His New Amish Family

by Patricia Davids

  “How are the children?”

  “They are doing fine. There was a letter from the Clinic for Special Children waiting for me when I got here. They did some lab work at her last visit. Sophie’s bilirubin levels are holding steady with ten hours of light but we might need to increase her to twelve hours soon.”

  “Then the surgery can’t be put off much longer, can it? Have you decided what to do with my brother’s farm? It’s hard to believe he is gone but what a blessing he has left for us.”

  Clara hated to share this news but saw no way to avoid it. “Ralph is here. He says Eli left the farm to him and he plans to sell it.”

  “What? Eli wouldn’t do such a thing. He and I agreed you should have it.”

  “We know that but I can’t find the papers Eli signed. Ralph claims to have them.”

  “That boy broke his mother’s heart with his sneaking ways. I pray for him all the time. What are you going to do?”

  “I thought I would speak to Dan Kauffman and see if he knows anything about this.”

  “The Lord has placed a heavy burden on you, dear. I wish I was there to help.”

  “I wish you were here, too. I miss you. The children miss you.”

  “As I miss them. Give them my love.”

  After hanging up the phone, Clara blinked back fresh tears. She had needed to hear her mother’s voice, but it made her miss her even more.

  Her mother, a widow, had moved from her home in Pennsylvania to live with a dear friend in Maryland after selling her house to help Clara pay Sophie’s mounting medical bills. The two older women were like peas in a pod and got along famously. They made and sold quilts to a local tourist shop and enjoyed living by the sea.

  When Clara had her emotions under control, she phoned Dan Kauffman next but no one picked up and he didn’t have an answering machine. She hung up and decided to visit him as soon as possible. She needed to know where her uncle’s trust papers were. They might not prove that Ralph’s document was a fake but it would prove that she wasn’t lying.

  Let down because she hadn’t accomplished anything, Clara started back to the house. She had only gone a short distance when she heard the clop-clop of a horse coming up behind her. A farm wagon drew alongside and stopped. Paul held the reins. He tipped his straw hat. “Good morning, Clara. May I offer you a ride?”

  “I enjoy taking my morning strolls alone.” She looked straight ahead and kept walking. She had managed to avoid thinking about him until now. He didn’t pass her. Instead, he held the horse to a pace that matched hers.

  “I think we got off to a bad start yesterday,” he said after a long moment.

  She chose not to reply, hoping he would get the message that she didn’t wish to converse with him. He didn’t.

  Stopping the wagon, he got out and took the horse’s rein to lead it as he fell into step beside her. “I hope you will accept my apology if I offended you yesterday.”

  “Are you still planning to auction my uncle’s property for Ralph?”

  He didn’t say anything for a long moment but finally nodded. “I am until I have proof that he doesn’t own the place.”

  She turned to face him and saw he had a horse and buggy tied to the back of the wagon. “Then I have no reason to accept your apology, for clearly you will continue to offend me. It’s a wonder you can sleep at night knowing you’ll be putting two small children out of their home.”

  She wasn’t as angry with him as she was with herself. A night’s rest hadn’t lessened his attractiveness. She couldn’t shake the annoying feeling that she liked him.

  “Your sharp tongue slings some pointed barbs. Do you practice or is it a skill you were born with?”

  She stared at him with her mouth open. No one ever talked to her like that. She snapped her mouth shut. “Perhaps you should move out of range.”

  “Can’t.”

  She glared at him. “Do you need directions? Let me help. Get in your wagon and tell your horse to trot on. Within a minute or two, you will be beyond the sound of my voice.”

  To her amazement, he burst out laughing. “I admire your sharp wit even if I am the target of your jabs.”

  “Clearly, I have to be more direct. Mr. Bowman, go away.”

  “It’s Paul. You must call me Paul because I’ll be spending a lot of time at your place for the next few weeks. I need to finish my inventory of all the possessions, take measurements of the house, barn and outbuildings, inspect the fencing and determine the condition of all the fields. It could take me as much as three to four weeks to sort through everything. After that, it will take me at least another week or so to organize the items into lots for sale and tag everything.”

  She gave him an icy stare. “If my sharp wit offends you...leave. I am a woman with a serious and distasteful mission. The future of my children, Sophie’s very life depends on proving that my cousin Ralph is a liar.”

  “Now you are wrong about one thing.”

  “You don’t believe he’s a liar?”

  “I was raised to believe the best of every man until proven wrong and then such a man needs forgiveness and prayers. You’re wrong if you think your sharp wit offends me. It doesn’t. It’s rather refreshing. You remind me of a mother tabby cat, all claws and hiss with her tail straight up and her back arched ready to defend her kittens at all cost.”

  Clara had absolutely no idea how to answer him except to say, “I don’t like being compared to a cat.”

  “Sorry. I’ll make a note of that. Is tigress or lioness a better comparison? Maybe not. I can see you’re about ready to claw my eyes out. Should I stop talking?”

  “Ja, stop talking,” she said dryly, trying to maintain her anger but it was slipping away. His roguish grin and the twinkle in his eyes made it hard to resist his teasing charm. The most annoying thing was that she suspected he was well practiced at charming women.

