Amish Romance: The Mother's Helper (Nancy's Story Book 1)

by Brenda Maxfield

  Nancy saw Irene’s face color at that.

  Ellen nodded. “It’s downright humiliating, it is. And that Luke. Imagine being in your twenties and still running about with the Englisch. I don’t imagine the boy will ever join church. I wonder that he even came back.”

  “That’s not for us to say.” It was the older woman again.

  “Perhaps not.” Ellen sniffed. “But if he were my boy—”

  “Which he isn’t,” Irene said. She coughed and blew out her breath. “I’m sorry. That was rude. Luke is helping Philip with the farm, and for that, we’re grateful.”

  Ellen cocked her eyebrow. “And shouldn’t he be helping his dat instead?”

  Nancy could see the irritation in Irene’s eyes. But her voice was calm when she replied. “Be that as it may, we’re mighty glad for Luke’s help. Soon, of course, Zeke will be out there helping his dat, won’t you, Zeke?” Irene gazed at the baby in Nancy’s arms.

  All the women laughed.

  “I hate to break it to you, Irene, but that’s going to be a while,” said one woman, still chuckling.

  “Nee. Not with my Zeke. He’ll be out in the fields before you know it.”

  There was another round of laughter, and the talk went on to other topics. Nancy silently marveled at how adept Irene had been in changing the subject so smoothly.

  So, Luke Rupp didn’t have the best reputation in the area. Nancy felt a twinge of sorrow for his mother. But mostly, she was just curious about Luke.

  After a couple hours of stitching, the women took a break for refreshments. Nancy handed Zeke over to Irene to be nursed. That seemed to be the cue for everyone to turn their attention toward Nancy.

  “We’re happy to have you with us,” the older woman—whose name Nancy now knew was Olive—said to her.

  “I’m happy to be here.” Nancy snatched up Debbie who was toddling by, chasing after a little boy.

  “I’m sure you’re a big help to Irene.”

  “I’m trying.” Nancy smiled and set the squirming Debbie back down on the floor.

  “So, you’re from Linnow Creek?”

  “Jah. But I’ve visited Hollybrook off and on. You know that Irene’s mother, Doris, is my mamm’s sister.”

  “We’re sorry to hear that Doris is doing so poorly. Back in the day, she would have never missed a quilting.” Olive tsk-ed her lips together.

  “Nee. I imagine that’s a fact. Mamm has a beautiful quilt that Doris made for her after Mamm got married.”

  Olive chuckled. “Lots of folks have quilts that Doris made at one time or another. The woman is a downright genius with it.”

  Nancy smiled at the compliment. She’d visited her aunt a time or two since arriving, and she needed to go over there again. Doris didn’t get around well these days, often feeling too poorly to get out and about on her own.

  “I’ll be going over to visit her tomorrow,” Olive said.

  “I’m sure Irene appreciates that,” Nancy said. “And I’m sure Doris will be pleased to see you.”

  Olive pressed her lips together in a smile.

  The hostess, Martha Smucker, had laid out a sideboard with food. The women were milling about, sampling everything Martha had offered. Nancy felt a bit hungry herself and went over to grab something.

  She hadn’t helped with the actual quilting that day. She’d only provided care for Zeke so Irene could sew. She found herself restless and ready to go back to Irene’s. She needed to get started on supper for the family.

  She didn’t dare admit to herself that she was eager to see what Luke had been up to that day.

  Chapter Six

  Luke set the hammer down in the dirt next to where he was squatting. He took hold of the chicken wire with his fingers and gave it a good jerk. He smiled. It was solid.

  Task accomplished.

  He stood and picked up his hammer and the staple gun to return them to the barn. He hoped Philip was still inside so he could ask him what he wanted done next. Luke was keenly aware of his status there; if he didn’t contribute greatly with the work to be done, he’d have to leave. His conscience wouldn’t permit him to stay with the Benders otherwise.

  Philip was in the barn, inspecting his plow.

  “Need sharpening?” Luke asked.

