The Bishop's Daughter

by Patricia Johns

  “Business has been rough. He wrote and asked me to come help him. I’m doing what I can, but this isn’t permanent.”

  “I didn’t know . . .”

  “He doesn’t want people to know. We’ll sort out our own problems. There’s no need for the community to gather support. And once I’m sure they’ll be okay without me, I’m going back to Chicago. Absolom and I are starting up our own business.”

  At least his parents would be provided for with him here to contribute to the household, and he wouldn’t just walk out on them. But that didn’t change the fact that Absolom was waiting on him.

  “Okay,” Sadie said. “I understand. For as long as you’re here, or until my father finds someone else. Just . . . help me run the farm.”

  “I can do that.”

  Elijah had obligations on all sides—his parents’ financial concerns, Absolom waiting for him to return to start up the business, and now Sadie’s request that he help keep her daet from overexerting himself. He could tell Sadie to find someone else, but he still felt that sense of duty toward her.

  She was right. His discontent had started all of this, and he owed her something. He just wished he knew what would make them even so he could put her out of his heart. His life was not in Morinville any longer.

  Chapter Four

  The next morning when Sadie arrived in the main barn, she found Elijah already mucking out the milking stalls. She let the door bang shut behind her, and he looked up.

  “Morning,” he said.

  She gave him a nod and grabbed a shovel from the corner. She was tired, and she missed the days when she’d wake up and start the fire in the stove instead of coming out to the barn. But this was for her father, and she didn’t want to make her daet feel bad. So why had her father made this more difficult for all of them by hiring Elijah Fisher? She still couldn’t figure that out.

  Elijah heaved a shovelful of hay into the wheelbarrow, then straightened as she entered the stall next to him.

  “You’re here early,” she said.

  “The earlier we start, the earlier we’re done,” he replied.

  She began shoveling, uncomfortably aware of this muscular man in the stall next to her. He worked steadily, too, and before long Sadie had cleared out the stall. She knocked her shovel against the side of the barrow, dropping the last of the hay fragments onto the pile, then she bent to lift the wheelbarrow. It was heavy, and as she straightened, she felt a warm hand on her waist, and she sucked in a breath of surprise.

  “Hey.” She felt a tingle go up her spine at that low, soft voice. Why couldn’t that part have changed—the way he made her feel with just a word? And he shouldn’t be touching her so familiarly, either, but his touch was confident, sure. As if sliding a hand over a woman’s waist was nothing out of the ordinary for him.

  Elijah nudged her out of the way and picked up the handles of the wheelbarrow himself, wheeling it toward the side door without a backward glance. She watched him go—and she was struck by how different he was after nine years. He certainly wasn’t the lithe teen he used to be. He was stronger now, and more sure of himself.

  Sadie opened a bag of oats and poured some into the feeders to prepare for the milking—and she couldn’t help but look up as Elijah came back inside. He headed for the pile of hay bales and hoisted one in front of him, his muscles bulging.

  “Elijah, I was thinking,” Sadie said. “You say you only came back to help your daet, but you didn’t need to come. You could have just sent him money.”

  Elijah dropped the bale with a grunt. “How much do you think I made out there?”

  She hadn’t really considered that. “I don’t know. Enough?” she said.

  “Hardly.” He pulled a knife from his pocket and cut the twine on the bale, the straw springing forward once released. “With the Englishers, education counts. And I had what every other Amish man has by way of schooling—eighth grade. I got paid a pittance. That’s why I got my high school diploma in the evenings, and I get paid a bit more, but not enough to send money to Daet.”

  “But you always said you’d make more money with the Englishers,” she said. “Wasn’t that your mantra?”

  “I was a kid. I had no idea. Anyway, for the time being at least, my best chance at helping my daet was to come home.”

  “Do you think that was your father’s hope, that you’d have to come back?” Sadie asked.

  Elijah looked over and caught her eye. Then he smiled that old boyish grin of his. “Probably. But it doesn’t change anything.”

  “Like what?” she asked.

  “Like where I can make something of myself.”

