“Yeah.” Megan slid off the bed and Lucy quickly followed her.
Vera watched them go and then turned to Willa. “What kind of trouble are you in?”
Taken aback by Vera’s bluntness, Willa tried to stall until she could decide what to say. “Why do you ask that?”
“So you are in trouble.”
“I didn’t say I was.”
“You didn’t say you weren’t. Tell me about it. I want to help.”
“I’m not—It’s not—It’s nothing that involves you.” Willa stared out the window.
“John and I will help if we can.”
Willa looked at the kindly face of the woman beside her. “I believe you would. If there was a way for you to help me, I would tell you, but there isn’t anything you can do.”
“I could be the judge of that if I knew what was wrong. What are you afraid of? Is it your husband? Not all men are kind.”
“My husband was a gentle man. He’d never hurt anyone.”
“So who brings the fear to your eyes that my son says he has seen?”
John was more perceptive than Willa expected. Maybe it was because she was still so tired, but she found she needed to confide in someone. “If you must know, my husband’s parents want to take my daughters away from me. They say I’m an unfit mother.”
Vera drew back. “How can they do such a thing?”
“They have money and influence. They say the law is on their side. I’m not a bad mother. I’m not.” She was too ashamed to tell Vera about her past illness. Tears welled up in Willa’s eyes. It all seemed so hopeless. She couldn’t even get out of bed, let alone protect those dearest to her.
“The Englisch lawmen look for you, also?”
Willa nodded.
“Is this why you are pretending to be Amish?”
“I didn’t know what else to do. I had very little money. I bought bus tickets for us to the town near where my grandfather has a farm. I got off before we reached it. That is where I first met John.”
Vera’s eyes widened. “You have met my son before?”
“Just once. It was after we left the bus. He was kind enough to give us a ride on his wagon so the girls didn’t have to walk so far.”
“I wonder that he didn’t mention this,” Vera said more to herself than to Willa. “Why didn’t you stay with your daddi?”
Willa looked away. “Grandfather wouldn’t take us in. He didn’t believe that I wanted to become Amish again. He said I should have returned sooner.”
“That is shameful. We are to welcome those who wish to return to us. The Lord will judge his actions one day. He should remember that.”
Willa gave her a watery smile. “Don’t think too harshly of him. He gave us these Amish clothes and told me to go to his sister, who lives near Hope Springs. He said if I truly repent and join the faith, I may return to him.”
“At least he had some kindness for you. Will your great-aunt take you in?”
“I don’t know.” Willa’s voice broke. She pressed her hands to her mouth to hold back a sob. Crying wouldn’t help. It never helped.
Vera sighed heavily. “This is a difficult situation. It will take much prayer to see the path our Lord wishes us to follow. It is not right to keep your kinder from their grandparents, but I understand why you feel you must. Have you spoken with them? Are you sure of their intentions?”
“My husband spoke to them. He told me he couldn’t change their minds. They have a man searching for us, a private detective. He was always able to find us, and each time we were forced to move again. I don’t know how he found us in Columbus, but he did. I went out to buy some milk for the girls, and when I came back to the apartment, the woman next door said the police and this man had been there looking for me. She had promised to call them when I returned, but she said she didn’t promise to call them right away.” Willa laughed at the memory of the elderly Mrs. Kramer’s daring, but her laugh held an edge of hysteria. She had come so close to losing her babies.
She thanked God for a half gallon of milk and the unconventional spirited old woman who had lived beside them. In some ways, Vera reminded Willa of Mrs. Kramer. She had the same sharp look in her aged eyes. “You and your son have been kind to me, as well. I can never repay you.”
“Your prayers for us are repayment enough. God moves in strange ways, but He has brought you here for a reason,” Vera muttered.
She stood and laid a hand on Willa’s cheek. “This detective will not find you. We Amish are in the world, but we are not a part of this world. We have our own ways and they serve us well, for we serve Gott first.”
“I hope and pray he doesn’t find us. I have to believe my great-aunt will help. I want my children to celebrate this Christmas and many more with my family.”
“One of the Bowman sons is married to a woman from Hope Springs. She may know your family. This man is looking for an Englisch woman and her daughters, ja?”
“He is.”
Vera patted Willa’s arm. “Get some rest. No one will take your kinder while you sleep. There is only an Amish frau and her daughters visiting us if anyone should ask.”