  Philip’s hand dropped from the blade. “Jah. I already oiled everything.”

  “I can help you.”

  “Come on, then.”

  The two men worked on the blade, chatting amicably about the coming harvest.

  “Did you see my new draft horse?” Philip asked, with no small amount of excitement in his voice.

  “I did. He’s a beauty. Have you used him yet?”

  “During the winter. We had a warm spell, and I took the opportunity to try him out. Plowed in a good amount of manure, too.” Philip straightened his back and glanced at the far stall. “He worked right fine.”

  The large horse snorted and stomped as if he knew he was the topic of discussion.

  “Got him for a gut price, too.”

  “You went to the auction.”

  “I did.”

  “I’m glad for you.”

  Philip took off his gloves and held them in one hand. “You been home yet?”

  Luke paused before answering. “Nee.”

  “Don’t you think you should?”

  Luke sighed. “I reckon so.”

  Philip shrugged. “Ain’t my business, I know. But I imagine Ben would be happy to see you.”

  “I doubt it.”

  “Come on, Luke. He can’t be holding a grudge, now, can he?”

  Luke only just kept himself from retorting that yes, his father certainly could and would be holding a grudge. That was mostly what his dad did. But his mother…? It would be nice to see her.

  “And your mamm? She’s probably worrying about you.”

  Luke held up his hand. “Jah. Jah. I know.”

  Philip laughed. “Sorry. I think I’m sounding like your third parent, ain’t I? Don’t mean to be sticking my nose in—”

  Luke joined his laughter. “But you’re right. I’ll go see them soon.”

  “Today?”

  Luke pulled a face. “You don’t let up, do you?”

  Philip put his gloves back on. “Not really.”

  Luke’s parents’ farm was on the other side of the district. Philip loaned him a bicycle for the ride. The women had taken the pony cart, and the only other horses Philip had were the draft and his other plow horse, and neither was used to pulling buggies.

  Luke didn’t mind. The weather was good, and the bicycle suited him fine. He snickered softly to himself as he pedaled his way down the road. His Englisch friends would get a kick out of seeing him riding what they would consider a clunker of a bike.

  It would probably take him twenty to thirty minutes to reach his parents’ place. Now, if he had his friend’s car, he’d get there in a couple minutes flat. Well, perhaps a few more a couple, but not many.

  When Luke first learned to drive an automobile, he’d been dizzy with the speed. But he’d soon grown accustomed to it. And from there, he’d grown to enjoy it and love it. Cars were amazing machines.

  His dad would come unglued if he ever saw Luke driving a car. But there wasn’t much chance of that now. Luke had bid his Englisch friends farewell for the last time. Some of them didn’t believe him when he was leaving for good; they claimed that he’d be back before the month was over.

  But Luke had meant it. He needed to return home, and he needed to make his decision. Living with a foot in two worlds had grown old and tiresome.

  He felt a familiar pang in his heart. For him, leaving the Englisch had also meant leaving Ariel Youngman. There was no way around it.

  “Are you sure you have to go?” she’d asked him, her lower lip trembling. Her large blue eyes pleaded with him, and it had nearly broken his heart. He was near tears himself.

  Luke had steeled his emotions and told her, “Jah. I have to go back. It’s my heri
tage. It’s my family.”

  “But you could make a new family. Here. With me.” She’d reached out for him then, and it was all he could do to step back.

  When he did, tears streamed down her face. “You’re really leaving?”

  He grabbed her to him, crushing her against his chest—breathing deeply of her scent, her sweetness. “I’m sorry,” he whispered in her ear.

  She’d clung to him, and he had to pry her off.

  “I’m sorry,” he repeated, tears falling from his own eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

  He’d turned and walked quickly away, before he weakened and stayed with her forever.

  Luke shook off the memories and kept pedaling. He’d known from the start that he shouldn’t be around Ariel. She appealed to him too much. She had a saucy, sweet spirit that burrowed its way into his heart. But she’d had a wild streak, too. A carefree, sometimes careless, attitude toward life. While he had grown to love her, he was wary of her. She represented too many things that were the opposite of who he was.

