“It would seem to me that you’ve started down that path already, by talking to me. I will pray that you have wisdom in this matter, Daniel. We’ll both pray that you know with certainty who you should share this with and when you should share it—if at all.”
“But what about tomorrow?”
“What about it?”
“They’re going to all show up to help, thinking that I’m poor.”
“I’m not sure that’s true. Our community would show up to help, regardless of your financial situation.”
“Okay. Maybe you have a point.” Daniel scratched at the stubble on his cheeks. He needed to shave. He needed to bathe, and his stomach was starting to grumble. But more than those things, he needed to settle this now. “But what about the cost? The materials will be paid for out of the benevolence fund.”
“That’s not a problem. We often have anonymous donations. Search your heart, then donate what you can. If you’d rather not give it directly to Deacon Miller, I’ll be happy to pass it along.”
Saul stood, stepped closer and placed his hand gently on the top of Daniel’s head. He prayed that Daniel would have wisdom and clarity in all things. What pierced Daniel’s heart was when this man, who really knew very little about him, thanked Gotte for bringing Daniel to their community, for adding him to their numbers, and for turning him into a strong man of Gotte.
He wasn’t sure those words described him.
But one thing he was certain of—he wished that they did.
Chapter Seven
Becca hadn’t given up on the idea of earning extra money for her family. Clyde was still saving for his new buggy, but he also gave a portion of what he earned each week to his parents. He needed help. And Christmas was coming. Becca wanted Hannah and Isabelle to have something new. Georgia would love a new book, and she probably needed new glasses. Francine...she really had no idea what Francine would like. Apparently Francine had decided she was in her rumspringa, though she wasn’t even done with school yet. If asked what she wanted for Christmas, she’d probably say she’d like a new pair of blue jeans or to have her ears pierced.
Of course, gift giving wasn’t the focus on the holiday, but still Becca dreamed of being able to surprise her family with a few nice things. She had a couple of new leads on earning a little extra money. Hopefully, during the next week, she’d have time to pursue them more.
Carl-the-bad-tempered-rooster wasn’t exactly working out the way she had hoped. At least her hens had become used to his moody behavior. They no longer ran from him, but instead moved to the end of the chicken coop and watched him carefully. Sort of reminded Becca of the group of young women at church watching Daniel.
Oops.
How had that image popped into her mind? It wasn’t exactly a kind one.
Which was beside the point. As she walked back from Daniel’s house Sunday afternoon, a westerly wind pulled at her coat and nearly tugged the bonnet off her head. She only wore the black bonnet over her kapp in the worst of weather because it was old and not particularly flattering. She felt rather like a crow with it covering her head, but it did protect her from the wind, which was apt to change and come from the north any moment. November in northern Indiana was a tumultuous time.
Speaking of tumultuous, Daniel was standing on the front porch when she reached the house, and the look on his face reminded her of the stormy sky at her back—brooding.
“How do things look?”
“Aren’t you supposed to be inside?”
“Is there anything left for me to do?”
“You mean besides running a farm? Nein. That’s it.”
“Good grief.” He limped over to the porch swing and collapsed on it. “My entire farm is being renovated, and I can’t even see it.”
“You’re getting stronger every day. Before you know it, you’ll be healthy enough to escape.”
“Now you’re mocking me.”
“A little.”
“I suppose I deserve it.”
“You do.”
“I’m not ungrateful.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Seriously, I’m not. And your family...”
She sat down beside him on the swing because he once again had that faraway look in his eyes. She peered at him more closely. He looked rather lost. He’d always seemed to be a bit of an introvert, but since his illness, he seemed to drift off into his own thoughts even more often. Several times she’d walked into the living room to find him with his journal in his lap, a forgotten pen in his hand, and his gaze locked on something outside the window.
He had the ability to disappear right before her eyes.
She raised her hand and snapped her fingers to get his attention, then smiled when he looked at her as if he was surprised she was there.
“Where did you go?”
“I was thinking about your family.”
“They’re a lot. My family can be overwhelming, even to me, and I grew up with them.”
“Nein. That’s not what I meant.”
He hesitated, and she thought he’d change the subject. That was usually what he did when she prodded. There was still something mysterious about Daniel Glick, and a small part of her remained determined to figure out what it was. She no longer thought he was nefarious, but there were other reasons that one went into hiding.
He shook his head and laughed, though there wasn’t much happiness in it. “My family was big, but it wasn’t like yours. We didn’t play games together at night...”
“Is Eli bugging you about chess again? None of us know how to play, so I suppose he sees you as fresh competition.”
“No one wanted to read aloud a passage from the book they were reading...”
“Georgia will read to anyone who is sitting in one place for more than thirty seconds.”
“And none of my schweschdern would have asked me what type of color she should dye her hair.”
“She won’t do it. I know Francine better than she knows herself. She was only teasing. At least I hope she was only teasing.”
