Mending Hearts

by Janice Kay Johnson - His Best Friend's Baby

  The police chief lounged against the porch railing, his legs outstretched and crossed at the ankles. “I meant to talk to Eli, too, but you can pass what I said on to him.”

  Looking grim, Luke said, “I’m not sure what we can do about it. You know resistance isn’t our way.”

  David could read his mind; Luke might be willing to turn the other cheek if an armed robber burst into his store, but right this minute he was forced to envision the idea of Julia being alone up front when it happened.

  David didn’t like the pictures that his imagination produced any better than Luke did. “Miriam needs to know, too. Unless you’ve already talked to the quilt shop owner?”

  “No, but I will tomorrow,” the sheriff said. “I think they’re less likely to be a target, with more customers in and out and usually at least two women there minding the store. What’s been eating at me is the idea of Julia being held up, Luke and Eli in back with the door closed, never knowing what’s happening. These creeps might think she would be easy to intimidate.”

  The lines in Luke’s face deepened further. David understood his fear, because the idea of something like that happening when Miriam was alone in the store—as he guessed wasn’t uncommon when staff took breaks or one left early at the end of the day—was enough to make him break out in a cold sweat.

  Although, would two women together be any safer?

  “You said they haven’t hit an Amish business yet.”

  “No, only the tavern and the lumberyard, both when they were closing at the end of the day. No question it’s the same two guys. I worry that it will occur to this pair that Amish businesses are likely to have even more cash, since most of their customers don’t use credit cards or even checks.”

  “That’s not true of Bowman’s,” Luke pointed out. “Most of our furniture is sold to Englischers, much of that online. We take in very little cash.”

  “If they’re smart at all, they’ll realize that.” The police chief didn’t sound convinced the pair that had terrorized two businesses in his town were smart.

  David spoke up. “They may realize that in an Amish business, nobody would pull out a gun to fight back, either.”

  “That’s part of my worry,” Nick agreed.

  Luke rubbed his forehead. “There are too many Amish businesses that take in mostly cash. The sawmill, for one.”

  “I’ve already spoken to Matthew Fisher. I thought word would have already gotten around.”

  “It will,” Luke said, “but slower because he’s in a different church district from us.”

  “I’m not so concerned about the smaller businesses, like the harness shop or hat store. They wouldn’t have enough cash on hand to interest thieves, but the country store would. Or the auction house, on the right day.”

  David broke in. “The buggy shop. With buggies eight thousand dollars or more . . .”

  “You’re right.” Nick wasn’t taking notes, but David doubted he needed to.

  Once they’d discussed other possibilities, Luke said, “I’ll suggest to Daad that we leave the door into the workshop open for now, especially near the end of the day. It’s not good because of sawdust and noise, but I’m willing.”

  “Other businesses like the quilt shop should make sure they always have two people working until you catch these men,” David suggested.

  “That’s a good idea, although not a guarantee that the men won’t hold them up anyway.”

  “I’ll talk to Amos tomorrow,” Luke said. “It might be that men in our community could take turns in some of these businesses, especially late in the day.”

  David stirred. “Just as the women are taking care of Tamara Hilty.”

  “All right.” Nick straightened. “I know none of you will fight back, but that’s just as well anyway. I’m guessing these two will be reluctant to take on multiple people. They want an owner closing alone, one person who can be intimidated easily.”

  Luke rolled his shoulders. “I’ll talk to Daad before we go home.”

  The only one of them who’d been sitting, David stood now. “I’ll ask Miriam to walk partway home with me. I can tell her what we talked about.”

  “Good.” Nick looked at Luke. “You won’t mind if I show up pretty regularly near closing time, will you?”

  “No. I’d be glad if you did.”

  If these two weren’t already friends, David thought, they were at least united in their determination to protect Julia. He might find time to drive into town himself the days Miriam worked until closing, but he didn’t say that. He didn’t have to; however muddled his thinking was, he hadn’t hidden his interest in her from anyone paying attention—and, as her brother, Luke would most certainly notice any man spending time with his sister.

  When he shared his worry with her, she’d counter with scripture.

  As for me, I will call upon God, and the Lord shall save me.

  The best he could do was remind her that the Lord had spoken about neighbors dwelling near each other for safety’s sake.

  God did not ask his followers to take unnecessary risks.

  And David feared his faith may not be strong enough to survive the sudden loss of another person he loved.

  * * *

  * * *

  David’s suggestion astonished her.

  “I only close two days a week,” Miriam insisted. “We’re not the kind of business that has trouble. Hardly ever even shoplifters.”

  She’d been pleased to have him ask her to walk with him again, but now suspected he felt a duty to warn her. As if Daad and Luke wouldn’t do that, and probably Ruth in the morning.

  “If it happens, we’ll hand over the money in the cash register,” she said calmly. “That’s what they want, ain’t so? The loss wouldn’t be that great. Ruth is careful to deposit money every day. I take it to the bank myself sometimes.”

  He looked horrified. “Do you walk?”

  “Ja, or sometimes in my buggy on the way home.”