  He’d belonged here in Morinville once, and it sounded strange for him to talk this way, as if belonging anywhere else were even a possibility.

  “So you’re just going to leave after this,” she clarified. “You’ll help out your daet for a while, and then go back to . . . to . . .” She couldn’t even bring herself to say it.

  “Yah. That’s the plan.” He plunged a pitchfork into the hay and tossed it into the empty stalls.

  “Did you know that you’d stay away forever when you left the first time?” She heard the quiver in her own voice. Had he planned on never seeing her again?

  He heaved a sigh. “I was actually all set to come back when you married Mervin”—he shrugged, then plunged the fork back into the hay again—“and I couldn’t come back and see that.”

  “See me married,” she clarified.

  “See you with some other man.” He didn’t look up as he worked. “And it was probably for the best. It gave me the kick in the pants that I needed to get some education, and to start a plan for a business that could really go somewhere.”

  “So you’re happy now—with the Englishers,” she said.

  “Yah.” He looked up with that quirky smile of his. “I am.”

  That was a strange relief, to not be the sole reason he’d stayed away, and yet it made it worse somehow, too. It was harder to fix, and for some reason she wanted to fix this for him. She wanted to find the answer, the comfort, whatever it was he was missing in their community, and show him that he’d made a mistake by leaving. Because, if she could fix this for Elijah, then she could fix it for her brother—and she could put up a protective hedge around her own child.

  Elijah finished spreading the hay and straightened. “I’m going to check on the cattle water troughs. You can finish up here alone?”

  Just like that, he was heading off without her, moving on to the next stage. This seemed to be a bit of a theme with them, but she understood. They’d have to work together, but he didn’t have to stay by her side the whole time, either.

  “I’ll be fine,” she said.

  Elijah headed for the door. He looked back at her just once, and for a split second, he was the old Elijah again, those dark eyes always drawn toward her, no matter where they were, and she felt that tingle move up her spine once more.

  He was right—maintaining some distance between them was probably wise. He most certainly wasn’t staying in Morinville.

  * * *

  Later that morning, Sadie and Elijah clomped back up the steps to the mudroom after the chores were complete. The sun had already risen in a splash of gold, betraying how long they’d taken at the work. Daet wouldn’t have taken half as long as they did, but Sadie had done her best, and when she and Elijah returned for breakfast forty minutes late, she was both exhausted and starving.

  “Don’t let Daet know that we’re struggling,” Sadie murmured as they stood on the porch before they went indoors. “We don’t want him to worry. We’ll figure this out.”

  Elijah looked down at her, and she felt his hand brush the side of hers. The touch might have been accidental, but she pulled her hand away regardless. It felt oddly intimate.

  “I know,” he said. “Trust me. I’d rather be working with you than your daet.”

  She wasn’t sure if that was a compliment for her, or a stab at her father. B
ut she didn’t have time to get into it. She was hungry, and breakfast would be in the oven keeping warm for them.

  Sadie and Elijah washed up, then went straight to the table where Mamm and Rosmanda had breakfast ready—oatmeal, fried eggs, bacon, and corn bread. Samuel was waiting for her, and she slipped into her spot next to her son, who crawled straight into her lap. This was the first time anyone but Sadie had woken him, and she felt a rush of guilt. She ran her fingers through Sammie’s honey blond curls and pressed a kiss into his hair.

  “Good morning, sugar,” she whispered.

  “Morning, Mamm.”

  Sadie felt Elijah’s gaze on her, and when she looked up, she saw an oddly tender look on his face, which irritated her for some reason. He shouldn’t have an inside view of her life like this. He shouldn’t be able to watch a moment between her and her little boy when she was awash with maternal guilt over not having been there to wake him for breakfast.

  Daet sat down at the head of the table like usual, and he gave Sadie a peculiar look before he bowed his head for grace. Breakfast was still warm, but the corn bread had toughened in the oven. Samuel took some coaxing to get back into his own chair so that she could eat, and the meal was consumed in record time. Everyone was hungry.

