The Farmer's Bride

by Kathleen Fuller

  Then there was Martha. Delilah wasn’t all that sure about her, other than she was pretty, in a fresh and lively way. But it wasn’t as though her grandson had any other choices to pursue in this district. She’d already learned Martha was the only single woman close to his age, which was the only downside Delilah had seen about Birch Creek so far. Levi was so charming that she was sure Martha would be smitten after they’d spent some time together. And because Levi would be part owner and a manager of the inn, he would also be set financially. He’s such a catch.

  She smiled to herself. All she had to do was make sure Thursday evening went off without a hitch. As long as Seth and Martha were there, she would guide the rest, especially Nina. She relaxed a bit. Her plans might not be going perfectly, but they were heading in the right direction.

  Chapter 9

  “Do we really have to sneak around like this?” Martha asked.

  Seth stopped a few feet from the copse of trees by Jalon Chupp’s house. More than once he’d wished he’d built his shed farther away from the pond. But if he had, he’d be spending precious time traveling, taking away from the time he could be woodcarving. “Shh.” He put his finger to his lips and cocked his head. “Do you hear anything?” he whispered.

  “Birds. Crickets. Then there was that goat screech back there—”

  Seth put his finger over her lips. “Don’t you know how to whisper?”

  “Ya,” she said against his finger, then moved his hand away.

  He took a step back. What had gotten into him tonight? From the moment he’d agreed to Martha’s scheme and then come up with his own—he was oh so very tired of schemes—he’d given 100 percent to making her parents think they fancied each other. Surprisingly, it hadn’t been that difficult. It also hadn’t been that unpleasant. During their meal, he’d felt comfortable with her parents, and the food was delicious. He’d also noticed how pretty Martha’s eyes were again, since they had sat so close to each other purposely. Not just her eyes, but her whole face. And when they were putting the puzzle pieces together, he also realized how elegant her hands were. Normally he didn’t care about such things, but for some reason he couldn’t take his eyes off her—when she wasn’t looking, of course.

  And now he had touched her lips. Granted, she was being a bit loud. Well, loud might be an exaggeration, but she certainly wasn’t quiet. He knew Ira and the Bontragers had to be at the pond by now, and he didn’t want to draw their attention. But he didn’t have to put his finger over Martha’s lips to accomplish that. He could have just shushed her verbally.

  But then he wouldn’t have felt her soft lips. Her very soft lips.

  “Sorry.” He whirled around and headed for the shed. He needed to get tonight over with. Then things could go back to normal. Except they wouldn’t. Not with his father’s glaucoma and the responsibility he’d handed Seth. Responsibility he honestly didn’t want but would make sure he fulfilled.

  To Martha’s credit she didn’t say another word as they made their way to the shed. It was dusk, but he had plenty of lights in the woodshop. He unlocked the door, turned on the lamp on the table near the door, and walked to the back while Martha closed the door behind them. He plugged his two fans into battery power and then flipped them on. The muggy, still air stirred. The fans didn’t do much to cool off the shed, but they provided a bit of relief. He didn’t anticipate they would be here that long anyway.

  He went to the pegboard against the wall where he hung all his tools. At least he’d hung all his tools at first. Now almost all of them were scattered all over his workbench and the shelving unit. He wasn’t exactly a neatnik. The two still hung were there only because he hadn’t used them since the last time he cleaned up his shop, weeks ago. He pulled his planer off its peg. “We’ll start with this.” He held up the tool.

  “A planer?” Martha put her hands on her hips. “Mei daed’s a carpenter, Seth. I learned how to use a planer when I was six years old.”

  “Yer vatter let you use a tool when you were six?”

  “Actually, when I was five. That’s when I first used a hammer.” She went to the pegboard and looked at the one tool left hanging. “I want to learn carving, not building.” She took it off the hook and turned to him. “Teach me how to use this.”

