The Middlefield Family Collection

by Kathleen Fuller

  Cora Easley always got her way. “Where in Ohio?”

  He pulled a small notepad from the pocket of his jacket.

  “Middlefield.”

  “Never heard of it.”

  “It’s a small town southeast of Cleveland.” He flipped his notepad shut. “Amish territory, from all I can tell.”

  Amish? What did Amish people have to do with her grandson? She waved her hand. “I must go to Middlefield as soon as possible. He has a right to know his family.”

  And she had the right to know her grandson. He was the only heir to a vast fortune that over the years meant less and less to her. But now that she had someone she could groom to take over the family business and secure his place in New York society, that money suddenly became the upmost of importance.

  She would use whatever resources necessary to bring this young man back home. “What did you say his name was?”

  “Sawyer.” The detective put his notebook away. “Sawyer Thompson.”

  The detective left, and Cora went straight to her bedroom.

  “Manuela,” she called. “Pack my bags. I’m going to Ohio.”

  Manuela appeared in the doorway. “Should you be traveling, Señora Easely? You have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow.”

  Cora spun around and glared at her. “Why are you questioning me? Besides, that quack doesn’t know anything. I’m getting a second opinion.” She stared unseeing at the walk-in closet, nearly the size of the bedroom itself. “Pack only the essentials. No more than three bags. I don’t plan to be gone long.”

  “Sí.” Manuela went inside the closet and pulled down a large suitcase.

  As her maid packed, Cora called her travel agent to book a flight. An hour later she sat on the edge of the bed, her travel arrangements made, her suitcases packed and ready for her driver to load into the car first thing in the morning.

  She glanced at her watch. Nine o’clock. She’d just missed the last flight to Cleveland, the closest airport to Middlefield. It figured that some small-town Amish backwater wouldn’t have an airport.

  She stood and paced the length of her bed, trying not to think about Kerry. About how she died. About all the lost years.

  Instead, she focused on her grandson. The detective said it might be difficult for her to convince him to come back to New York.

  But Cora had no choice.

  Sawyer Thompson had to leave Ohio with her. He had to come home. His future—and what was left of hers— depended on it.

  CHAPTER 5

  “Looks like we’re gonna need another office assistant.”

  Sawyer set the rocking horse Tobias had made on top of the worktable and looked at his father, who was working at the opposite end of the table. “What happened to Hannah?”

  “Getting married in a couple of weeks.” Lukas adjusted the lathe and began sculpting a spindle for the back of an oak rocking chair. “I’m starting to think I need to hire a Yankee maedel if I want to keep help around here. We’re so busy right now, with the Christmas season coming up, I can’t wait much longer to hire someone.” Lukas looked at Sawyer. “Do you know of anyone? Maybe someone you went to school with?”

  “Do you definitely want a Yankee?” Sawyer tried to think about some of the girls he knew from high school. But he hadn’t kept up with his friends after graduation.

  Lukas stroked his beard. “At this point it doesn’t matter, Yankee or Amish. I’ll put an ad in the paper if I have to.”

  “I’ll try to come up with someone.” Sawyer knew his father liked to hire within the community if possible. He really must be getting desperate if he was thinking about paying for a want ad.

  The man was pretty tight with a dollar. But that was one reason the family business was so successful.

  Sawyer went back to work fine-tuning and smoothing out the head of the rocking horse. Later he would varnish and paint the child’s toy. They only sold these around Christmas time, and they were one of the most popular items in the shop.

  Sawyer did all the detail work, while his father and uncle constructed the basic horse shape and added the rockers at the bottom.

  For the next several minutes he focused on his task, but in the back of his mind he was thinking about single women who would be good for the job. “Emma,” he said at last. He looked at Lukas. “Emma Shetler.”

  Lukas tilted back his straw hat. Flecks of sawdust speckled his dark brown beard. “Isn’t she the one who had that fire at her haus?”

  “Ya. Her grandfather’s workshop burned to the ground.”

  “And so soon after her mudder died.” He shook his head.

