by Jenna Mindel
The workshop hadn’t been opened since Ivan found Elijah slumped over his desk barely breathing. The boy ran to find help but by the time it arrived Elijah was gone.
She should have mailed his unfinished works back to their owners before now but she couldn’t bear to enter the room. The grief she tried so hard to control would come pouring out when she did.
Tears stung the backs of her eyelids, but she quickly blinked them away. The quiet strength and unquestioning love of her grandfather had seen Bethany through the worst times in her life. It was still hard to accept that she could never turn to him for guidance again.
She drew a deep breath and squared her shoulders. He would tell her prayer and hard work solved problems. Worry and regret never did. There had to be a way to keep her family together and she would find it. Perhaps her uncle would side with her. She would write her own letter to him and plead her case.
She slipped into her coat. “Thank you for coming today, Gemma, but I’d best get the rest of my chores done.”
Gemma followed her to the door. “I don’t know how you’ll manage this farm without Elijah and Ivan.”
“One day at a time and with the help of our neighbors if I need it.”
“I’ve never known you to ask for help.” Gemma moved to put on her black bonnet and coat.
“I asked you to sit with me when the bishop came today, didn’t I?”
Gemma rolled her eyes. “Okay, you have asked for help one time. I wish I knew what to say but I think it is all up to Ivan. I’m surprised he wasn’t here this morning.”
“He’s at school. I didn’t want to take him out of class.”
The New Covenant Amish community was too small yet to have their own school. The five Amish children in their church, including her brother and sister, attended the nearest public school. It was far from ideal but the teachers and school board had taken great pains to accommodate the needs and customs of the new Amish pupils.
The two women walked outside together. Gemma pulled on her gloves. “Do you want me to come over this evening when you talk to him?”
Bethany shook her head. “Danki, but I think it’s best I speak to him alone.”
“All right. I’ll stop by tomorrow and you can tell me all about it.” The two women exchanged a hug. Gemma climbed into her buggy and drove away.
Bethany’s breath rose as puffs of white mist in the chilly mid-November morning as she crossed the snow-covered yard to the newly completed red barn. It was the latest building to be added to the new community. The bulk of the structure had been raised in a single day with the help of an Amish community from upstate New York. Thirty men had traveled all night by bus and worked feverishly to complete the barn before taking the long bus ride home again that night. Someday the people of New Covenant would return the favor.
Her grandfather had had plans for half a dozen additional structures to attract more Amish families to New Covenant. It had been his dream to form a thriving Amish district in Maine, far from the tourist centers in Pennsylvania. To him, fewer tourists meant less money but more time to spend close to God and family without worldly influences. If only he could have lived to see his dream grow and thrive.
Bethany fed and watered the chickens, gathered the eggs and then fed and watered the geese before heading to the barn. Her mind wasn’t on her chores. Her conversation with the bishop replayed in her head as she fed and watered their two horses. Outside the milk cow’s stall, Bethany paused and leaned on her pitchfork. “I’ve got trouble, Clarabelle.”
The cow didn’t answer her. Bethany pitched a forkful of hay to the family’s placid brown-and-white Guernsey and then leaned on the stall door. “The bishop has decided to send Ivan to Bird-in-Hand to live with Onkel Harvey. It’s not right. It’s not fair. I can’t bear the idea of sending my little brother away. It will break his heart and Jenny’s, to say nothing of mine. We belong together.”
Clarabelle munched a mouthful of hay as she regarded Bethany with soulful deep brown eyes. The bell around her neck clanked softly as she tilted her head to allow Bethany to scratch behind her left ear. Bethany complied. As a confidant, Clarabelle was unassuming and easy to talk to, but she was short on advice.
“Advice is what I need, Clarabelle. The bishop said Ivan could stay if I had a husband. Someone to discipline and guide the boy. I don’t believe for a minute that is the solution but I’m getting desperate. Any idea where I can get a husband before Christmas? And please don’t suggest Jesse Crump. Jedidiah Zook might be a possibility if he smiled more. Maybe he just needs a wife to make him happier. What do you think?”
