chin against the pup’s soft head, “he’s just what I need right now.”

  Hannah eyed her quizzically.

  “The new owner came in today.” The words were mumbled into the top of the puppy’s head but her best friend heard them.

  “Oh, Ruth, I’m so sorry.” Hannah placed a hand on Ruth’s shoulder. “I know how hard that must’ve been for you.” Ruth had shared her feelings about the loss of the business with Hannah yesterday after church.

  “Certainly made it real. No going back now.”

  “It is Gott’s will. He’ll take care of you. You just have to trust in Him.”

  The pup wiggled to get down. Ruth reluctantly let him out of her arms. Arms that immediately felt emptier than the release of the warm weight justified. She knew her friend was right. Hannah had always had the gelassenheit that Ruth knew she should be practicing. But she couldn’t just let things be. She couldn’t help doing what she could to make things turn out the way she thought they should.

  Standing, Ruth wistfully watched the puppy explore the territory around the end of the lane, the white tip of his tail waving like a flag over his chubby ebony back. Here in the abnormally warm November afternoon, the tension of the day faded as she watched the inquisitive pup. She didn’t look forward to entering an empty house, but at least she could do it with a more peaceful attitude than when she left work.

  The pup wandered over to sniff at the buggy’s wheels. After confirming that Bess was going to tolerate the small investigator, Ruth turned to Hannah to share a grin at the puppy’s antics and found her friend eyeing her speculatively.

  “I think you do need him.”

  “What?” Ruth tried to recall the last bits of their conversations. They’d been talking about Gott. Of course she needed Gott. Everyone needed Gott. That was a given and one Hannah wouldn’t have bothered to voice. Before that they’d spoken of the new owner. Hannah couldn’t be thinking that Ruth needed Malachi Schrock, could she? A vivid image of the first moment she saw Malachi popped into her head. Her heartbeat had jumped at the sight of his tall form and intelligent eyes. It’d quickened even more at the smile he’d sent her across the showroom floor. Then her stomach had dropped when he’d said his name.

  “No, I don’t need him.” Ruth held her hands in front of her as if to ward off the traitorously tempting thought. “We might not get along at all.”

  “Oh, but I think you already do.” Hannah nodded to Ruth’s feet, where the puppy was nipping at her shoelaces.

  “You mean the puppy?” Ruth stared blankly at the busy dog.

  “Who did you think I meant?”

  Ruth wasn’t going to go there. “I never thought about adopting a puppy.” She knelt and was immediately rewarded with the wash of the pup’s tongue on her fingertips. A great longing washed over Ruth. She looked up at her friend. “Do you really mean it?”

  Hannah laughed. “We don’t raise them to keep them all. We’d be overrun.”

  Ruth wrapped her arms around the pup and stood up. Now that the idea was planted, she couldn’t let it go. “I’ll pay you what he’s worth,” she vowed, mentally wincing at the hit to her funds because she knew the value of the border collies the Lapps raised and sold.

  “I think we can work something out. Right now the greater value to us is regaining the peace that he continually disturbs. We might pay you to take him off our hands.” Hannah rubbed the panting puppy’s head.

  “When can I take him?”

  Hannah raised her eyebrows as she considered the question. “I don’t see any reason why you can’t take him with you today. Socks has begun to wean them. Let me get you some of the food they’ve been started on so you’ll have something for him to eat until you can get back into town. You’re sure you want to do this? I didn’t mean to talk you into something you’re not ready for.”

  Ruth bent her cheek to touch the pup’s head. He twisted in her arms to try to lick her. “I may not be ready, but I can’t think of anything I want more right now.”

  * * *

  Ruth settled the pup in her lap and waved to Hannah before picking up the reins. A hastily assembled puppy survival bag rested at her feet. Bess flicked her ears toward the buggy, questioning what the new passenger was doing there. Ruth smiled as she checked for traffic before backing out of the lane. Let the old girl pout. Ruth was as happy as she could remember being before her father had come home from seeing the Englisch doctors and confirmed what was making him feel weak and lose weight was the cancer they had both quietly feared it to be. The smile stayed on Ruth’s lips, curving up self-mockingly at the corners when she felt a warm wet spot growing on her lap.

  The pup didn’t seem to mind, as he curled into a ball and fell asleep. Ruth clicked her tongue, urging Bess to increase her speed. For the first time in a long time, she was eager to get home. Even if it was to start teaching her new roommate a few basic rules.

  * * *

  “I think rules are going to come easier for you than for me,” Ruth admitted later that evening. “You’re smart, and you should be, as border collies are one of the most intelligent breeds. I’m just afraid I’m not smart enough, or disciplined enough, to teach you what you need to learn.”

  Perhaps it had been a mistake to get a puppy, particularly with her plans. But after spending the evening with him—feeding him, taking him out several times, setting up a bed and later having him rest at her feet while she knit—Ruth knew she couldn’t bear to part with the pup and face an empty house again.

  Ruth reintroduced him to the bed they’d made together. She sat beside him as he settled into it, stroking his soft head before she slipped away. Only moments after she’d settled into her own bed, the cries started.