  “That familye has been through a lot the past few years.”

  “What familye?” Tobias joined them.

  “The Shetlers.” Sawyer moved toward the brothers.

  Tobias’s usual jovial expression turned grim. “Ya. That they have.”

  “I think Emma might be interested in the job. As far as I know, she’s not working anywhere. I could stop by her house after work and ask.”

  “It can’t hurt.”

  After work Sawyer got in his pickup and drove to the Shetlers’ house. He had bought the truck from Adam Otto before Adam joined the church. It was in good shape and handled well. Best of all, he could get around fast. Ten minutes and he was at the Shetlers’ front door. It would have taken him three times as long in a horse and buggy.

  He parked the vehicle on the gravel driveway. When he stepped outside, the overpowering smell of cattle reached him.

  He heard the lowing of a cow coming from the Ottos’ pasture, where the herd grazed in the fading sunlight.

  The early November air was cool and crisp as a ripe apple.

  Sawyer knocked, and as he waited for someone to answer, he surveyed the empty space next to the house where the shop used to be, now nothing but ashes and soot.

  He remembered the day he heard about the fire. Although he didn’t know the Shetlers well, when tragedy affected the community, it affected everyone.

  A cat rubbed against his right leg. He gave it a gentle nudge with his foot. “Scat.” He didn’t care much for cats. Dogs were a different story—one dog in particular, Roscoe. The mutt had kept him company when he was on the run and living in the abandoned barn. Roscoe was getting old, and now lived with Mary Beth and Christopher. Yet the unspoken rule was that he belonged to everyone.

  The door opened. “Hello, Sawyer.” Emma stepped forward and pulled the door wider. “Wie gehts?”

  “Doing fine, thanks.”

  “What brings you by?”

  “I wanted to talk to you about a job. If that’s okay.” He shoved his hand in the pocket of his jeans. “I know it’s near suppertime, but I thought I’d see if you had a few minutes.”

  “You’re welcome anytime. Come inside.”

  As Sawyer crossed the threshold, the yeasty scent of freshly baked bread reached him. Now he wished he’d waited until tomorrow to come. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your dinner.”

  “We’re just getting started. Why don’t you join us?”

  His stomach growled. They both heard it.

  Emma chuckled. “You’re definitely staying.” Sawyer followed her to the kitchen. Emma’s grandmother, Leona, sat at the end of the table nearest the door, and at the opposite end, a young woman Sawyer had never met. She held her head down, keeping her face shielded by blond hair parted down the middle and tightly tucked into her kapp.

  “Hi,” he said. He reached out his hand. “Sawyer Thompson.”

  Finally she lifted her head, and he caught sight of thin red scars across her face like a spiderweb. Instantly he recognized her: the young woman who had been injured in the fire along with Adam.

  The old scar on his forearm tingled underneath his longsleeved shirt, as if in sympathy for the scars she bore. A tough brown circle, courtesy of a cigarette butt smashed into his skin by one of his former foster brother’s friends. At least he could hide the scar with long-sleeved shirts, jackets, and sweatshirt
s. In the summer he didn’t bother, since no one really cared about it anyway.

  But how could she hide her face?

  She glanced away for a moment, then lifted her face to look directly at him. Her eyes were so blue and clear they looked like shards of glass. “Laura Stutzman.”

  Sawyer hesitated at the sound of her soft, drawling voice.

  The scars seemed to disappear, and he could envision what she looked like before the attack. Beautiful.

  “Come, sit,” Leona said. She gestured with her hand at the seat between her and Laura. “I’m glad you can join us, Sawyer.”

  With considerable effort he forced his gaze from Laura’s and sat down. Emma had already placed a dish, fork, and knife in front of him.

  He tried to focus on the food—a simple dinner of pot roast, mashed potatoes, cooked carrots, navy beans, and fresh bread.

  Despite his hunger, even Emma’s delicious cooking couldn’t command his attention. One look at Laura and he couldn’t think straight.