“I doubt your cow has the answers you seek but if she does I have a few questions for her about my own problems,” a man said in an amused drawl.
Bethany spun around. A stranger stood in the open barn door. He wore a black Amish hat pulled low on his forehead and a dark blue woolen coat with the collar turned up against the cold. He carried a duffel bag over one shoulder and he leaned on a black cane.
The mirth sparkling in his eyes sent a flush of heat to her cheeks. How humiliating. To be caught talking to a cow about matrimonial prospects made her look ridiculous.
She struggled to hide her embarrassment. After looking the man up and down, she stabbed the pitchfork into the hay again and dumped it into Clarabelle’s stall. “It’s rude to eavesdrop on a private conversation.”
“I’m not sure talking to a cow qualifies as a private conversation but I am sorry to intrude.” The man put down his duffel bag.
He didn’t look sorry. He looked like he was struggling not to laugh at her. At least he was a stranger. Maybe this mortifying episode wouldn’t become known in the community. She cringed at the thought of Jedidiah Zook hearing the story. “How can I help you?”
“Mind if I sit here for a minute?” He pointed to a stack of straw bales beside the barn door.
She wanted him to go away but her Amish upbringing prevented her from suggesting it. Any stranger in need deserved her help.
He didn’t wait for her reply but limped to the closest bale and sat down with a weary sigh. “The bus driver who dropped me off said New Covenant was a little way along on this road. His idea of a little way does not match mine.”
“It’s less than half a mile to the highway from my lane.”
He rubbed his leg. “That’s the farthest I’ve walked in six months. How much farther do I have to go?”
“You have arrived at the south end of our community.”
He tipped his head slightly. “I thought New Covenant was a town.”
“It’s more a collection of houses strung out on either side of the road right now, but it will be a thriving village one day.” She prayed she spoke the truth.
“Glad to hear it. I’m Michael Shetler, by the way.” He took off his hat and raked his fingers through his thick dark brown hair.
She considered not giving him her name. The less he knew to repeat the better.
He noticed her hesitation and cleared his throat. “It’s rude not to introduce yourself in return.”
She arched one eyebrow. “I’m being rude? That’s the pot calling the kettle black. I am Bethany Martin,” she admitted, hoping she wasn’t making a mistake.
“Nice to meet you, Bethany. Once I’ve had a rest I’ll step outside if you want to finish your private conversation.” He winked. One corner of his mouth twitched, revealing a dimple in his cheek.
Something about the sparkle in his blue eyes invited her to smile back at him but she firmly resisted the urge. She stabbed the pitchfork into the remaining hay and left it standing upright. “I’m glad I could supply you with some amusement today.”
“It’s been a long time since I’ve had something to smile about.”
The clatter of hooves outside caught her attention as a horse and wagon pulled up beside the barn and stopped. She caught a glimps
e of the driver through the open door. He stood and faced the barn. “Ivan Martin, are you in there? It’s Jedidiah Zook. I want to speak to you!”
Her gaze shot to Michael. His grin widened. Her heart sank as he chuckled. “I may not have given Clarabelle enough credit. It seems your preferred beau has arrived. It was Jedidiah Zook you hoped would come courting, right?”
She glared and shook a finger at him. “Don’t you dare repeat one word of what you heard in here.”
* * *
Michael couldn’t help teasing her. The high color in her cheeks and the fire in her eyes told him she was no meek Amish maid. He wagged his eyebrows. “Do you need a go-between? Shall I speak on your behalf? I’ll be happy to help any way I can.”
“If you say anything, I’ll...I’ll...” She clamped her lips closed. The sheen of unshed tears gathered in her eyes, but she quickly blinked them back and raised her chin.
Teasing was one thing. Upsetting her was another. He held up one hand. “Relax. Your secret is safe with me. If the cow spills the beans, that is not my fault.”
“Stay here.” Bethany rushed past him out the wide double doors. “Guder mariye, Jedidiah. Ivan isn’t in here. He’s at school. Can I be of any help?”
