by Marta Perry
If she had, maybe she’d have been better prepared for the life she had now.
“Why was that?” Gideon leaned his elbows on the counter as if he had all the time in the world to listen.
“My folks didn’t want me to take a job.” She said it slowly, seeing the situation more clearly now, looking back. “Daad said there was enough to do at home, and that I’d be better off learning what Mamm could teach me. But I suppose it was really because of Johnny.”
“They held you closer because they’d lost him.” Gideon’s voice was a low rumble under the background noises of the crowd.
“That, I guess. And maybe also they didn’t want me to be out among the English so much. Afraid I’d do what Johnny did. Not that I would have.” She glanced at him, seeing the understanding in his face. “I mean, Ezra and I knew we’d marry from the time we went to a singing when we were sixteen. I didn’t need to prepare for any other life.”
He nodded, the lines of his face seeming to deepen, as if he looked at the naive youngsters they’d been and found it sad. “We don’t know what tomorrow will bring.” He echoed what she’d said to him. “That’s just as well.”
She didn’t want to talk about the spouses they’d lost. “Anyway, I didn’t want my folks to worry. They’d had enough of that with Johnny.”
“How is he? Ezra said you were seeing him again.”
She studied Gideon for a second, but she didn’t find any condemnation in his face. “Since he came back to the valley I see him now and again. He’s busy with his new life. Happy, I guess, in his work. It wonders me though...”
She let that trail off, but he picked up on it.
“What? If he’ll come back?”
“No, I’m sure he won’t.” The familiar worry sounded in her voice. “I just wish Daad could accept that. Make it easier for Mamm to see Johnny again. Like I said, he’s happy with his work. But for all he’s changed, I don’t think he really fits in the English world, either.”
“You want to make it better for all of them.” Gideon sounded almost surprised.
“Ach, for sure I do. But Johnny and Daad are cut from the same cloth—both too stubborn for their own gut.”
“Families are like that. Drive you crazy sometimes, but you can’t do without them.” He glanced toward his brother as he spoke, and affection was written in his face and voice.
“Aaron and Lovina have been so kind to include me.” She hesitated, but she might as well say it. “I know this was your doing, Gideon, and I appreciate it.”
“All I did was to mention it to them. Then Lovina took over.” He smiled. “That’s what she does best. And here she comes now with the coffee, and none for me.”
Lovina bustled up to the counter, shoving a steaming cup at Rachel. “If I’d known you’d be here, I’d have brought some for you. You go get your own, and bring back some crullers from Ida Mae’s stand already. We could use a little something before the next rush.”
Holding up his hands in surrender, Gideon pushed open the half-door that was built into the counter. “See, what did I tell you? Lovina’s the boss, and it’s just as well to do what she says to begin with. It saves arguing.”
He moved off, and Lovina took his place behind the counter, clucking a little. “That Gid—he’s a caution. He has a gut heart, he does.” She slanted a glance at Rachel. “It’s time he should be forgetting the past and having a family of his own.”
A warning tingle slid down Rachel’s spine. Was that aimed at her? Leah said folks were already talking about when and who she’d marry.
She couldn’t very well say anything to Lovina, but if that was her idea, this was one time when she wouldn’t get her way. Gideon had no intention of marrying again, according to what Ezra, who would have known, had told her.
And she—well, she wasn’t ready to marry again, either. She didn’t know if she ever would be.
But if she were, it certainly wouldn’t be to a man who would be forever tied in her mind to Ezra’s death.
Two English women in the booth opposite them stared avidly at the four figures in Amish dress when they stopped at their favorite restaurant for supper after market. They didn’t bother Gideon, and Aaron and Lovina were used to it. Stopping here for supper was a tradition, and if the tourists wanted to stare, they were welcome to it.
He glanced at Rachel, sitting next to him on the padded bench, hands in her lap, eyes downcast. She wasn’t so used to being the target of curious gazes. He wanted to wipe the strain from her face, but he didn’t know how.