  He leaned toward her. “I predict we are going to be friends. You know why?”

  “I don’t have a clue.”

  “Because everyone likes me. I’m not bragging, just stating the truth. I’m a likable fellow.”

  She rolled her eyes. “And one who is in love with the sound of his own voice, I gather.”

  “Absolutely. See how well you know me already?”

  He launched into the singsong chant of an auctioneer selling an imaginary hand-painted antique china teapot to an eager crowd of imaginary bidders. By the time they reached her uncle’s lane, the price was over two thousand dollars. She had to wonder how he managed to take a breath while he was calling.

  “Sold, to the bishop’s grandmother for two thousand two hundred dollars and two cents. Please pay the clerk at the end of the auction.” He grinned at her and Clara found herself smiling back as they stopped beside the hitching rail in front of her uncle’s house.

  She quickly regained her common sense. This handsome, smooth-talking man wasn’t going to distract her from what she had to do. “Sadly, I don’t have a valuable antique teapot so I won’t need your services.”

  “Are you sure about that? Have you done an inventory?”

  * * *

  Paul saw the indecision flash across her face before she composed herself. “I have not. After I prove the property is mine, I do plan to sell the farm and equipment along with some of the contents of the house.”

  “I’m sure you’ll want an accurate inventory in that case. Why have it done twice? There’s no reason I can’t give you a copy of the lists I’m making now.”

  “I will need one, won’t I?”

  “Absolutely. If you want to ensure that my assessment is correct and complete, then perhaps you would like to assist me while I go through your uncle’s possessions.”

  “While I hate to agree with you, you may have a valid point.”

  “And if we work together, you can be sure I wo
n’t hide the documents you need if I should find them.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “What makes you think I haven’t already found them?”

  He leaned close. “If you had, you would be shouting for joy from the rooftop.”

  A hint of a smile curved her lips. “I guess I would, at that.”

  He grinned. “See? I’m getting to know you better all the time. Where do you suggest we start our inventory?”

  “You’re going to let me decide? Aren’t you the expert?”

  “I will give you my opinion if you want. We should start in the attic and work our way down in the house.”

  Paul suspected that Clara was someone used to taking charge in whatever situation arose. He was willing to give her enough leeway to make her feel comfortable. He hated that he would be party to selling her home out from under her if Ralph did own it. He wasn’t quite sure why it was important but he truly wanted her to like him.

  There was something about her that touched him in a way no other woman had. He was afraid to examine his feelings too closely.

  “I have no idea what is in the attic. I’ve never been up there,” she said.

  “I’m going to guess we will find cobwebs, spiders and maybe a mouse or two.”

  “If you are trying to frighten me, it won’t work. I’m not afraid of spiders or mice.”

  “Wunderbar. Spiders give me the heebie-jeebies. I’ll let you deal with any we find.”

  She tipped her head as she regarded him. “I thought all men were tough and brave when it came to squishing insects.”

  “Nope. I never said I was a tough guy. I’ll let you go first.”

  She stared at him for a long minute. She had something other than cobwebs on her mind. He said, “You might as well ask me whatever it is.”

  “Before we tackle this project, may I borrow your buggy for a short trip today?”

  “I see you noticed that I brought one along. I did plan to leave it for you to use. I noticed Eli had one in the barn but the front wheel has a broken spoke and I don’t know if Ralph will okay the repair. Do you want to borrow my horse, too?”

  Her smile was brief but genuine. “Ja, I would like to borrow the horse, too. I looked but I couldn’t find a harness to fit Patches.”

  He cocked his head to the side. “Patches?”

  “Sophie’s cat.”

  He laughed. “That’s a goot one. My horse’s name is Frankly.”

  “Frankly, not Frank?”

  “Nee, it’s Frankly and he’s a bit high-strung. I’m sure you can manage him if you know ahead of time that he likes to try and turn left at every intersection.”

  “Why?”

  “Frankly, he has never bothered to tell me that.”

  She cocked her head to the side. “Are you ever serious?”

  “Not unless I have to be. Are you going to leave the kinder with me?”

  She shook her head. “Nee, I’ll take them with me.”

  “Goot, kinder are scarier than spiders.”

  Clara went to collect the children, leaving Paul waiting outside. She might have thought he was kidding about looking after the children but he wasn’t. Toby he could manage but the needs of a girl Sophie’s age were far outside his level of comfort. Paul was still standing beside the buggy when she came out with the children.

  “Danki, for the loan of the horse and buggy, Paul. We should be back in an hour or two. Why don’t you start downstairs and save the attic until I return?”

  He hung his head and tried to look downcast. “You think I’m not brave enough to go into the spider’s den alone.”

  She chuckled. “That’s right.”

  “Paul is plenty brave,” Toby insisted.

  “Not as brave as your mother,” he replied, meaning what he said.

  He opened the buggy door and handed her up. He held her fingers a moment longer than necessary because he liked the way they felt in his hand. His eyes met hers and he saw them darken with some emotion before she looked away and pulled her hand free.

