by Amy Clipston
“You too,” Marcus countered. “You’re the best cabinetmaker in the county.”
“No, not really.” Saul shook his head. “I’ve seen better.”
“Marcus?” Sylvia appeared in the doorway. “Oh, hi, Saul. How are you?”
“I’m well, Sylvia.” Saul nodded. “How are you?”
“Fine, fine. I saw your horse and buggy, and I was wondering who was visiting.” Sylvia smoothed her hands over her apron. “Would you like to stay for lunch?”
“Oh no.” Saul shook his head. “I don’t want to impose.”
“Don’t be gegisch, Saul.” Sylvia smiled. “We have plenty. Come and join us. We’d love to have you.”
Saul glanced at Marcus, who nodded.
“Absolutely. Have lunch with us.” Marcus started for the door. “I’m starved.”
As Saul followed Marcus and Sylvia to their house, he prayed God would someday bless him with a wife who would be a good mother to Emma and a loyal helpmate to him.
Madeleine steered her pickup truck into her driveway that afternoon. She’d spent the entire day thinking about Saul and Emma and wondering what she could do to help them. His marriage wasn’t any of her business, but she couldn’t help thinking of him. She knew what it was like to feel abandoned. And even though she and Travis were never married, after pledging her heart and her future to him and then losing him tragically, failing him, she was afraid she could never love anyone again—or let anyone love her. Was that how Saul felt? Did he also feel unworthy of love?
Madeleine killed the engine and yanked her key from the ignition. She gathered up her tote bag and headed for the back porch. As she climbed the steps, her phone began to ring. She dug it out of her bag and found her mother’s number on the screen.
“Hi, Mom,” Madeleine said as she held the phone to her ear.
“How was your day?” Mom asked.
“Not that great,” Madeleine admitted with a sigh.
“What’s wrong? I haven’t heard you sound this depressed since you moved to Paradise.”
Madeleine shared the story of her visit with Emma, her heartbreaking encounter with Saul, and then her conversation with Ruth.
“I’ve never been accused of being a bad person, Mom.” Madeleine sank onto the porch swing. “You know I always believe the best in people, and I try to consider others’ feelings. It hurts to hear someone say I would deliberately break a child’s heart. How could he say that about me?”
“Oh, Maddie.” Her mother’s voice was warm. “I don’t think his anger and disappointment were directed at you. From what you’ve told me, I think he’s hurting because of what his wife did to him and their child. He’s afraid his daughter will be hurt again. All you can do is respect his wishes and wait for him to come to you. Maybe he’ll realize you’re the best neighbor he could hope to have.”
“You think so?” Madeleine asked as she ran her fingers over the cold armrest. Her mother’s encouraging words gave her a glimmer of hope. Maybe she could convince Saul she was a good person.
“Of course I do,” Mom insisted. “You have a wonderful heart. People see that as soon as they get to know you. But you worry about what people think of you. Even in kindergarten, you came home in tears when someone didn’t like you. You always wanted everyone to be your friend. Don’t give up hope. Saul will see what his daughter sees in you, and you’ll wind up good friends.”
“Before meeting my friends at the hotel, I did think the Amish tried to stay away from Englishers. And for the first eight months I was here, I took that to heart and didn’t even introduce myself to Saul.” Madeleine stared toward Saul’s house as she spoke. “Do you think he’ll want to be friends with me, even if he changes his mind about me?”
“My mother had plenty of English friends. She used to sew for the English neighbors. She had her own seamstress business. I think you helped her with her sewing a few summers, didn’t you?”
“That’s right. I remember neighbors coming in to see Mammi and dropping off their clothes. She taught me how to hem trousers one summer.” Madeleine hoped her mother was right. “I don’t know why this is bothering me so much. I don’t even know him.”
“You just want him to know the truth about you—that you’re a good person.”
Madeleine sighed. “You’re absolutely right. Thanks.” She stood and unlocked her door. “How’s Jack doing?” She stepped inside and started unpacking her tote bag.
