She joined him in the kitchen. “I appreciate your help, Mr. Bowman but I need to know your intentions.”
He grinned. “My intentions are to stay single for as long as possible. Sorry.”
She wasn’t amused. “I’m talking about your intentions with regards to this farm.”
“I’m an auctioneer. My intention is to inventory the property and ready the place to be sold.” He quickly covered his head with his arms as if expecting to be hit.
She clasped her fingers tightly together. “Even after hearing that Ralph’s claim to this farm is false?”
He opened one eye to peek at her. “That did give me pause but Ralph seems certain that he owns this place.” He put his arms down and leaned one hip against the kitchen counter. “Is it possible your uncle changed his mind?”
“I don’t believe Eli would do that to me. I will not let you and Ralph sell this place. I don’t know how I can stop you but I will.”
“Don’t get riled at me. As an auctioneer, I have a responsibility to preform my due diligence by making sure that everything I sell is legal and as represented.”
She crossed her arms. “What does that mean?”
“It means I won’t sell a horse as a five-year-old if he has ten-year-old teeth in his mouth. I’ll thoroughly check Ralph’s claim of ownership. It may take a few days. In the meantime...”
“In the meantime, what?”
“I need to begin an inventory of the property.”
“Why?”
“Because I have given my word to Ralph Hobson that I will handle the details of the sale for him. It’s part of my job, and I have a reputation to consider. I can’t say I hold much respect for the man after his actions today. No one should treat a woman and her children with such callousness. Unfortunately, he is my client.”
“I’m sorry you have been placed in an awkward situation.”
“Danki. Have you thought about where you will go?”
She planted her hands on her hips. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying here. This farm belongs to me.”
“If you prove to be the rightful trustee, what are your plans for this place? Will you farm it? Rent it? Sell all or part of it?”
“I will sell most of the land but I plan to keep a few acres and the house to live in.” Her uncle’s death wasn’t unexpected—he had been in poor health—but it still came as a shock. Maybe if she could make Paul understand how much was at stake, he would stop Ralph from selling the farm. It was worth a try.
“Crigler-Najjar syndrome is a fatal disease. I won’t bore you with the medical details but a liver transplant is my daughter’s only hope of living beyond her teens. A few months ago, I learned that I am an excellent match to donate part of my liver to Sophie. It’s called a living donor transplant but it is a very expensive surgery. With all the testing and follow-up care, it will easily reach five hundred thousand dollars.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Half a million?”
“Ja. Staggering, isn’t it?”
“Won’t the Amish Hospital Aid pay for most of that?”
Amish Hospital Aid was a form of insurance that depended on contributions from a pool of members each month. She was a long-time member and paid a modest monthly amount since before Toby had been born. Not all Amish approved of the method, preferring to rely on the alms contributed by their church members in times of need.
“Amish Hospital Aid has helped pay for Sophie’s hospitalizations in the past. I paid the first twenty percent of each bill and they paid the rest. However, a liver transplant is not an emergency hospitalization. They won’t pay for disability-related costs like her doctor’s visits or her special lights. I have already sold my house and my mother sold her home to help pay for Sophie’s future medical care. All I have to live on is the rent from my husband’s harness-making business back in Strasburg, Pennsylvania, and the charity of church members. Eli’s offer to come and live with him was a Godsend.”
She blinked back unshed tears. “When we learned I could be a donor for my daughter, Eli altered the trust to leave the farm to me. He knew he didn’t have long to live. He had cancer of the blood. The doctors told him a year or less.”
“Why didn’t he sell the farm outright and give you the money?”
“He was planning to do that once his crops were harvested this fall. Making me the beneficiary of the trust was a safeguard in case he died before that happened. Sophie needs a transplant before she gets much older. Every year, her skin gets thicker and that makes the blue lights less effective at breaking down the toxic chemical in her blood. Even a simple cold can put her life in jeopardy or cause serious brain damage because the toxin builds up faster when she’s ill.”
Would he help her or was she wasting her breath? She couldn’t tell. She was exhausted and couldn’t think straight anymore.
Paul rubbed a hand over his chin. “Unless you want Ralph to come back here with the sheriff in a day or two, you’ll need to give me some idea of how long it will take you to move out.”
Her hopes sank. He didn’t care. “I told you I’m not moving.”
“I heard you but we need a way to stall Ralph. He sounded adamant about calling the sheriff on you. We don’t want that to happen and certainly not before I have his story checked out. I will insist on seeing a copy of the trust he claims to have and make sure it’s real. I have no idea how long that will take.”
Relief made her smile as she reached out and grasped his arm. “Then you believe me.”
* * *
Paul didn’t reply. His gaze remained fixed on her face. When she smiled, it changed her appearance drastically. The lines of fatigue and worry around her eyes eased, and she looked years younger. She was a pretty woman but more than that—she had a presence about her that was arresting and made a man look closer. She probably wasn’t much older than he was.
She let go of his arm and clasped both hands together as a faint blush stained her cheeks. He liked to flirt with women and make them smile but he knew Clara wasn’t in the mood to enjoy a little banter. He looked away and took several steps to put some distance between them.
