by Mary Davis
“I saw you drive up with one of the Miller girls. Quite a collection of Amish you’re with. None of them your family, though. And the bishop.”
“Bartholomew Miller broke his leg.” Amos glanced back to make sure no one had followed him. “The bishop asked me to help out at their farm while they took him to the hospital.”
Jacob nodded. “You seemed pretty content with all of them. Are you still interested in leaving?”
Amos’s insides knotted. This would be a life-changing decision, but he didn’t see the use of the Amish life anymore. His vater didn’t have land enough for all his sons, and the Amish girls here seemed no different from the flighty ones back in Pennsylvania. Except Deborah. She seemed different. But that was what he’d thought about Esther. And Bethany. “Ja, of course I am.”
“It might take a few weeks to get everything set up. I’ll be in touch with more information.”
“I’ll wait to hear from you.” Once away from the community and no longer having to keep this a secret, he’d feel better about his decision. “I should go before they get suspicious.” Amos could be shunned just for talking to an ex-Amish member. But once he left, he would be shunned and turned over to the devil and excommunicated from the church, as well.
“See you soon.” Jacob walked off in the opposite direction of the waiting room.
Amos peeked around the corner. None of his Amish brethren remained, only a handful of Englishers. He straightened before heading down the hall and out to the buggy parking area.
The only buggy that remained was the one he’d driven into town. Deborah sat on the buggy seat, rubbing her mitten-clad hands briskly together. She turned in his direction, and his heart sped up.
He stopped beside the vehicle. Though she wore a kapp, the sun once again ignited the hints of red in her hair around her face. “What are you still doing here? Why didn’t you go with the others?”
The quilt lay across her lap. “All the other buggies were full.”
That was a little sad. She’d been left behind. Now he felt bad for making her wait.
She picked up the reins and tilted her head. “Are you getting in? Or would you rather walk?”
Throwing his words back at him? Little scamp. But she’d lightened his mood. He climbed in and extended his hands for the reins.
She moved them from his reach and snapped the horse into motion.
He couldn’t believe she’d just done that. It was audacious. “I should drive.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m the man and you’re a woman.”
She set her jaw and kept control of the reins. “I’m quite capable, danki.”
She certainly seemed so, as well as a little bit feisty. He wanted to drive, but unless he wrestled the reins away from her, it didn’t seem likely. “Did I do something to upset you?”
“Ne.” Her answer was short and clipped.
“It certainly seems like I did. No one else around for you to be angry at.”
She tossed the reins into his lap. “Take them if you want to drive so badly.”
Now he had vexed her. He didn’t want the reins this way and was tempted to leave them where they were, but that wouldn’t do for the horse to have no guidance. With the reins in hand, he pulled to the side of the street in front of an antique store and stopped. “If I haven’t upset you, then what has?”
She took a slow breath, and for a moment, he doubted she would answer him, but then she let out a huff of white air. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Ja, it does. Tell me.” Why did it bother him so much that she was upset? He should just let it go and get back to her family’s farm.
“My family went off to the hospital and didn’t notice I wasn’t with them.”
That could be quite upsetting, but he’d thought that hadn’t bothered her. He’d been wrong. “They were probably all worried about your vater. Focused on getting him the care he needed.”
She sat quietly for a moment, and he could almost feel her mood shift. “You’re right. I was being selfish. Only thinking of myself. I have a habit of doing that. Danki.”
He smiled. “Bitte.” He liked that he could help her and appreciated her honesty. Something he’d found lacking in others.
She waved her mittened hand in the air. “Shall we go?”
He lifted the reins but then paused and handed them over to her. “You can drive.”
The smile she gifted him with and the spark in her green eyes as she took the reins warmed him all over.
Chapter Two
Amos sat forward on the buggy seat as the Miller farm came into view. What would people think of him not driving? He was the man, after all. He should be driving. Instinct told him to take the reins, but something held him back. He gritted his teeth, hoping no one would be out in the yard.
Deborah pulled on one rein and slackened the other to turn into the driveway.
Though several buggies, the chickens and two cats were scattered about the yard, fortunately no people were in sight.
She stopped the buggy in front of the house. “Do you mind putting this away by yourself? I want to see how my vater’s doing.”
He gladly took the offered reins. “I’d be happy to.” He breathed easier having the strips of leather in his hands. How foolish of him, but he couldn’t help feeling that way. “Tell your vater not to worry about the animals. I’ll take care of everything.”
“Danki. But I think he probably still has enough pain medication in him to not worry about much of anything right now.” She jogged up the porch steps and into the house.
He stared at the door for a moment, feeling a sense of loss. But that couldn’t be. He hadn’t lost anything. At least not anything new. With a shake of his head, he drove the buggy to the barn. After unhitching the horse, he put the animal in a stall, then parked the buggy in its space inside the barn. Being an open buggy, it needed to be protected from the elements. With the harness put away, he brushed down the horse and fed him.
