by Mindy Steele
“What are his injuries?” Belinda could barely get the words out between sobs. She felt Mammi’s arms drape over her shoulders.
“He has four broken ribs. He will be down for some time. They said he has a concussion and was severely dehydrated too. I heard the doctor mention it. I keep water on hand and take it to him when he forgets—but he’s been forgetting a lot lately, and I don’t always notice. He just works right along and even forgets to eat most days. I should have... I’m sorry, Belinda. I know what this means to your partnership.” Ivan looked pale and ghastly. “He wants you to know how terrible he feels about it too.”
“You expect me to be worried about my flowers? You think that matters now?” She didn’t mean to sound so harsh. Taken aback, each of them looked at her in total surprise.
“Let me fix us some tea,” Mammi quickly suggested.
“I know you all think I’m fragile and need to be coddled, but I don’t.” Belinda got to her feet and wiped her damp face along her sleeve. “I will be glad to see to Atlee,” she said to Ivan, lifting her chin in a take-charge motion. Ivan looked stunned, though she couldn’t say whether it was her boldness that startled him or residual shock from the horrible day. “I would appreciate if you and Mica would load the buggy in the morning for me with about a dozen boxes from Adam’s honey house.”
“Why?” Tabitha quickly asked.
“They will have more medical expenses now, and I will need to do all I can to earn more money for them.” Belinda turned to Mammi, who was pouring boiling water over fresh tea leaves. “Also, we should bake a casserole or two. Atlee likes spicy foods. Ada will be tending to both her men, but not alone. We are neighbors, and it’s our job to care for each other.”
Tabitha looked to Ivan, and then turned back to her sister. “I can help too. Mica has to take beans to the auction, so I can go see Atlee now and then help prepare a few meals. When is the next harvest?”
“I have a couple more hives to rob now, but then not until August. I would appreciate it if you could help me with the vegetables for the next few weeks. I will have my hands full selling flowers and honey.” Her declaration earned her more shocked looks. Mammi, on the other hand was smiling from ear to ear.
“I can get Mary to watch over our stand a couple days at market and help with the picking. We can pick the gardens before breakfast and handle cleaning both houses in the afternoon,” Tabitha added.
“I can manage keeping up some of their canning. The Hostetlers’ vegetable garden isn’t that big,” Mammi offered.
“And I will talk to some of the men. We can all spare a few bucks to help. Maybe pay a visit to the bishop. Atlee and Adam are both stubborn, but now it isn’t just charity. It’s necessity.” Belinda couldn’t agree more with Ivan’s words.
Belinda’s eyes stung with joy. Her family was going to help her see that Adam and his family didn’t have a worry in the world.
“Ivan,” she collected herself. “I want to see him.”
“I will see what I can do,” Ivan nodded. With that, Belinda busied herself with supper and preparing casseroles.
All the while, Adam never left her thoughts. She needed to see him, care for him. Belinda worked numbly though her tasks as she awaited Ivan’s return. She missed Adam. Missed him for reasons even she couldn’t explain. For so long she had kept to the shadows, avoiding any eyes that made their way to hers. She had never thought beyond the life she had, but right now, standing there trying not to cry, Belinda wanted to think about what tomorrow might bring. She could take care of both their businesses, with her family’s help. At least until Adam and Atlee were both set to rights again. She straightened her shoulders, blew out a pinned breath, and smiled.
Adam deserved all the help she could give, even if that meant facing her fears. And she needed to find out just what she had been missing. She wanted more than the quiet, isolated life she used to have. She wasn’t sure how much more she could handle, but she was ready to find out. It was scary—terrifying, really—but she wanted it nonetheless.
Chapter Twenty-Two
That night, Belinda barely slept a wink, thinking of Adam hurting and in pain. When the morning light woke her, she put that all aside and got to work. She loaded her fresh-cut flowers into the buggy—bold red cannas, purple dahlias, Dusty Miller, and sunflowers. Mica had loaded five boxes of honey, jarred and labeled. In her pocket was the list of stores she needed to visit to deliver the honey. It was now or never. She hated that she was so afraid, but Tabitha was right. She would never get over her fears if she didn’t face them. Adam had said she needed adventure, had begged her to meet Marcy and Mia and a little boy with eager curiosities. This might not be his idea of adventure, but she was stepping out of her shell, for him. That had to count for something.