  Or who he thought he was.

  Sometimes, he didn’t really know.

  But he needed to find out. He was in his twenties and was no closer to settling down than he’d been in his early teens. Part of him—a large part of him—wanted to be finished with his floundering around, his flirting with the Englisch world. That was why he’d come back. But still, doubts niggled at him. If he was baptized, would he be satisfied to never drive a car again? To never get on a computer again? To give up the modern things of life which he’d grown to appreciate and enjoy?

  He passed the Beckman’s place. He was getting closer to home. His jaw tightened, and he could feel him muscles tense, preparing for the confrontation he knew was about to happen. At least, it would be good to see his mother.

  Without thinking, he began to peddle faster, the bike thumping quickly over the scattered potholes. He rode in the grooves along the side of the road made by hundreds of buggies passing by.

  And there it was. The tall white house sat calmly amidst a large grouping of weeping willows, which had now fully leafed out. He saw movement to the side of the house, and his mother circled toward the expansive front porch. His heart gave a small leap at seeing her. From a distance, she looked the same as when he’d last seen her nearly a year ago.

  He turned into the gravel drive, and the crunch of his wheels announced his presence. She turned, and her face broke into a smile. She waved at him.

  He waved back and pulled up to the porch. “Mamm!”

  She scurried over and threw her arms around him. “Luke! I’d heard you was back.”

  He’d been wrong. Now, seeing her up close, she’d aged considerably. The fine lines around her eyes had deepened into furrows, streaking back into her hairline. Despite her expression of happiness, he sensed sorrow lurking beneath it, which concerned him.

  “Mamm? You okay?”

  She sniffled and dabbed at her eyes. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be? Ach, Luke, it’s right fine to see you again.”

  She stood back from him, looking him up and down. “You need some fattening up. Ain’t they feeding you at Irene’s?”

  “I’ve hardly been there long enough to sneeze,” he said, teasing her. “But I could use a thick slice of your bread with a large dollop of blackberry jam.”

  “Come on in, then,” she said, grinning. “I’ll give you two slices. How about that?”

  He laughed and followed her inside. “Where is everyone?”

  “Your dat and Robert is out in the fields. Arlene is hoeing the garden in preparation to plant. And of course, the older ones are on their own farms.” She set a loaf of bread onto a cutting board. “It’s so gut to see you.”

  “You too, Mamm. And my mouth is already watering at the sight of your bread.”

  It was true, Naomi Rupp made the best bread in the district, and anyone who tried it, would agree. All her women friends asked for her secret. His mother claimed to have no secret, but Luke always noticed her furtive smile when she turned away. Maybe someday, he’d catch her with it—whatever it was.

  “How’s Dat?” Luke asked, tensing up again.

  “He’s fine. He’ll be glad to see you,” Naomi said, but she didn’t look him in the eye when she spoke.

  “Will he be coming in from the fields, soon?”

  “I doubt it. You can tromp on out there if you like.”

  “Not before my snack of bread.” He reached over and tweaked her kapp string, which obviously surprised her. He realized that he’d developed such familiar gestures while he was with the Englisch, and he wished he hadn’t done it. An awkward silence fell between them, which was only broken when his mother asked if he wanted a glass of milk.

  “Sure do. Fresh from Old Sookie this morning, am I right?”

  A look of sadness crossed his mother’s face. “Nee. Old Sookie died, Luke. Quite some time ago. This milk is from Nelly, our new milker.”

  Old Sookie had died? He’d been gone longer than he’d thought. Everyone in the family had loved Sookie and grown up with the old gal.

  “I’m sorry, Mamm. I didn’t know.”

  “Of course, you didn’t,” she said. She must have realized how harsh her words sounded, because she smiled at him and made a show of presenting him with his bread.

  He took a big bite and gave her a wide grin. “Gut. Delicious as usual.”

  “Quit your talkin’ with your mouth full,” she mock scolded him, and they both laughed.