Willa rubbed her face with both hands. “I’m afraid we won’t pass for Amish if anyone looks closely.”
“Then no one must look closely. In time you will become more Amish and so will your little ones.”
Time wasn’t on Willa’s side, but her daughters were safe for now. Her body and mind craved rest. She snuggled down under the quilt again. She heard Megan and Lucy arguing over a doll in the other room, but before she could get up, Vera intervened and the squabble ended.
What would John make of Willa’s story when his mother filled him in on the details? She knew Vera would tell him. Among the Amish, the man was the head of the house. All important decisions were made by men. Women had their say, to be sure, but it would be up to John to allow Willa to stay or to inform the police of her whereabouts.
It was a relief to have that much of her past out in the open, but she didn’t dare try to explain why Glen’s family feared for the children’s welfare. Willa wouldn’t hurt them, not knowingly, but what might happen if the voices came back after her baby was born? Someone had to keep them safe if she wasn’t able to care for them. The Amish valued God first, family second and then the community. They cared for their own. She prayed her great-aunt’s family would provide all she needed.
* * *
John came in from the outside and wiped his feet on the mat. His mother was standing beside the table staring at him with a deep frown etched between her brows. She tapped one foot as she waited for him to speak. Whatever she was upset about, he was sure it was something to do with that woman. The one he couldn’t stop thinking about. The one with golden curls who gave lovebug kisses.
“I know that look, Mamm. What is on your mind?”
“Why didn’t you tell me you had met Willa before?”
“It didn’t seem important.” He took off his coat and hung up his hat. When he looked her way, she hadn’t moved.
“Not important? The Lord places this stranger, this desperate young mother, into your care twice in a single week, and you don’t think that is important enough to mention?”
“I admit it is a strange coincidence, but that’s all. She’s leaving. Her own family will take care of her as soon as she reaches them. What’s for lunch?”
“Don’t change the subject.”
“The subject of that woman and her children is closed. Her buggy has been repaired. Her horse is rested, but the poor creature isn’t up to a long trip. I will send the family on their way with one of our horses.”
“You have more concern for an animal than you do for that poor child. She is not up to a long journey, either.”
“What do you want me to do? She needs to be wi
th her own family during this time. I can’t spare four days away from my work to drive her to Hope Springs and then drive back. I’m not going to pay for a driver to take her. We can’t afford it.”
“You may be right about that.”
He hadn’t expected her to give in. “I am.”
“She can write to her family and ask if they will send the money. In the meantime, she can get plenty of rest and regain her strength, and I will have the chance to enjoy her darling daughters. It shouldn’t take more than a week.”
“Mamm, I don’t want her here.”
“And why is that?”
Did he have to spell it out? He clenched his jaw until his teeth ached. If his mother needed the hard truth, he would give it. “She’s a reminder.”
“A reminder of what?” his mother asked gently.
“That Katie and I could have given you grandchildren by now if God had spared her life. She is a reminder of how unfair life is.”
“My poor son, I know your grief is deep. So is mine. So is Willa’s. Life seems unfair because we do not understand God’s great plan for us. We grieve and that is as it should be, but life must be more than grief and sorrow. If that is all you look for, that is all you will find.”
She was wrong. He wanted to feel anything but this crushing sorrow. There simply wasn’t room in his heart for joy. Willa and her daughters were painful reminders of that fact every time he saw them.
He wasn’t narrow-minded enough to think he was the only person to have suffered the loss of a loved one. His mother didn’t need to point that out. He pitied Willa, for her loss was as great as his. How did she face each new day? How did she find the strength to get out of bed each morning? Was it because of her daughters? It was something he’d never be able to ask her.
In truth, he didn’t want to know anything else about her. He didn’t want to feel sorry for her or know she struggled as hard as he did to keep his feelings hidden. He didn’t want to like her children or listen to Lucy tell him “okeydokey” with that silly, adorable grin on her face. He didn’t want Megan to like him even a little. He wanted to be left alone.
He yanked his coat off the hook and put it on, then jammed his hat on his head. “Don’t worry about making me anything for supper. I’ll be in the workshop. I parked Willa’s buggy close to the house. Make whatever preparations you need to see that they can travel comfortably, but they are leaving in the morning.”
John pulled open the door without waiting for his mother to reply. A few snowflakes drifted lazily down around him. The weather forecast in the newspaper that morning had called for occasional flurries. Hopefully it wouldn’t amount to much, and his guest could leave as planned.