The first stop was Zimmerman’s, the Amish general store. Belinda had been inside more times than she could count, and knew Marcus and Katie Zimmerman well. Just because she was alone shouldn’t mean a thing. She could do this.
She pulled the buggy up to the hitching station and hitched Benny, her mother’s horse, to the pole. She retrieved one box of honey out of the back seat, and headed to the storefront. She sucked in a deep breath before stepping inside. The light was much dimmer inside the store and she stood still momentarily to allow her eyes to adjust.
“Belinda?” Katie Zimmerman called out. “How wunderbaar to see you. Is Tabitha with you?”
“Nee, just me.” The little flicker in Katie’s eyes when Belinda said that didn’t go unnoticed. They were close to the same age, had grown up and gone to school together, so Katie knew full well how out of character this was for her. “I’m sure you’ve heard about the accident. Adam’s unable to deliver his honey today, so I told Ada and Atlee I would bring it to you since I was coming to town.” She hoped the tremble in her voice wasn’t recognized.
“He has the best honey. I think it’s all those flowers of yours.” Katie winked and hefted the box of honey from Belinda’s arms to the counter. Belinda’s heart swelled at the simple compliment. “How is he?”
“He sleeps a lot, Ada says. The medication does that. I haven’t spoken with him, but they say he will get to come home tomorrow.” And then she would get to see him, talk to him.
“I hope she can keep him in bed. That one needs rest more than any other. He is always busy working. I heard he suffered a bout of heat stroke too.”
“Dehydrated,” Belinda replied. “Jah. He does a lot.” Belinda smiled proudly. It felt strange having a conversation about Adam in public, but she was glad others had also noticed how hard he worked.
“Well, you are such a special friend to help. Do you want his pay for the honey?” Katie offered a stack of bills from the register.
“Oh nee, just hold it until he or Ada comes by. I’m just delivering.” Belinda quickly said her goodbyes and strolled back to the buggy. That wasn’t as bad as she had feared. Next stop, the florist.
Marcy Swift was a round woman in her late thirties, and had no concept for matching colors. Belinda felt as if she already knew her and her strange fashion choices from all Adam had told her, but he hadn’t mentioned she had one eye that liked to wander off slightly. It was terribly distracting, more than wearing stripes and polka dots in one outfit.
Marcy brightened up when she met Belinda and ushered her into the store. “Oh, peonies. I’m so glad you thought of those. I didn’t put them on the list because I wasn’t sure you had any left. The stems are so hard to work with, but they are worth the extra effort.” Marcy swooned over the selection.
Belinda set the other bucket down and let her eyes scan over the little shop. The open room smelled glorious. It was like standing in the middle of her garden, only without the sun burning freckles into her skin. “I also have dahlias and hibiscus. I think them schee in an arrangement.”
“You have a talented eye. I’m just so happy to finally mee
t the woman who grows the prettiest flowers around. Not every florist is lucky to have such a skilled gardener nearby. And these sunflowers won’t sit in here long. People just love sunflowers, no matter the season.”
“Hey,” a little voice said. Belinda turned to find a little sandy-haired boy licking on a sucker and wearing a fair bit of it, smeared and sticky, all over his hands and face.
“Hello. You must be Jackson.” His brown eyes widened at her knowing his name.
“You Adam’s girlfriend?”
Belinda chuckled. “Nee. I mean,” she cleared her throat. “No. I just help him with his bees. And he helps me with my flowers.”
“He said he has no girlfriend, but mom says he’s not being truthful. Mom says he smiles too much talking about the flower lady.” Jackson pinned her with a serious look. “And boys don’t like flowers. That’s girls’ stuff. Lying is against the law, you know?”