  The whimpering tore at her heart. Leaning over the edge of the bed, she saw two miniature white paws propped up against her mother’s Wedding Ring quilt.

  “You’re supposed to be a working dog. You will be shunned by border collies everywhere for this unacceptable behavior. You won’t be able to eat from their dish. Or share treats with them. Why, I’d even be surprised if they allowed you to join them in working the sheep.” While lecturing him, she lifted him to join her on the quilt. The pup licked her fingers. Ruth giggled. The sound and feeling of the long-absent action surprised her. Giggling again just because it felt good, she settled the pup on the bed. They both snuggled in, comforted by each other’s presence.

  * * *

  Her nose was cold. The weather had obviously turned overnight. Ruth nestled deeper under the covers until a sensation swept over her that something was missing. Her eyes flew open. The pup! Quickly sitting up, she patted around the bed in the predawn dark to determine he wasn’t on the quilt beside her. Swinging her feet out from under the covers, she gasped as they hit the cold floor. Lighting a lamp, she saw a puddle near the door. Apparently she hadn’t woken up soon enough to suit the pup.

  “How long have you been up, and what else am I going to find?” Her teeth chattered in the chilly air as she snagged her robe from the
foot of the bed and shoved her arms into the sleeves.

  Wide-awake now, Ruth foraged for an old towel. Locating one, she looked through the open door into the living area. Of course, the pup had found the knitting she’d set beside her chair and was doing battle. And winning. Ruth wondered how many stitches she’d lost in the confrontation.

  Hearing her footfalls in the bedroom, the pup raced through the door to investigate, almost knocking Ruth over. He licked her bare toes that curled on the cold floor before they both went to inspect the puddle by the door.

  “This is neither approved nor appreciated behavior,” Ruth admonished as she cleaned it up with the towel. “Housebroken does not mean the house gets broken.” The pup chased the dangling ends of the cloth as it moved. Lifting him into her arms, she rested her cheek on his downy head.

  “Do you need to go outside so we can get the rules sorted out?” Slipping into her shoes, she glanced out the window to see patches of frost on the ground in the first faint fingers of light. Snagging a cape from a peg by the door, she draped it around her shoulders and stepped out into the brisk morning. A hint of rose to the east heralded the sun’s future appearance. It was pretty now but could mean a weather change before evening. Might be prudent to throw an extra blanket in the buggy just in case.

  The pup squirmed to get down. Ruth released him, hoping it was a sign that he wanted to do his duty. Instead, it was a sign he wanted to explore the underside of the porch.

  Shivering at the wind that blew against her bare legs, she followed the pup around the yard, stomping her feet against the hard ground to keep warm. The pup was in no hurry. Apparently all he’d needed to do this morning had been accomplished already.

  “If you’re not going to do your business, we might as well set up a place for you during the day. Besides, it will get us out of the wind.” Ruth hurried to the henhouse, abandoned since it had become more efficient to buy eggs from their neighbor instead of raising a few chickens herself. The puppy bounded along behind her, eager to investigate new territory.

  The farmstead had several outbuildings. A hog house, a corncrib, a shed for machinery. All unused since Ruth and her daed began spending so much time at the shop that it made more sense to trade and purchase goods than grow everything themselves.

  The henhouse had been one of the last buildings to empty. As soon as she ducked inside the door, Ruth sighed at the immediate relief against the whipping wind. She cast a critical eye over the dimly lit interior. Thankfully, she’d cleaned it thoroughly after the last of the hens had gone. A few adjustments and a warm bed should make it a worthy daytime home for the pup.

  Ruth regarded the small run outside, considering what could be quickly done to eliminate all potential escape routes. The weave of the fence was small enough that he couldn’t get out, but not so big he could get stuck, so no adjustments needed there. The pup assisted the investigation by tugging on Ruth’s untied shoestrings. She bent to secure them and gave him a rub on his head. “Hannah was right—you are a rascal.” Gently cupping his muzzle, she met his happy eyes. “In fact, that might be a fitting name for you. I dub thee Rascal Fisher.”

  Releasing the newly christened pup, Ruth stood, setting her hands on her hips. “So, Rascal. I need to get some tools and fix that hole under the gate. Hannah said you were a magician at getting out. I wouldn’t recommend that today, as it looks like the weather is going to turn and I won’t be around to check on you.”

  Worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, Ruth debated taking the pup to Hannah’s farmstead. “I don’t want them to think I can’t handle you. I know I can, but it will just take a little preparation. And you shared a shed and a run like this with your siblings and mother. You should be all right.” She worried her lip a little more. “I hope.”

  Turning to look for the pup, Ruth caught him in midsquat. “Good boy! That’s just what we needed. Let’s go inside for some breakfast while we figure the rest of this out.”

  By the time she secured Rascal’s shelter, Ruth was running late. Bess’s reluctant pace didn’t help. The mare kept ducking her head against the wind that was blowing in her face. The sky was piling gray in the west. Ruth urged the mare to hurry whenever Bess’s feet started to drag. She knew Malachi was going to be at the shop today. In fact, he might already be there.

