The memory touched a tender spot in Hannah’s heart. It reminded her of a time before life had become so complicated. She reached for an oatmeal cookie. It was sweet, crunchy around the edges and full of raisins. It was bliss after a long, trying day.
“I suppose I might have been a bit hasty in scooping everything into the box.”
“Perhaps those items had some sentimental meaning to Jacob.”
“I don’t see how.”
“What were they?”
“An old pipe, some glass jars, old copies of Farmers’ Almanac...”
“Sounds like things that could have belonged to his father.”
“But there was nothing valuable there.”
“The office used to be his father’s?”
“I suppose. That would also explain why he was upset that I moved the desk.”
“You moved it?”
Hannah waved away her concern. “Wasn’t so heavy when I pushed. I needed to move it to have better light, but perhaps I should have asked first.”
“Perhaps...” Her mother reached for a cookie, chewed it thoughtfully and finally said, “You and Jacob are alike.”
“No, we’re not.”
“Hear me out.”
Hannah rolled her eyes and immediately felt twelve instead of twenty-six.
“You’ve both been dealt quite a blow.”
“I suppose.”
“You’ve both learned to live with that, and to keep going regardless of the strange and terrible turns that life can take.”
Hannah shrugged.
“And you’ve both kept yourself apart from others.”
“We’re supposed to do that. We’re Amish.” She drew out the last word, as if her mother were hard of hearing.
“Ya, I’m aware, but you know very well that’s not what I mean.”
Hannah motioned for her to go on. Somehow it was easier to accept her mother’s advice, her insights, when she was eating one of her favorite desserts.
“Neither of you are used to dealing with other people on a regular basis.”
“We both have family.”
“True.”
“We go to the store.”
“Ya.”
“See people at church.”
“You know what I mean, Hannah King, so don’t act like you don’t.”
Hannah popped the remainder of the second cookie in her mouth. She’d regret eating all of it later, but for now it made her feel marginally better.
“You’re saying that because we don’t date. Well, I don’t. As far as I know, Jacob takes a different girl out in his buggy every night.”
“Doubtful.”
“I suppose.”
“I’m only saying that you’re both used to doing things your own way and not asking others their opinion.”
“So I’ve lost my social skills?”
“Pretty much.”
“Great.”
“But the good news is you have another chance to improve those skills tomorrow.”
Hannah groaned and pushed herself up from the table. “Any suggestions for how I should do that?”
“You could start with an apology.”
Apologizing was the last thing that she wanted to do. She patted her mother on the shoulder and went in search of her son. After she’d helped Matthew with his bath, tucked him in, read a bedtime story and listened to his prayers, she knew what she needed to do. So she went to her room, spent a few minutes in prayer and finally opened her well-worn Bible. It didn’t take long to find the verse that was weighing on her heart. She thumbed through the pages until she found the book of Matthew, the fifth chapter, beginning in the twenty-third verse.
Therefore if thou bring thy gift to the altar, and there rememberest that thy brother hath ought against thee; leave thy gift before the altar, and go thy way; first be reconciled to thy brother, and then come and offer thy gift.
There didn’t seem to be much wiggle room in Christ’s words. Obviously she had offended Jacob. After speaking with her mother, she understood that clearly. Now all she had to do was work up the courage to admit that she’d been wrong, she’d acted hastily, and she was sorry to have raised her voice and left so abruptly. It shouldn’t be that hard of a thing to get through, and even if it was, she was pretty sure apologizing would be the first item on her list at work the next day.
* * *
Relief washed over Jacob when he heard Hannah’s buggy approaching. He’d convinced himself that he’d blown it and that she wasn’t coming back.
He pretended to be busy working on a coffee table when she walked inside.
“I thought you’d be at your job site already.”
“I thought you might not come.”
Their eyes locked for what seemed like a lifetime, and finally Hannah smiled ruefully, walked toward him and sat down across from his workbench.
“I did consider resigning...”
“You wouldn’t be the first.”
“But then I realized that I need this job.”
“Hannah, we both know you can find a better job—one that pays more and doesn’t require you to mop the floor.” He glanced up at her and then stared back down at the coffee table. Had he been sanding or staining it?
“Maybe I could find another job, but I didn’t like what was out there.”
“Apparently you didn’t like what was in here, either.”
“Jacob, I am sorry for raising my voice at you yesterday and for disregarding your father’s things.”
Jacob’s head snapped up, and he found Hannah staring at him, a look of regret on her face.
“I should have asked first.”
He smiled for the first time that day as the knot in his stomach slowly unwound. “Dat would have told me to clean the office long ago. He always said he was going to, but then he’d get distracted by something else.”
“Still, those items were special to you, and if you want them on the shelves I’ll put them back.”