“It is.” Belinda couldn’t help but giggle before looking to Marcy again, who blushed with embarrassment over what her son had revealed. Belinda knew how she felt. Did Adam really smile a lot when they talked about her flowers? When they talked about her?
“Adam thinks a lot of the work you do. He also says you’re a very good cook.” Marcy grinned knowingly.
Belinda ducked her head. The air conditioning in the little flower shop did little to help the rush of warmth running over her. “I have another bucket outside. Let me go fetch it.” She hurried out before her joy was noticeable. Was Adam only trying to help her sell her flowers, tossing compliments out so freely?
Back inside, Jackson was still standing in the center of the floor, working hard to eat more sucker than wear it. Marcy was on the phone writing down an order, so Belinda wandered about. Baby’s breath, carnations, and roses of every color sat in narrow containers and tucked inside lighted coolers. She bent for a closer look, admiring each bloom and petal.
“You like flowers?” Jackson shadowed her.
“I grow them, so yes. I like flowers.” She glanced over her shoulder, offering him a smile.
“Do you always wear that hat thing?” He cocked his head, his deep blue eyes searching. A curious one for sure and certain, he was.
Belinda chuckled and stood upright, giving the little questioner a fuller study. His tan shorts portrayed a scatter of pictures of kites, his shirt, a deep blue, had two patches of what Belinda believed was his uneaten breakfast. “It’s called a prayer kapp, and yes, I always wear it.”
“So you pray a lot then.” He worked his blue sucker again, still staring at her intently. Mere weeks ago, she would have turned her body, lifted a shoulder to conceal her mark, but Belinda felt no threat of harshness waiting to be revealed. Just a little boy with questions, and a healthy appetite for suckers.
“I do.” Why had she been so afraid to meet Marcy and a little boy?
“Mommy says we should pray a lot. Did you know hinkel is Amish for chicken?”
Belinda leaned forward, placing both hands on her knees to meet him at eye level. “Did you know gaul means horse?” His face lit up.
“Gaul?” Jackson repeated the word.
“Yes. Next time I visit, I will teach you another word.” Because there had to be a next time. Belinda looked forward to it, surprisingly so.
“Sorry about that. Here is your weekly pay.” Marcy handed her an envelope. “I hope you come again. I know you are very busy and I really like Adam—he is such a sweet fellow—but I must admit, I really wanted to put a face to the flower lady,” she winked.
Belinda left the florist carrying an empty bucket with one hand and clutching an envelope of money to her chest with the other. Her chin lifted a little higher and her smile wasn’t forced. The next two stops were the local grocery store, where she picked up a few things for home and delivered Adam’s honey, and the Amish bakery. The longer she interacted with the shopkeepers, the easier it got. Finally, she reached her last stop, the foreign-talking baker Adam had told her about.
Mia Gwinn was in her late forties, spoke in high-pitched tones, and used her hands to emphasize every word out of her mouth. For a woman who spent her life baking, Belinda figured she must not eat her own sweets, as skinny as she was. Mamm would call that a sign of a poor cook, but by the lingering customers filling her shop, she seemed an exception to that rule. Her dark hair was pulled tight into a bun. Her long white apron was smeared with a pink frosting.
The bakery smelled heavenly. There were scones and frosted donuts with sprinkles. Pies of every fashion, and frosting piped on cakes, muffins, and even sugar cookie tops.
After Mia had exchanged a few pleasantries with Belinda, she said, “Your sweet boyfriend thought I was silly to buy flowers for cakes, but after a slice of my lavender citrus cake, he changed his thinking.”
“Adam is just a neighbor,” Belinda corrected, but she couldn’t hold back the flush at the baker’s assumption.
“Oh. I thought... Never mind.” Mia waved off the comment. “You want to see what those violets of yours look like when I use them?” Belinda did, so she followed Mia into the back of the bakery.