  When they finished eating, Daet rose to his feet. “I’ll go out with you this morning, Elijah,” he said. “Sadie has women’s work to do.”

  Any other time, Sadie would have been grateful. Sadie looked to Mamm, who refused to make eye contact.

  “Daet, the doctor—” Sadie began.

  “Sadie.” Her father’s voice was low and powerful, and she sank into silence. Daet was the man of this home, and he’d spoken.

  Daet gave her one last meaningful look before he and Elijah went out to the mudroom and got on their rubber boots. The women stood in silence until the outside door banged shut. Then Sadie turned to Mamm.

  “What was that?” Sadie asked.

  “He doesn’t want you spending too much time with the Fisher boy,” Mamm replied. Boy. He was in his mid-twenties, but any unmarried man was a “boy.”

  “I’m keeping up the farm, Mamm,” Sadie said tiredly. “Daet has nothing to worry about between Elijah and me. With Daet’s heart and the medicine, and—”

  “I know. I told him the same thing,” Mamm replied, reaching for a plate and beginning to stack them. “He’s concerned for appearances.”

  “And I’m concerned for Daet’s heart,” Sadie retorted.

  Rosmanda snorted out a laugh, then sobered when Mamm shot her a scathing look.

  “If you are to ever marry again, Sadie, you’d better worry about appearances, too,” Mamm retorted. “Your father rested yesterday and this morning. He needs to see how things are going out there. He’s the only one who will notice if something goes wrong.”

  Sadie knew her mother was right, but her father’s collapse still hung fresh in her memory.

  “Rosmanda, go get the mail,” Mamm said, turning to her youngest daughter. “Sadie will help me with the dishes until you get back.”

  The mail truck came early, passing through their community in the wee hours of the morning, so if there was any letter to be had, it would be there already. Sadie picked up the greasy platter that had held the eggs, and the screen door clattered shut behind them as Rosmanda headed out.

  Samuel was playing “clean up” with a little broom that Sadie used to play with at his age. It was good for the little ones to learn to do chores. Soon enough Samuel would be a big boy, tramping out to the barn with his grandfather to learn a man’s work.

  “You spent a good while outside with Elijah yesterday,” Mamm said, her voice a little too controlled to be casual.

  “Fixing the fence and keeping Sammie outside so Daet could sleep,” Sadie replied.

  “Yes, and I know your reasoning,” Mamm said. “But Elijah might be thinking something else.”

  Her waist warmed where Elijah’s hand had pressed against her, and she felt heat flood her cheeks. Sadie shook her head. “He’s not, Mamm. We bicker more than anything.”

  “You’re single and the daughter of the bishop.” Mamm headed to the sink and turned on the water. “While I hate to be the one to point it out to you, you are an attractive woman, too. He might have plans to stop bickering some time soon.”

  “It isn’t that. I’m sure of it. He’s not staying in Morinville, Mamm. He’s not back to stay.”

  Mamm turned abruptly. “He isn’t?”

  “He’s helping his daet,” Sadie replied. “His daet told him that he wasn’t doing well, and he needed a hand.”

  “Are they struggling?” Mamm asked uncertainly. “I didn’t realize . . .”

  “And besides that, I think he feels like he’s doing Absolom a favor. Absolom asked him to look in on me, to make sure I was okay.”

  There was a beat of silence, and Mamm planted a stack of plates heavily on the counter.

  “Absolom did that?” Mamm’s voice grew breathy.

  “That’s what Elijah said.”

  “So Absolom’s still thinking of you, at least. You always were his favorite—”

  “I’m sure he’s thinking of all of us,” Sadie broke in. “You’re his mamm. There is no erasing that fact.”

  As if on cue, Samuel came over to where Sadie stood and leaned his cheek against her leg. She ruffled his blond curls lovingly. There was a bond between a mother and her son, and she refused to believe it could be so easily snapped. She wouldn’t allow it to happen. Her son moved off again with his broom.

  Mamm nodded then sucked in a stabilizing breath. “Did Elijah say anything else about Absolom?”

