The Middlefield Family Collection

by Kathleen Fuller

“Am I supposed to take that as a threat?”

  “You can take it any way you want to.” Adam smiled. “But Amish don’t threaten. You should know that.”

  “Oh, I do.” He smiled right back. “But you’re not Amish anymore.”

  Adam’s smile faded. Nothing seemed to unnerve Mark King. He stood in this building as if he owned it. Or wants to.

  “I suppose we should clear the air between us.” Mark uncrossed his ankles and walked to Adam. “Since you’re planning to stay and all.”

  Adam picked up a couple of nails and clicked them together in one hand. “Suit yourself.”

  “I intend to court Emma.”

  Adam’s fist tightened, and one of the nails pierced the skin. He hid a wince. “Uh-huh.”

  “That’s all you have to say?”

  The words. The tone. The sarcastic sneer. Clearly Mark was itching for a fight. He wanted to match wits, maybe even match fists with Adam. And considering the anger welling up inside Adam’s gut, it would be easy to rise to the bait.

  But it was a trap. The Amish were peaceful people, and it would only take one argument for Emma to be upset. She already held a cache of resentment toward Adam. Even if Adam won, he’d lose, simply because he took up the challenge. Mark would be the true victor.

  Adam wasn’t about to fall for that. “You do what you want. I’m not Emma’s keeper.”

  The smirk on Mark’s face slipped a little. “I thought you cared about her.”

  “I do. But I can’t tell her what to do. Who to like or who . . . not to.”

  “So you’re agreeing you’ll stay out of my way? That you’ll leave Emma alone?”

  Adam was about to leave the workshop. He needed to check on Emma, see how her hand was doing. But he caught the uncertainty in Mark’s tone.

  He stopped in the doorway. “I’m not agreeing to anything, King,” he said. “But I’m not your biggest problem. If you want Emma to be your wife—”

  He paused and swallowed down the bile that rose at the thought. “You’ll have to convince her that you’re worth being her husband. And that, you’ll never be able to do.”

  CHAPTER 20

  Clara came into the kitchen to find Emma standing at the sink, washing her hands. Behind Clara, Peter entered the room with Junior and Melvin at his heels and Magdalena cradled in his left arm. They had all walked to the Shetlers’, including Mark.

  Mark had already disappeared into the woodshop. He was probably hard at work now, sorting tools.

  Emma glanced over her shoulder. “I guess you’re ready to start work?”

  “Ya. Peter and I are headed to the shop. Could you watch the kinner for us?”

  Emma shut off the tap, took a towel from the counter, and patted her hand dry. She smiled at Junior and Melvin, who gave her gap-toothed grins in return. “I’d be happy to. I haven’t seen these adorable buwe in a long while.”

  Junior’s smile turned upside down. “We’re not aboradle.”

  “We’re tough,” Melvin added.

  “Sorry, tough guy,” Emma said. “You’ll always be ‘aboradle’ to me.” She patted the tops of their hats with the hand that wasn’t covered with the towel. Peter came over and started to hand her the baby. “I’ll get her in a minute. I just need to bandage my hand.”

  “What happened?” Peter asked.

  “Nix. Just cut my hand. Very minor, nothing to get excited about. I’ll be right back.” She left the kitchen, presumably for the bathroom where the first aid supplies were.

  As soon as Emma left, the back door opened. The boys rushed out and Adam came in. What was he doing here again?

  Dust covered his clothes, and Clara had a sinking feeling he’d been in the workshop. Had he run into Mark out there? She hoped not. She was tired of the strife in her family, ready for Adam to leave and go back to Michigan once and for all. If he’d just go home, the last bit of conflict would be out of their lives.

  Clara and Peter were sorting things out and had prayed together last night. She had asked God to remove the confusing feelings she had about Mark. This morning when she saw her husband’s cousin, she didn’t have a single reaction.

  Things were turning around. She didn’t want Adam messing that up.

  “Hi, Adam.” Peter extended his hand. “Gut to see you back.”

  Adam returned the handshake, nodding. “I never thought I would say this, but it’s gut to be back.”

  Clara frowned. What did Adam mean by that? Maybe he was just being polite. She certainly hoped he didn’t intend to stay.

