An Unexpected Amish Romance

by Patricia Davids

  “Okay. Well, I should get to work. I’m only here on probation for a month.”

  Jessica laughed. “If Mark fires you, come back in two months’ time. He’ll be long gone to Pennsylvania, and I’ll make sure Isaac hires you again.”

  “You’re leaving?” Helen stared at Mark, unable to keep her surprise hidden.

  Chapter Eight

  So Mark was leaving Bowmans Crossing. Helen wasn’t sure how she felt about that. On the one hand, it would be nice to work without him frowning at her every move. On the other hand...

  She gave herself a mental shake. There was no other hand. She liked him a little, although she didn’t know why. He was gruff and rude, and he had a girl back home. That put him off-limits as surely as if he were married. She would never do to another woman what her sister had done to her. She wasn’t interested in a new romantic relationship anyway, not after the way Joseph had treated her. She wasn’t sure she could trust her heart to another man after that.

  Paul moved to stand beside her, his flirty smile once again in place. “My brother may be leaving, but I intend to settle down here and make my home in Bowmans Crossing.”

  “Then I may have to move,” she replied with marked indifference and hoped he got the message that she wasn’t interested. She caught Mark’s eye as he smothered a grin.

  He sobered quickly. “That put you in your place, little brother.”

  Jessica giggled. “You are wasting your time, Paul. She is too smart to fall for the likes of you.”

  Paul clasped his hands over his heart. “You wound me, Jessica. If you were Amish, you’d be the only one for me.”

  “I’ve seen you go out with non-Amish girls. I’m too smart to fall for the likes of you, too.”

  Someone cleared his throat, and the group turned to see Isaac standing in the doorway. “If I’m not mistaken, there is work waiting to be done.”

  Jessica sat down at her computer and turned it on. Paul squeezed past his uncle and went out the door. Helen glanced at Mark and saw his face was beet red. “Forgive my slacking. It was my intent to have the men start on the Fielding projects, but I was...”

  “Sidetracked. I can see that,” Isaac said, with a pointed look at Helen. “Why don’t you help with the Fielding project, Mark, and I’ll shadow Helen today.”

  “I’ll do that.” He nodded to his uncle and went out.

  “I didn’t mean to keep the men from their work. It won’t happen again,” Helen said earnestly.

  Isaac chuckled. “It will happen again. Jessica loves to chat.”

  “True, very true,” she said from her desk.

  Isaac’s smiled fondly at her and shook his head. “Paul finds any excuse to delay getting started in the workshop. He’s a slow mover except when he’s working as an auctioneer. Then, he’s amazingly quick. I fear furniture making isn’t his calling. I admit I was surprised to see Mark visiting in here instead of working.”

  Helen didn’t know how to respond. She hadn’t meant to distract anyone. “I am going to put these cinnamon rolls in the break room, and then I will be ready to get started. Mark was going to show me how to inventory the different types of wood used here.”

  Isaac held up a hand to stop her. “Before you go, I’ll take one.”

  “Of course.” She opened the plastic container and held it out to him. He took his time selecting which one he wanted.

  “I’m not a great fan of raisins.”

  “The next time I make them, I’ll remember that and bring some plain ones.”

  “You don’t have to feed us,” he said.

  Helen shrugged. “Mark said the same thing. I like to bake, and it’s nice to bake for people who appreciate what I make.”

  “Then far be it for me to discourage you.” He stepped aside, and Helen went down the hall to leave her rolls in the break room. Mark was coming out of the supply room with a new circular saw blade in his hand. He passed her without speaking.

  “Mark, I’m sorry,” she said to his back. She had apologized more to this man than anyone in her life. Was God still trying to teach her a lesson in humility?

  Mark stopped. “It wasn’t your fault.”

  “He’s not angry with you.”

  “I disappointed him. It won’t happen again.” He walked away without looking at her.

  Later in the morning, Helen was making notes as Isaac went over the different types of plywood they kept on hand and their uses. After counting the stacks of three-ply, five-ply and cabinet-grade plywood, she finally had to say something.

  “If you feel that Mark is distracted because of me, I can look for employment elsewhere.”

  Isaac scratched his beard. “Are you distracting Mark?”

  “Not on purpose, but we have had some unusual encounters.”

  “Such as?”

  Helen was sorry she had broached the subject. Should she mention they had met on the bus? Had Mark told anyone about her? “My aunt’s dog has been annoying Mark in the middle of the night. Twice he has had to bring the dog home.”

  “Charlotte’s dog has been annoying the entire household.”

  “I know, and I’m sorry. Mark feels he disappointed you this morning, and I wanted you to know the reason why Mark brought me to work with him today.”

  He tipped his head to the side. “I wasn’t aware that Mark brought you to work.”

  “My aunt forced him to bring me. It’s a long story. Perhaps I should stop talking now and go back to counting types of plywood.”

  “Your desire to defend Mark is admirable. I certainly am not disappointed in Mark. I was pleasantly surprised to see him socializing. He is normally something of a loner.”

  “He values your opinion. If you are not upset with him, I wish you would let him know that.”