Rachel had had little experience with the English world. Now her situation forced her to deal with it.
It wasn’t easy to live in the world, but not of it. Some found it simpler, but Rachel wasn’t one of those.
He wasn’t, either, but he’d had to adjust to it once he’d started his business. Now—well, he’d just as soon be dealing with Amish customers, because he understood them. But the English were gut customers, too, and becoming friends as well, some of them.
He let Lovina’s stream of chatter about the success of market flow past him. It was a balancing act, to be Amish in twenty-first-century America. Rachel would face plenty of challenges, trying to hang on to the farm without Ezra.
She’d been right to flare up at him about that. He’d been thinking only of Ezra’s dreams, instead of what was best for Rachel and the children without him.
Still, how could he dismiss Ezra’s plans for his family? From the time they were boys, Ezra had talked about the dairy farm he’d have one day, even knowing that his daad’s place would go to Isaac. Gideon had lent a hand with the milking now and then, and Ezra liked to lean his head against the cow’s warm side and talk about running his farm. Wouldn’t he expect Gid to help Rachel stay?
“Gid, did you hear me?” Lovina’s voice sounded as if she might have asked the same thing several times.
“He tunes you out,” Aaron teased, sopping up the last of his beef gravy with his bread. “He’s so used to your gabble that he doesn’t listen.”
“Sorry, Lovina.” He brought his thoughts back to the bright restaurant, the clatter of dishes, and the buzz of English conversation. “My mind was wandering.”
“Your mind and Rachel’s, too, I’d say,” Lovina said. “Rachel, what deep thoughts are going through your head to make you stare so intently at your plate?”
Rachel’s cheeks grew pink. “Just that this is nice, is all. Do you always stop here for supper on a market day?”
“Just about,” Lovina said. “I’m certain sure I don’t want to go home and start cooking.” She chuckled. “It’s a little treat we give ourselves without the kinder along. Much as we love them, we like some time apart.”
“It’s a nice place, anyway.” Aaron glanced around the brightly lit dining room, with its painted versions of Pennsylvania Dutch art on the walls. “Gut food. Not so gut as Lovina’s, but okay.”
“Nice big servings, you mean,” Gideon said. He smiled at Rachel, hoping to put her at ease. “Aaron wants to feel like he’s got his money’s worth when he eats out.”
“Nothing wrong with that,” Aaron said. “We worked hard, up since before dawn. We need a gut meal.”
“And to take time to enjoy our profit,” Lovina added.
“Speaking of that, here is your share, Rachel.” Aaron pulled an envelope from his pocket, double-checked it, and shoved it across the checked tablecloth to Rachel.
Rachel opened the envelope, riffling through the bills, and her gaze widened. “But—this is too much. My plants didn’t bring in this much, I’m sure of it.”
She tried to push the money to Aaron, but he shoved it back. “It’s a mite extra,” he said. “It’s only what’s fair. You helped Lovina with her sales, so you deserve a cut.”
“But it’s your booth.” Rachel paled a little. “I can’t take money for helping when you are letting me use your booth.”
Aaron shot Gideon a look, as if to ask for help in handling such a stubborn wo
man. “Your plants and dried flowers drew more people to the stand, and then they bought from us, too. So we benefit from having you there.”
“Besides,” Lovina cut in, her tone firmly practical, “we need the extra help. Having you there lets me do some other things besides standing in the booth all day already. We’d have to pay anyone else who helped out.”
“You wouldn’t have to pay Gideon,” Rachel said, giving a sidelong glance at him.
“Oh, Gideon.” Lovina’s tone dismissed him. “He’s a help, sure enough, when he’s there, but lots of times he’s not. We need to have someone we can rely on, like you.”
She patted Rachel’s hand and pushed the envelope into her lap. “Let’s hear no more about it. We’d be grateful if you come along as often as you can, even if you don’t have much to sell. We can use the help and the company.”
Rachel didn’t look entirely convinced, but she gave in, curling her fingers around the envelope of cash.