  Her husband handed her the baby. “I’ll go out in the shop with Mark,” he said. “Come out when you’re ready, Clara.”

  Adam stayed. “Where’s Emma?”

  “Did you have something to do with her injury?”

  “Nee, nee. At least not directly. We were talking and she dropped a jar of nails.”

  “What were you doing in mei grossvadder’s workshop?”

  “I just told you. Talking.”

  “You shouldn’t be here.” Magdalena tried to pull on Clara’s kapp. She grabbed her daughter’s hand and moved it away.

  Adam rolled his eyes. “Clara, you’ve told me that before. Many, many times. But let me tell you this. Just because I left, because I’m shunned, doesn’t mean that I stopped caring about Emma, or your familye.”

  “If you cared so much about Emma, you wouldn’t have broken her heart.”

  Adam looked away. “I never meant to hurt her.”

  “So you say. But the longer you stay, the more you’re hurting her. Can’t you see that?”

  “So you think Mark is better for her?”

  “Ya, I do. He’s a gut mann.”

  “Just because he’s Peter’s cousin?”

  “Because he’s been nothing but helpful to me and Peter. And ya, it is because he’s part of Peter’s familye.”

  “Peter is a gut mann, but that doesn’t mean everyone he’s related to is. I’d think you’d be a little more careful with your sister’s feelings, Clara. You haven’t known Mark that long.”

  “I only knew Peter through letters, but even then I knew the kind of mann he was. And still is. I never met him, but I fell in love with him.”

  “That’s you and Peter. What does it have to do with Mark and Emma?”

  “Sometimes you can get to know somebody, who they really are, in a short period of time. Just because Mark hasn’t known Emma for years doesn’t mean he hasn’t come to care for her.”

  “Don’t you think Emma deserves to choose her own happiness?”

  “I believe she will find happiness with Mark. She will not find it with you.”

  When Emma returned to the kitchen, she found Adam and Clara glaring at each other. They both looked unhappy.

  “I’m heading to the workshop,” Clara said. “If you need anything, I’ll be there.” She handed Magdalena to Emma and left, brushing by Adam but otherwise ignoring him.

  What was that all about? Emma wondered.

  She cuddled Magdalena close and breathed in her scent— powder, baby sweetness, maybe a little bit of strawberry jelly.

  Then Emma felt Adam’s eyes on her.

  He was staring at her, his honey-colored eyes flitting from Magdalena’s face to Emma’s and back again.

  “What?” Emma asked.

  Adam’s gaze jerked, and he shook his head. “Nix. I’ll be outside.” He took a step back, stared at her again. “In the barn. Working.”

  “You don’t have to—”

  But he was gone before she could finish the sentence. Emma shrugged and looked at Magdalena. “Men are strange, don’t you think?” The baby sighed and leaned her head against Emma’s shoulder. Emma rubbed her back and closed her eyes. Love welled up inside her, and although it was silly and maybe even delusional, for a moment she imagined she was holding her own baby. Hers and Adam’s.

  Grossmammi shuffled into the kitchen, leaning heavily on her cane. “Ah. There’s mei grosskinskind.”

  Emma t
urned. “Ach, you sound terrible.” She went to her and held the back of her hand against her grandmother’s forehead. “You have a fever.”

  “Just a touch.” The old woman sounded like she had swallowed a handful of gravel and a few pieces had lodged in her throat. “I came down for some tea.”

  “I’ll make it. You sit down.” Emma looked around for a safe place to put Magdalena. The baby wasn’t walking, yet she could zip around on her hands and knees almost faster than Emma could catch her.

  Typical of Clara not to bring a high chair or playpen. Emma propped the child on her hip and set about making the tea.

  “I heard voices while I was coming downstairs.” Grossmammi leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes, as if the effort had drained her of strength. She coughed into her handkerchief. “I take it Clara and Peter were here. Where are the buwe?”

  “Helping in the shop, I guess.” Emma placed the kettle on the stovetop and turned on the gas burner. She stared at the blue flame as if it might hold answers to her dilemma. “Adam was here. He went out to the barn.”

  “I hope to clean it out.”

  “I didn’t ask.” She didn’t want to be beholden to him. But the barn’s manure pile did need to be shoveled out. If Adam wanted to do it, Emma wasn’t going to argue with him about it.