  Emma sat down. They all bowed their heads for prayer. He lost his will and glanced in Laura’s direction, expecting her eyes to be closed.

  Instead, their gazes met. But there was no reaction in her blue eyes. He wished he could say the same for himself.

  She kept her hands folded in her lap and inclined her head in prayer. He followed suit and prayed silently according to Amish tradition.

  When they were finished, Emma looked at him. “So you wanted to talk to me about a job?”

  “Yep.” He took a sizable helping of cooked carrots and passed the bowl to Leona. “It would involve some bookkeeping, taking orders, scheduling deliveries. Stuff like that. The woman doing it now is getting married soon, so we have to hire somebody else.”

  Emma exchanged a glance with Leona.

  Sawyer put down his fork. “Let me guess. You already have a job.”

  Emma shook her head. “I don’t. But I don’t think I can accept the job. We’re building an animal shelter to take the place of Grossvadder’s workshop. I’ll be busy with that for the next few months.”

  “Oh.” Sawyer picked up his fork again. “That’s too bad. I mean, it’s great that you’re building the shelter. But I’d hoped you could take the job.”

  Laura kept her head down, pretending to focus on her meal. But excitement sparked within her. She gripped her fork. Sawyer Thompson didn’t know it yet, but he was offering her the opportunity she’d been hoping for. If she went to work for him, she wouldn’t have to go out into the community and interview for jobs. Wouldn’t have to see the look of shock and disgust on the face of some prospective employer, or watch them trying to judge whether her appearance would repel customers. She wouldn’t have to suffer the indignity of being turned down.

  While Sawyer was talking, she ventured a glance at him.

  He had on a homespun Amish-style shirt, but made out of plaid fabric. He wore baggy blue jeans, not the peg-legged pants other

  Amish men wore. His hair was cut short, yet when he walked into the house he had worn an Amish hat. There was a little scruff on his chin, as if he hadn’t shaved in a couple of days.

  Maybe he was engaged? Or maybe he had been English for a while and then decided to join the church? If that was the case, why did he continue to wear baggy jeans and drive a pickup?

  “Laura?”

  She jerked to attention and looked across the table at Leona.

  The old woman had caught her staring, and the realization made her flush. Fortunately Sawyer didn’t seem to notice. “Ya?”

  “Supper not to your liking? You’re not eating much.”

  She might say the same thing about Leona. The woman ate less than a sparrow. But in her short time here, Laura had learned that Leona’s outward frailty hid an iron inner strength.

  Her family adored her, and Adam treated her almost reverently.

  But it wasn’t just strength and kindness that radiated from Leona Shetler. There was something else—bright, comforting, intangible—that drew people to her.

  Laura suddenly felt Sawyer’s gaze on her. Maybe he had noticed her paying attention to him. Or maybe, like Leona, he’d realized she wasn’t eating. She shoved a huge helping of mashed potatoes in her mouth and swallowed. It should have been delicious, all hot and buttery, but like most food since the fire, it didn’t appeal. “Appeditlich,” she said.

  Emma grinned and served herself a large portion of pot roast.

  “Mei mudder taught me. She was a gut cook. One of the best.”

  Leona took a small bite of food and set down her fork. “That she was. I remember mei sohn saying that shortly after they were married. And I told him, ‘Gut thing, since you love to eat.’”

  Emma chuckled. Even Sawyer smiled. But Laura lost interest in the conversation and returned to thinking about Sawyer’s job offer. She should have spoken up as soon as he mentioned it.

  Why the hesitation? She couldn’t let fear guide her anymore, or hold her back. But that was exactly what she was doing, letting trepidation eat away at her like termites on wood.

  “Maybe you should pray about it.”

  Her mother’s voice. That was her solution to everything: pray, pray, pray. Well, Laura had prayed for a husband. God had answered her petition.

  With Mark.

  The last thing Laura needed was more prayer. What she really needed was courage. And that would only come from within.

  Sawyer wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Thanks for supper.” He patted his flat stomach. “I’m stuffed.”

  “So no dessert?” Emma asked.

