An Amish Flower Farm

by Mindy Steele

  “Can you grab one of those clean buckets?” He pointed to a far corner where a stack of buckets, smelling strongly of bleach, sat upside down on a bench. She fetched one for him.

  “It looks like Dawdi’s, but...” she mumbled. Adam reached under the table and pulled out a strainer, and secured it between both spigots just above the clean bucket.

  “This catches and strains the honey at the same time. Saves time. Instead of cranking all day and having to separate out the wax, I do this.” He reached under the table again and pulled out a long knife-like object that resembled a thin spatula. “This is an uncapping knife. Here, let me show you how it works. It makes it easier to scrape the beeswax caps off. Then we can spin the frames. Mica says your dawdi didn’t do that.”

  “Nee. It is very clever.”

  Adam began demonstrating the process. He began by slowly slicing away the beeswax from the honeycomb and letting it fall into the stainless square container he referred to as “the box.” “So the honey flows here,” she pointed to the spigot, “and leaves the wax behind? You can sell that to candlemakers.” She was so surprised and intrigued that she forgot she was still upset with him.

  “I do just that,” he grinned, making it hard to stay angry with him. “I let it sit about a week or so to get as much honey as I can. When all that’s left is the wax, a man over in Muncie buys all I can collect. We keep it in the cellar and he drives over in July and again in October to buy whatever I have.”

  “That’s wunderbaar, Adam,” she said openly. “Nothing is wasted.”

  “Nothing wasted,” he repeated, pausing just long enough to meet her eyes. She couldn’t explain what those long looks did to her.

  Watching Adam Hostetler move about his labors, listening to his drawling voice as he chatted with ease, made all kinds of grownup notions come to the surface. Could her friends be right that Adam’s heart might heal and find love again, or were her feelings one-sided? When he finished scraping the wax, Adam placed the frame in the extractor and went to fetch the next one to uncap.

  “How many frames can you put in your extractor at once?” Belinda rose on tiptoe, hands clenching her sides, and peered inside the metal extractor.

  “Three. Here,” he offered her the knife. “Want to do this one, get the hang of it?” She did. Belinda balanced the frame on the strip of wood and began moving the uncapping knife in a sawing motion, letting the wax drop down.

  “Now take your time. You just have to get the hang of it,” he said in a low calm tone that made her shiver. Maybe she was too excited—or maybe his nearness was affecting her more than it should. It was different when she thought he was courting another, but now everything had changed. As her heart galloped, her fingers slowed in their movements. Adam placed a hand over hers and encouraged her to move more swiftly. He still smelled of sawdust, mingled with wax combs and warm air into a mixture that intoxicated her senses. It was far too warm to be standing this close, and Adam must have agreed because he stepped away quickly. He went for another frame, fortunately.

  “I can’t get a day off until next Tuesday, but I can pull a few supers before work if you can manage the extractor on your own some this week,” Adam said.

  “I can manage, and get jars ready too,” she said, still slicing gingerly away. It would be better if she worked alone anyway. Adam was freshly wounded, overwhelmed with duties, and clearly not interested in a woman like her. Yes, she would rather work alone. These feelings running through her were too new and confusing to deal with while he was near.

  Belinda lifted her gaze and found him staring at her again. “What?”

  “Nothing. It’s just...you look like you’re having fun. You’re smiling.”

  “Why shouldn’t I smile? I happen to like doing this. I can do more than grow flowers, you know.” She hiked one side of her lips into a smirk.

  “So I’m learning,” Adam quickly replied. “I’ve just never seen anyone excited to help do this before.” He wanted to know more about her. What was her favorite ice cream flavor? What kind of books did she like to read? It would be easy, using all the right words, asking the right questions, to get to know her better, but did he want to risk their partnership for something as meaningless as attraction? Attraction was a cruel trickster, and he wasn’t about to let it toy with him again. He would be better off fending off an angry swarm than putting his heart out there ever again.