  She didn’t want to argue about anything anymore. Not with Adam, or Clara, or anyone. Not even with herself. She craved peace, and getting upset every moment wouldn’t bring her that peace.

  The kettle whistled. Emma balanced Magdalena on her hip and carefully poured hot water over the tea leaves in the bottom of the cup. Grossmammi liked her medicinal tea loose, not wrapped up in cheesecloth like her other homemade teas.

  “You sit down right here by great-grandma.” Emma put Magdalena in the chair next to Grossmammi, and the old woman held on to the child while Emma brought the tea.

  “That’s gut. Danki, Emma.”

  “I’m worried about you.” Emma picked up Magdalena and settled her in her lap. “You’re getting worse each day.”

  The teacup trembled in her grandmother’s hands. “I’m just about through the worst of it.” Yet her red cheeks contrasted with her pale lips. “I should feel better in the morning.”

  “If not, I’m taking you to the doctor.” Suddenly she remembered about Dill. She couldn’t use their buggy. Maybe she could ask Norman Otto for a ride. Or call a taxi.

  Or ask Adam.

  Even if she wanted to ask him, he was in the bann. She and her grandmother couldn’t accept a ride with him in his truck. But she realized that the idea of asking Adam for a favor didn’t leave as much of a sour taste in her mouth as it used to.

  Had she come to the point where she could forgive him for leaving? She didn’t think so. She was supposed to forgive him, she knew. But she wondered if there would always be a deep, dark space in her heart that could never let it go.

  After spending most of the morning and afternoon cleaning out the Shetlers’ barn, Adam was ready to call it a day. His empty belly growled. He should have stopped for lunch, but getting the barn finished was his top priority, and he had to admit he’d done a pretty good job.

  He had shoveled out all the old manure and transported it in a wheelbarrow to a pile behind the barn, near the edge of the woods. That had taken five trips. He laid down fresh hay for Dill, cleaned out the dogs’ and cats’ food and water bowls, and filled them with fresh kibble and cold water. He spread a thin layer of clean straw on the barn floor and hung all the tools on pegs on the wall, the way Emma’s father used to.

  Adam stretched his arms in front of him, working out the kinks in his muscles. His body appreciated the hard work. A sense of satisfaction filled him. A job well done. When Dill nickered, he grinned. Maybe it was his imagination, but the animals seemed happier too.

  He strolled out of the barn, ready for a shower and some supper. Just as he stepped outside, he saw Mark King enter the Shetlers’ house. He frowned. The man didn’t need to be alone with Emma and Leona. Whatever he was up to, it couldn’t be good.

  Adam started toward the house, then stopped and looked down at his clothes. He was filthy with dung and dirt. He reeked. He turned around and dashed home.

  “Adam?” His mother called as he zipped past her in the kitchen.

  “Shower.” He hurtled the stairs two at a time. Stripped down and took what had to be the fastest shower on record. Barely toweled off, he threw on a clean pair of broadfall pants and a short-sleeved yellow shirt, then shoved his arms into a clean jacket. His boots were dirty, so he slipped on his tennis shoes, ran downstairs, and skidded to a stop in front of his mother.

  “What is going on?” She set down a wooden spoon on a small dish next to the stove. The fragrant scent of tender roasted chicken, homemade noodles, and thick broth filled the air. Chicken stew.

  Adam’s stomach rumbled, but he ignored it. “Heading over to the Shetlers’.” An errant drip of water slid down his cheek from his still-damp hair.

  “Don’t you want any chicken stew? It’s your favorite.”

  His mouth watered as he peeked into the stewpot. “I’ll be back in a bit. Just, um, going to say hi to Leona.”

  “Hmmm.” His mother turned her attention back to the stew. “And Emma, I suppose?”

  “Right. Emma too.” He kissed his mother on the cheek. “See you later.”

  He crossed the yard just as Mark and Emma came out on the front porch. Adam stopped in front of the bottom steps.

  “Hey.” He winced at his breathless voice and leaned against the banister in what he hoped was a casual pose. “What’s going on?”

  “I’m taking Emma for a walk.” Mark’s cold gaze met Adam’s, despite the grin glued on his face. “Alone.”