“He’s fine.” Her mother launched into a long discussion of her stepfather’s business and how busy they were.
“Well, I should let you go,” Madeleine finally said. “Thanks for calling.”
“It was good talking to you. Just pray for Saul. Everything will be fine,” Mom insisted.
“I will.” Madeleine disconnected the call and sent up a prayer for the man she hardly knew.
ELEVEN
Madeleine was flipping through cookbooks the following Monday afternoon when a knock sounded. She went to the back door and found Emma standing on the porch with a basket in her hand.
Regret washed over Madeleine as she studied the little girl’s eager smile. She pulled the storm door wide open and leaned against the door frame. “Hi, Emma.”
“Hi.” Emma lifted the basket, revealing bright red apples. “I thought we could make an apple pie. We can use Mammi’s recipe. I remember which cookbook it’s in.”
Madeleine hesitated while she internally debated what to do. She wanted to let the little girl in and spend the rest of her afternoon cooking with her. However, Saul’s instructions were explicit—Emma wasn’t permitted to spend time with Madeleine either in Madeleine’s house or at his house.
“Emma, I would love to cook with you, but your father told me he doesn’t want you spending time with me. I’m sorry.” Madeleine couldn’t stop her frown.
Emma’s eyes widened. “He told you that?”
“Yes, he did.” Madeleine nodded. “He came to visit me last Thursday before I left for work. He asked me not to spend time with you. I’m not allowed to come to your house, and he doesn’t want you here.”
“He told me I shouldn’t bother you, but I didn’t think he really meant it if we could be friends.” The disappointment in Emma’s expression caused Madeleine’s heart to crumble.
Madeleine recalled her conversation with Saul and tried to think of a way to summarize it without causing Emma more disappointment or hurt. “I think he’s afraid that you and I might become close friends and then I might move again.”
“You’re moving already?” Emma gasped.
“No, no, no,” Madeleine emphasized the word. “I’m not planning to move, but your dat doesn’t want you to get close to me and then feel bad if I do move.”
“But you’re not moving?” she asked.
Madeleine shook her head.
“That means it’s okay, right?” Emma’s smile was back.
Madeleine paused. “I don’t know, Emma. I don’t want to upset your dat. It might be a good idea if you go home, sweetie.”
Emma paused and then smiled again. “I know what would make him froh.”
“What’s that?”
“He would love it if we made him a special supper.” She held up the basket. “We could also make apple pie for dessert. If we make him a meal, then he’ll see that you’re our friend. He’ll say that I should visit you more often because we make him appeditlich meals. Mei freind Esther’s mamm says the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.”
Madeleine laughed and shook her head. “You don’t give up, do you?”
“Mei dat calls me stubborn for a reason. What do you think?”
Madeleine stepped aside to let Emma through. “Come on in.”
“Wonderful!” Emma stepped through the mudroom and to the kitchen table, and Madeleine trailed behind her.
“I was thinking you could decide what we make for supper because I picked the dessert.” Emma set the basket of apples on the table. “Does that sound like a gut idea?�
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“That sounds like a perfect idea.” Madeleine moved to the counter and pointed to a page in the cookbook she’d just opened before Emma arrived. “I was thinking of making spaghetti and meatballs. What do you think?”
“Oh ya. I’ve never made meatballs. I bet my dat will love that.” Emma pushed a stool over to the counter and hopped up onto it. “What do we do first?”
“Let’s see. I’ll get out the ground beef and the spices. We have to mix it all up and then roll the meatballs.” Madeleine pointed to the recipe. “You read the ingredients, and I’ll pull them out.”
Soon they were sitting side by side at the table, rolling out the meatballs and dropping them into a glass pan.
“This is fun.” Emma grinned. “I like cooking with you.”
“I like cooking with you too.” Madeleine hoped Saul would forgive her for breaking his rule. “What’s your dat doing today?”
“He’s installing cabinets at a house over in Bird-in-Hand. He left me a note saying he’d be home by six.” Emma hesitated a moment, then asked, “What was it like to grow up without a dat?”