  Her words sounded bossy, but her tone was sweet. Feminine. A little cajoling. Not in a bad way, but in a way that made his mouth go dry, for some strange reason. He went to the corner of the shed where he kept his bottled water, cans of pop, and snacks. Usually he brought a cooler of ice with him when it was this hot, but he didn’t have the chance this time. He took a can of Coke from the plastic rings, popped the top, and took a sip. It was hot and tasted terrible, but it took away the dryness.

  Seth set the can on one of the shelves and took the tool from her. “This is for advanced work.” He wouldn’t admit that he needed more practice with the fish tail too, but she didn’t need to know that. He hung the tool back up and lifted another basic one off the shelf. “How about trying the chisel again?”

  She smiled. “Ya. That’s gut.”

  Even her smile was pretty. He grabbed the pop and took another swig. Blech. “Let’s get this over with,” he muttered.

  “I heard that.”

  He turned around and saw the annoyed look on her face.

  “Look, Seth, if this is such a chore for you, forget it. I don’t want to force you to show me anything.” She headed for the door. “I’ll get mei own tools and book and figure it out from there.”

  A vision of her slicing her finger open, like he had when he first started using the tools, came to his mind. “Come back,” he said. “It’s not a chore. I’m just tired, that’s all.” Which he was. He hadn’t slept well last night, thinking about Daed. And he’d worked all day on the farm. “I said I would teach you, and I always keep mei word.”

  She peered at him. “Are you sure?”

  “Positive.” He held up the chisel. “Let’s get started.”

  * * *

  It wasn’t long before Martha was wiping sweat from her face. Her shoulders ached a little from using the mallet to hit the handle of the chisel, and her hands were cramping from her unfamiliar grip on the tools.

  She’d never had so much fun in her life.

  Seth stood right beside her, helping her adjust her grip, showing her different ways to sink the blade of the tool into the aspen wood, and gently correcting her when she made a mistake. Which wasn’t too often, she was surprised to find out. She was also surprised to discover how much she liked working with wood. A lot. Even if it felt like one hundred degrees in the woodshop. She’d anticipated the joy and challenge of learning something knew, but this was different from tying knots and training horses. The feel of the wood, the way the chisel chipped at it, exposing new grain . . . This feeling reached into her soul.

  “Here.” Seth handed her a rag from a stack on the shelf above the workbench. “Don’t worry. It’s clean. I’ve been keeping a stock of them this summer.”

  She looked at it and smirked. “You don’t have any more of those attractive headbands?”

  He did, but he wasn’t about to pull them out, because he was sure she would want him to wear one. “Do you want this or not?”

  She grinned and took it from him, then wiped her face, which was no doubt red. She handed it back to him and resumed her work.

  He looked at the damp rag. “What am I, yer assistant?” He set the rag on an empty space on the shelf, then studied her progress. She’d caught on quickly, much more quickly than he had. “I think you’re ready to move on.” He went to the pegboard and took down a tool that resembled the chisel but had a U-shaped curve at the end. “This is a gouge,” he said, flipping the tool over in his hand and giving it to her handle first. “You saw me using it when you were here before. Use the curved edge down, on the side of the wood.”

  She took the tool and looked at the wood in the vise. She had chiseled the end of the small piece until it was smooth. She did
as Seth instructed, and it gouged a nice edge into the side of the wood.

  “Now turn it over and use the other side in the middle.”

  She did as he instructed. This time the gouge created a shallow trench in the wood. She looked at Seth and grinned. “What a useful tool.”

  “It’s one of mei favorites. That’s a wide gouge. I have some smaller ones for more detailed work.” He went to the shelving unit on the opposite side of the room and pulled down a block of wood, then brought it over to Martha. “I used the smallest one to carve around the bird’s wings.”

  She took the wood from him and examined it. He was a good carver, in a rustic sort of way. The bird wasn’t very detailed; it was simple, like the seashell she’d seen the first time she was here. But she liked its charm. “How long did it take you to make this?”

