An Amish Arrangement

by Jo Ann Brown

  A few other commissions like that one would add to the funds Jeremiah would need to move forward with his plans to buy a farm, whether it was Rudy’s or another.

  The thought jolted him as he was about to pick up another piece of wood. It was the first time he’d admitted to himself that there might be alternatives if Mercy’s family decided not to accept the contract he’d signed. He hadn’t spoken with his Realtor in two weeks. Maybe Kitty had learned about a nearby farm for sale.

  He grimaced. If there was a farm available along Harmony Creek, he would have heard about it from Caleb or one of his other neighbors.

  Could he walk away after giving his word he’d help with the settlement? Maybe one of the other families would agree to let him live with them until he found a place of his own. Mercy might be willing to rent him some of her fields to use as pasture and planting.

  And he’d be able to see her and the kinder.

  “You’ve gotten in too deep, Stoltzfus,” he muttered to himself as he hefted the log and laid it against the wall where it would be out of the way.

  The door to his workshop opened, and his heart started doing a jig in his chest at the thought of Mercy stepping out of his thoughts and into his shop.

  When Parker’s head appeared around the edge, Jeremiah tried to ignore the flush of disappointment. He was glad to see the boy, but...

  “Can I come in?” Parker asked.

  “No touching the equipment,” he said.

  “You tell me that every time I come in.” The boy pouted.

  “And you still have five fingers on each hand.” He winked at Parker to soften his words. “Let’s keep it that way.”

  Parker picked up a piece of pine and pulled out a barely sharp kitchen knife. Running it down the side of the wood, he smiled. “See? I’m careful.”

  “I see, but you’d do better with a whittling knife than that one.” He didn’t ask if Mercy had given the boy permission to take it. He knew she hadn’t.

  “Where can I get one?”

  “We can check the hardware store in the village, but first I need to see you can be trusted with it.”

  “I can. I can be trusted with anything.”

  Jeremiah simply arched his brows, and the boy got the message. No amount of bragging was allowed in the workshop.

  “Can I ask you something?” Parker lowered the knife and wood onto his lap.

  “What?”

  “Will you help me change my name?”

  He wasn’t surprised. Parker had mentioned doing that several times since his arrival. “To what?”

  “I haven’t decided yet. Not my Korean name. Nobody can pronounce it.”

  “I understand,” Jeremiah said, thinking of how Mercy had said the same thing about her birth name.

  “I want something other than Parker. It’s a dumb name.” He grimaced. “Those dumb people stuck it on me.”

  He frowned at the boy. “You shouldn’t call the Kentons dumm.”

  “But they are. They waited and waited for a kid of their own, and then they couldn’t wait to get rid of me. That’s pretty dumb.”

  “Even so, you shouldn’t call any adult dumm.” Thinking of the names Parker had used to upset Sunni, he added quickly, “Or any kind, either.”

  “But it’s okay to say Parker is a dumb name? I— Ouch!” He stared in horror at the thin red slice on his index finger. The line widened as blood ran from the cut.

  Without a word as the knife clattered to the floor, Jeremiah grabbed the kind’s wrist. He ignored Parker’s shrieks as he thrust the cut finger into a bucket of cold water he kept nearby for such emergencies. Deftly, he dabbed an antibacterial cream from his first-aid kit on the wound and bound it.

  “There you go.”

  Tears ran down Parker’s face, but he regarded his bandaged finger with as much curiosity as if it belonged to someone else. “Will I have a scar?” He raised his eyes, which sparkled with abrupt excitement. “Like the ones you have?”

  Jeremiah looked at his fingers, which showcased the long hours of hard, hands-on work he’d done since he was younger than Parker. All his knuckles, including his thumbs, bore scars, and his left palm showed where a fishhook had become embedded in it when he’d been showing off for his older brothers and their friends. Each mark told a story and evoked a memory, some gut, some not so gut, especially when he’d needed stitches on his right forefinger after being bitten by a dog shortly after he’d turned ten.