“I didn’t know any different.” Madeleine considered the question. “I guess it’s difficult to miss something you never had.”
“Do you know what he looked like?”
Madeleine nodded. “My mother has photos of him. I have a couple of photos from when they eloped and when they moved into their first apartment.”
“What does elope mean?”
“It’s when a couple gets married alone. They don’t invite anyone to the wedding. Instead, they go to the city courthouse and get married in front of a judge.”
“Oh.” Emma considered this. “Do you look like your dat?”
“My mom once told me I have his hair and his eyes.”
“That’s like me with mei mamm. I have her hair and eyes too.” Emma smiled up at Madeleine. “We have that in common.”
Madeleine smiled back. “You’re right.”
“Where does your mamm live now?”
“She’s in California,” Madeleine said. “I used to live there too.”
“I saw a map at school. California is really far away.” Emma formed another ball.
“It is, but it’s nice there. I liked living there.” Madeleine thought about her mom. “My mother remarried when I was about twelve.”
“I’m almost twelve, so you were my age,” Emma said.
“That’s true.”
“How did you feel when your mamm remarried?”
“It was fine.” Madeleine shrugged. “I was in the wedding, which was special. I was my mother’s maid of honor.”
Emma tilted her head and scrunched her nose. “What does that mean?”
“Oh, it’s like being an attendant in the wedding. I was able to stand next to my mom during the service, and I held her bouquet of flowers.” Madeleine gathered more of the meatball mixture in her hand. “I like my stepfather. His name is Jack, and he’s really nice.”
“Did your mamm have more kinner after she married him?” Emma asked.
“No, she said she was too old, and she was happy to have just me.” Madeleine wondered why Emma had so many questions about her mother’s second marriage.
“I’m hoping mei dat gets married again.” Ah, there it was. Emma was thinking about her father.
Emma dropped another ball into the pan. “I’d like to be a big schweschder. Remember Carolyn from the wedding?”
“Yes, I do. I work with her at the hotel.”
“She and mei dat were dating before she met Josh. I was hoping they would get married. She would’ve been a nice mamm.”
“I imagine your dat will find someone nice to marry, and you’ll have a nice mamm.” Madeleine turned to look at Emma. “Don’t give up hope yet. Your dat is young. He’ll find someone nice to marry. I’m certain there are plenty of nice young ladies in the community who would jump at the chance to have a husband like your dat.”
“You think so?” Emma looked up at Madeleine.
“Of course I do.” Madeleine added two more meatballs to the pan before the stove buzzed, indicating the oven was preheated. “Let’s finish up these meatballs and then put them in the oven.”
“Okay.” Emma seemed to be thinking as she made her last two meatballs and then wiped her hands on a paper towel. “Do you ever wonder what it would’ve been like if your dat had stayed with your mamm?”
Madeleine was caught off guard by the question and took a moment to contemplate her response. “No, not really.” She paused again. “I suppose I used to wonder why he didn’t want to get to know me. But I never really thought about what would’ve happened if he stayed because I didn’t know him. I used to make up stories about him when I was little, though.”
“Really?” Emma asked. “What kind of stories?”
“Let’s see.” Madeleine chuckled to herself. “I used to tell my friends my father was an astronaut or a ship captain or an airplane pilot to make up excuses for why he wasn’t around.”
Emma laughed. “That’s gegisch.”
“Sometimes I imagined he was a king of a foreign country and that he would come to visit me and bring me lots of expensive presents.” Madeleine dropped one more meatball into the pan. “I knew it was all pretend and I would never meet him.”
“Have you ever met him or even talked to him on the phone?” Emma asked, her voice full of hopefulness.
“No, I haven’t.” Madeleine shrugged. “Really, it’s okay. Jack has been like a father to me.”
Emma was quiet for a moment. “Sometimes I wonder what life would’ve been like if my mamm had lived.”
Madeleine reflected on the story Ruth had shared with her, and she tried her best not to frown as she stood, put the pan of meatballs into the oven, and set the timer on the oven. Then she turned back to Emma with a smile. Emma seemed to be thinking.