“No need to do that.”
“I’m not sorry for cleaning or moving the furniture, but if you don’t want to pay me for those hours, I understand.”
“You’re so gut at cleaning, maybe you could tackle my house.” When she straightened up in alarm, he said, “I’m kidding. What I mean is that I’ve probably grown used to things being a bit messy.”
Hannah ran a finger across the top of his workbench and held it up. “Your workshop is clean enough. See? No dust.”
No dust. That meant he had been staining the piece he was working on, not sanding it, which also explained the rag in his hand. Honestly, what was wrong with his train of thought these days?
“Ya, having a clean workspace is important when I’m staining wood, and it helps to keep my tools in good condition.” He sighed and grimaced, knowing what he needed to say next. “I’m sure having a clean and functional work area is important for your work too. I’m sorry I overreacted.”
“So we’re gut?”
“We are.”
“Great.” She hopped off the bench. “Oh, one more thing, though. I would like to leave early on days that Matt has therapy appointments. So today I’ll work through lunch and leave at one.”
“That isn’t a problem.”
“You’re sure?”
“I thought we had already agreed on that. You’ll be taking off early on therapy days—Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday. Right?”
“Right. It’s possible I could take some of the work with me and do it in the office waiting room.”
“Only if you want to.”
She walked across to the office and then pivoted to face him. “Why aren’t you at the job site today?”
“The builder didn’t get all the supplies in on time, but he was expecting a shipment later today. I guess I’ll
head back over tomorrow.”
“Okay. Do you have time to answer some questions?”
“I can try.”
“You might want to bring a mug of coffee.”
“For myself or both of us?”
Her smile broadened, and Jacob realized she was one of the prettiest women he knew. The fact that she had called him on the wreck of an office he’d wanted her to work in? He could see now that he’d deserved that.
“Bring a cup for both of us. I have a lot of questions.”
* * *
Hannah told herself she needed to get over her nerves if she was going to work in close proximity with Jacob every day. She felt like a schoolgirl with a crush. What was she thinking? She did not have romantic feelings for Jacob Schrock. She was a grown woman with a young child and a job. She was way beyond crushes.
Jacob pulled the old office chair back into the office. “Don’t look at me that way. It’s not for you to sit on. I brought it for myself.”
“Gut. What I mean is, I was afraid it would collapse under me.”
Jacob’s grin widened as he handed her a mug of coffee. “Sorry I don’t have anything sweet to go with this. I’m not actually a baker.”
Hannah popped up, retrieved her quilted lunch bag and pulled out a Tupperware container filled with snickerdoodle squares. “Apparently my mamm thinks this job is going to require massive amounts of sugar.”
The food and coffee helped to ease what tension remained between them.
Hannah pulled out the notes she’d made the day before and began firing questions at him.
“What does the notation R mean?”
“Money I received for a job.”
“And P means...”
“Something I paid for.”
“Okay. I’d sort of figured those out, but what in the world is Q?”
“Means I had a question. Wasn’t sure if the receipt was important or not.”
“Give me an example.”
“Buggy repairs.”
“Excuse me?”
“Englischers take off car repairs...”
“Nein. They take off mileage, and they’re allowed so much per mile for traveling to and from locations that are job related.”
“So can I take off mileage?”
She tapped her pen against the pad of paper and made a notation.
“What did you write down?”
“A note to call your accountant and ask him or her.”
“I don’t have an accountant. That’s why I’m in this mess.”
“You’re in this mess because you are ignorant...”
Jacob choked on his coffee.
“By that I mean you’re uneducated in the ways of Englisch laws. There are going to be questions I can’t answer, Jacob. We need to ask a professional.”
“Gut point.”
“I’ll make a list and you can call whomever you trust.”
Jacob pulled the pad toward him and wrote the name of a Goshen accounting firm across the top of the page, then added the name of the person she should contact.
“You call them. I’m making accountant questions officially a part of your job.”
“I imagine they’ll bill you for the time.”
“It’ll still be much less than having them tape up receipts.” He leaned back in his chair, causing it to let out an alarming groan, and laced his fingers behind his head. “Do you know how to use the phone?”
“Ya. I’ve used one a few times.” She tried not to stare at the muscles bulging in his arms. Who would have thought that a woodworker would be in such good shape?
“So no phone lessons are required.”
“I’m a little surprised you have one here in the shop.”
“The bishop allows it, and truthfully my mother wanted one. She was always worried one of us would injure ourselves with a table saw. The woman had quite an imagination. Anyway, when the bishop started allowing them for businesses, she ordered one.”
“So she could call 911?”
“Ya.”
“Did she ever have to?”
