An Amish Arrangement

by Jo Ann Brown

  If he was here then...

  He sighed. “God, You’ve brought me here. Help me see Your plan and the way for me to be part of this new settlement.”

  Selecting a couple of wool blankets and guessing there would be plenty of moth holes, he grabbed two more before he went downstairs. He could get by for a single night. If it went as he hoped, by tomorrow night he’d be able to sleep in his own house.

  Mercy was waiting in the exact same spot where she’d been when he’d left. Again, guilt tormented him. Part of him wanted to walk away, but he couldn’t.

  “Did you find enough blankets?” she asked.

  “I did.”

  “They may not be in good condition.”

  “They’re gut enough for tonight.”

  She rubbed her hands together as she had before, and he realized she was as torn as he was. Turning the other cheek was the Mennonites’ way, too, but he’d seen how her eyes snapped when she spoke of him keeping her from making a home here for her and her kind.

  “If it gets too cold,” she said, “come back.” A hint of a smile played along her lips. “You freezing to death would be a real complication.”

  When he chuckled, her smile broadened, revealing the gentle person she was.

  “Don’t worry, Mercy. I’ll be fine.” He hoped it wasn’t a boast. The temperatures had been dropping fast when he came to the house. He headed for the door.

  “Do you have anything to eat?” she asked.

  Her question stopped him in his tracks. “No.”

  “Wait here.” Mercy rushed into the kitchen. He heard cabinet doors opening and closing as well as drawers being slid in and out; then she returned with a plastic bag filled with odd shapes. “It’s peanut butter and jelly and a few slices of the bread I brought with us. Also a couple of cans of orange juice. It’s Sunni’s favorite, so I always have a bunch on hand.”

  “It’s my favorite, too.”

  The smile he hadn’t guessed he’d see again spread across her face, adding an aura of light to her eyes and skin. “I’m glad!”

  That pleasurable something uncurled within him once more as he gazed into her pretty eyes. A man could get lost in those eyes. He looked away. He hadn’t come to Harmony Creek to get lost, but to find his dream.

  Picking up his duffel bags, he opened one and stuffed the thin blankets inside. He felt like a hobo as he steered his bags and himself out of the house. By the time he’d reached the porch steps, he heard the dead bolt click closed. Mercy wasn’t taking any chance he’d have second thoughts and return.

  He would be there tomorrow, he thought as he trudged through the snow. Because he wasn’t ready to give up his dream...when it was within his grasp.

  * * *

  The next morning Mercy surveyed the wall completely stripped of ugly, peeling wallpaper. It’d taken more effort than she’d expected to get the remaining paper off. Maybe she shouldn’t have done more work until she knew for certain what was going to happen with the farm. When the clock on the mantel in the living room had chimed nine o’clock, she’d used the phone in the kitchen and called Darren Paquette, Grandpa Rudy’s Realtor. His office was in Glens Falls, more than twenty-five miles away, and she’d been grateful to catch him at his desk.

  At least she had been until he told her not to do anything until she heard from him again. When she explained about the meeting that afternoon with Jeremiah and his Realtor, Mr. Paquette warned her to say nothing.

  “A real estate transaction is adversarial at best,” he’d said, “and this is far from the best situation.”

  “When can you come here?”

  “Tell Kitty Vasic to call me, and we’ll discuss it. There’s no reason to involve you and Mr. Stoltzfus at this point.”

  “I’ll tell her.”

  How could he say she and Jeremiah weren’t involved in deciding the future of the farm? That was the silliest thing she’d ever heard.

  “Are you okay, Mommy?” asked Sunni as she came downstairs.

  Mercy smiled at her dear daughter, who looked adorable in her light green dress and with her black braids falling over her shoulders. The little girl was sensitive to everyone’s moods, and Mercy didn’t want her to get more upset.

  “I’m fine, eolin-i.” The phrase meaning “little one” was one of the few she knew in Korean.