  * * *

  Clara blamed her fast pulse on the importance of talking to Dan Kauffman. She wasn’t willing to admit Paul had such an effect on her. He was nice-looking, with his sincere brown eyes and light brown hair. In a way, he reminded her of her husband, Adam, but she wasn’t looking to marry again. She needed to put all her time and effort into seeing that Sophie stayed well and providing for both her children.

  She picked up the reins. “Frankly, walk on.” As the horse headed down the road, Clara resisted the urge to look back and see if Paul was watching her.

  When she reached the highway, Frankly tried to turn left, forcing her mind back to the task at hand. Once she straightened out the horse, she headed down the highway at a steady clip. Frankly had a high-stepping gait that made the miles fly by. He was the kind of horse young men wanted to pull their courting buggies so they could impress the girls. Was there someone Paul hoped to impress? She quickly dismissed the thought as none of her business.

  Four miles from her uncle’s farm, Clara allowed the horse to make his preferred turn to the left and entered the driveway for Dan Kauffman’s home. She had only been to the place twice when she was younger but not much had changed. His wife still cultivated an extensive rose garden, and there was a large shaded pool with water lilies where gold and white koi fish made their stately rounds waiting for a handout.

  She secured Paul’s horse and allowed the children to go look at the fish while she walked up the graveled path to the front door. If anyone knew why her uncle had changed his mind, or if he hadn’t, it was Dan. Although he wasn’t Amish, he had been her uncle’s closest friend since their boyhood days.

  She raised her hand and knocked on the brightly painted red door.

  * * *

  Paul decided he would spare Clara the task of climbing into the attic with him. He was glad he did the minute he opened the trap door leading to the space. It was as dusty and cobweb-filled as he had suspected it would be.

  An hour later, he hauled the last box of odds and ends down the ladder and carried them into the kitchen. Eli King had stored very few things in his attic. There were some books and a set of dishes with three chipped plates. There was a shoebox full of newspaper clippings. As an appraiser, Paul knew they were worthless but he set them aside for Clara to look through.

  The final box contained a dozen carved wooden toys. They were dark with age but all in good condition. These were the kind of small items that usually sold well at an auction. He would have to ask Clara if there was a story associated with them. Englisch auction-goers particularly enjoyed purchasing an item with a history.

  Paul made a list of every toy and noted the condition in the margin beside the description. When he was finished, he wasn’t sure if he should wait for Clara’s return or if he could go ahead and inventory the kitchen without her. As he was making up his mind to wait, he wandered into the living room and noticed a tall, beautifully carved bible stand in the corner.

  It was made of dark oak and deeply carved with vines and leaves in the elaborate German style popular hundreds of years before. The sides and front of the cabinet were panels carved with bible chapters and verses in three-inch-high letters. On the front was Genesis 1:1. Below that one, a panel bore the inscription Isaiah 26:3. On the left side three panels were inscribed with John 3:16, Matthew 5:44 and Philippians 4:13. On the right side was Proverbs 22:6, Daniel 6:22 and Romans 12:2. Paul drew his fingers along the carvings. The verses must have held a special meaning to the cabinetmaker or the person he made it for.

  Paul lifted the lid and stared at the huge antique German bible inside. The book was at least six inches thick and bound with red calfskin. He opened the cover and saw the publication date of 1759 on the yellowed page. Clara’s family must have brought this bible with them when they immigrated to America with the first
Amish families. This wasn’t going to be sold. This heirloom belonged to Clara to be passed down to her children and her children’s children no matter what Ralph Hobson thought should be done with it.

  Paul heard the arrival of a buggy and glanced out the kitchen window. Clara had returned and his heart gave an odd little skip at the sight of her.

  He pulled back from the window. This wasn’t normal. He had dated plenty of young women and none of them had triggered a jolt of happiness, or whatever this was, when he saw them.

  He walked outside, intending to take care of his horse but Clara was already unhitching Frankly. Should he take over or allow Clara to finish? He wasn’t used to watching a woman do his chores while he stood idly by. “Did he behave for you?”

  “He tried several times to turn without permission but once he understood what I wanted, we didn’t have any trouble.” She unhooked the last strap and led him out from between the buggy shafts. “But you will have to get a new buggy whip.”

  “What? You whipped my horse?”

  “I’m teasing, Paul. Does he look like I beat him?” Frankly was nibbling at her black traveling bonnet. He pulled it off and tossed his head with it between his teeth.

  Paul snatched it from the horse and handed it to Clara before he took the lead rope from her. “He doesn’t look whipped but he looks like he is developing more bad habits. Maybe I should cut his ration of apples. Is it okay if I turn him out in your corral?”

  “I don’t see why not. I walked him the last mile so he should be cooled down. Good fellow. Thanks for the lift.” She patted the horse’s neck as he walked past her.

  Toby and Sophie both had to pat the horse, who put his nose down to them before Paul turned him loose.

  “Children, I want you to go play in the backyard.”

  “But I want to tell Paul about the fish,” Toby said.

  “Me, too,” Sophie said. “They were gold and white and this big.” She held her arms wide.

  “You can tell Paul about them another time.” Clara gave them a stern look. They walked away without arguing.