“I’ve been thinking on that,” she said. “I can pot up more herbs, and there’ll be perennials ready to go soon.” Her eyes lit with enthusiasm.
Gideon liked seeing her that way, with the tiredness and grief erased for the moment. “You should find lots of buyers for your perennials,” he said.
“When the greenhouse is ready, I can start petunias, marigolds, cosmos, and such from seed, without waiting until after the last frost.” Her smile flickered. “I won’t have to crowd my windowsills with pots.”
“Gut idea.” Lovina glanced toward the dessert buffet. “And that double chocolate cake looks gut, too.” She slid out of the booth, nudging Gideon. “You heard what Rachel said. You work a bit faster on that greenhouse, so Rachel can get her seedlings started. What’s taking you so long?”
“The job takes as long as it takes,” he said mildly. “I don’t tell you how to bake bread, so don’t you be telling me how to build a greenhouse.”
Lovina laughed. “You’re just spinning it out so you can spend more time with Rachel. You can’t fool me.”
She walked off, still chuckling, before Gideon could think up a suitable retort.
But he’d have to come up with something. He couldn’t have Lovina imagining there was going to be something between him and Rachel when there wasn’t.
He glanced at Aaron, hoping to read some evidence of support in his brother’s face, but Aaron’s gaze evaded his.
“Guess I’ll go take a look at those desserts myself,” Aaron said, pushing himself out of his chair.
So they were both thinking that. He’d have to do some straight talking to the two of them. It’d be embarrassing all around, but most of all for Rachel, if they started in on matchmaking that was bound to fail.
Aaron and Lovina knew, better than anyone, why he’d avoided involvement with any woman since Naomi’s death. To be the only one left when his wife and baby died had made him shutter his heart for so long that he didn’t think it could open again. And if he had begun to change, Ezra’s death had ended it. He couldn’t take responsibility for the life of someone he loved. What if he let them down, too?
Rachel moved slightly, clasping her hands in her lap, the fingers twining together. He met her gaze, to find her regarding him with worry darkening the vivid blue of her eyes.
The color came up in her cheeks a bit. “Was ist letz, Gideon?”
He shoved away the unwelcome thoughts. Better to keep them safely buried, he knew.
“Nothing’s wrong.” He tried to smile.
“Maybe you’re thinking that I should not have taken that extra money that Aaron insisted on giving me. I didn’t want to, but it seemed so hard to keep on refusing—”
“Ach, no.” This was what came of letting the dark memories out. “Aaron was right. You were a great help.”
“But really, I didn’t do much.” Her face was still clouded, faintly troubled.
He wanted to put his hand over hers, to stop her fingers from straining together that way. But it would be too familiar a gesture and embarrassing besides, here in a public place. He contented himself with leaning a little closer as he searched for the words that would convince her to accept what they offered.
“You did plenty. Aaron worries that Lovina does too much, pushes herself too hard with the children and the house and the farm, besides all the baking she does to get ready for market day. If she’ll accept help from you, Aaron is only too glad. Please don’t back out now.”
He did touch her hand then, very lightly. The warmth of her skin made him want to linger, which was all the more reason to snatch his fingers away quickly.
There was a bit of a stir as the English women who’d been watching them slid out of their booth, dropping shopping bags in the process and exclaiming as they picked up their belongings. It distracted Rachel, which was just as well, and her face relaxed in a small smile.
The women had themselves together at last and started toward the door. A high-pitched voice came floating back over the shoulder of one as she stole a last look at them.
“Aren’t they just the cutest couple you ever saw? They’re like those Amish dolls we were looking at in that shop this afternoon.”
Color flew into Rachel’s cheeks again. Gideon spared an uncharitable thought for the tourists while he tried to think of some way to ease the situation for her.
“Like those Amish dolls,” he mimicked. “How would they like it if we were buying dolls dressed like them?”
She managed a smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. He could see her distress, and he couldn’t do anything about it.
Except leave her alone. The thought occurred to him, and his negative reaction to that startled him.