  “Is he coming back?”

  “Jeremiah?”

  “Yeah, him.”

  She got the broom she’d found in a kitchen closet and began sweeping the wallpaper scraps into a pile. “He’s returning this afternoon with a friend of his.”

  “Is he going to make you sad again?”

  Putting aside the broom, Mercy squatted until her eyes were level with her daughter’s. “Jeremiah didn’t intend to make me sad. But he talked about Grandpa Rudy, and that made me sad.”

  “Me, too.” Her dark eyes glistened with tears. “I miss his water balloons.”

  “I don’t miss that.” Mercy forced humor into her voice. “You two made me your favorite target.”

  “It was fun to be splashed on a hot day.”

  “It was, wasn’t it?” She hugged Sunni, being careful she didn’t pull her daughter off balance.

  Mercy started to add more, but the door opened. She gasped when Jeremiah walked in. Nobody ever knocked at her grandfather’s door, but for the first time, having someone let himself in seemed like an invasion. From where she squatted, it appeared the top of his straw hat brushed the ceiling.

  Telling herself not to be frivolous, she made sure Sunni was steady as she came to her own feet. Paper crunched under her sneakers when she turned to him. “I thought you were coming this afternoon.”

  “It is afternoon.”

  “It is?”

  He chuckled. “The hours pass swiftly when there’s plenty of work, ain’t so?”

  Mercy warned herself to relax. His teasing was aimed at trying to make the situation as comfortable as possible. “There are never enough hours in a day.”

  “True.” He turned to Sunni. “How are you doing today?”

  “You aren’t going to make my mommy sad again, are you?” her daughter shot back in a tone that warned Jeremiah he’d be sorry if he did that.

  Though she wanted to remind Sunni of her manners, Mercy said nothing. How Jeremiah answered could tell her a lot about what he was planning to do next.

  Taking off his hat, he held it by the brim. “I’m sorry if I made her sad before.” He raised his eyes to meet Mercy’s, and she saw his sincerity as he added, “And I don’t want to make her or you sad.”

  “So you say,” Sunni retorted, shocking Mercy again. Her daughter wasn’t usually rude, but she seemed to have taken an instant dislike to Jeremiah. Should Mercy heed her daughter’s instincts...which she now could see had been spot-on where her ex-fiancé had been concerned?

  But being rude to someone in their home—or what she hoped would be their home—wasn’t acceptable. “Sunni,” she interjected in a firm tone, “it’s not nice to suggest Jeremiah would do something hurtful on purpose.”

  As it isn’t kind for me to ask why Grandpa Rudy hid how he was selling the farm that he said would be mine. Why? Why would you change your mind without telling me?

  “I’m sorry,” Sunni said, but her obstinate frown countermanded her words.

  “It’s okay to ask questions,” Jeremiah replied, “but my mamm says you can catch more flies with honey than with vinegar.”

  “Who wants to catch flies?” The little girl grimaced. “Gross.”

  Mercy struggled not to laugh as she explained the adage to her daughter. Looking at Jeremiah, she said, “It’s past time for Sunni and I to have lunch, and I know how hungry she gets after doing her schoolwork. I’m homeschooling her.” Realizing she was babbling, she added, “Have you eaten?”

  “I h
ad the last of the peanut butter for breakfast.”

  “You can join us if you don’t mind leftover pizza.”

  “Leftover pizza sounds like manna from heaven.”

  Laughing, she said, “I didn’t order the manna topping. I hope you like pepperoni.”

  A slow smile spread over Jeremiah’s face, and her heart did a stutter step as his blue eyes shone like a cloudless summer sky. He’d been so serious during their previous discussions. Seeing him smile was like being confronted by a stranger.

  He is a stranger. A stranger who wants your farm. Telling her heart to behave itself because it’d been so wrong about Graham, she led the way into the kitchen. She’d be a fool to listen to her heart that had believed Graham loved her. Fortunately, she’d realized in time she always would have been a distant second in his affections after his mother.