“Your brother has gone too far this time.”
The man’s angry voice brought Michael closer to the open door to watch. Bethany faced Jedidiah defiantly with her head up and her hands on her hips. “What has he done?”
“Two thirty-pound bags of potatoes and a ten-pound bag of dried beans are missing from my cellar.”
“What makes you think Ivan took them?”
“Because he sold a bag of potatoes to the general store owner just this morning.”
She folded her arms in front of her. “That’s not proof he took them. Maybe it was one of our sacks that he sold.”
“Was it?”
“I’m not sure.”
“You tell him I came by and that I’m on my way to report this theft to the bishop. This has gone beyond what can be ignored. It must stop. If you can’t control the boy someone else will have to.” He lifted the reins, turned the wagon around and headed down the lane.
Michael limped out to stand beside her. “Not a very jolly fellow. Are you sure he’s the one?”
She shot him a sour look. “In spite of what you think you heard earlier, I am not in the market for a husband.”
Why wasn’t she married already? She was certainly attractive enough. Not that he was in the market for a relationship. He wasn’t. He might never be. He sobered at the thought. The men who shot him and robbed the store he had worked may have robbed him of a family, too. He had no idea if his PTSD would get better living in the isolation of northern Maine, but it was his last option.
Bethany brushed past him into the barn, a fierce scowl marring her pretty features. “I need to speak to my brother and get to the bottom of this. You are welcome to rest here.”
He was glad he wasn’t the brother in question. She went down the aisle and opened the stall door of a black mare with a white blaze. She led the mare out, tied the horse to a hitching post and began to harness her.
“Let me do that for you.” He took a step closer.
“I can manage,” she snapped.
He took a step back and held one hand up. She didn’t need or want his help. In short order she had the harness on and then led the animal outside, where she backed the mare in between the shafts of the buggy parked in a lean-to at the side of the building.
“May I?” he asked, pointing to the buggy. She nodded. He finished securing the traces on one side while she did the other. He buckled the crupper, the loop that went around the mare’s tail to keep the harness from sliding forward on the animal, as Bethany finished her side and came to check his work.
“Danki.”
She thanked him like it was a chore. Bethany Martin was clearly used to doing things by herself.
Michael realized that he hadn’t looked over his shoulder once since hearing Bethany’s voice. That had to be some kind of record. He glanced around out of habit but there was nothing sinister in the farmstead and empty snow-covered fields that backed up to wooded hills on either side of the wide valley. All throughout his trip to New Covenant he’d been on edge, expecting danger from every stranger that came close to him. He’d spent most of the bus ride from Philadelphia with sweating palms and tense muscles, expecting another attack or a flashback to overtake him at any second. They never came when he was expecting them.
He rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. For the first time in weeks the knots in his neck and shoulders were missing. Maybe he was getting better. Maybe this move was the right thing, after all. He prayed it was. Nothing here reminded him of the Philadelphia street or the shop where his life had changed so drastically.
Here the air was fresh and clean. The next house was several hundred yards up the road. Nothing crowded him. He could start over here. No one would look at him with pity or worse. He had a job waiting for him in New Covenant and a place to live all thanks to the generosity of a man he’d never met. He needed to get going, but he was reluctant to leave Bethany’s company for some reason. Her no-nonsense attitude was comforting. He pushed the thought aside. “I should be on my way. Can you give me directions to Elijah Troyer’s farm?”
She shot him a startled look and then glanced away. “This was his farm,” she said softly with a quiver in her voice.
“Was? He sold it?” Michael waited impatiently for her to speak.
She kept her gaze averted. “I’m sorry but Elijah Troyer passed away three weeks ago.”
Michael drew back with a sharp intake of breath. “He’s dead? That can’t be.”
He fought against the onrush of panic. What about the job? What about the place to live? Were his hopes for a new life dead, too?
Copyright © 2018 by Patricia MacDonald
ISBN-13: 9781488090882
Holiday Baby
Copyright © 2018 by Jenna Mindel
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