  They worked side by side the whole day. Adam prodded her to talk about her flowers, the various types and uses, listening to her every word. He filled the occasional quiet with medicinal facts about honey and things he’d learned about bees over the years. How he had longed for a day such as this, sharing his passion with another. It was perfect—and he would do nothing to jeopardize it. Their partnership was working even better than he’d hoped, and he aimed to see that it stayed that way.

  “You look like you had a good day,” Tabitha said, stepping out from the laundry room with an armload of freshly folded linens. The kitchen smelled strongly of chicken and spices, the dish still cooking in the oven. Tabitha had also managed to make two of her favorite zucchini bread loaves earlier. She’d added nuts to one for herself, considering few in the house liked walnuts in their zucchini bread. But since she was the baker, she was content to please herself. The others had a separate, nut-free loaf they could enjoy.

  She relished her days off from working at the market. Helping Mammi, baking to her heart’s content, and of course, quilting. Just a few more days off and her newest creation, River’s End, would be ready for backing. Tabitha always named her quilts. Englisch paid better when they were named.

  “I did,” Belinda said, setting the table, her smile astonishingly bright. Tabitha set the fresh linens on the stairs and stepped back into the kitchen to investigate further. Her sister looked more than happy. She was beaming, blue eyes sparkling. It was wonderful to see her sister blossoming after stepping away from the comforts she’d hidden in for so long. Perhaps Mica’s idea hadn’t been such a bad one after all.

  “Adam has this knife—only it’s not a knife really, more like a long spatula—and it skims over the comb and all the beeswax falls into a box. Well, it’s a metal, square container, but he calls it the box,” Belinda rattled on, and went to gather forks from the utensil drawer. “He has an extractor that holds three frames at once, and a setup that makes jarring the honey so easy and far less messy than Dawdi’s.” She shook her head. “Did you know honey cures allergies? And Ada still won’t eat it.” She quirked both brows comically, then halted, hand full of silverware suspended in air. “I forgot to ask if he wants me to box the jars of honey as well. You think Mica would mind lifting a few heavy supers in a day or so, so I can keep working? I don’t want to have to ask Adam after he showed me everything else. Anyway,” she sucked in a deep breath, “it was a good day.”

  “I gathered,” Tabitha chuckled. “First flower lover, now bee lover.”

  “Well, they kind of cross paths,” Belinda tossed back.

  “They do,” Tabitha agreed, reining in another chuckle. Belinda was sensitive. “Is he easy to work with?”

  “Jah, and even though he won’t let me lift the heavy supers, I get to do plenty. I can extract and strain the honey and jar it during the day so he doesn’t have to. He works a lot, you know. Oh, and he doesn’t burn old cloth in his smoker either. Adam uses cedar shavings, says it smells better, which it certainly does.” Belinda’s face pinched in a grimace, recalling just how bad Dawdi’s smokers used to smell. Little wonder, given that he’d used torn-up clothing or anything he had on hand.

  “Jah,” Tabitha said, studying the changes in her sister. “I know Adam works plenty.” She smothered a grin. It was all so obvious what was happening to her sister. “Do you like him?” she asked, unable to help herself.

  “Not like you think,” Belinda replied. “He has made it more than obvious he has no intere
st in anyone romantically. I think he didn’t tell me about Susanne because he’s heartbroken.” Mammi strolled into the kitchen, her kapp lopsided, revealing she had just stirred from a nap. Tabitha gave Belinda a wink as Mammi went toward the fridge.

  “Hearts heal,” Tabitha pointed out. “But he should have been honest with you. What do you both talk about?” Tabitha continued prodding as she pulled plates from the cabinet. Even if nothing happened with Adam, surely this new openness from Belinda was a good sign. If her sister was relaxing around one man, maybe there was hope for her yet, with someone else.

  “We talked about the flowers. Adam thought all flowers were just seeds that grow and die. Now he knows how much work I put into them,” Belinda grinned. “He doesn’t think it’s so strange anymore, me wanting to make a livelihood out of it.”

  “I knew you would set him straight,” Mammi chimed in, and poured herself a glass of milk.

  Belinda gathered butter and lemonade from the fridge. “He talks a lot about the buyers too. He says the florist has a son, Jackson. He asks lots of silly questions that make Adam laugh. And Mia, she’s the baker. He said she talks funny.” She made a face.