  She’d learned her lesson. Or she should have. Maybe her brain had, but her heart had a lot to learn.

  Mercy used the time while she got the pizza out of the ancient refrigerator in the off-white kitchen and began warming it in the oven to regain her equilibrium. She must not be distracted by Jeremiah’s beguiling smile when the future of Come Along Farm was at stake. When she got cans of soda—a special treat for Sunni—from the fridge, she listened as Jeremiah tried to engage her daughter in conversation.

  Sunni was being cautious, either not replying or giving a single-word answer. It was a reminder, though Mercy didn’t need one, of how her daughter had been hurt by Graham’s decision to choose someone over them and walk away without a backward look. Too many people had done that to Sunni, and Mercy was determined her daughter wouldn’t feel abandoned again.

  They were finishing what was a very uncomfortable lunch when a knock came at the door. Mercy watched as the door opened and a woman stuck her head in.

  “Anyone home?”

  Mercy was on her feet as Jeremiah pushed back his chair. She saw him reach to assist Sunni and shook her head to halt him. Sunni needed to do everything as other kids did. If Jeremiah acted as if he thought Sunni couldn’t do something, it would make the little girl dislike him more.

  Jeremiah appeared taken aback, but drew aside his hands as Sunni pushed her chair out. When Mercy went to the door, he followed.

  “Hi, Kitty,” he said before introducing Mercy to his Realtor.

  Kitty Vasic was the picture of an elegant, successful businesswoman. She wore a business suit of the brightest pink Mercy had ever seen, and her shoes had spiked heels that must be five inches high. Mercy was fascinated, because she expected the Realtor to topple on each step.

  “Mr. Stoltzfus, how nice to meet you in person.” Kitty held out her hand and when he took it, she pumped his hand vigorously. “And you, too, Ms. Bamberger.”

  “Please call me Mercy,” she said at the same time Jeremiah was urging the Realtor to use his given name.

  Jeremiah added, “Plain folks don’t like to use titles.”

  “Oh, that’s good to know.” Kitty smiled. “With you Amish moving into southern Washington County, it’s important to learn how to be good neighbors. Don’t you agree?”

  Mercy considered saying she wasn’t Amish, but she didn’t want to delay hearing what the Realtor had to say. “We appreciate you coming so we can get this unfortunate situation resolved right away.”

  Kitty’s smile wavered. “Oh, dear! I’m sorry if I led you to believe this could be settled today.”

  “But I thought—” Jeremiah began.

  “Let’s talk, and I’ll tell you what I do know.” She grinned as Sunni appeared in the kitchen doorway. “Well, hello, young lady. You must be a Bamberger because I know Jeremiah doesn’t have children.”

  “Sunni,” Mercy said, “this would be a good time for you to finish the story we started last night.”

  The little girl glanced at Jeremiah’s and Kitty’s taut faces. Mercy guessed her own expression was as uneasy. With a nod, Sunni went into the dining room, where two overstuffed chairs were set by a fireplace that opened into the kitchen, as well. It needed to be swept because ashes had tumbled onto the floor. Something else for Mercy to add to her lengthy to-do list.

  Pushing aside her longing to go with her daughter and forget about these complications, Mercy squared her shoulders. “We can sit in the living room.”

  Behind her, the click-click-click of Kitty’s high heels marked her steps, but Jeremiah’s boot falls were surprisingly light for such a tall, muscular man. She shook those thoughts from her head. She couldn’t allow herself to become distracted.

  She sat in what had been her grandfather’s favorite chair by the wide window offering a view of the road through the bare branches of the maple trees. Waiting until the others chose chairs, she gazed at the green tiles on the large fireplace.

  “What can you tell us, Kitty?” she asked.

  “It’s unlikely the closing will go on as planned.” Kitty shot an apologetic look toward Jeremiah.