“The point is that my family wasn’t close in that way. There were a lot of us, and sure, we sat around the dinner table together, but it wasn’t the same.”
“Oh.” Suddenly she did understand what he meant, and she felt an almost overwhelming love for her big, loud, crazy family. Instead of sharing that, she wrapped her arms around her middle. “You seem anxious to go home.”
“I can’t believe they remodeled the entire house without me.”
“Oh, ya. You won’t recognize the place. There’s a roof and everything.”
“I’m strong enough to go home. Your mamm worries, but I think I’d be fine.”
“And she would have agreed except that your temperature spiked again last night. Dr. Neal said forty-eight hours without a fever, and she’s going to hold you to that.”
“Maybe tomorrow.”
“Maybe so.” She cast a sideways look at him. “Off-Sundays are laid-back around here.”
“I enjoyed the devotional.”
“Ya, Dat has a real flair for making a passage in the Bible quite entertaining. He has a dramatic voice for reading.” Her dat had read them the verses about Abram and his nephew Lot—how they’d disagreed and Abram had given Lot his choice of land. Lot had taken the best for himself, although it didn’t end well for him. This was all before Abram had accepted Gotte’s calling on his life and become Abraham.
Becca wasn’t sure how the story related to her and her siblings, although they did occasionally bicker over minor matters. Was that why her dat had picked it? Of course, after the Bible study and prayer, he’d snuck in a joke.
Who was the smartest man in the Bible?
Abraham. He knew a Lot.
“It was nice to see your Onkel Jeremiah.”
“He’ll be gone most o
f December, visiting family in Ohio.”
“And Abigail...she gets bigger every time she comes by.”
Becca swatted his arm. “Better not tell her that. You’ll have to hear her what-it’s-like-to-be-pregnant stories.”
“How about you sneak me out to the barn to see Constance?”
“I suppose I might be able to pretend that I need your help.” They’d moved Constance to the closer barn, which made for easier feeding.
“Great.” Daniel practically jumped off the swing. Just as she thought he probably was well enough to return home, he started a fit of coughing that lasted a good minute and a half. She wasn’t glad that he was still ill. That was most certainly not the emotion she was feeling. But she also didn’t want him to go home just to have a relapse. He’d scared a year off her life the first time. He owed it to her to be completely well before moving back into his own place.
“After we check the horses, Mamm should have dinner ready. It’s usually just cold sandwiches on Sundays.”
“Sounds gut.”
“And I’m pretty sure there’ll be a game of Pictionary after that.”
“Never played it.”
“You’ve never played Pictionary?”
“Nope.”
“Gut. You should be easy to beat.”
She bumped her shoulder against his as they walked back into the house. Twenty minutes later they were in the barn, brushing down Old Boy and Constance. Becca couldn’t imagine who Daniel would ever let close enough to even have a relationship, let alone marry. Whoever the gal was, she’d need a lot of patience, because he absolutely adored that horse.
A girl who cared about him could get jealous over such a thing. Not that she would know anything about that.
* * *
It was actually Thursday before Daniel was able to go home. He did have a relapse—this time only running a low fever, but it was the cough that complicated things. It felt as if his ribs were bruised. He couldn’t imagine trying to cook for himself or do his own laundry or even take care of his own horse.
That last one really rankled him.
He knew that Clyde and David and even Eli were caring for the mare, but she was his responsibility.
As the week progressed, he slowly regained his strength.
Thursday morning, he’d showered, shaved and agreed to stay until lunch. Then he was going home—for good. He hadn’t even seen the place since the workday. He was quite eager to look over what had been done. It couldn’t all be finished, as Becca had suggested. Surely there would be work for him to do?
As he attempted to restore the sitting room to its pre-infirmary condition, he marveled that he’d been staying with the Schwartz family for ten days. Had he ever stayed in anyone’s home that long? Come to think of it, he’d never stayed with anyone at all—except for his parents, of course.
The last ten days had offered his first insight into how other families lived, and as he’d confessed to Becca, it had helped him to realize that his own family was dysfunctional in more than one way—in more ways than just the wealth they’d inherited. He’d had two more visits with Saul, and the older man had been a great sounding board—only offering his opinion when Daniel flat out asked for it.
His most recent suggestion had been that Daniel write to his parents. Daniel wasn’t sure he was ready to do that, but he was at least considering it. Saul’s words reverberated in his mind at the strangest times.
Anger is a heavy burden for the one who carries it. Best to let it go.
Could it possibly be that easy? Could he just let it go? It wasn’t as if he could tie his feelings to a balloon and watch them float away. Could he forgive his family for all the hurtful things they’d said to one another? He hadn’t been completely innocent, either. There were things he needed to apologize for. He was already composing the letter in his mind, though he wasn’t ready to commit it to paper.
Becca walked in the room and looked around in surprise.
“You’re ready.”
“Nearly.”
“Lunch will be in a few minutes.”