  “I’m glad you two get along so well.” Tabitha added three more glasses to the table.

  “He is easy to talk to,” Belinda admitted in a shy, quieter tone.

  “I bet he is,” Tabitha laughed. “Which makes you friends.”

  “He doesn’t think of me like that. Weren’t you listening?” Tabitha had been, even as she wished Belinda was wrong. Adam was a kind fellow and the two would have matched well together. “I’m doing what you said,” Belinda added. “I’m trying.” When they locked gazes, Tabitha knew her sister had overcome something that had pulled at her for a long time. Belinda was braver than she gave herself credit for, and seeing her sister finally realize that warmed Tabitha’s heart.

  “And you are doing a good job, sister. I’m very proud of you.” And she meant it. Maybe it was time to push her sister a little harder. Belinda was such a timid soul and required a gentle man, not one who had so much responsibility. But who in Havenlee would fit that description? Who could be the perfect match for her perfect sister?

  Chapter Sixteen

  Adam hadn’t come home before dusk in days. By Thursday Belinda was starting to worry. Of course he was heartbroken. The woman he loved had betrayed him and publicly humiliated him.But that was no reason to work himself to death. And it meant that she was doing a lot of work on his honey without him there to supervise. She told herself that going ahead and pulling frames and harvesting his honey had been the right thing to do. Ada complimented her hard work, but would Adam think her overstepping? The bees were his livelihood and she didn’t want him to feel she’d taken over. She wished she could see him, talk to him.

  Each morning she cut flowers, placed them in the bucket, and left them on his porch. She did her greenhouse chores, helped Mammi where needed, and worked the honey harvest. Under the cloak of darkness each night, she found the empty buckets and an envelope of cash on her porch in return. She wished she could do something more to ease his hurt. Holding a few boards for a chicken coop and harvesting honey wasn’t enough. She mentally huffed.

  “Set an extra couple plates tonight. Ivan is coming for dinner,” Mica said, entering the house. Belinda reached for two more plates. Maybe she should walk over, knock, and see if Adam was okay. Would that breach the boundaries of partnership?

  “There’s not enough food in the house to feed that man,” Tabitha quipped. “He has a bottomless belly and a head too big for those feet.” It seemed every time Ivan came within viewing distance, Belinda’s sister got her hackles up.

  Ivan often brought his little sister Katie Jo over. Belinda adored Katie Jo. The twelve-year-old talked so fast she stuttered, but Belinda loved her infectious energy and dramatic expressions.

  “So you noticed how big my friend’s feet are?” Mica teased, and Tabitha stuck out her tongue. “I need to start thinking about adding to the blacksmith shop. It is getting a mite tight, and his onkel had a good setup.”

  “Wouldn’t be so tight if you would stop growing,” Mammi Mollie added with a wink. A knock came at the door and Belinda rushed to get it, hoping it was Adam. “I’ll get it.”

  “I think she’s shed that shell of hers,” Tabitha muttered behind her.

  “I heard that,” Belinda yelled back, and jerked open the front door. “Ivan,” she said, wincing when she realized how disappointed she sounded.

  “Well, nice to see you too, Belinda. Were you expecting company?” Ivan was even taller than Mica, but Belinda had known him her whole life and he didn’t intimidate her. He was like an extra brother. He teased where Mica barked. He went along when Mica took her and Tabitha swimming and fishing, and he tended to the place last year when Dawdi got sick and they all went to Kentucky for a week. Ivan was strong, which was fitting given that his construction trade required him to lift and nail all day, but Belinda found him as soft as a kitten. Why Tabitha become irritable every time he came in proximity was a mystery.

  “Nee. No one comes to see me,” she said, and stepped out of his way.

  “They would if you didn’t answer the door looking like you just ate a rotten pickle.” He pinched her cheek playfully before heading into the kitchen. Belinda rolled her eyes and followed.

  “I smell meatloaf.” Ivan’s deep voice echoed through the house.