  Adam wasn’t about to let that happen. “Really? Where to?”

  “Just down the street.” Emma yawned. “I’m kind of tired tonight.” She looked at Mark. “I’m sorry. I hope you don’t mind a short walk.”

  Mark grinned, life suddenly entering his dead eyes. “Of course not. I’m happy to spend any time with you.”

  Adam glanced at Emma to see if she was falling for this syrupy mush. To his relief, she seemed almost bored.

  He turned to Mark and smiled, wider than he’d ever smiled before. “Mind if I join you?”

  CHAPTER 21

  Mark watched Emma’s eyes light up at the question. “Sure,” she said, looking at Adam as if he’d offered her not only a rainbow but the pot of gold at the end of it.

  “Great.” Adam grinned at Emma. A genuine smile. Another confirmation that Adam Otto was interested in Emma beyond friendship. And any idiot could see that she was in love with him. Mark bit his bottom lip until he tasted blood.

  “But only if it’s okay with Mark,” Emma said. She looked at him, the brightness in her eyes dimming. Her question was obviously an afterthought.

  “Actually, I’d hoped you and I could spend what little time we had tonight alone.” He faced Emma, summoning every bit of charm he could and forcing it into the tone of his voice. It wasn’t easy. He’d never been so unattracted to a woman in his life. But she didn’t matter to him. What she could give him did.

  Adam held up his hands, his expression filled with innocence. But Mark recognized the false sincerity—he’d played that card any number of times. “I wouldn’t want to intrude. I just thought we could walk down the road a bit, like we used to. Remember, Emma?” His eyes locked with hers. “Especially when the weather was warm. We’d spend the evening walking the roads, talking until dark.”

  Emma turned from Mark, nodding. “I remember,” she said softly.

  Fury built within Mark. She wanted Adam to come with them. If he pushed the issue, he’d risk upsetting her.

  Well, he could bide his time. It would take patience, but eventually he would be alone with Emma. Just not tonight.

  Mark forced a smile. “Sure. Join us.”

  “Danki for the invitation.” Adam nodded at Mark, but his eyes narr
owed as he pulled the brim of his hat over his brow.

  Mark and Emma descended the steps. But as they headed for the driveway, Adam inserted himself between the two of them. Emma crossed her arms over her thick chest as they walked down the road.

  The evening grew cool as the sun began to set. Mark paid little attention to the muted colors in the sky. He had planned to use this time to worm information out of her. The square footage of the Shetlers’ large house. The acreage that accompanied it. The size of the barn. Whether she or her grandmother had money stashed away. He couldn’t ask the old hag. He could hardly stand to be in the same room with her.

  Instead he had to listen to her and Adam rattle on about memories. Pleasant memories. Clara insisted Adam had broken Emma’s heart. Either Clara was wrong, or Emma had recovered. There was clearly a bond between the two of them, one that planted a seed of doubt in Mark that he would be able to win Emma over.

  “The sky is schee tonight.” Emma hugged her arms closer to her body.

  “I remember how you used to like watching the sunsets.” Adam slipped his jacket off and put it around her shoulders. “Better?”

  She nodded, smiling shyly.

  Mark couldn’t take it anymore. This was a total waste of time. He wouldn’t get anywhere with her tonight.

  He stopped on the side of the road. “I just remembered I promised Peter I’d help him stack wood tonight.” He moved between her and Adam, making sure he blocked Adam’s view of her. And even though it was risky, he touched her fat cheek, the move so quick and slight Adam couldn’t have grabbed him if he tried. “Let’s do this again another time.” He leaned closer, lowering his voice. “Alone.”

  Mark moved away before Adam could react. He headed down the road toward Peter’s house, smiling at the look of shock on Emma’s face. He would get her alone, and soon. And once he got rid of Adam, he would have Emma—and more importantly, her house and land—all to himself.

  Emma and Adam continued to walk down the road. The warmth of his jacket seeped through her sweater and dress, all the way to her skin. She breathed in his earthy scent and pressed the fabric against her. Giving her his coat was a kind thing to do. A romantic thing to do. But of course he hadn’t put his coat around her shoulders because he was attracted to her. He was just being nice. And even though Adam could be selfish and hurtful, more than anything, he was nice.