[2016] The Precious Amish Baby

by Faith Crawford

  “Call me Isabella.”

  “Thank you so, ma’am, and Mr. Ray, I promise I won’t let you down.”

  “You’ve done a good thing, Ray,” Isabella said, as they walked to the grocers.

  “She’s suffered a lot since the death of her husband. We all need a lucky break sometimes,” he said quietly.

  Isabella had a list with her, provided by Mrs. Price, and on reaching the grocery, she wrote down the prices of each item. Then she made her order, making the quantity less than Mrs. Price had indicated.

  “You’re quite the little business woman, aren’t you?” Ray whispered into her ear, and she blushed.

  “I reckon you ought to buy more than that,” Ray said.

  “Oh no, I might end up with a lot of waste. It’s a new restaurant and people might not come when they know there’s a new owner.”

  “Oh, they will, if only to admire your pretty face,” Ray said.

  “That won’t get us very far, will it?” Isabella countered.

  That night, as they lay in their new bed, sounds of the street carried up into the bedroom. Isabella found it comforting. Ray snored gently beside her. Sleep would not come easily to Isabella. There was so much to do tomorrow. There were a few regrets.

  She wished that they had given the restaurant a new coat of paint, but money was tight. Ray had been open about how much money he had, and she knew that they had spent quite a sum to buy the restaurant furniture and utensils from Mrs. Price. There was the rent, too, to consider.

  Her heart pounded as she fretted about everything that could go wrong. Isabella comforted herself with the fact that they had bought everything they needed. She felt grateful for Martha. At least one of them had experience of running a restaurant.

  Chapter Six

  Ray worked the cash register and observed the floor of the restaurant. He looked at Isabella, poised with her pen and notepad to take an order. It was nine in the morning and Isabella was serving their fifth customer. Delicious smells wafted in from the kitchen, where Martha was busy frying eggs and sausages as the orders came in.

  Isabella took the order and, as she passed him and headed to the kitchen, she smiled at him and he winked back. She returned carrying a hot plate of steaming beans and eggs in one hand, and a mug of tea in the other. Ray turned his attention to the menu and tried to figure out what else they could incorporate over time.

  The easy atmosphere was suddenly broken by a raised voice. Ray looked up and saw Isabella’s tense back as she took a step back. He quickly went round the counter and, as he approached them, he could hear the man’s voice.

  “I asked for boiled potatoes with eggs, not beans! What’s wrong with your hearing?” the bald man scowled.

  Ray had not seen him before. The veins across his forehead throbbed with his indignation.

  “Is there a problem here?” Ray asked smoothly.

  “Yes, I got a wrong order and I don’t have time to wait for it to be redone,” the man thundered.

  Beside him, Isabella trembled.

  “I’m sorry, I wrote it down—”

  “So what are you saying? That I’m lying?”

  “Look here, Mister, the lady wrote down your order as you said it, so the mistake must be on your part.”

  The man banged the table with both hands. The plate jumped and spilled the beans, while the tea splashed from the mug, flooding the table with liquid and dripping onto the floor.

  “I’d like you to leave,” Ray said calmly.

  “You’ll regret this,” the man growled, pushing his chair back. “Mrs. Price would never have treated a customer in such a manner.”

  When he left, Ray turned to Isabella and his heart caught when he saw the fearful expression in her eyes. He pulled her to him and embraced her. From the corner of his eye, he saw Martha discreetly return to the kitchen. They did not have much time to talk as, just then, the door swung open and three men walked in.

  “Hey, Ray, how is it going?” one said. He was a man who Ray had mined with previously.

  “I’ll take this order, sweetheart,” Ray whispered to Isabella. “Go on to the back and have some tea. It’ll do you good.”

  She nodded gratefully and left. Ray bantered with the three men and cheerfully took their order. All of his mind was on Isabella. He sighed. Dealing with people was a difficult thing and he wondered if Isabella was cut out for it. One had to grow a thick skin to withstand the sometimes rude behavior of customers.

  Isabella returned soon after and, from then on, there was a steady stream of customers. Ray observed Isabella as she took orders, and he knew that he would need to speak to her later to encourage her. She seemed fearful, slouching her shoulders and standing too far back. His instinct was to take her and wrap her in his arms, but that wouldn’t do either of them any good. They had a business to run.

  At lunchtime, the crowd was bigger than they had anticipated. Ray helped to clear out the dirty dishes in between running the register. Sweat dripped down his back as he fought to keep everything going smoothly. He knew it was the same for Isabella and Martha in the kitchen.

  They barely registered each other’s presence in their rush. As Ray was giving change back to a customer, he felt Isabella’s hand on his. She tugged at his arm and he stooped so she could whisper into his ears.

  “There’s no more food, Ray. What are we going to do?”

  Her voice had a tinge of panic. It was bad business to have the food run out when there was still a lunchtime crowd.

  “Is there not something in the store that Martha can rustle up?” he whispered back.

  “I’ll go check,” Isabella said, and she flew off.

  Isabella returned a few seconds later to report that there was nothing. Ray took one look at the new customers who had walked in and knew something had to be done fast.