  “If you end up with a scar,” he said as he gathered the supplies and put them in the first-aid box, “it won’t be like mine, but yours will be there to remind you to be careful as mine do.”

  “Will girls like my scar like Mercy does yours?”

  Shocked to feel heat rising up his face, Jeremiah kept his head bent so the kind didn’t see his reaction. “I don’t think Mercy cares about my scars one way or the other.”

  “Sure she does.” Parker climbed onto the chunk of wood, but didn’t reach for his knife. “I’ve seen her touching them. A lot. I think she likes them. A lot.”

  The boy was right, Jeremiah knew. About Mercy touching him when she wanted to make a point or to console him or to make a connection. He treasured each memory of her fingers against him, but he tried not to think of them too often. For all he knew, she might have another man in her life. Someone more important to her than he was. She seldom spoke of her life in central New York. Thinking of how she rushed to the mailbox as soon as the postal carrier drove past, he wondered—not for the first time—if she was eager to hear from someone special.

  But he wasn’t about to discuss his feelings for Mercy with a nine-year-old.

  As he put the box on its shelf, he said, “You should tell God how grateful you are the injury isn’t worse. Asking for healing wouldn’t be a bad idea, either.”

  “You’re always talking about God. Do you really believe in him?”

  “Ja.”

  “Oh.” The boy picked up the piece of wood he’d dropped and rolled it between his fingers. Staring off into the distance, he asked, “Aren’t you going to ask me if I believe in God?”

  “I figured you’d tell me if you wanted me to know.”

  The kind didn’t answer quickly.

  Jeremiah gave the boy time to think while he walked over to the plow he’d brought inside. He’d cleaned off the rust but needed to straighten it. The plow would be ready for him—or whoever owned the farm by the time the snow melted—to work in the fields. If he was going to be able to complete the purchase of the farm, he must buy workhorses or mules. He’d need six on a team to work on the slopes, which were far steeper than in Paradise Springs.

  “I’d like to believe in God,” Parker said at last. “Mercy said you Amish live as you do because you want to be close to God.”

  “The apostle Paul wrote in Romans 12:2: And be not conformed to this world: but be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind, that ye may prove what is that good, and acceptable, and perfect, will of God. That’s what our ministers preach and how we try to live.”

  “Did the Possible Paul—”

  “Apostle Paul.” He couldn’t halt his grin. “An apostle is someone who teaches us about being gut Christians.”

  “Paul, huh?” The little boy started to add more, but the sound of a car pulling into the yard intruded.

  Hearing a groan from Parker, Jeremiah knew it must be Whitney’s. She was scheduled to come by today for a visit to check on how Parker was fitting in.

  “Let’s go.” Jeremiah motioned with his head toward the door.

  He thought Parker might protest, but the boy walked toward the door. Every inch of the kind announced he wanted to go anywhere but into the house to meet with Whitney and answer her questions. Jeremiah secretly shared the boy’s dislike of someone poking and prodding into his life, but the social worker needed to be su
re the placement was a gut one for all involved.

  Jeremiah’s steps faltered as he was following the boy outside. This meeting could be Mercy’s chance to hand the troubled kind over to someone else, but he couldn’t imagine she would. He’d seen the pain in her eyes whenever she mentioned Parker leaving for a permanent placement. The kid might challenge her endlessly, but she wasn’t ready to give up the battle to reach him.

  “Hey!” called Whitney when Parker tried to sneak past her unseen.

  The boy stopped, his hands behind him and his head lowered. He didn’t return the greeting.

  Instead, Jeremiah did as he walked toward the silver car.

  With a smile, Whitney said, “Hi, Jeremiah! Has our boy been spending time with you?”

  “Ja.” He crooked a finger toward Parker, who reluctantly edged forward. “You’ll probably want to see this right away.”

  The social worker’s smile faded when she saw the boy’s bandaged finger. “What happened to you, young man?”