  “Not really,” Sadie replied. She wished he had now, seeing the longing etched in her mother’s face. “I’d tell you if he did. I promise.”

  Mamm swallowed twice, then wiped her hands on her apron. “So what is Elijah doing then?”

  “Working to help his daet with the money.” Sadie shook her head. “Mamm, why did you hire him, anyway? This isn’t easy having him around.”

  “Your father wanted to,” Mamm replied. “He wanted to prove to the community that Elijah deserved to be accepted again.”

  “He isn’t looking for acceptance here.”

  “I think your father wants to make sure that if Absolom comes back, there will be a place for him, too.”

  “Can Absolom come back?” Sadie asked. “He has a family now, Mamm. It changes things.”

  “The Englishers break up sometimes,” Mamm said, looking over at Sadie with a half-guilty expression.

  Sadie didn’t answer, because she had thought it several times in the past, too. What if the relationship with Sharon didn’t work out? What if they broke up, and Absolom could come home and start fresh? Except a child changed that—a child with their blood.

  “You know how much you love Sammie,” Mamm went on. “It’s the same for me and Absolom. All of you children. I know I shouldn’t wish heartbreak on my son, but if it’s the only thing to bring him back from damnation . . .”

  Sadie glanced over her shoulder to where Samuel dragged the child-sized broom across the floor. She’d do anything for her son, and if Mamm loved Absolom half as much as Sadie loved Samuel, then Mamm’s heart would be shredded by Absolom’s defection. There was no spiritual salvation outside of the community. Not for those born and raised in the Amish life. Absolom’s choice hadn’t been one of simple geography; it was an eternal one. How would Sadie feel if Sammie ran off to some Englisher girl and left his family and his chance at Heaven behind?

  “God is the Good Shepherd, Mamm,” Sadie said woodenly. “He’s not done yet.”

  God couldn’t be done with Absolom yet . . . because Absolom wasn’t home.

  The side door opened once more, and Rosmanda came back in. She held a white envelope in one hand.

  “It’s for Sadie,” she said.

  Sadie dried her hands on a towel and came to retrieve the letter. The return address was in Pennsylvania—where Mervin’
s parents lived. She’d written to them a few weeks ago asking if they’d like to come visit, but that was before Daet’s diagnosis, and she’d completely forgotten. Now, she felt a rush of anxiety as she tore open the envelope. Mamm and Rosmanda both watched her curiously as she scanned the page.

  “They say they’d love to accept our gracious invitation,” Sadie said with a weak smile.

  “Oh . . .” Mamm sighed. The timing wasn’t great—not anymore, at least. But these were Samuel’s grandparents, and they deserved to keep a relationship with their newest grandson. Sadie glanced at the date at the top of the letter.

  “It looks like the mail took its time getting here,” Sadie said. “They’ll arrive in two days.”

  “What?” Mamm closed her eyes, then took a deep breath and opened them again. “Alright, then we have to get busy to be ready for guests. Rosmanda, you’ll clean the upstairs thoroughly this morning. They’ll stay in the boys’ old bedroom—that bed is in the best shape for older people. We’ll need to pick up some new pillows in town, though. The ones we have are too used. We also need another two large bags of flour. It won’t wait. And sugar, the biggest bag—”

  Sadie nodded. “I’ll go to town this morning and get what we need. Then we can start baking this afternoon, and spend the rest of tomorrow making bread, finishing the last of the washing, and making pies. Mervin used to like my cinnamon buns. They reminded him of his mother’s. We could make a batch or two of those.”

  Samuel stared at them mutely, his little broom forgotten, but still clutched in one pudgy hand.

  “Would you like to come to town with your mamm?” Sadie asked with a smile, and a grin broke over the boy’s face.

  Her boy . . . her precious baby boy. She couldn’t even imagine him as a grown man at this point, but she knew she’d never forget those glittering blue eyes or the tousled curls, or the way he looked up at her with such love in that little face. She was his mamm—his whole world right now, and while Sadie’s world was bigger than Sammie’s, he was at the very center of hers.