His encounter with his cousin Jacob played in his head. He needed to get off his vater’s farm and experience the outside world more than he had on Rumspringa, with a different purpose this time. If he wasn’t going to have land to farm and would have to work in the Englisher world anyway, he might as well live there, too, and be a part of it.
Amos would have left the first time when Jacob suggested it if there had been some place for him to go, but today was a different matter. The image of Deborah standing on the edge of her family at the hospital tugged at his heart. She needed him. This family needed him. Bartholomew needed him. And he needed them so he wouldn’t have to be on his family’s farm until he left for gut. This would make the wait more bearable.
He heard the humming of a female enter the barn. Deborah? He peeked out of the stall he was in as someone disappeared into the stall with the milking cow, but he couldn’t tell who. He brushed down the front of his coat and trousers to remove hay particles, then stepped into the stall doorway.
Miriam glanced up at him with a smile from where she sat on a three-legged stool. “Hallo, Amos Burkholder.”
His smile sagged a bit. “Hallo.” This was gut that it wasn’t Deborah. He shouldn’t be thinking of her. “Your job to milk the cow?”
She leaned her head against the animal’s side and began the task with a swish-swish-swish. “Ja.”
“Do you and your sisters trade off with this duty?”
“Ne, I like milking. There is something soothing about it. It’s just me and Sybil.”
“I’m sorry. Would you like me to go away?”
“Ne.”
He wasn’t sure if he was disappointed or not at having to stay. “Tell me about your sisters.”
“What do you want to know?”
“I don’t know. I figure if I’m going to be working on your farm, I should k
now a little about everyone.”
She nodded. “Hannah and Lydia are twins—identical. Hannah is the ultraresponsible one. Lydia is the peacemaker. They are both being courted and will likely get married this fall. Then comes me. A lot of people say I’m the positive one. I do try to see the gut in situations.”
That was not how Deborah had described her. What was it she had said? That Miriam liked a lot of boys. Likely, there wasn’t one young man in particular who had caught her attention yet.
“Then Deborah. After her comes Joanna. She’s the gut one. Not that the rest of us aren’t gut, but she was an easy baby and has always been easy to please. She’s also quite shy. Naomi’s thirteen and can be moody. She likes to be the center of attention. And lastly is carefree baby Sarah at eight. She is easily everyone’s favorite, and the sweetest of us all.”
Everyone got a description except Deborah. “What about Deborah?”
“What about her?”
“You gave everyone a little description except her.”
“Did I? Hmm. Deborah is...irres—rarely here.”
Was she about to say irresponsible? True, Deborah hadn’t been around when her vater had been hurt, but that didn’t necessarily make her irresponsible.
When Miriam finished milking, Amos hoisted the full bucket and carried it to the house.
Miriam opened the door to the kitchen and allowed him to enter first. The kitchen bustled with female activity. He was used to just his mutter in the kitchen, alone, doing all the work by herself.
Deborah looked up from her task of churning butter with the youngest girl and smiled at him.
He responded in kind.
Her gaze flickered away from him to where Miriam appeared, and Deborah’s smile faltered, then she pushed her mouth up in a less genuine smile, but one of encouragement.
He wished he could bring back that first smile. What had caused the change? More important, how could he bring back the first smile?
“Right this way, Amos.” Miriam motioned with her hand for him to follow her. “That goes in the back fridge until morning.”
Amos aimed his apologetic shrug toward Deborah as he obediently complied. When he returned, Deborah’s mutter stood in his path.
Teresa Miller put her hands on her hips and gave him an impish smile. “We do so love company, but you can’t walk through my kitchen without introducing yourself.”
“I’m Amos Burkholder.”
“Which one of my daughters are you courting?”
“Um, none. I’m here to help out on the farm while Bartholomew is healing.”
Shock and concern wiped away the older woman’s smile in an instant. “What? What’s wro—”
One of the older girls hooked her arm around her mutter’s shoulders and escorted her out of the kitchen. “Let’s go see how Vater is doing.”
Another of the older sisters stood in front of him. “Supper will be ready in a little bit. We’ll call you when it’s ready.”
This must be Lydia, the peacemaker. The one who left with their mutter must have been Hannah, the ultraresponsible one. Or it could be vice versa. He wasn’t sure. He nodded and went back outside to finish up some chores.
Soon, another one of the sisters came out to retrieve him. “Supper’s ready.” She kept her head down.
“Danki. I’ll head in with you.” He walked to her side. “I didn’t mean to upset your mutter earlier.”
Her head remained down and her voice soft. “You didn’t. She was just worried about Vater.”
It had seemed like more than worry. But then, what did he know?
This shy girl must be Joanna. It would probably be best if he didn’t stress her by trying to hold a meaningless conversation just to quiet the silence.
Inside, he washed up and waited to be told where he should sit at the table.
Bartholomew sat alone at the far end of the table, his broken leg propped up on a chair. The women still scurried to and fro.