It was surprising that he found her so attractive. She wasn’t the kind of woman he was normally interested in. He liked to go out with girls who knew how to have fun. A widow with two children didn’t make the list. He cleared his throat. “I believe you feel certain that you own the land. However, feelings aren’t proof.”
Her smile vanished. “At least you are willing to investigate Ralph’s claim. It’s a start. I’m not lying about Eli’s intentions. My uncle kept all his important papers in his desk. I’m sure the trust papers are there.”
Paul turned to face her. “You have them here?”
“I do. This way.”
Paul followed her down the hall to her uncle’s study at the rear of the house. The moment she opened the door, she stopped. “Someone has been in here.”
“Are you sure?”
She looked around. “Every piece of furniture in this room has been thoroughly dusted. Eli didn’t like me to clean in here and he wasn’t this neat.”
“I imagine the women of his church came to clean the house before the funeral.” It was a common custom among the Amish to prepare the home for the service.
Obviously feeling foolish, she avoided meeting his gaze. “Of course. I should have thought of that. You must think I’m crazy to suspect someone has tampered with my uncle’s possessions because the room is clean. The women wouldn’t have disturbed the papers in his desk.”
She opened the drawers one by one and went through them. Not finding what she was looking for, she went through each drawer again more slowly. “The trust document isn’t here.”
The trust wasn’t there because Ralph had it. Paul kept that thought to himself. Ralph had warned him not to believe her. He hated to think Ralph was tellin
g the truth about Clara’s unbalanced state of mind.
She pressed a hand to her forehead. “What do I do now?”
She looked lost and desperate, as if she had reached the end of her strength. Paul fought the desire to put his arms around her and console her. It was highly unlikely that she would welcome such a move but he was compelled to offer a sliver of hope even if it was false hope. “Could your uncle have moved it?”
“I don’t know why he would.”
“If he wasn’t feeling well and you weren’t here, he might have given it to the bishop, his attorney or a friend for safekeeping so that someone would know what his final wishes were.”
“Perhaps.” She didn’t look convinced. “I’ll speak with the bishop and his friend Dan to see if they know anything about it. I don’t know who his attorney was.”
“I hate to suggest this but Ralph may be telling the truth. Your uncle might have changed his mind.”
She shook her head, making the ribbons of her kapp flutter. “I can’t believe that. Eli wouldn’t leave us with nothing. Besides Ralph and my mother, the children and I are Eli’s only family. He loved my children.”
“I’m sure he did.” She was vulnerable and sad. Paul wanted to comfort her but he didn’t know what else to say. He chose to retreat. “I need to look around the property if that’s okay with you.”
“It seems I have no right to stop you.” Her eyes filled with tears and one slipped down her cheek. She brushed it away.
Not tears. He hated to see a woman cry. He wanted her to smile again. He stepped closer. “Don’t give up. Things will work out. You’ll see. Maybe Ralph will have a change of heart and share the proceeds of the farm sale with you.”
Her weary expression changed to a look of fierce determination. She squared her shoulders and rose to her feet. “I’ll be very old and gray before that happens. Go and do my cousin’s evil bidding. Make an inventory. Find out how much this place is worth so I’ll know how much the two of you are stealing from my babies.”
“I’m not stealing anything.” Her sudden change of mood took him by surprise. Angry mama cat was back and spitting mad.
“You are if you help him! Get out!”
He made a hasty retreat to the front door and out onto the porch. He turned back to her, hoping to make her see reason. “I have a job to do.”
“Then do it without my blessing.” She slammed the door shut in his face.
* * *
Clara leaned her back against the closed door and took several deep calming breaths. Her heart hammered in her chest. She could feel the blood pounding in her temples. Allowing herself to become so upset served no purpose.
“What’s wrong, Mamm?” Toby asked from the living-room doorway.
“Nothing.” She moved to peek out the kitchen window. Paul was standing on the porch looking stunned. She wished she knew what he was thinking. One minute, he seemed compassionate and caring, tempting her to trust him. In the next breath, he said he was going to sell the property for Ralph as if that was the way things had to be.
It wasn’t. She would find a way to stop them.
Her actions today ran contrary to her Amish upbringing and she was ashamed of that, ashamed her children had witnessed her behaving like a shrew. She had made a serious accusation against Ralph that she couldn’t substantiate. Not unless she found the papers she knew had to exist.
Ralph possessed few, if any, scruples. This wasn’t the first time he’d tried to trick or cheat an Amish family member out of money. This time it wasn’t just about money; it was about Sophie’s life.
Eli had wanted Clara to sell the farm when he was gone and use the funds to help Sophie. He had been a dear, kind man and she missed him deeply. She folded her hands together and sent up a quick prayer that God would be merciful to her and her children and allow her to grant Eli his final wish.
She went to search her uncle’s bedroom next. She found a suit of clothes and his straw hat hanging on pegs. His work boots were sitting beside the bed on a blue oval rag rug, where he always kept them. It was hard to imagine he would never put them on again and tromp mud across her fresh-scrubbed floors. Brushing away a tear, she searched the single chest of drawers without success.