  Again, Parker was silent.

  Whitney’s gaze shot toward Jeremiah, and he realized she was waiting for an answer.

  “Parker learned a gut lesson about using the right tool for the job,” Jeremiah replied calmly. “It’s a cut.”

  “Does he need stitches?”

  Shaking his head, he said, “No. It bled a lot, but it’ll heal quickly. It’s not much more than a long paper cut. He can show you in the house, and I’m sure Mercy will rebandage it for him.”

  “I’ll do that.” She flashed a quick smile at the boy. “Go and let Mercy know I’m here.”

  Parker took off running as best he could through the piles of snow.

  Once he was out of earshot, Whitney turned to Jeremiah. He told her how Parker had hurt himself.

  “He won’t make the same mistake again,” he finished.

  “Because he won’t have access to knives?”

  “No, because I’m going to show him the correct way to whittle once I know he’s willing to be cautious.”

  “I don’t know,” she drawled.

  “This is a farm, and boys on farms learn how to whittle and use a knife as a proper tool. If he’s going to be here for a while, he needs to know what the other boys do, or he’ll experiment on his own. Who knows how he could hurt himself if he did that?”

  Whitney nodded slowly. “I see. Does that mean you intend to remain around to teach him how to use a knife?”

  He shook his head. “I honestly can’t answer that. Not until Mercy’s family decides what they want done with the farm.”

  “You know starting a children’s summer camp is Mercy’s dream, don’t you?” Whitney asked, flashing a guilty glance at the house as if revealing an unspeakable secret.

  “I know. She wants to help kinder enjoy getting away from the summer heat in the city.”

  “No, Jeremiah, it’s more than that. Mercy knows her life would have been very different if she hadn’t been a Fresh Air kid. She wouldn’t have known the family who took her in before the Bambergers became her foster parents and then her adoptive parents. Come Along Farm is her way to repay an immeasurable debt.” Whitney looked at the house again and sighed. “Will it be enough for her?”

  “I don’t know,” he replied.

  “I don’t know, either, but I do know there aren’t too many women her age who would have agreed to look after a very angry, very hurt, very destructive and hateful child as she has.”

  “Parker is a challenge, but he’s not hateful.” Jeremiah thought of how the kind was changing...slightly.

  “Parker? You don’t have any idea whom I’m talking about, do you?”

  “No. I thought we were talking about the boy.”

  “No, I’m talking about Sunni.”

  He couldn’t hide his shock. “Sunni was destructive and hateful?”

  “Yes.”

  “But she’s such a gut kid.”

  “Now.” Whitney ran her fingers lightly over the handle of her briefcase. “I’ve probably already said too much. If you want to know more, you’ll need to ask Mercy. I wanted you to know, other than Sunni and the rest of her family—and I’m not too sure about her family—nothing is more important to Mercy than paying back the compassion and love she was given after her grandmother died with a bigger dose of compassion and love. Please remember that.”

  “I will.” What else could he say as Whitney walked toward the house?

  Everything and everyone kept reminding him Mercy didn’t want the farm for herself. She wanted it for others.

  Lord, am I being selfish to believe the farm is the only way I can help this settlement to grow and succeed? How can I stand in her way if I care for her?

  And he more than cared for her, he knew. He was in danger of falling in love with her. He found it difficult to imagine a day without her being a part of it. Her smile was the last thing he thought of before falling asleep and the first thing he envisioned in the hour before dawn. The brush of her fingers set off fireworks along his skin, and the thought of kissing her left him breathless.

  So how could he stand in the way of her making her dreams come true? How, Lord?

  He turned to walk toward the barns, not sure he was ready for the answer to that question.

  * * *

  Mercy wasn’t surprised when Jeremiah offered to help her do dishes after supper. She guessed he was curious how the meeting with Whitney had gone. She eased his concerns by telling him the social worker had been impressed with how quickly he explained what had happened to Parker’s finger and why and how Jeremiah intended to prevent such things from occurring again.