  “I will, and thank you for the reminder. I seldom praise the men here for a job well-done, and I should do so more often. It’s almost lunchtime. We can resume this count after we eat. My wife has asked that you join us for lunch.”

  “I would be delighted.”

  “Then I will see you up at the house, but first I must speak with Mark.”

  As they went back through the workshop, Helen saw all the men, save Mark, had turned off their machines and were heading outside to enjoy the lunches their wives or mothers had packed for them. One man rode off on his bicycle. Helen assumed he lived close enough to go home for lunch.

  Isaac crossed the room to speak with Mark. Helen went into the office and found Jessica texting on her cell phone. She grinned at Helen and held the device in the air. “This is the number one reason I could never be Amish. I don’t know how you do without one.”

  “I can’t miss what I have never had.”

  “I guess that’s true. Are you eating here, or are you going to go home?”

  “I’ve been invited up to the house.”

  “Have you met Anna?”

  “Briefly, at the frolic.” Helen would rather forget about that day. She was glad Jessica hadn’t been in attendance.

  “You will like her. She’s a hoot.”

  “I wanted you to know that I was leaving.” Helen waved goodbye and stepped out into the workroom. Isaac was already gone. Mark was shutting down his machine. She started to leave, but he called her name.

  She waited for him to catch up as a flock of butterflies took flight in her stomach.

  * * *

  Mark reached Helen’s side and held open the door for her to go out ahead of him. He wanted to thank her, but he wasn’t sure how to put into words what he was feeling. They walked toward the house in silence until they reach the front door. He caught her arm before she went in. “Why did you tell my uncle I felt that I’d let him down?”

  “I knew you were upset, and I wanted to make it right since it was partly my fault. Your uncle told you he wasn’t d
isappointed, didn’t he?”

  “He’s not a man who gives compliments freely, so when he tells you that you have done a goot job he means it.” For Mark, the warm glow of his uncle’s praise was still centered in his chest. He knew he had been working hard, but to hear his uncle express his admiration was akin to winning a hard-fought race.

  “I’m glad.” She gave him a shy smile that made his pulse jump a notch higher. Why did she have this effect on him? He scowled as he tried to understand what it was that she was doing. Her smiled faded, and she rushed through the door.

  During the meal, he found it hard to keep his eyes off Helen. She conversed easily with Anna and Rebecca. The tale of Juliet’s disappearance had everyone speculating about what could have happened to the raccoon. The consensus among the men was that she had returned to the wild, but most of the women disagreed. Twelve-year-old Hannah and her mother, Mary, promised to keep an eye out for Juliet when they were out in the rowboat fishing on the river, an activity they both enjoyed. The story of Charlotte accusing the bishop’s wife and then Mark of dognapping had everyone chuckling.

  Occasionally, Helen glanced his way, and he noticed a slight rise in the color of her cheeks each time she met his gaze. He had never been interested in a woman enough to want to find out more about her until now. There were many things he wanted to learn about Helen. Did she have a big family? What kind of books did she enjoy? What kind of man had been engaged to her and chose another woman instead?

  She smiled at something Samuel said, and Mark noticed the color and shape of her lips for the first time. Try as he might, he couldn’t recall Angela’s lips. Were they narrow or full like Helen’s? Were they the color of pink rosebuds, or were they pale?

  Paul kicked the side of Mark’s foot. He glared at his brother. “What?”

  “You’re staring,” Paul whispered.

  “I was not.” Mark looked down at his plate. “Did she notice?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  He glanced at Helen once more. She was talking to his cousin Timothy’s wife, Lillian. Helen happened to glance his way, but he quickly looked down. He folded his napkin and rose to his feet. “I forgot something in the shop.”

  “Don’t you want some gooseberry pie for dessert?” Anna asked. “It’s your favorite.”

  “Save some for me. I’ll have it later.” He walked away without looking at Helen, until he reached the front door. When he glanced back, she was watching him. He ducked his head and left the house.

  Ten minutes later, Paul stopped beside him in the workroom. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

  “I need another sheet of three ply,” he said without looking up from the dresser he was building.

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you are smitten with Helen.”

  “Have you seen the hand sander?”

  “Samuel is using it, and you are trying to change the subject.”

  Mark sighed loudly and looked at Paul. “What subject would that be?”

  “Whether or not you are smitten with the very attractive Helen Zook.”

  “I’m not. Do you think she’s pretty?”

  “Very. Don’t you?”

  “I hadn’t noticed. Are you gonna get me that three ply, or do I have to get it myself?”

  “I’ll get it. Just be careful, that’s all I’m saying.”

  “I’m always careful around power tools.”

  Paul leaned in to look Mark in the eyes. “I wasn’t referring to power tools. A broken heart can’t be fixed with nails and glue.”

  “You’re being ridiculous. I’ve only just met her. No one’s heart is in jeopardy. Least of all mine.”

  “For your sake I hope that’s true.” Paul walked away.

  Mark laid down his hammer. Paul had it all wrong. Even if he was attracted to Helen, which he wasn’t, he told himself sternly, she was not the kind of woman he needed. She made him feel as if his skin was too tight. How could a man be comfortable with a woman like that?