  He shook his head. “Not unless I want to explode.” He started to push away from the table.

  Laura clenched her hands in her lap. If he walked away, he would take the job offer to someone else. She couldn’t let that happen. “What about me?” she blurted out. “The job, I mean.

  I could do it.”

  Everyone turned in her direction. Sawyer was gaping at her. She took a breath and tried to put their curious stares out of her mind. So what if her scars were ugly? This wasn’t about what other people thought about her appearance. This was about earning money, any way she could.

  “Are you sure?” Leona asked Laura lifted her chin and looked directly at Sawyer, ignoring the tiny flip in her stomach when their eyes met. She’d been drawn in by a handsome man before. He’d brought her nothing but ruin. She wouldn’t be fooled again. “Is the job difficult?”

  Sawyer lifted his brow. “I’ve never done it, but I don’t think so. No one ever seemed to have much trouble getting the work done.”

  “Any special qualifications?” Her tone remained businesslike, despite her nerves tingling. The scar across her chin began to itch. She resisted the urge to scratch it.

  “Hmm.” Sawyer drummed his fingers on the table. “You need to be organized. Taking orders, scheduling.” He stared at her intently. “You’ll be dealing with a lot of people, Amish and Yankee alike.”

  Was that a challenge? Did he want to see if she’d cower, believe herself to be less qualified because she was disfigured?

  She’d done office work before, for her family business. But he wasn’t wondering about that, she was sure of it. They were both thinking the same thing.

  Can I handle people staring at mei face?

  Laura swallowed. Forced a smile.

  “When do I start?”

  CHAPTER 6

  Laura tried to steady her hands as she clipped metal barrettes to the sides of her kapp. Her first day working for Byler and Sons. It’s just a job, she told herself. Just a job.

  But it wasn’t just a job. Working brought her closer to her goal. She avoided looking in the mirror, unwilling to let her scars break her fragile confidence. A knock sounded on the bathroom door.

  “Laura?” Emma said. “Sawyer’s here.”

  Sawyer? Her stomach dropped. Had he changed his mind?

  If he did, what would she do? She opened the door. Seeing Emma smiling confused her even more. “What’
s he doing here?”

  “He’s taking you to work.” Emma kept grinning.

  Good, he hadn’t changed his mind after all. But she didn’t have to accept a ride from him. “I was planning to walk.”

  “It’s a pretty far walk. You’re not going to turn him down, are you?”

  Laura paused. She was already beholden to him for the job. She owed so many people so much. She didn’t want to add Sawyer Thompson to the list.

  “Laura,” Emma said, “you shouldn’t keep him waiting.”

  She had no choice. “Please tell him I’ll be down in a minute.”

  “I will.” Emma smiled again and moved to leave.

  A thought occurred to Laura. “Emma? Did you ask him to pick me up?”

  Emma shook her head. “Nee, I never said a word. I gather it was his own idea.”

  Laura went back into the bathroom. She paused and couldn’t help but glance in the mirror, despite not wanting to. If this were her house, she would have smashed every single mirror to pieces. She took a deep breath and hardened her resolve.

  When she went downstairs, she saw Sawyer standing at the doorway. Today his entire outfit was Amish, from his straw hat to the pegged jeans and dusty, worn work boots. The only trace of English she saw was his short haircut. A flicker of curiosity passed through her. Just how Amish was he? Then again, why did it matter?

  “Ready to go?” he asked.

  She nodded, pulling her coat over her navy blue dress. “You didn’t have to pick me up.”

  “I know.” He smiled at her, a crooked, boyish grin. “I figured you’d need a ride.”

  She wasn’t about to be sucked in by his charm. Or his kindness. “Next time I’ll walk,” she said, and strode past him and out the door.

  Sawyer blinked and looked at Emma. “Was it something I said?”

  Emma shrugged, frowning. “I don’t see how. That was kind of rude, though.”

  “It’s okay.” He’d been rude when he first came to Middlefield too. Rude and bitter. Considering what Laura had been through, he couldn’t hold her attitude against her.