  “She seems very taken with you, Jeremiah,” she said with a chuckle.

  “I’m a very taking guy.” He grimaced. “Is that even a thing?”

  “Who knows? Thank you for being so up-front about Parker’s injury. Once Whitney saw it was exactly as you described, she was satisfied.”

  “And Parker ended up with, as he described them, very cool bandages.”

  “Don’t tell him that I bought those strips with cartoon characters for Sunni. He won’t be happy then.”

  “I’d hoped they’d be getting along better by now.”

  She shrugged. “I’ve got to admit having him treating her badly has strengthened her.” A faint smile tugged at her lips. “I suspect, in spite of my best efforts, I’ve babied her a bit because of her physical challenges. Parker cuts her no slack.”

  “That’s a nice way of saying he’s rude to her.”

  “But not to you.” She smiled. “I don’t know what you’re doing, Jeremiah, but whatever it is, don’t stop.”

  “I’m not planning to. By the way, I intend to start tapping the maple trees in the sugar bush tomorrow. If it’s not too cold, why don’t you and the kinder join me? I could use extra hands, and I think they’ll find it fascinating. I did when I first saw sap coming out of a tree when I was a kid.”

  “That sounds like fun.”

  “It should be.” He chuckled. “Do you know what Parker asked me earlier today?”

  She gave a half laugh. “I don’t want to try to guess. Knowing him, it could have been anything.”

  “He asked me if I believed in God.”

  Putting another stack of dirty dishes into the sink, she said, “I assume you told him you do.”

  “Ja, but I don’t think he was looking for such a simple answer. He’s trying to figure out why we live as we do in Harmony Creek.” He picked up another plate to dry. “For a child who’s so quick to anger, he can be deeply introspective when presented with a new idea. It’s too bad apparently nobody has ever spoken to him about such things before he came here.”

  “I plan to take him to the closest Mennonite church with me on Sunday. It’s about thirty miles from here.” She hesitated, then asked, “Would you like to come with us
?”

  “You came to Sunday services with me, so I guess I should return the favor.”

  She faced him. “I should warn you that boys Parker’s age sit with the men.”

  “That should make for an interesting morning, ain’t so?”

  Her breath grew swift as her gaze was caught by his. Strong emotions glistened in his eyes that burned a fiery blue. His fingers curved along her cheek, the warmth of his palm caressing her skin. As he stepped closer to her, he gently tilted her face toward him.

  He was going to kiss her! Every nerve went on alert, and she was aware of him as she’d never been, the scent of the soap he used, the rough texture of his arms beneath her fingertips, the way his hair fell forward over his eyes as he bent to bring her lips to his.

  A loud cry came from the mudroom, and Mercy yanked herself away from him. Shoving the dishrag that had been dripping unnoticed on the floor into Jeremiah’s hands, she ran to referee the latest argument between the two children. She sent Sunni to the dining room and Parker into the living room, telling them to cool off.

  From behind her as she stood in the middle of the empty room, she heard Jeremiah say, “Ja, I think it’s going to be very interesting at church.” He went into the kitchen.

  She was about to follow, then paused. The moment between them was gone, and she would be wise not to let it happen again. She wasn’t sure she could step away without kissing him next time.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Mercy wasn’t sure who was more excited when the next day dawned with a cloudless sky and temperatures that should rise above freezing by midday. The kids were thrilled when they heard Jeremiah’s invitation to help him with tapping the maple trees. She was just as excited, praying she’d have the chance to discover if he’d truly intended to kiss her.

  She had to insist the children eat a hearty breakfast. They wanted to rush out and get to work right away. She also made them show her what they were wearing. She told Parker to zip his coat and wrap a scarf around his neck. When Sunni protested wearing her snow pants, Mercy refused to let her daughter draw her into an argument. If she didn’t wear them, she wasn’t going.