  “Tell them there’s cold ham and baked beans remaining,” Ray said. “I’ll nip to the grocers and get some.”

  Isabella’s eyes had grown wide. He patted her hand.

  “Hey, take it easy. I won’t be long; meanwhile, you’ll be the waitress and the cashier lady. Talk to them, keep them occupied until I come back.”

  Ray had to grin at the look of sheer terror on Isabella’s face.

  “They won’t bite, you know. They’re people like you and me.”

  She took a deep breath and nodded. “People just like you and me.”

  “That’s right, that’s my girl.”

  He hurried out of the restaurant, wishing that there was a back door. Ray weaved between the lunchtime crowds and, when he reached the grocer’s, he hurriedly told him what he required.

  “Got a good crowd going,” the grocer, a Jewish man who wore spectacles, said.

  “Yes, much more than we expected,” Ray commented.

  “Ah, that’s every business person’s dream. It is a blessing indeed.”

  Ray left the grocers laden with ham and tins of baked beans. He realized, then, just how lucky he and Isabella were. He knew, deep inside himself, that their restaurant would do well.

  Chapter Seven

  “It takes time to learn, sweetheart,” Ray soothed Isabel, while they were lying in bed.

  Isabella dug herself further into Ray’s chest. He pressed her hair back, the motion silencing her conflicting emotions. She wanted nothing more than the restaurant to be a success, but the truth was that she was not a business person.

  It was their fourth day of business and, by the end of the day, she had felt weary, exhausted and discouraged. Ray was a natural, and he spoke to their clients with confidence and a friendliness that came naturally to him. Isabella, on the other hand, felt like she was acting in a play and hadn’t learned her lines.

  “They hate me!” Isabella cried out.

  Ray chuckled softly. Isabella pushed herself from his chest and sat up, glaring at him.

  “It’s not amusing, Ray. This could mean the end of our business, and it’s our only livelihood.”

  He grew sol
emn. “You take it all too seriously, sweetheart. Be yourself and people will love you as much as I do.”

  Isabella sighed. It was all very well for Ray to tell her to be herself. Every time she approached a customer to take an order, her legs trembled and her knees banged against each other. Sweat broke out under her arms and sometimes her brain refused to function when she was asked a question.

  “It does not come naturally to me,” Isabella said softly.

  A silence fell between them.

  “I’ve been thinking, perhaps we should get someone to help with the waitressing. In fact, I know just the person. His name is George and he’s the son of a friend of mine. He’s not the sharpest knife in the drawer but he’ll be fine serving food and taking orders.”

  It sounded perfect to Isabella, but what was she to do with herself? Martha was doing well in the kitchen.

  “What will my work be, then?” Isabella asked.

  “Well, you could work at the cash register,” Ray said.

  “Oh,” Isabella said. “And you?”

  Ray waved away her concerns. “I’ll find something to do.”

  She settled herself back in the crook of his arms and, before too long, she heard Ray snoring. Despite Ray’s assurances, Isabella was scared. She was not good with people. Ray had agreed to the restaurant business to please her, and now she couldn’t do it. Above her, a soft wind made the roof sing gently.

  ***

  George was a short and plump young man, with brown hair that fell into his face. He had an unsure air about him, and even the simple act of greeting Isabel caused him to stutter. Ray grinned at him.

  “You’ll like working here. Mrs. Barger will show you how everything’s done.”

  Isabella stared pointedly at Ray and he winked at her.

  “I have to go out for a bit,” Ray said, and after a few more pleasantries, he left.

  It was early morning and their breakfast customers were yet to start streaming in. Isabella looked at George with dismay. He was staring intently at his shoes.

  “Well, George,” Isabella said cheerfully. “I suppose I had better take you to meet Martha in the kitchen.”

  She trudged unenthusiastically to the small kitchen at the back. There was only one window, and it faced a wall, so there was insufficient light.

  “George, is that you?” Martha asked, blowing smoke away from her face. “Good to have you with us, young man.”

  Isabella shook her head. Was she the only one who saw how unsuited George was to the job of serving? Isabella took George behind the counter and took him through the menu.

  “For now, we only serve cold ham, eggs, sausages, bread, tea and porridge for breakfast. We expect to add more as we get on,” Isabella said, and searched George’s face for signs that he understood. There were none.

  She sighed and continued, taking him through the options for lunch meals.

  “Here, you can use this apron,” she told him.

  The first customers trickled in a few minutes later. Isabella stiffened as she watched George make his way to the two men. She had a panicky feeling in the pit of her stomach. But then the strangest thing happened. George seemed to change before her very eyes.

  His shoulders straightened and she could hear his light laugh as he joked with the customers. The men, too, were smiling at him. Snippets of their conversation reached her.

  “What do you recommend on a fine morning such as this one?”

  “Hmmm, I would go for the…”

  Isabella realized then that all along she had been holding her breath. She let it out slowly and mentally applauded Ray. Her husband was a Godsend. It fleetingly crossed her mind that Ray had not returned from his errands, but the thought was gone as soon as it came.

  The day went amazingly well. The three of them worked well together like a well-maintained piece of machinery. George did not rush about like a headless chicken as she had done. He seemed to stroll through the floor of the restaurant, ambling his way between the kitchen, the counter and the tables.

