“Maybe you should have rescued her.” Daniel perched on the other rocking chair. He wasn’t sure he was staying, but at the same time, outside with Becca seemed preferable to inside with all the eligible girls staring at him. Not that he considered himself such a great catch. It was just the way things were, especially when someone was new in a community.
“Nein. Liza can take care of herself. Trust me.”
Becca studied him so long that Daniel began to squirm.
“What?”
“I don’t know. What?”
“I mean why are you staring at me that way?”
“Only trying to figure you out. I thought you’d do everything possible to avoid me today.” Before he could answer that, she pushed on. “I have to admit I didn’t pay much attention to the sermons. I was too busy dealing with my own guilt.”
“Your guilt?”
She fiddled with the sleeve of her dress, which was a pretty autumn orange. Daniel waited, not sure he should interrupt.
Clearing her throat, she finally looked up. “What I did yesterday was wrong. I suppose I knew that as I was doing it, but I justified my actions by saying that I needed to know what type of person you are. Already my bruders are looking up to you—”
“They are?”
“And I worry about people who might be a bad influence on them.”
“I’m a bad influence?”
“None of that justifies my actions. Snooping is wrong. I’m sorry.” Now she met his gaze directly. “Really I am. I’m not that kind of person, and I promise that I will keep a proper distance in the future.”
He was a bit stunned.
He hadn’t expected a direct apology at all.
If anything, he’d regretted how harsh his words had been—when he wasn’t still angry at what she’d done.
Perhaps it was time that he be honest with Becca. He didn’t have to tell her everything, of course. He didn’t need anyone in Shipshe knowing that he was an Amish millionaire. The term still struck him as something out of a novel.
But he could tell her a little, enough to ease her worries about her bruders. Perhaps he could stop guarding his past so closely. Maybe he could trust that burden to the Lord.
* * *
Watching Daniel, Becca almost started laughing. His range of expressions reminded her of looking through the twins’ kaleidoscope. Just like those colors and shapes shifted and blended and altered, it seemed that Daniel’s emotions changed and merged and finally settled.
She decided it was best not to say anything.
Instead, she waited.
Finally, he tapped the arm of his rocking chair and sent her a tiny smile. “I apologize if I’ve come off as secretive.”
They both knew that he had been just that, so she again opted for saying nothing. It wasn’t natural for her. A whole backlog of words was building up in her throat.
“It’s just that when you move to a new place you’re not sure who you can trust—who might be a gossip or who might ridicule you. I don’t care too much what others think, but I don’t want to spend time correcting rumors that are false.” He crossed his arms. “Living with other people is a mess.”
“Oh, and living in the woods alone is easy?”
“How would I know? I haven’t tried it.”
He wiggled his eyebrows, and Becca laughed. This was a Daniel she could like. Gone was the brooding, angry man from yesterday. Not that she blamed him one bit for his brooding or his anger. She’d deserved every ounce of it.
Daniel’s mood shifted again. She sensed it immediately, like a change in the wind. She didn’t know him so very well. How was it that she was able to read him so easily?
“I don’t want to go into my past, Becca. Not now. Maybe not ever. I honestly can’t say if or when I’ll feel able to do that.”
“All right.”
“But I can assure you that it’s nothing nefarious. Whatever crazy ideas you’ve concocted in your brain about me, they’re not true.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.” He looked at her and sat back, relaxing for the first time since he’d nearly ran her over. “Try me. Give me your craziest idea about me—the most far-fetched thing that has crossed your mind.”
“Okay. You’re part of the federal witness protection program.”
“Definitely not. I heard they put those people up in pretty nice places, and my farm doesn’t really fit that scenario.”
“All right. Running from the law?”
“I’ve never broken a law. So, no.”
“Left a girl at the altar—heartbroken and confused?”
He only hesitated a millisecond, but it was enough that Becca knew she’d hit a nerve. She cocked her head to the left and waited.
“There was a girl, back home in Pennsylvania. I broke it off well before our wedding day. Furthermore, she was not confused or brokenhearted. She knew very well why I ended our relationship.”
“Hmm. Well, I’m sorry, then...for whatever heartache you’ve been through.”
“Danki.”
Becca stood and paced to the edge of the roof overhang. The rain continued to fall, but more softly now. The land looked to her as if it was drinking the water, storing the resource for spring, when all of nature would need it for new growth and rebirth. She’d always loved fall and winter—it seemed to her the time of year when everything rested and prepared for what was to come.
She turned toward Daniel. “What about your family? I don’t mean to pry. Honestly, I don’t, but you and I both know that Amish are all about their family. It just seems so odd for you to show up here—alone.”
“All right. That’s a gut point.”
“You don’t owe me an answer, Daniel. I understand that now. You don’t have to speak of this.”
“Nein. I said I would answer your questions if I can, and that one I can.” He joined her at the edge of the roof overhang. Together they looked out at the day, and it seemed as if they could watch fall change to winter before their eyes.