“Only when my dat was bit by a snake. He wanted to drive himself to the hospital, but she had an ambulance on the way before he could hobble to the horse stall.”
“Was it poisonous?”
“Probably not. The critter crawled away, and he didn’t have a chance to identify it. The doctors treated him all the same, and Mamm was forever saying that she’d saved his life by having the phone installed.”
“They sound like very special people.”
“They were.” Jacob swallowed hard, but he didn’t look away from her. “I suppose that sometimes I forget the good memories...you know, trying not to dwell on the bad.”
“I can understand that.” Hannah thought of what her mother had said, that they’d both been dealt a blow.
Jacob cleared his throat and sat forward, arms crossed on the desk. “How do you know so much about accounting and IRS reports?”
“I first worked doing some accounting here in town, down at the furniture factory when I was a youngie.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“You and I didn’t stay in touch after our failed attempt at dating, not really.”
“Maybe we should have.”
“Why?”
She half hoped that he would answer, but he seemed suddenly interested in the snickerdoodle in his hand, so she let it slide.
“Okay, let’s see what else I have here.”
They went down her list of questions until she felt like she had a fair understanding of his system—which wasn’t much of a system, but at least it was consistent.
Finally she said, “This isn’t going to be as complicated as I feared. You only have a few categories that your deductions will fall under. I am curious, though—how did you even pay your taxes without knowing exactly what you’d made and what you’d spent?”
“I tried to fill out the IRS worksheets, but mostly that was a guessing game. Mainly I looked at my balance in my bank account and paid based on that.”
“But you must have spent money that wasn’t business related.”
“Look around, Hannah. Does it look like I’ve spent much on the place?”
“I see your point.”
“No big vacations, no major purchases, it seemed pretty straightforward to me.”
“Everyone has to file taxes—even Amish.”
“Not if we make under a certain amount, and believe me, if I made over that amount, it wasn’t by much.”
“That’s true for individuals, but businesses must file whether they have a profit or loss.”
“Which I did.”
“And yet you’re being audited. Perhaps you didn’t include all the forms you were required to include.”
When he looked at her skeptically, she explained, “After I married, I did my husband’s taxes for the farm. We even had a nice Mennonite woman come to the local library and help us.”
“Wunderbaar. Then you know what you’re doing.”
“Let’s hope so.” She tapped her pen against the pad.
“What?”
“You might have some money coming back to you. There are a lot of deductions that wouldn’t have shown up as an extra expense. Like, say, the use of this part of the barn.”
Jacob glanced left and right and then leaned forward. “You mean this room? I’ve heard it’s small and stuffy and poorly lit.”
She crossed her arms in defense, but she couldn’t help smiling. “Ya. I think you’re right. Still, it’s deductible because it’s the place you do business, as is the part out there where you work on your projects.”
“You’re gut at this, Hannah.”
“Better wait until we’re through the audit to decide that. Speaking of the audit...”
“We only have ten days, Jacob.”
“Are you sure?”
“According to the letter they sent, an agent will be here to examine your files on September 10.”
“Oh.”
“Today is August 28.”
“Can we ask for an extension?”
“We can, but...the Mennonite woman in Wisconsin, she had a college degree in accounting and worked for a local accountant. She said that the IRS will grant an extension, but they’ll look at things more closely because of it. Also, any penalties you have would be greater because more time will have passed since you owed the taxes.”
“I just want to build playhouses.”
“Ya, most business owners love what they do, but they’re not prepared for the amount of paperwork that comes with it.”
“Can you have it ready? By the tenth?”
“Maybe, if I take it home with me, work on it a little each night and put in as many hours here as possible.” Even as she uttered those words, Hannah wondered what in the world she was doing. She wanted to spend time with Matthew. She wanted to work in the garden. She didn’t want to spend every free minute taping up Jacob’s receipts.
“You would do that?”
“I guess, but is there anyone else who could help? Anyone who could at least tape these receipts onto sheets of paper for me? That would save a lot of time.”
“I have five nephews who live next door. They’re always bugging me to come see them.”
“You don’t go next door to see your nephews?”
“I’ve been busy is all.” Jacob began gathering up their cups and putting the lid back on the empty Tupperware.
“How old are they?”
“Oldest is eleven, no...twelve.”
“That’s certainly old enough to help with this project, and my niece Naomi was looking for a way to earn a little Christmas money.”
“Let’s tell the kinder that I’ll pay them two bucks an hour. Wait, will I be in trouble with the child labor laws?”
“I don’t think taping receipts for an hour each night falls into that category.”
“Gut.” He stood, holding the cups in his left hand and tapping on the table with his right. “I’ll load up one of the bins later today in your buggy for you to take to your niece.”
Amish Beginnings Page 9