  “A while.” He frowned. “Hard to be exact since I can get only snatches of time to work out here.” He took the wood and put it back on the shelf.

  She watched him, more beads of perspiration slipping down the side of her face. “Why do you keep this place a secret?” she asked.

  He turned around, giving her the first scowl since before suppertime. “That’s not any of yer business.”

  She felt the tips of her ears heat, which they always did when she was embarrassed. “You’re right. I’m sorry I asked.” She turned and focused on the wood in front of her. Her mind started to visualize what she could make with the scrap wood and the two tools. It would make a nice base frame for one of the smaller puzzles her mother had purchased, one she hadn’t started on yet. But once Mamm finished, Martha could glue the completed puzzle to the frame, then put some clear varnish on it to seal it and make it shiny. Her father had shown her how to use stain and varnish a few years ago, but she’d never had the opportunity to apply what she learned.

  She quickly used the gouge to hone the side of the wood, then took it out of the vise and turned it to the other side. She decided to use the palm of her hand instead of the mallet to push the gouge along the edge. The wood was soft enough for that. Then she did the same to the other two sides. Once finished she turned to see Seth organizing his tools. He’d already cleared off one of the shelves on the unit, and she saw that a large plastic tub was full of trash. She’d been so engrossed in her work she hadn’t heard him moving around behind her. “Do you have any sandpaper?”

  “Ya.” He pulled open a drawer in the small cabinet near the worktable, then took out two sheets of sandpaper. “Rough and fine,” he said, handing them to her.

  “Perfect.” She went to work sanding the board, fine wood dust gathering on the backs of her hands.

  “What are you making?” Seth said, as he leaned over her shoulder.

  She jerked, the sandpaper skidding across the wood, but she kept her grip on the paper. He shouldn’t startle her like that. He also shouldn’t be standing so close to her. It was hot in here, and she was already a sopping mess, and she was sure she didn’t smell that great either. But that wasn’t what bothered her. It was that annoying tickle in her stomach that kicked up again. He hadn’t moved, and if she turned her head just right, the top of her kapp would brush against his cheek. She did not want that to happen. “A frame.”

  “Doesn’t look like a frame.” He moved to her side.

  She blew out a relieved breath, then explained what she planned to do with the wood. “I’m sure frame isn’t the right word, but I don’t know what to call it.”

  “A plaque. And it’s a great idea. They have several of those in that gift shop in Barton.”

  The pause in sanding made her realize how much her hand hurt. She wasn’t used to using her hands like this, and she looked down at the dust on them. She set down the sandpaper and rubbed her fingers. “How long have we been here?”

  “Let me check.” He glanced at the same small clock on the worktable he’d looked at the other day, then grabbed it. “This says seven, but that can’t be right.” He went and opened the door. “It’s dark outside. Must be past nine.” He shook the clock, then looked at it again. “This thing must be broken.”

  They’d been out here for almost two hours? She quickly brushed off her hands. “I’ve got to get back home. Mamm and Daed are probably worried about us.”

  “I’m not so sure they are.” He gave her smirk. “They told us to take our time, right?”

  Right. Now she was remembering the sly look on her mother’s face when they left. Oh boy. It was going to be hard to admit the truth about her and Seth. “Still,” she said, “I don’t want to give them any ideas.”

  “Too late—”

  “Any more ideas.” She turned to him and smiled. “Danki, Seth. This was so much fun. May I take the plaque and finish it at home? Daed’s got more than enough sandpaper around. I’ll pay you for the wood.”

  He walked over to the bench and picked up the plaque. He looked at it before handing it to her. “You don’t have to pay me.” Then he looked her up and down. “By the way, you’re covered in sawdust.”

  She glanced at her dress. She could brush that off easily enough, but when she touched her face, it felt grimy. A dry rag wasn’t going to help. How was she going to explain that to her parents? “I’ll stop by the pond and wash up before I geh home.”

  “What if Ira and the Bontragers are still fishing there?”