  David stopped by the rows of raspberry bushes, neatly contained by stretched wire. The berries already showed, just tiny hard nubs as yet. The basket she and Mamm had filled for him today didn’t include raspberry jam, but soon it would.

  “You won’t be doing that alone for a while,” he said in a hard voice. “You shouldn’t be alone in the shop at all. Neither should Ruth or any of the other employees.”

  There were only two others, both working fewer hours than Miriam did, except during the occasional extra-busy week when they had a sale or took part in a street fair. Neither of the other women took responsibility for opening or closing the store; Ruth and Miriam had the only keys. Miriam could have taken most of the hours the other two women worked, but knew the jobs were important to them, too. Besides, what if she had to quit? Ruth should have others trained.

  Maybe in the back of her mind had been the possibility she might still marry, even though on the surface she’d been so certain she wouldn’t.

  “I’ll talk to Ruth,” she agreed. “Most days I’m there late, I ride with Daad and Luke, you know. I just go out the back and there they are, down the alley.”

  “Most?” Of course he’d caught that.

  “Ruth goes home at noon one day a week, and I handle the store until closing. Usually I go in just before she leaves.”

  He didn’t like that, she could tell.

  “You do keep the back door locked?”

  Miriam blinked. “Well, usually.” Sometimes was a more accurate answer, but that wasn’t what he wanted to hear.

  Expression brooding, his gray eyes dark, he said, “You’re not taking me seriously, are you?”

  “I think you’re worrying for no good reason,” she said honestly. “Those men you told me about haven’t hurt anyone. There are plenty of businesses in town that make more money than A Stitch in Time does.”

 
; “I’m worrying about you because Nick and your brother are concentrating on Julia, out in front alone.”

  That was almost a growl.

  “But . . . they’d never have much cash.”

  “The thieves might not realize that.”

  He obviously needed reassurance, and she could give him that. “I’ll be careful, I promise, David. It would be silly for you to drive to town for no reason.”

  He made a sound in the back of his throat and shook his head. “You don’t get it, do you?”

  Ferhoodled, she stuttered, “I . . . no.”

  “I’ll feel better if I know you’re safe.”

  Miriam’s heart sank. He was thinking about Levi. Of course he was. Her hope trickled out, blood seeping from a wound. “Levi wouldn’t expect you to watch out for me, David. I have family to do that. You mustn’t . . . mustn’t take so much on yourself.”

  “I’m not trusting in God,” he said in an odd voice. He hadn’t once looked away from her face.

  “That’s what I think,” Miriam said gently.

  “God doesn’t say we shouldn’t care for each other. He reminds us over and over that we should. ‘Therefore, whatever you want men to do to you, do also to them, for this is the Law and the Prophets,’” he quoted from Matthew.

  Her heart seemed suddenly to be beating too fast. She could barely whisper. “You want me to . . . keep you safe?”

  He stepped closer, reached out with his free hand to enclose hers. “I want you to care about me.”

  Was he saying . . . ?

  Miriam licked her lips. “You must know I do.”

  They stared at each other. He hadn’t said, I want you to love me. Nor did he say it. His fingers tightened, and she saw something stormy in his eyes, but after a moment, he only nodded.

  “Good.” He dropped her hand and started walking again.

  Indignant, she hustled after him. Good? That was all he had to say?

  He stopped so suddenly, she almost ran into him. “The days you would usually drive yourself and stay until closing, I’ll take you, then come for you at the end of the day.”

  “What?”

  “It makes sense.” His face was composed again when he faced her. “It will surely only be for a few weeks. It should relieve Luke and your daad.”

  “But . . . how do I explain to Mamm why you’re doing that?” As if that were the most important question to ask.

  “Eli won’t tell her about this?”

  She shook her head. “Mamm is less worldly than the rest of us. She and Rose. Daad won’t want her to worry.”

  David nodded his understanding, which annoyed her. Is that how he would treat his wife?

  Was it so bad to have someone want to protect you?

  “Fine,” she said. “Just a time or two, until we see what happens.”

  She saw no satisfaction for having gotten his way in his grin, but she was suspicious nonetheless.

  “If you’re lucky,” he suggested, “I’ll harness Copper so the drive will be a training exercise, too.”

  “If you do that, will you know I’m safe?” she asked pertly.

  His husky laugh conceded defeat. “You’re right. He still isn’t ready for anything like that.”

  There was the fence ahead. Vines clambered over it. David would have to get out here with pruning shears.

  “What days do you stay until closing this week?” he asked.

  Tuesday was her half-day this week. The other days, she would ride with Luke and her father. Saturday, the day he planned to plow the field with Michah, his daad, and his brother, she worked only the morning.

  He nodded. “I’ll drive you Tuesday, then.”

  They settled on a time, and he suggested she bring Abby over again if she had time. Miriam feared she was glowing to know he wanted to see her.

  He started to turn away before stopping suddenly. “I forgot to ask. Saturday we’ll be plowing a field and hoping to get far enough to plant hay. Micah is helping Daad, Jake, and me. Mamm, Susan, and Rhoda Yoder will be bringing a meal. You don’t need to bring food, but you and Deborah are welcome if you’d like to come. Just to eat and visit.”