“I wonder if mei mamm and dat would’ve had more kinner,” Emma finally said, her expression not sad but more curious. “I remember mei mamm a little bit.”
“Do you?” Madeleine moved to the sink and started filling it with frothy water.
“Oh ya. She was schee.” Emma touched her covering. “Just like Dat says, she had light brown hair like mine and light blue eyes like mine. Dat says she was the prettiest maedel in his youth group.”
Madeleine smiled. “I imagine she was.”
Madeleine began scrubbing the utensils and dishes they used for making the meatballs. She worked in silence for a minute or two. Emma seemed to be lost in thought again.
“Her name was Annie,” Emma finally continued.
“That’s a nice name.”
“Ya, it is. Do you have a middle name?” Emma stood, grabbed a dish towel, and began drying a platter.
“I do.” Madeleine placed a bowl in the drain board. “It’s Dawn.”
“Dawn.” Emma repeated the name. “That’s schee. Some of my friends have nicknames. Do you have a nickname?”
“My mother calls me Maddie.”
“Maddie.” Emma nodded. “I like that. May I call you Maddie?”
“Sure.” Madeleine put the last utensil in the drain board and dried her hands. “Shall we start on the apple pie?”
“Ya! I can find the recipe.” Emma dried the last spoon and hurried over to the cookbooks.
Madeleine put away the clean dishes and utensils and pulled out the supplies for the apple pie.
“I found the recipe.” Emma began to read the ingredients, and Madeleine pulled them from the cabinets.
“I have a couple of premade crusts I was going to use for a pie.” Madeleine pulled one of them out of the refrigerator. “It will save us some time.”
Emma nodded. “That sounds like a gut idea.”
“I’m glad you agree.” Madeleine smiled.
Soon they were peeling and coring the apples and reminiscing about baking with Madeleine’s grandmother. When the meatballs were done, Madeleine put them on top of the stove, and when the apples
were ready, Emma had another question.
“Did you like being a nurse?” Emma asked.
“Yes, I did, but I was ready for a change. It’s hard work and very stressful.” Madeleine mixed their apples with the rest of the filling. After it was all combined and she had poured everything into the piecrust, she slipped the pie pan into the oven and then pulled a tin of cookies from one of her cabinets. “Should we have a snack?”
“Ya, let’s do that.” Emma took the milk from the refrigerator.
They sat down at the kitchen table and ate their cookies and drank milk while the aroma of meatballs and apple pie filled the kitchen.
“Do you want to get married and have a family someday?” Emma asked while they ate.
Madeleine nearly choked on the cookie. “You really get to the point, don’t you, Emma?”
“Oh.” Emma’s eyes were wide. “Am I being too nosy? Dat tells me I’m too nosy sometimes.”
“No, it’s okay. I don’t mind answering the question.” Madeleine wiped her hands on a napkin. “I would like to get married and have a family someday if that’s what God has in store for me.”
“Oh,” Emma said. “Have you ever had a special friend, someone you might want to marry?”
“Yeah, I have.” Madeleine picked up another cookie. “I did have a special friend once, and we were going to get married.”
“What happened?” Emma’s eyes were full of curiosity.
“He died.” Madeleine tried her best to ignore the way her voice thickened when she said the words out loud.
“Oh.” Emma grimaced. “I’m sorry.”
“Danki,” Madeleine said, overwhelmed by the sympathy in Emma’s expression.
“I bet you get sad and miss him,” Emma said.
“I do. Some days are worse than others.” Madeleine pointed toward a bag of yarn in the corner of the kitchen. “When I have bad days, I like to crochet. I picked up that yarn at the store the other day. I’m working on an afghan. I have a place to crochet in the spare room.”
“Oh.” Emma nodded with interest. “Mammi taught me how to crochet.”
“She taught me too.”
“I’m sorry you get sad sometimes.” Emma frowned again. “That has to be hard since you’re here alone.”