  “Then I’ll say I came by to cool off. I’m just going to rinse mei face and neck and arms. Besides, they won’t think anything of it if I’m by myself.”

  His expression grew stern. “You’re not going there by yerself.”

  “Seth, the pond isn’t that far away.”

  “It’s dark.”

  “It’s also a full moon.”

  He crossed his arms. A bead of sweat ran down the side of his face. His dark hair curled at the ends from the heat and humidity in the woodshop. “I’ll geh with you.”

  “And what will you tell yer bruder if he’s there? We don’t want him to get the wrong idea about us, right?” She didn’t want to tell Seth she was already worried Ira was mad at her.

  “I’ll figure something out.” He opened the door and motioned for her to leave.

  She walked out of the shed and waited while Seth turned out the lights and locked up. It was still warm and sticky outside, but she felt a slight, welcome breeze. Only then did she realize how stifling it had been in the shed. She had so much fun carving she hadn’t really noticed.

  “You don’t have to come with me,” she said. “I am a grownup, you know.”

  He gave her a long look. The moon was bright tonight, so much so that she could see his expression. He didn’t look upset or put out or irritated. He looked . . . Okay, she had no idea what that look meant, only that she shivered, which made no sense because she was the furthest thing from cold.

  Then his expression changed again, becoming inscrutable. “Come on.”

  With a sigh she followed him, clutching the plaque, and put shivering in front of Seth from her mind. She was pleased with her idea and decided to hit some garage sales herself and find her own puzzles. She’d get a nice one to put together and attach to the plaque, then give it to her mother for her birthday next month.

  When they reached the pond, no one was in sight. “Thank you, Lord,” Seth said, looking at the sky. He seemed to be doing that a lot tonight.

  “Could you hold this?” Martha handed him the plaque. He nodded and took it, and she leaned down at the edge of the bank and dipped her hands into the cool water. She’d been to this pond several times. It was a well-kept place, always mowed, with a bench on one side. That was good, since she didn’t have to worry about any critters jumping out at her. She splashed the water on her face, then her neck, then finally her arms. She got up and went back to Seth. “That felt great,” she said, grinning, not caring that her face was wet. She wiped her hands on her dress and reached for the plaque. “Yer turn.”

  * * *

  Seth had never been more annoyed with a full moon in his life. Which wa
s ridiculous, since the moonlight would keep them from having to use a flashlight to get home, which would decrease the chances of them being detected. He also realized he’d forgotten his pocket flashlight in the shed. Then again, his mind hadn’t been firing on all cylinders tonight. Especially right now.

  He’d noticed how pretty Martha was at her house, but she was downright beautiful in the moonlight. He also realized that some of that attraction was because of the confidence she’d displayed back in the woodshop. She used the tools as though she’d been woodcarving all her life, and even if her father had given her some rudimentary instruction on woodworking, the plaque looked almost professionally done. Far better than his first attempt had been. And while he’d had to find ideas from books he checked out from the library, she had come up with a pretty clever one of her own on the spot. That was creativity, something he suddenly realized he didn’t have very much of. At least not as much as Martha had.

  But all that was in the far recesses of his mind. All he could do was gaze at her lovely, fresh face illuminated in the silver light. Droplets balanced on the tops of her cheeks, and when she blinked he noticed a few of them falling from her eyelashes, which didn’t seem to bother her. A bead of water slid down the side of her face, and he almost reached up and wiped it off. If he hadn’t been clutching her plaque in two hands, he might have done it.

  “Seth?” she said, bringing him out of his stupor.

  “Oh. Ya.” He handed her the plaque and hurried to the pond. The water here was never stagnant because of a mega battery–powered pump Jalon had installed a couple of years ago. The pump didn’t interfere with the ecosystem, but it kept algae at bay. He crouched down and scooped up as much of the water as he could. He needed to splash his hot face, and not because it was warm and muggy out. This whole evening had turned out to be more than he bargained or prepared for.