  After finishing his snack, there was nothing for it but to go out to the fields and find his father. At least, his brother Robert was out there with him, and that might soften the reunion. Luke could only hope.

  “I’ll stop back in for a few minutes after I see Dat,” he told his mother.

  “Luke?”

  “Jah?”

  “Will you be staying with Irene? I mean, won’t you come home?” Her eyes misted over.

  “That depends.” Luke sighed. “I’ll let you know.”

  Luke started toward the door.

  “Luke?”

  He paused and turned back toward her again. “Jah?”

  “He loves you. We all do.”

  Tears burned in his eyes, and he turned away quickly before his mother could see. “I know, Mamm. I know.”

  Luke didn’t have to walk far to spot his father and brother with the horse and plow. His father looked stooped, more so than ever before. Was he well? Luke supposed he was. Benjamin Rupp was too tough and ornery to ever get sick. Robert saw Luke right away and paused to wave, which caused his father to stop the horse and look toward the house.

  He didn’t wave.

  Luke drew in a deep breath and strode across the freshly tilled soil. Robert came to meet him.

  “Luke! I heard you was back,” he said with a grin. “Gut to see you.”

  “And you, Robert. How’s it going?”

  Robert scanned the fields. “Making nice progress. Dat wants to start planting next week.”

  “Weather’s been gut. That sounds like a fine plan.”

  His father dropped the reins and climbed off the metal seat of the plow. He trod across the lumps of soil and stood before Luke.

  “Son,” he said. His voice was as firm and strong as ever.

  “Hello, Dat,” Luke said, feeling like a child again.

  “You back?”

  “I’m back.”

  “Staying with Irene, are you?”

  “Jah.”

  “Your mamm wants you here.” Ben took off his hat and swiped his brow with his arm. He put it back on, smashing it low over his forehead.

  “I’ve seen her.” Luke shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

  “You getting baptized?”

  And there it was. The question that stood between them like a cement wall. Luke swallowed.

  “I’m considerin’ it.”

  Ben’s mouth tightened into a thin line. “Considerin’ it?”

  “Jah, Dat.” Luke’s nostri
ls flared.

  Robert cleared his throat. “That’s gut. Right?”

  Ben flashed his younger son an irritated scowl. “Robert. Go check on the cow.”

  “But, Dat, we—”

  “Did you hear me, son?” Ben asked, his voice louder.

  “Jah. I’ll go check on her.” Robert gave Luke a helpless glance and walked away.

  A great silence stretched between Luke and his father. Luke was determined not to break it. He’d let Ben take the lead. He wanted to see where his dad was going; although, he was quite certain he already knew.

  “You can talk to the bishop today. He’s home working his farm.”

  Luke shook his head. “Dat, I’m not ready to see the bishop today.”

  “You’re twenty-four years old. You’re more than ready!” Ben’s tone sharpened.

  “Isn’t it more than age? Isn’t it about my faith and my decision to stay in the community?” Luke stiffened, immediately wishing he hadn’t spoken.

  Ben drew himself up to his full height. He glared at Ben. “You don’t plan to stay Amish?” he asked, seething now. He stepped back, and for a split second, Luke thought he was going to stumble. But he didn’t. He stood firm. “Then, you ain’t no son of mine.”

  “Dat—”

  “You heard me.” Ben turned away, and his shoulders remained rigid. He cleared his throat and picked up the reins again, climbing onto the wide seat.

  “I’m not sure, yet. That’s all I’m saying,” Luke tried again. He stepped forward. “Dat? I’m thinking on it. Praying on it.”

  But Ben said nothing more. He kept his eyes straight forward, snapped the reins, clicked his tongue, and the draft horse pulled the plow through the earth. Luke stood there, watching his father move across the field. An overwhelming sadness surged through him, tightening his chest.

  He hated it—this conflict. But he had to be true to himself, didn’t he?

  His father would say no. Being baptized and joining church was a duty. A responsibility. It was the right thing to do. Personal feelings had nothing to do with it.

  Yes, that was what his father would say.