  “And you can only have your fair share. I’m not starving myself just because you can eat your weight in meatloaf,” Tabitha quipped. Ivan laughed and sat down next to Mica. “If that doesn’t suit, have Claire Beiler make one special just for you.” Belinda was glad to know Ivan was courting. He had courted one of Tabitha’s friends a few years ago, but they really didn’t suit. Claire Beiler worked at the local bakery and was a kind, quiet woman. She hoped Ivan found what he was looking for in Claire. Everyone deserved happiness, she thought.

  “Hers doesn’t taste as filling as yours,” Ivan winked, earning him one of Tabitha’s sharp glares.

  “Our Tabitha is the finest cook in the county,” Mammi slipped in. A horn sounded and all heads shot up. “That’s my driver. You four try not to make a mess of things until I return.” Mammi straightened her kapp and fetched her purse off the coat hook by the door.

  “Have fun with Edith. I know how you two say you have sewing to do, but I’m still sure you end up swapping gossip.”

  “Edith doesn’t gossip.” Mammi grinned slyly toward Tabitha before waddling out the door.

  “Where’s Katie Jo?,” Tabitha asked, looking perturbed. “I had a new pattern I wanted to work on with her.” Ivan stared at her for a moment as if unable to follow the question.

  “She is having a sleepover at Mary’s. Rachel said she had five girls and one more didn’t matter.” Belinda thought her sister almost looked disappointed in that. Tabitha would make a wonderful mother. If her manner while spending time with Ivan’s little sister was any indication, she had the patience for teaching and a softness for kinner rarely shown toward adults. Katie Jo had no mamm of her own, Ivan and Katie Jo having lost her years ago, but the little girl seemed rarely affected by it. Being raised by a busy bruder and brokenhearted father surely had to be hard on a little girl. Belinda felt herself blessed to never have known such a life.

  “Rachel’s, huh?” Tabitha sounded wounded.

  “So, you want to redesign the whole thing or just improve it?” Ivan asked Mica, ignoring the way Tabitha slapped a glass of lemonade down in front of him as if it had personally offended her.

  Tabitha was not very polite to men, seeing as she thought they were all smelly and lazy and lacked common sense, but Ivan Shetler brought out the worst in her. They were like two bees deciding who would sting first. Belinda couldn’t understand it. Aside from Mica, Ivan was the kindest man she knew. He never teased her about her shyness or looked at h
er face too long. He had even played cards and Pictionary with her when she was younger, when Mica thought games were stupid. Daed thought he hung the moon and Mudder always made sure to bake extra if he was coming. Still, Tabitha pinched her lips and spoke with a growl every time he came around.

  “I need better air flow for warm weather, but don’t want to freeze my fingers off come winter. That old shed will be the death of me one day,” Mica admitted.

  “I suspect it’s getting tight moving around in there. The forge is no place to be if you ain’t got room enough to move.” Ivan settled back in his chair. “I still have that house for the Lykins family over in Mesa, but we can squeeze some work on your shop in, if you plan on picking up a hammer too.” Ivan winked.

  “I use a bigger hammer than you most of the time,” Mica shot back playfully, his green eyes dancing with humor.

  “Only half the year. The rest of the time, you grow vegetables and little potted plants,” Ivan countered. They could do this for hours, this brotherly banter. Belinda rolled her eyes.

  “It’s good Adam lives next door. He might like working closer to home. I figure he might get more sleep this way, too,” Ivan added, as Belinda and Tabitha finished setting the table and took seats. When Mica lowered his head for the silent prayer, so did the rest of them. After a few moments, Mica scooted his chair and heads lifted again.

  “So how does a beekeeper work all day at a mill, help me build porches and houses, and still find time to harvest honey?” The question was aimed at Mica, but Belinda felt her sister’s eyes turn to her. “I saw Ada delivering a fresh batch of jars this morning to the market. I unloaded the boxes for her. Those things are heavy.” Ivan scoped a healthy portion of meatloaf on his plate. His eyes locked with Tabitha’s, who was watching him like a hawk. Those two were funny.

  “Belinda has been harvesting the honey for him.” Tabitha took the spoon from his hand, indicating he’d had his share.