  Bouncing on the seat helped Ruth expend nervous energy. More important, it helped keep her warm. She was grateful she’d remembered to bring along an extra quilt and glad she’d taken a moment to roll down the curtain doors of the buggy against the wind, but she was going to be late. She had never been late for work before. Ever. The others would be waiting for her to open the door.

  She’d taken a moment to stop at the mailbox of her nearest neighbor and stick in a message, asking if they’d check on the pup during the day. They had two daughters who still attended school. Ruth was hoping the girls wouldn’t mind the chance to play with a puppy. Providing, she amended with another uneasy glance at the sky, they did it earlier in the day before some weather hit.

  When she and Bess swept into the shed behind the woodshop, several other horses nickered in greeting. Ruth counted the bays in the makeshift stalls and her heart sank. They were all here. Plus one. Hurriedly, she unharnessed a grouchy Bess, wiped her down and guiltily gave her a offering of extra hay.

  Cheeks flushed with more embarrassment than cold, Ruth dashed in the door. The recalcitrant wind took the opportunity to blow a gust that jerked the door from her chilled hands and bang it hard against the wall. Hastily shutting it, she turned to find all eyes in the workshop looking in her direction.

  There were four sets of eyes she knew well. Upon seeing her, they nodded and returned to their work. But two new workers regarded her curiously. They watched as Ruth made herself walk sedately over to the coatrack, remove her black cape and bonnet, and hang them with the other coats there. They continued to observe her as she crossed to the cabinet and removed the safety glasses that she’d retrieved from the showroom yesterday—after she was sure he’d left. Since they were younger versions of the blue-eyed, blond man who also regarded her steadily, she figured they were the brothers who had come to join what had been her daed’s business.

  Ruth put on the glasses and turned to face the new owner. Some type of barrier seemed prudent before meeting his gaze. Malachi didn’t say anything, just flicked a glance to the clock over her head and raised an eyebrow before returning his impassive blue eyes to her. Even in his silence, Ruth felt severely chastised.

  Swinging around to avoid his penetrating gaze, she grabbed the first project she could put her hands on and set to work. Struggling because her palms were now sweaty—not a good combination with the work she was doing on the wood—she took a moment to calm herself.

  She was never late. With or without her father there, she’d always been the first one to the shop and the last one to leave.

  It didn’t take long before the familiar sounds and smells of the workshop lulled Ruth into her version of peace. Surprisingly, the morning went fast. Malachi didn’t come near her, although he worked and visited with the men. Every time someone entered the sales shop, he looked over at Ruth, who always stopped what she was doing and went to greet the potential customer.

  Having forgotten her lunch at home and not wanting to leave the shop during that break as she’d arrived late, Ruth took advantage of the empty office off the showroom to eat an apple she’d left in there when she’d been the sole resident. Looking out through the observation window into the showroom and farther to the street, she could see snowflakes joining the whipping wind. Ruth shivered. What a change in a day, but that was Wisconsin weather.

  Wiping her hands with a napkin after disposing of her apple, she sighed. He still hadn’t spoken to her. She wasn’t sure what that meant. He hadn’t come by to check the work she was doing. Did that mean he trusted her, or did it mean that it wouldn’t matter what she did,
so he didn’t care? It shouldn’t matter to her, as she was leaving. But she liked to know—no, she needed to know—where she stood on things. Squaring her shoulders, she ran her hands down her apron. Well, if he didn’t talk to her this afternoon, she’d go talk to him.

  On her way back to her workstation, Ruth paused to observe the two brothers, who were preparing to bore bolt holes for the frame on an oak headboard. Malachi’s siblings were a good-looking pair. Like their brother, she thought to herself. It said in the book of Samuel that man looks on the outward appearance, but Gott looks at the heart. The new owner’s—Malachi’s—heart was probably good, something she had yet to discover, but his appearance was...distracting. And she didn’t need or want distractions. Not of that nature.

  Absently watching the brothers work, she abruptly straightened. They might be good-looking, but they were boring the holes on the wrong side of the bedpost. Ruth strode over.

  “They need to go on the other side.”

  The older one looked up from the drill he’d pressed against the wood and swiveled his head toward her. The younger one lifted his safety glasses to the top of his blond hair.

  “What?” Their inquiry came at her in a duet.

  “You’re boring the holes on the wrong side of the post. This headboard has beveled panels on the side facing the mattress. If you bore the holes for the frame there—” she pointed to where the drill bit rested “—the design will be facing the back of the bed, probably pressed against a wall. Benjamin did too good a job on the panels’ bevels to have them adorned with cobwebs against a wall.”

  The brothers looked at her as if she had two heads. Ruth put her hands on her hips. Didn’t they have any women with brains in Ohio? Their gazes flicked behind her. Ruth didn’t have to look to know who was approaching. She could tell by the tingling that moved up her neck. Malachi must be focusing his judgmental blue eyes on her again.