“Oh my,” Belinda said as she stared at the wedding cake. Four stacks high, white frosting spread so perfectly it looked to be painted on. In the blossom of white squiggly lines over the top lay sugared violets in clusters. Mia had arranged them so that they looked like they dripped down one side of the cake. It was the most beautiful dessert Belinda had even seen.
“I knew what you wanted based on pictures I saw in a magazine, but I must say I never imagined how pretty it would look. It is beautiful,” Belinda complimented.
“It is a small wedding. If you had come last week you would have seen the one with the pansies and daisies and lilac. It was eight tiers.” Belinda’s brows gathered. “That means eight stacks high. I even had a water fountain on it. Many customers want waterfalls these days.” The little baker rolled her eyes comically.
Amish weddings were simple, basic. Belinda couldn’t imagine how one made a waterfall on a cake, but simply nodded. She was impressed. Mia gave her a quick tour of the bakery and with the promise to return with her mamm’s lemon blueberry cake recipe, Belinda picked up her little bucket and readied herself to leave.
“I should go,” she explained. “My sister works at the market, and I want to stop and see her for lunch before heading home.”
“Here,” Mia reached into a glass case and pulled out a variety of muffins, and began putting them into a blue box. “My treat. You are my favorite supplier now. I am happy to finally meet you, Belinda Graber. You remember that lemon blueberry cake recipe for your next visit.” Belinda smiled and nodded. She wouldn’t forget it. “Oh, and tell that...you tell Adam I hope he feels better soon. We all heard about his accident and have been praying for his healing.” Mia clasped her fist around a small necklace with a cross. Belinda’s heart warmed at the kindness and showing of faith. She hadn’t thought the Englisch held the same reverence for prayers, but they did. It seemed the only strangers there really were in this world were just friends she hadn’t meet yet.
Mia handed over the box. “There are four for you and your sister to share, but the one with the lemon on top is for someone who isn’t feeling so good right now.” Mia leaned over the counter and whispered. “It is his favorite.” The baker winked as the doorbell rang, signaling more customers.
Adam wanted to kick the wall.
“Stop pouting. You’re too grown up for that,” Ada scolded.
“I can’t work for at least six weeks,” he said. “How will we get by with me lying here doing nothing for that long?” He worried a loose thread on the thin quilt. His mother looked down on him on the bed, a sorrowful expression on her face. How she had managed to not age at all since he was a boy was beyond him. With the exception of one thin line across her forehead, she was timeless. The same could not be said of him. With ribs bound so tight he co
uld barely take a full breath and a head still throbbing days later, Adam felt old. Every muscle, every limb ached.
“Just like we always have, before you knew what work was. Now stop pulling that apart or I will be bringing a needle and thread in for you to fix it yourself.” He let the thread go, wishing he had something else to pull apart. Like my life has been.
“I guess I could take up quilting while I’m lying here doing nothing.” Adam tried on a deep sigh but found it only caused more pain than it was worth.
Ada ignored his self-pity and the way he growled in frustration just as he had as a bu. “The bishop came by while you were sleeping yesterday. They are seeing to the medical bills, so get that out of your worries. Your daed and I feel terrible you have worked yourself to exhaustion for us. We should have said something sooner, but you were so determined and always claimed that you had easy jobs that did little to tire you.” Her eyes glistened and Adam hoped she wasn’t about to cry. It wasn’t her fault. He could only blame his stubbornness, or maybe his slowness, not getting clear of the falling wall fast enough.
“I didn’t want you to worry and I knew Daed wouldn’t accept anything from the community funds.” Adam tightened his fist at his own stupidity. He had just added to his family’s burdens when all he’d wanted to do was lessen them.
“He’s the one who called the bishop,” his mother informed him. Adam’s eyes snapped up to meet hers as she lay a tray over his lap. “Well, had me call him, but you know what I mean. Now eat some lunch so you can get to feeling better.”
“I won’t ever feel better again.” He looked down resentfully at the tray with a sandwich, a spoonful of Mamm’s potato salad and a bowl of cobbler. “Is that blackberry?”
“Belinda makes the best cobblers,” Ada smiled wittily.