The youngest, who looked to be more like five than eight, crashed into him and wrapped her chubby arms around his waist. “Broffer Amos.”
He wasn’t sure what to make of this little one. “Hallo, Sarah.”
She giggled.
One of the twins, he guessed Lydia, hurried over and disentangled the young one from him. “I’m sorry about that. She likes to greet people with a hug.”
“That’s all right.” He gazed down into the upturned face of Sarah. Her slanted eyes and flat nose told him all he needed to know. Down syndrome. “I’m very pleased to meet you.”
Lydia smiled at him but spoke to Sarah. “Go sit down. It’s time to eat.”
Sarah grabbed his hand. “Sit by me.”
He looked to Lydia, who gave him a nod. He sat, and quickly the others did so, as well. Bartholomew blessed the food, and everyone served themselves except Sarah. Hannah, who sat on her other side, dished up for her.
Bartholomew grimaced in pain. His medication had probably worn off. “Amos, I certainly do appreciate you coming to help out in my hour of need.”
“I’m glad to be here.”
Teresa tilted her head. “Hour? It’ll be a mite more than that.” Her anxiety from earlier had been erased.
The girl directly across from Amos crinkled her nose. “I bet you don’t even know who all of us are.”
Center of attention. “You’re Naomi.”
He went around the table and named each of the family members.
Naomi narrowed her eyes. She obviously didn’t think he could do it.
He wasn’t so sure himself but had guessed right. Miriam’s descriptions had helped. When he’d named Deborah and she smiled at him, something inside did a little flip. That was the smile he’d been looking for. He wanted to stop and stare at her but knew he shouldn’t.
He cleared his throat to regain his train of thought and shifted his attention to Bartholomew. “I could, of course, travel home each night and return in the morning, but I would be able to get more work accomplished if I stayed on here.”
Bartholomew swallowed his mouthful of food. “What did you have in mind?”
“I thought I could sleep in the barn.”
Teresa spoke up. “I won’t hear of that. The barn is no place for a person in winter.”
Bartholomew gazed gently at his frau. “What would you suggest, Mutter?”
“Joanna and Naomi can move in with Miriam and...” She waved her hand in Deborah’s direction. “And her sister.”
A sadness flickered across Deborah’s face, and Amos’s heart ached for her. He knew what it was like to be hurt by family.
Naomi leaned forward. “I don’t want to move rooms and be crowded in.”
“Hush,” Bartholomew scolded his daughter, and she huffed and folded her arms. Then he turned back to his frau. “You would have a young man who isn’t a family member under the same roof as our daughters?”
Teresa’s gaze flittered around the table, and the inappropriateness of the situation registered on her face. “Oh. I...”
Amos didn’t want to cause a fuss. “I don’t want to displace anyone. The barn will be fine. There’s an old woodstove still connected in the tack room. I can move a few things around and set up a cot.” It was preferable to home.
With supper concluded and the arrangements settled, Amos headed out to fix up his new but temporary living quarters.
He located some firewood and lit the stove. Then he made a clearing in the center of the room and set up the cot that was used when an animal was sick and someone needed to stay in the barn to keep a watchful eye out.
A gray tabby rubbed against his leg. He crouched and petted him. “What’s your name, hmm?”
The cat sauntered over to the stove, sniffed it and lay down in front of it.
“Don’t get too comfortable. You can’t stay in
here at night with the door closed. You can warm yourself until I find some blankets.”
When he exited the tack room, Deborah stood outside his door with an armful of quilts. She smiled. “We thought you might need these.” She handed him the pile. “There’s a pillow, as well.”
“Danki. These’ll be better than the horse blankets I was planning to rustle up.”
“Bitte.” Her gaze lingered on him a long moment before she turned to leave.
He wanted to say something to make her stay. But what use would there be in that? Instead, he watched her walk out.
* * *
The following morning, Deborah stole glances at Amos throughout breakfast. Several times, she caught him looking back at her.
Vater hadn’t come to the table for breakfast. Fortunately, his and Mutter’s bedroom was on the main floor, so he wouldn’t have to go up and down the stairs with a broken leg and injured arm. Though Mutter had scurried around the kitchen earlier, she had gone in to sit with Vater. Since Vater’s accident, less than a day ago, Mutter had acted stranger than usual. One moment she sat calmly, and the next she scampered about like a nervous squirrel looking for lost acorns.
Amos drained the last of his coffee. “Danki for breakfast. I should get to work.”
“Would you like another cup?” For some reason, she didn’t want him to leave yet. It was nice having another man around the farm. Or was it that it was just different for all the girls? Or was it having a kind, handsome, eligible man around?
His mouth curved up into a smile that tickled her insides. “Danki. Maybe later.” He gazed at her for a moment before trudging outside.
After he left, she stared at the door for a bit longer than she should before she turned to her sisters. “What do you need me to do?”
Lydia had taken charge of the kitchen cleanup. “I think we have everything covered.”