She thought of Daniel’s back porch—the sleeping bag and little cook stove.
She wondered how he would make it through the winter if he didn’t accept anyone’s help.
But she didn’t say either of those things. Instead, she waited, and though Becca had been somewhat cold earlier, she suddenly felt flushed. Perhaps she was coming down with something. She wouldn’t be surprised to discover she had a fever. Even her heart was beating faster than it normally did.
“I have two bruders, both younger. Benjamin is twenty and still at home. Joseph is twenty-four, and he has left the faith.”
“I’m so sorry. Did he become Mennonite?”
“Actually, I don’t think he’s become anything yet. He’s a bit lost. I tried speaking with him, tried writing him, but he isn’t ready to hear anything I have to say. Not that I’m the best person to offer advice. I haven’t figured this life out, either.”
“What about your parents? Do they have any influence with him?”
“Mamm and Dat try, but they argue quite a bit.” He sighed, stretched his neck to the left and right. “They seem to be having trouble finding their own way. I don’t think they’ll be much help to Joseph.”
“That must be hard on you. My dat is always telling silly jokes, and he doesn’t seem to care at all how poor we are, but he’s been a solid example for us.”
“You’re fortunate to have a father like that.”
“And my mamm loves him. They’re...well, they’re a sweet couple. I always wanted someone to look at me the way my dat looks at my mamm.” She ran both hands around the back of her neck. Of all the scenarios she’d imagined Daniel to be in, a broken family wasn’t one of them. “Do you have any schweschdern?”
“I do. I have four.”
“Have they remained Amish?”
>
“They have, but...” He crossed his arms and leaned against a wooden column, turning toward her as if he needed to gauge her reaction. “Sometimes it seems as if you can remain a part of something, but not genuinely be fully committed to it anymore. Does that make sense?”
“When a person’s loyalty is divided, they cannot find happiness.”
To her surprise, Daniel laughed. “Yes, you have a gut memory.”
“I shouldn’t have read your journal.”
“It’s not a journal.”
“Whatever it was—I shouldn’t have snooped.”
“The book you found—I just call it my notebook—it’s very personal to me. It’s a place where I jot down things that I think might be true.”
“That’s the very definition of a journal.”
He nudged his shoulder against hers. “Journals are for girls where they write about their feelings and practice penning their new last name.”
“Maybe in fifth grade!”
“Did you have a journal like that in fifth grade?”
Becca rolled her eyes. “Did you forget what a big family I have? A journal in my house would not be wise. Pages would be borrowed for tic-tac-toe games, or a homework assignment, or a letter to our kin in Ohio.”
“I didn’t know you have family in Ohio.”
“Oh, ya. My dat has a lot of bruders there. Cousins everywhere.”
Hannah and Isabelle picked that moment to dash around the corner of the building, chasing one another and shouting at the top of their voices. It felt like being bombarded by a whirlwind. They were there and then gone.
Becca didn’t want the conversation with Daniel to end, but she was probably needed inside. “I should go and see to the snack for the young ones.”
“I’ll help.”
“You will?”
“Nothing else to do, and I’m avoiding all of those girls who are staring at me like I’m a new bonnet they’d like to try on.”
Becca smirked and said, “Well, you’re not humble.”
“It’s not that I think I’m Gotte’s gift to Amish women. It’s only that I’m new in town.”
“No worries.” She patted him clumsily on the arm. “Someone newer than you will come along, and their attention will be diverted.”
“One can hope.”
They turned and began walking back toward the main room of the barn. Halfway there, Daniel tugged on her arm. She stopped, pivoted and looked up at him. Daniel Glick had a strong jawline and very attractive eyes.
Which didn’t matter to her one bit.
Staring into someone’s eyes was what a person did on a date, and she and Daniel were certainly not dating. In fact, dating was the furthest thing from her mind.
“So we have a truce?”
“Oh, ya. Now that I know you’re not running from the law or anyone else.”
“Excellent.”
“Still don’t know why you won’t accept help on that ramshackle house.”
“Still none of your business.”
“You can’t plan to sleep on the porch all winter.”
“There’s always the barn, which is in pretty gut shape.”
“You and Constance can keep each other company.”
“And Carl-the-bad-tempered-rooster.”
“Never trust that bird. I wouldn’t put it past him to peck you while you sleep.”
“I’ll make sure he’s safely penned up before sleeping in the barn.”
“Uh-huh. You don’t know how clever he can be. I’ve yet to find a way to keep him in a pen.”
And with that banter, their friendship—if that was what they wanted to call it—seemed to shift to solid ground. She could definitely do worse than having Daniel for a neighbor. It was better than a doting old couple. He’d come out of his funk eventually, meet some girl who caught his fancy, marry and have a passel of kids. She could watch it all happen from her side of the barn.
For some reason, that thought didn’t please her nearly as much as it should have.