  “I’ll talk to Mamm and let you know Friday, if I don’t see you before that. But I’d enjoy coming even if she can’t. And”—she held up a hand before he could speak—“I’ll bring something to contribute.”

  “Like cookies?”

  She laughed at him. “If you’re a lucky man.”

  Happy to have the last word, Miriam flounced away.

  * * *

  * * *

  Daad ran steel wool over the discs on the harrow David had found stored in one of the sheds on his inherited farm.

  His father had waved David off when he came to help, so he’d carried over a pile of the tack he had yet to get to. As they talked, he cleaned reins, harness straps, and collars with saddle soap before setting them aside to dry. Much of the leather was stiff, but none past the point of reclamation. He could tell which harness Hiram had used the most recently and which had been stored for many years. Eventually, he used a rag to begin applying a neat’s-foot oil compound, good for conditioning, softening, and even preserving. It left reins too slick, so for them he’d bought a product used at the horse farm where he’d worked the past two years.

  “I hated jobs like this when I was a kind,” he heard himself say.

  His father raised his eyebrows. “It makes a difference that you’re working for yourself now.”

  Was that it? Maybe.

  “I’ve . . . become more patient,” he said.

  Daad’s hands went still. “I have, too.” He sounded sad. “Not soon enough for you, but maybe for Jake’s kinder.”

  Was that an apology? If so, it was unexpected and unnecessary. Yet what David saw on his father’s worn face eased something in him.

  Still, he argued. “It was me, not you.”

  “Was it?”

  The subject was closed as far as his father was concerned. Daad began chastising himself for not keeping up with the care of Hiram’s equipment, and David didn’t bother arguing. There’d be no point. No man had time to do everything. Besides, Onkel Hiram had turned into a grumpy old man who would have insisted he could take care of himself and everything on the farm, denke.

  A little like Esther Schwartz, in fact, David thought, smiling a little.

  When he lifted his head, he saw his father watching him.

  “Your mamm fusses,” he said.

  David stiffened. “About?”

  “She’d like to know you’re thinking about marriage,” Daad said bluntly. “When you drove Miriam home after the service, she wondered whether you might court her.”

  “Does she not approve of Miriam?”

  “How could anyone not?”

  David let himself relax. “I have been thinking about it,” he admitted. “I meant to put it off, but . . . Miriam and I have become friends. Her family has been good to me.”

  “Ja, you couldn’t have better neighbors than the Bowmans. And I suppose you and Luke understand each other.”

  “We do.” He hesitated, staring blindly down at the harness collar he had hooked over one of his knees to allow him to work on it. “I don’t want Mamm to talk to anyone. I’m . . . not sure Miriam knows what I’m thinking.”

  Daad’s eyebrows rose. “How can she not?”

  He went back to rubbing the leather stretched over the hard frame of the collar with a rag soaked in oil. Miriam must guess. If not from earlier, Sunday he’d come right out and said he wanted her to care about him. And when he insisted on being with her whenever she had to close the store on her own. Oh, and his idea, saying she and Abby should walk over to play with the puppies again.

  One side of his mouth tipped up. Ja, no mystery about his meaning there.

 
“I’ll ask your mother not to say anything.” His daad discarded a piece of steel wool and reached for a new one.

  Say anything? David had to retrace the conversation to understand. His mamm and her tendency to gossip almost as much as Nancy Troyer did.

  “Please.”

  His father stayed silent, letting David brood for some time. Was he sure in his own mind that he could do this? His conscience still felt like a brand being burned into his flesh, but he loved her, the woman she was now as well as the girl she’d been. He’d had trouble hiding his reaction when she told him that she did care about him. Afterward, he’d reflected on the fact that she could have tacked on as a friend, but she hadn’t.

  He’d been annoyed when Deborah talked about Gideon Lantz during dinner, as if to sell Miriam on his fine qualities. Ja, Gideon seemed to be a good man, likable, generous to the neighbor woman who hadn’t welcomed his kindness, probably a great daad. That he needed a wife, and was a tall, good-looking fellow, was the part that didn’t sit well with David. Maybe Gideon would look for that wife among the maidals, but why would he once he’d met Miriam? He couldn’t ask for a better mother for his kinder.

  No, David would have preferred he stay with Bishop Ropp’s church district for a few more months. Well, maybe Gideon’s decision had pushed David to think a little faster—and take advantage of living so close to Miriam. He had to admit, he was glad for the way the Bowmans had come to treat him almost like family, too.

  He should move slowly, give Miriam plenty of time to know her heart—but not so much time Gideon might think to start courting her. Maybe it would be better if word did get out that they were a couple. This driving her to work and picking her up might have that effect, without his necessarily having to come right out with his intentions before she was ready to hear them.

  What bothered him, he realized, was the way she had of bringing up Levi every time any tension rose between them. Did she still think about Levi that often, or was she thinking he did? Or did she hold up the name as a shield?

  Maybe she’d been doing that for six years, holding off men by reminding them of the one she’d loved. But did she still believe she could never love anyone the same?