He couldn’t leave her alone. This wasn’t just about fulfilling his promise to Ezra any longer. It was all tangled up with Rachel’s valiant efforts to do her best for the children and with his instinctive need to help her, regardless of the cost.
CHAPTER SIX
The final slow hymn had been sung, and Bishop Mose stood to pray. His gentle face radiated love as he blessed the people. Rachel’s heart warmed with it. Tired as she had been after the long day at market yesterday, worship had rejuvenated her.
Talk rustled through the Stoltzfus farmhouse as the service ended. “Mammi, can we go outside?” Becky tugged on her arm.
“Ja, but walk out nicely with your grossmutter.” She knew her mamm found it a joy to greet her friends with her grandchildren by her side. “I must speak with Leah.”
Mamm, hearing her words, nodded and took Joseph’s hand. “We will save a place at the table.”
Daadi stood, cradling a sleeping Mary against his shoulder. “You go, and give our best to Leah. Maybe this one will sleep a little longer.”
Rachel made her way between the rows of backless benches, heading for the spot where Leah sat with Elizabeth snuggled close to her side. She liked seeing the bond Leah had formed with her stepdaughter.
She didn’t like the fact that Leah had come to worship today. Nearly four hours on a backless bench wasn’t her idea of the rest the doctor had ordered.
She moved along the row, exchanging greetings with those on the women’s side of the worship area. The Stoltzfus place was ideal for worship, built so that the living room and dining room opened into each other, giving plenty of space for the service.
House worship was held every other Sunday, rotating among the members. Depending on whose turn it was, they might be in a house one time, in someone’s basement the next, and in a barn the following one. When she and Ezra had hosted worship, they’d spent a week cleaning out the barn beforehand.
She had to see if there was anything she could do to help Leah. And then she’d tell Leah of her plans for the greenhouse. The ideas had been bubbling since she got home, tired but satisfied, from market yesterday. It would be gut to hear Leah’s words of encouragement.
Some of the men had already begun removing the benches, carrying them outside for the lunch that would follow worship. She skirted past them,
smiling and nodding, and fetched up beside Leah, bending over to enfold her in a warm embrace.
“What are you doing here? I’m sure the doctor wouldn’t approve of this.”
Leah rose, leaning a bit heavily on Rachel’s arm. “I asked and he said it was all right.” She winced, rubbing the small of her back. “Of course, he probably doesn’t know how long our service is. ”
“Ja, that’s for certain sure.” Leah’s mother, who’d been seated on the other side of her, ran a soothing hand along her daughter’s back. “You go along with Rachel and have a nice visit. Elizabeth and I will see if we can help with the food, won’t we, Elizabeth?”
“Oh, ja.” Elizabeth’s eyes filled with love when she gazed at her adopted grandmother. “We’ll help.”
“Wish I had a daughter so eager to help,” Rachel said once Leah’s mother and daughter had left. “My Becky is probably getting into mischief already, if Mamm has let her go off.”
“I’d be pleased if Elizabeth felt secure enough to seek out some mischief.” Leah’s smile lit her face. “Sounds like we’re always wishing for something we don’t have.”
“I guess so.” Her arm around Leah’s expanding waist to support her, Rachel led the way toward the door. “Let’s find a real chair for you to sit in, and I’ll get you a cool drink. It feels like summer in here already.”
“It does at that.”
They worked their way toward the door that stood open to the sunshine. Folks still stood in small knots, talking. Judging by the grave faces, Rachel knew the topic of conversation.
“Bad news about Eli Fisher,” she said. “Everyone’s upset to think he’ll not be with us much longer.”
Leah nodded. “He’s a gut man and a gut minister. It sounds as if the Lord has need of him in Heaven.”
“And that means we’ll be praying on who will be the next minister.”
“It’s a weighty decision, to think of the name you wish to whisper to the bishop.” Leah grasped the porch banister to help her descend the two steps. “At least we know that the final decision will be made by the Lord.”