  For the first time since receiving Angela’s letter, Mark considered trying to win her back. It would solve so many problems. Her father would sell him the land he wanted. He wouldn’t have to start over and find a new place to build his business. He wouldn’t have to deal with dating women to find one who would suit his needs.

  He would write Angela’s father and ask if he knew why she had changed her mind. He would get his plan back on track, and then he would forget about Helen Zook.

  * * *

  The moment she got home from work, Helen pushed all thoughts of Mark out of her mind as she threw her heart and soul into baking. Charlotte, although disappointed that there wasn’t any sign of Juliet, joined Helen in the kitchen, and the two of them were soon elbow deep in dough. By midnight, they had eight loaves of bread, three decorated cakes, two dozen assorted crescent rolls, three dozen frosted cupcakes, six dozen cookies and four pies. Two peach and two gooseberry, because Anna had said it was Mark’s favorite.

  Happily, Clyde stayed at home that night, so there was no early-morning visit from Mark. Helen slept later than she intended and had to rush to get to work on time. Charlotte promised to pack up the food and a table to display it on and pick Helen up at one o’clock. That would give them enough time to get to Berlin, pay the booth-rental fee and get set up before the market opened at three.

  At work, Helen was eager to share her idea with Mark, but every time she approached him he took off in another direction. He seemed so busy she started to wonder if he was avoiding her. She settled for discussing her plans with Jessica, who was wonderfully supportive.

  Keeping busy until it was time to leave wasn’t a problem. A shipment of hardware came in at ten o’clock and it took her the rest of the morning to put it away in the assigned drawers. Twice, Mark came in to get something but didn’t speak to her.

  To her utter relief, Charlotte showed up as promised and without Clyde. Helen had persuaded her that it would be hard to keep the dog safe with so much traffic in town. Rather than risk losing another pet, Charlotte had shut Clyde in her bedroom.

  They found where the market was to be held and located the man taking booth fees. Because she was the last person to pay for a spot, Helen was given a booth at the far end of the grassy lot. After rushing to get set up and get her wares on the table, Helen was finally able to take a deep breath and relax for a few minutes after three. The tree-lined green space at the park was lined on both sides with tents and colorful awnings. Fresh fruit and vegetables were displayed in wooden cases stacked on bales of straw or on tables. People strolled down the avenue with bags for carrying their purchases or even small wheeled carts.

  As she scanned the approaching shoppers, she noticed Mark sitting beneath the shade of an oak tree across the way. He rose and strolled over to her table.

  She smiled brightly. “Good afternoon. Can I interest you in some baked goods, sir? All fresh from the oven.”

  “So, what is your plan? What business model are you working from?”

  Her smile slipped a little. “My plan is to sell all my baked goods and go home with extra money in my pocket. I don’t know what a business model is, and I don’t want to know. Would you care to buy a pie? I have gooseberry.”

  “Maybe later. I’m going to look around first, and I don’t have a place to leave a pie. Are you giving away free samples?”

  “Nee, if you want to see what it tastes like, you’ll have to buy it.”

  “That might be a mistake.”

  Her patience vanished. “If you aren’t going to buy anything, please move along so others can see what we have.”

  He tipped his hat and walked away. She turned to Charlotte, who was sitting on a folding chair behind the table munching on a cookie. “Aenti, those are for sale, not for snacking.”

  “I forgot.” Charlotte slipped the half-eaten cookie back
underneath the plastic wrap and returned the package to the table.

  When Helen was sure Mark was out of earshot, she spoke to her aunt. “Do you know what a business model is?”

  “I believe those are the women who wear tiny swimsuits and have their pictures in a magazine. Shameful, if you ask me. You don’t want to be one of those. The bishop would forbid it.”

  Helen was sure that Mark hadn’t been referring to women in swimsuits. “Why don’t you finish your cookie?”

  “Oh, may I? Danki, my dear.” She snatched up the package and unwrapped it.

  Helen fixed a smile on her face and waited for the patrons to make their way to her end of the market. She had made one sale, a dozen chocolate chip cookies, by the time Mark returned an hour later. It wasn’t enough to cover her booth rental.

  “How are you doing?” he asked.

  “If things don’t pick up, I will lose money instead of making it. Good food should sell itself.”

  “Does anyone here know you’re a good baker?”

  “I do,” Charlotte said, waving her hand in the air.

  “Besides your aenti?” He covered his mouth with his hand.

  Helen’s patience was wearing thin. “What are you doing here?”

  “Moral support. I suggested this, and I wanted to see how it worked out for you. I was afraid you hadn’t had enough time to adequately prepare.”

  “It’s working out just fine. You may go home now.”

  He pointed toward the far end of the market. “There is a bakery booth down there that’s doing a brisk business.”

  She let out a huff of disgust. “Pour salt in my wound why don’t you.”

  “I’m telling you this so you can see your mistakes and correct them. If you had done a little research—”

  “Go away.”

  He shook a finger at her. “That was rude. I’m trying to help.”

  “Please go away.”

  “All right. I’ll be over there if you need me.” He turned and walked off. Helen was tempted to throw a gooseberry pie at him but thought better of it. Such a display of temper was sure to turn potential customers away.