“Gut. I’m starved.”
“Your appetite has definitely returned.” She walked over to the bookcase and picked up his journal. She turned toward him, holding the journal in one hand and a duster in the other. She was a beautiful woman—golden blond hair peeked out from her kapp, freckles dotted her cheeks and nose, and her blue eyes were something a guy could get lost in.
At the moment she was pretending to be quite serious, but her eyes gave her away. Becca’s eyes nearly always held laughter, in spite of her obsession to work her family out of their state of poverty.
“You don’t want to forget this.”
“Danki.”
“I know you’ve explained that it’s just your thoughts and that it’s not a journal.” She shook her head and laughter brightened her eyes. “But where do you find this stuff?”
The last few evenings he’d had trouble sleeping, so he’d sat at the kitchen table and written in it. The first time Becca had joined him, he’d immediately shut the book, but as he grew more comfortable around her he’d begun sharing snippets. When she hadn’t mocked him, he’d shared more, so now he knew her question was in earnest.
“Some of it you just learn the hard way.”
“Is that so?”
“Ya, you being so young, you probably can’t imagine that.”
“I keep forgetting you’re an old man of thirty while I’m a young chick of twenty-four. Okay, learn it the hard way. What else?”
“Read. Some things you can learn from reading.”
“The Bible.”
“Sure, but other books, too. Men and women have been sharing what they learned through writing for a very long time.”
“Now you sound like Georgia.” She ticked off his answers on her fingers. “Learn the hard way. Read about it. Are those my only options for finding wisdom?”
He stepped closer and breathed in the scent of her. For reasons he couldn’t have explained, his ex-fiancée, Sheila, popped into his mind. He could remember how it felt to be hurt by her, but looking back now, it was as if those things had happened to someone else. He supposed he still bore the scars of her betrayal, but it no longer bothered him like it once had. “Heartbreak. I think you can learn from that.”
She cocked her head and looked up at him. “Has your heart been broken, Daniel?”
“Yes. Once. I seem to have healed.”
“Uh-huh. I think I’ll pass on that one. Any other avenues of wisdom open to me?”
“Age, which we sort of already covered.”
“You’re telling me to get older?”
“Sure.” He reached forward, tucked a wayward lock into her kapp and allowed his hand to linger there. Her eyes widened, practically daring him to...to what?
Fortunately, her mamm called them to lunch then. Instead of turning and walking away, Becca tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. “Come on, old man. Maybe you can share your wisdom during our meal—entertain my mamm and dat.”
Daniel barely heard what she was saying. He was focused on the feel of her hand on his arm, the closeness of her, the way that life seemed simple to Becca—family or not family, helpful or hurtful, wise or naive. It wasn’t so much that she saw things in black-and-white as it was that for her, life had been uncomplicated to this point. He could only pray that it would remain so for her. She needed to find a guy who had a family like hers. Then they’d have a dual support system, as most Amish newlyweds did.
He didn’t know why his thoughts were focused on Becca’s future marriage, when to his knowledge she wasn’t even stepping out, but he could see her in a house of her own. He could see her surrounded by children and wayward chickens and hound dogs. What he couldn’t see was her with another man.
Which was ridiculous.
It wasn’t as if she would be interested in the likes of him, even if he was in a place to look for a fraa.
Which he wasn’t. He wasn’t even close.
The last thing she needed was in-laws with a history of problems, especially ones that had become an integral part of their lives.
No. Becca Schwartz would be better off stepping out with a normal guy—one who could provide her with a normal house and farm and family.
One of the things he’d written in his book, one that he hadn’t shared with her, pretty much summed up his life and how it would not be a good life for her.
Money, especially excess money, brought with it a world of trouble.
* * *
Becca tried not to laugh as Daniel climbed the steps of his front porch. Of course, he’d insisted on moving Constance and stabling her first. The mare looked quite content, if a horse could look satisfied, pleased and happy to be home.
Now he stood staring in disbelief at his house.
“How did they manage to do all of this?”
“Surely you’ve been to a barn raising before.”
“This wasn’t a barn, though.”
“We do the same for houses all the time.” Becca thought the place looked fantastic. There was no longer any danger of falling through the porch’s floor. The railing was solid. The new paint gleamed in the bright November sunshine.
Daniel opened the screen door—then closed and opened it again. “Works better.”
“Because it’s a new door. I thought the workers would be better off tearing down your old place and building a new one, but Silas King—he’s usually the foreman of our work crews—said your place has good bones.”
“He told me the same when he stopped by, and he described the work, but...”
“But what?”
“I didn’t envision this, couldn’t imagine it at all.”
They walked into the house and Daniel stopped in the middle of the sitting room. He turned in a circle, looked up at the ceiling, went over and tapped the window frame, then dropped his bag on the floor and put his hands on his hips. “Where did the furniture come from?”
The Amish Christmas Secret Page 10