  Isabella could not wait for Ray’s return so she could tell him how wonderfully well the day had gone. In the lull after lunch, Isabella found herself thinking of new meals they could add to the menu. Her mind buzzed with ideas and she was impatient for Ray’s return so that they could talk about it.

  She only began to worry when darkness set in and there was no sign of Ray. In the last hour before closing time, Isabella looked up every time the door opened. She bit her lower lip until it became raw. Where could he have gone off to? It was so unlike Ray.

  Chapter Eight

  Ray had first heard the whisperings of a new find three days ago. There was a gold rush in the next town of Crescent Head and the men who were in on it were headed there. He had kept the news to himself, but he could feel the excitement growing and throbbing in his chest. He had decided to come to Crescent Head and find out for himself.

  He headed to the market first and, as he came within sight of it, he could hear music floating in the air and the sound of merriment as people crowded around the fiddler and tapped their feet. Ray felt his own excitement rising as he got caught in an immense crowd of mostly men.

  The traders were doing brisk business and Ray made for a stall stocked with miners’ tools. At other stalls, men bought tea, flour and tinned beans and dropped them into their makeshift bags—rolled canvasses with two straps and a sling. By looking at their intense, feverish eyes, Ray could tell that these men were stocking up for the wilderness they were headed to. He badly wanted to be one of them.

  Ever since marrying Isabella, his luck had changed. The restaurant was doing far better than he had hoped. He had, however, not yet tested his believe that marriage brought luck to a man searching for gold.

  “Where’s everybody going?” Ray finally asked a group of men whispering amongst themselves.

  They looked at him incredulously, as though he had landed from another country.

  “Haven’t you heard?” a man with a weathered face asked him.

  Ray shook his head.

  “There’s gold on the other side of the mountains, in the creeks and streams that flow through the rocks.”

  Ray’s heart beat furiously. He thought of how life changed in an instant for men who struck gold. Gold, he had realized, made all men in society equal, and he wanted everything for himself and Isabella. At the thought of Isabella, he sobered up. How would he tell her that he wanted to go with the men to search for his own fortune? The restaurant had lulled both of them with its routine, but Ray wanted more than that. There was so much more they could do with the restaurant with a fair bit of money.

  He kept his ears cocked to the conversation going on around him. His nerves stood up with excitement, for he was familiar with the rush of blood when one sighted the flicker of color—shining yellow dust. The trembling hands as one scooped the mud with shiny gold grains.

  The scramble and the feverish combing of the earth, one’s body and mind focused on discovering bigger grains. All the while, the mind planned and dreamt of riches and a life free of drudgery and fear of poverty. At the edge of this, the fear that there was nothing after all, that all the digging had been for naught.

  Fury followed; the absence of what you had believed was there. But if you found it, there was no feeling like it, Ray thought, with a tiny smile. A man could work next to you and, just by picking ground a few feet away, the course of his life could change. Ray believed that, soon, he would be that man. But to do that, he would have to leave Isabella and the life they had created together.

  Ray hitched a lift on a wagon to return to Fairview. He hoped with all his heart that George had managed to impress Isabella with his serving skills. Ray’s going to the mountains depended on it. He could not in his right conscience leave Isabella and Martha to handle the restaurant alone.

  By the time he jumped off the wagon in Fairview, darkness had set in and he walked in quick strides down the main street, passing the noisy saloon and the
mercantile shop before reaching the restaurant. He was not surprised to find that it was closed for business.

  Ray rapped hard on the door and smiled when he heard Isabella’s light steps as she rushed down the stairs. The door flung open and she stood staring at him as though she had seen an apparition. Then a rush of words followed.

  “Where were you? I was worried sick! Come on in.”

  “I’ll tell you everything,” Ray promised, as he shut the door and took her in his arms.

  She smelt of peppermint and bacon and he held her closer. God, he would miss her!

  “I saved a plate of biscuits and beef for you,” she said, leading the way up the dark stairs.

  “Thank you, I’m famished,” Ray said, realizing that he hadn’t eaten all day and had not even given much thought to food. Now his tummy rumbled, like a giant awoken from a deep sleep.

  “How did it go with George?” Ray asked, as they reached the top of the stairs which lead directly into the small living room.

  Isabella turned to him with a huge grin, her cheeks bright with color and her face wearing a determined look he had only seen before they opened the restaurant for business.

  “He was wonderful, Ray. I couldn’t believe how well he got on with the customers,” she said, and then grinned. “I must say that when he first came, I did not have much faith in his abilities. That’ll teach me to not judge books by their covers.”

  The relief that flooded Ray’s body was indescribable. Now he would be free to make his plans for leaving.

  “I’m glad, sweetheart, very glad,” Ray said.

  He sank into a chair and listened to Isabella’s movements in the small kitchen that they rarely used. His body tingled with excitement and he hoped that Isabella would share in it.

  Only later, when he had eaten, did he broach the subject. A look of wariness crossed Isabella’s face, but she smiled bravely to cover it.

  “It’s for us, my dear,” Ray explained.

  Chapter Nine