Chapter Six
Two weeks passed; October gave way to November, and the truce between Daniel and Becca held. She had stopped snooping, as far as he could tell. She seemed satisfied with the less-than-complete answers he’d given her.
The only answers he could give her.
Daniel understood that Becca was worried about protecting her family. Somewhere along the way, she’d designated herself as the mother hen, in spite of the fact that her mother, Sarah, seemed perfectly capable of handling anything that came along. It was a large family, though, and Daniel was slowly feeling closer to all of them. It was hard not to. Sort of like having a litter of Labrador puppies next door that constantly frolicked in front of you, asking to be noticed.
Not that he was comparing Becca’s family to a litter of pups. Okay, he’d just done that very thing, but the comparison fit.
“Are you sure you want to do this today?” Becca’s bruder, David, was staring at him quizzically.
“Finish this field and all the winter crops are in.”
“Ya, but...you don’t look like you feel so good.”
Daniel used his sleeve to swipe beads of sweat from his forehead. “I’m fine.”
“You’re sweating.”
“I always sweat while I’m working.”
“It’s forty-five degrees out here—tops. There’s a north wind, and it’s cloudy.” David pulled up the collar on his coat. “I think you’re coming down with something.”
“And I think you’re avoiding my south field.” Daniel attempted a grin though it hurt his head to do so. “Or maybe you can’t keep up with me.”
“Dream on, old man.”
They spent the next four hours planting a cereal rye cover crop. When they paused for a break, David peppered him with questions.
“You’re not going to harvest this?”
“Nein. We till it under in the spring.”
“Why plant it if you’re only going to till it under?”
“Provides biomass, crowds out weeds, and deer will graze on it.”
“You plan on hunting?” Now David was grinning. “We only have the one deer rifle, but we try to harvest a few deer each year.”
“Most Amish do—it’s free meat, and most families can use that.”
“My family certainly can.” David was unerringly good-natured. His family’s financial situation didn’t seem to bother him a bit. “Dat’s never planted a cover crop.”
“When we’re done here, we’ll take the extra seed over to your dat. See if he’d like us to plant it.”
“He’s working at the RV plant this week. He doesn’t like the hours, but we needed the money.”
“All the more reason to share the extra seed. You and I can take care of the planting as long as he thinks it’s a good idea. You can ask him tonight.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
But by that evening, Daniel knew that he wouldn’t be planting in the Schwartz field the next day. His body hurt all over, and he couldn’t eat the meager dinner he’d put together. Shivers racked his body, but sweat dripped from his face. He had definitely caught some sort of bug. Hopefully it was the twenty-four-hour variety.
His living arrangements probably didn’t help. He’d taken to sleeping in the house as the temperatures had dropped, but there was no way to heat even one of the smaller rooms because the roof still needed so much work. Not to mention there were gaps around the window frames that he’d stuffed with newspapers.
“Next week,” he croaked as he hunkered down in his sleeping bag. He should have started working the roof sooner, but the crops had taken precedence. The roof could wait. If he didn’t plant the cover crops, next year’s harvest would be half what it could be.
He fell into a troubled sleep, peppered with images of Constance
looking through his house window, David sitting in the middle of his field pulling up plants by the roots, and Becca standing at the fence, jotting notes on a pad of paper that she stuck in her pocket. He tried to call out to each of them, but no one seemed to be able to hear him.
And then he was back in Pennsylvania, at his parents’ home.
They were arguing about Joseph moving to town. His bruder was standing on the front porch, his arms crossed and his back to his family, and Daniel? Daniel was where he’d always been, standing in between them, trying to forge some type of peace.
* * *
He woke to a cool hand on his forehead and sunlight streaming through the window. Blinking to clear his vision, he took a moment to realize that Becca was popping in and out of his line of sight, and even longer to realize that she was speaking to him or at least about him.
“I don’t know what you were thinking.”
He attempted to sit up, but the room tilted. He fell back against the sleeping bag.
“Stubborn. That’s what this is about, and maybe a lack of common sense. I’m really not sure which is the most dangerous.”
He tried to reach out his hand, to stop her as she moved away. The last thing he heard was her calling to someone.
“David, go and get Mamm. Bring Dat, too, if he’s home. We’re going to need help moving him, and bring the buggy.”
He wanted to argue that he wasn’t going anywhere, that there was work to do, that he needed to look in on Constance. The words wouldn’t form. He tried to swallow and felt intense pain stab through his throat, and then he was falling into the darkness that threatened to consume him.
* * *
Daniel opened his eyes, blinked and realized it was once again dark and that he was no longer sleeping on the floor.
Then where was he?
He rolled onto his side. The room seemed to tilt, and someone was groaning. He was groaning. The weight on his chest felt impossibly heavy, and he couldn’t stop shivering.
Becca turned on a lamp, placed another blanket around him and murmured, “Try to rest.”
He glanced up to see her face in the lamplight—concern, worry and maybe fear colored her features.
The Amish Christmas Secret Page 8