There was nothing in her bedroom or the children’s rooms. She searched the kitchen and finally the large ornate bible cabinet in the living room. It contained only the family’s oversized three-hundred-year-old German bible and a few keepsakes. There was nowhere else to look unless she got a ladder and went up to the attic. She couldn’t imagine her uncle putting important papers where they would be so hard to access.
“Mamm, I’m hungry. Can I have a cookie?” Sophie asked.
“I don’t have any cookies but I think I can find a Popsicle for you and Toby.” Eli always kept a large box of assorted flavors in the freezer for the children.
The freezer compartment of the kitchen’s propane-powered refrigerator turned out to be completely filled with frozen meals in plastic containers, all neatly labeled. The members of the church had made sure that she and the children would be taken care of when they returned. Clara took a moment to give thanks for the wonderful caring people in her uncle’s congregation.
She found the box of Popsicles and gave each child their favorite flavor, then put out a container of spaghetti and meatballs to thaw for supper.
A knock at the door sent Toby rushing to open it. “Hi, Paul. You don’t have to knock. You can just come in. Want a Popsicle? Grape ones are the best.”
Paul stood on the porch with his straw hat in his hand. “Danki, Toby, but not today. I wanted to let your mother know I was leaving. I checked the generator and it’s got fuel.”
Clara moved to stand behind Toby. “Danki.”
She had forgotten to do that. Because the Amish did not allow electricity in their homes, Eli had gotten permission from his bishop to use a generator to supply the electricity for the blue lights Sophie needed. Eli had taken charge of keeping it running but she would have to do that from now on. She battled with her conscience for a moment but knew she couldn’t lie. “The generator belonged to Eli. You should add it to the farm equipment inventory.”
“I’ll try to remember but I’m a forgetful fellow. It might not make the list. I’ll be back tomorrow. Is there anything you and the children need before I go?”
She hated to ask him but Sophie’s health was more important than her false pride. “Would you start the generator so I can make sure the lights come on?”
“Of course.” He started to turn away.
“May I come with you?” Toby asked.
Paul looked over his shoulder. “Sure thing. I can always use an extra hand. Come on.”
The two of them had the generator started in a few minutes. Upstairs, Clara was relieved to see the lights come on when she flipped the switch. Eight blue fluorescent-light tubes were suspended above Sophie’s bed by a wooden canopy that could be raised and lowered with a chain. Mirrors on the headboard, footboard and one side of the bed reflected the light all around her. Sophie hated sleeping under the lights. Clara let her go to bed with her favorite blanket each night but once she was asleep, Clara had to take it away so the light touched as much of her skin as possible.
After she was sure the lights were all working, Clara went downstairs. Paul was standing outside the kitchen door again. “Does it function as it should?”
“The lights all came on. Thank you for making sure the generator would run.”
“You’re welcome.” He looked down at Toby. “I’ll see you tomorrow. I might need someone to help me list all the machinery on the place. That is, if your mother doesn’t mind.”
Toby turned pleading eyes in her direction. “You don’t mind if I help Paul, do you?”
She didn’t want Paul coming back but he would in spite of her wishes. Telling her son he couldn’t help woul
d only hurt Toby.
“You can as long as you finish your own chores first,” she conceded.
“I will.” The happiness in her son’s eyes relieved some of her reservations. He had taken a liking to the auctioneer.
Paul patted the boy on the head and smiled at her. “See you tomorrow then.”
The man had a smile that could melt a woman’s heart. Unless she kept a close guard on it, and Clara always kept a close guard on hers. Her life was filled with complications she wasn’t sure she could manage. Adding one more was out of the question. She closed the front door as he walked away and then began sorting through the pile of mail waiting for her.
Paul did have a nice smile. She remembered the sound of his laughter when she produced the crowbar and how gentle he had been when he talked to Toby about losing his father.
And this absurd line of thinking only proved how tired she was when a man’s simple act of kindness had her thinking he was someone special. After a good night’s sleep, she was sure she wouldn’t find Paul Bowman half as attractive the next time she saw him.
Chapter Three
Early the following morning while the children were still asleep, Clara walked down the road a quarter of a mile to the community phone shack shared by the Amish families who lived in her uncle’s area.
The small building that housed the phone and message machine was only six feet by six feet. It was painted a soft blue color and had large windows on two sides to let in the light. A solar panel on the roof provided electricity for the message machine. Inside was a narrow counter across one wall, where writing utensils and paper sat along with a copy of the local phone book.
A red light was blinking on the machine. She listened to the three messages. None of them were for her so she didn’t erase them. Sitting on the single chair in the room, she placed a call to her mother’s phone shack. She hoped her mother would be there to answer the phone. They had agreed on this time the last time they talked.
Her mother picked up on the second ring. Clara’s throat tightened. It was wonderful to hear her mother’s voice. “We made it safely back to Eli’s farm. It was a long bus ride.”
His New Amish Family Page 3