  His face went as blank as the wall behind him, and his gaze refused to meet hers. The pulse of sympathy surging through her was startling. If he closed on the property, her hopes for Come Along Farm would end. Yet, he had dreams for the property, too. Oh, how she wished there was a solution that could satisfy them both.

  When the Realtor spoke again, Mercy focused on her. “We’ll need to consult with an attorney,” Kitty said, “to determine what New York law says. I’ve got to admit it’s the first time I’ve been involved with a property transfer where one party died before closing. Mercy, I should have said this before. I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Your grandfather was well respected and well liked. I can’t tell you how many times I enjoyed a cup of coffee with him at the Village Diner.”

  “Did he mention why he decided to sell?” She regretted the question. Talking about private matters when Jeremiah sat a couple of feet away was unsettling.

  Kitty reached over and patted her arm. “He was selling it for you and your daughter.”

  “For us? But he promised...” This time she halted herself before she said too much.

  “I don’t know what he told you, Mercy, but Rudy mentioned that he wanted you to have a majority of the money. He hoped you’d build a nice home so you’d be close to his assisted-living apartment. He spoke often about you and your daughter and how he looked forward to spending more time with you.”

  “Why didn’t he tell me this?”

  Kitty shook her head sadly. “That’s something I can’t answer. I’m as perplexed as you are. I’m sure he had his reasons, but he never mentioned them to me or Darren.” Her eyes narrowed. “Have you spoken with Darren?”

  “I called him this morning. He said to tell you to call him.”

  “I see.” Her lips tightened into a straight line, an expression that said as loudly as a shout she was annoyed. “We should wait on discussing this further until Darren can be here, too, to represent Rudy’s estate.”

  “But do you think the contract is valid?” Jeremiah asked.

  “We should wait—”

  “I think Mercy is as anxious as I am to hear your opinion. I understand we can’t make decisions without Darren’s input, but is the contract valid?”

  “From what I’ve read, the answer is yes and no. In some states, the contract would be invalid upon the death of either party.” She glanced from Mercy to him. “But we have leeway in New York. If the heir or heirs are willing, the contract can be completed. However, that is my opinion from a quick read on the internet. Until we have an opinion from an attorney, I don’t think either of you should assume anything.”

  Jeremiah turned to Mercy. “You are your grossdawdi’s heir, ain’t so?”

  “One of them, I guess. Rudy is my father’s father.”

  “Is your father alive?” asked Kitty.

  She nodded.
<
br />   “What about his brothers and sisters?”

  “My father has six siblings,” she replied.

  Jeremiah sighed. “Kitty, when my daed—my dad—died, everything he had went to my mother. But if she’d died first...”

  “The estate would be divided equally among his children.” Kitty bit her lower lip, then said, “Unless Rudy left a written and witnessed will that specifies otherwise.”

  Mercy’s heart sank toward her knees as she realized where the conversation was going. If Grandpa Rudy hadn’t left a valid will naming her as his heir, the property would belong to her father, her four aunts and her two uncles.

  “Do you have names and contact information for your father and his siblings?” asked Kitty.

  “I can find them. All but one aunt have telephones.”

  The Realtor smiled. “I’m glad to hear that. It’ll make getting in contact with them much easier. However, paperwork will have to be mailed to them for their signatures. I’m not sure, at this point, whether the signatures will have to be notarized. The probate court will let us know.”

  “We have to go to court?” asked Jeremiah.

  Mercy heard his consternation and understood. It usually wasn’t the way of plain folks to deal with courts and lawyers. Matters were settled privately and through prayer, but estate matters were different. She wondered whom her grandfather had hired to draft his will...if he had one.

  She was out of her depth. Ask her about the needs of inner-city kids and the benefits of them enjoying a summer in the country, and she could expound for an hour. Since Sunni’s arrival in her life, she’d learned a lot about intercountry adoption and physical therapy and the adventures of the little girl’s beloved characters in her favorite books.