He spent the next six hours sweating over his forge and shaping the lantern housings he needed for Melvin’s sleigh. He finally managed to finish one he was happy with. He should have known better than to try to work when his mind was filled with thoughts of Willa and her problems. At his current rate of speed, it would take him a full year to finish all the work the new sleigh needed. He was bone tired and hungry. He took a deep breath and prepared to go in. He was sure his mother would be waiting up for him. She would be asleep in her chair in the living room, but she never failed to wake up when the door opened.
Opening his workshop door, he saw a light layer of snow coated everything. Streams of it snaked across the ground in the wind and piled up against the side of the buildings, but it wasn’t falling at the moment. Willa’s buggy sat near the front gate, topped with a white crown. He took the time to brush it off before he went in.
To his surprise, his mother wasn’t waiting up. He had braced himself for another argument for no reason. He found a plate of roast beef sandwiches in the refrigerator along with a slice of pumpkin pie topped with fresh whipped cream. It was his favorite. He chuckled as he recognized his mother’s way of apologizing.
On his way to bed, he passed his mother’s bedroom door and heard the sound of her snoring. He paused outside Willa’s door to listen but didn’t hear any movement within. He opened the next door softly and looked inside. His mother had made up two cots for the twins, but they were both asleep in one bed with their arms around each other. He closed the door and went to his room at the end of the hall. In spite of his fatigue, he barely slept. A little before six o’clock he rose and got dressed. His mother was in the kitchen. The smell of coffee and frying bacon filled the morning.
Willa sat at the table with a white mug in her hands. She blushed and looked down when she caught sight of him. “Good morning, John.”
“Guder mariye,” he muttered. She looked more rested, but he couldn’t say she looked well. There were still dark shadows beneath her eyes and a hollow look to her cheeks.
“We will be on our way as soon as we have finished eating. Hurry up, girls.”
“I’m done,” Lucy announced, holding both hands in the air.
John waited for his mother to make some comment, but she didn’t. He put on his hat, determined not to feel like he was tossing a bird with a broken wing out into the snow. “I’ll hitch up the horse.”
Outside, he brought out his best and gentlest buggy horse, a black mare named Clover. She was reliable and steady in traffic. He backed her into place and hitched her to the buggy. He turned to see his mother coming out of the house with a wicker hamper over her arm. Lucy followed her, chatting away and skipping. His mother put the basket down and motioned to him. “Give me a hand with this, John. It’s heavy.”
His mother was probably sending a week’s worth of food with the family for a two-day trip. He started to lead Clover toward her when he heard a loud crack. Clover jumped forward. The front wheels of the buggy pulled completely out from under it. The cab toppled to the ground as he looked on in astonishment.
Lucy clapped both hands to her cheeks. “Oh, no! Johnjohn broked it!”
His mother smothered a laugh. “He certainly did.”
“This isn’t funny.” He struggled to control the confused horse.
“Lucy, go back inside and tell your mamm that you’ll all be staying a little longer.”
“Okeydokey.” Lucy whirled around and ran into the house.
His mother looked up and held out one hand. “I do believe it’s beginning to snow.”
Chapter Six
“So this is where you’ve been hiding.”
Willa stepped inside John’s workshop and shook the snow from her shawl. It had been coming down heavily since early morning, big fat flakes that stuck to everything and piled up fast. Warmth surrounded her inside the building with a low ceiling and tools of John’s trade everywhere. The smell of smoke and hot metal filled the air. She peeled off her gloves and tucked them in the pockets of her apron.
John sat at a small desk near the south-facing window with an open ledger book in front of him. “I’m not hiding.”
“Perhaps not, but I feel as though we have driven you out of your own house.” Willa tightened the black shawl across her shoulders. He hadn’t come in since her buggy came apart that morning. The buggy pieces had been moved into the barn, but John hadn’t offered any information on the repairs that were needed or how long it might take. Vera had sent Willa to check on him as it was almost time for supper. It was easy to see he didn’t want their continued company, but she and the girls wouldn’t be able to travel until her vehicle was fixed. Maybe not even then if the snow kept up much longer.
He closed the book he had been writing in. “I’ve had a lot of work to catch up on, that’s all.”
“Have you fixed our buggy?”
“Not yet. I seem to be missing the exact parts I need. I’m sure I had some of the same size carriage bolts last week. I can’t imagine where they have gone.”
“Can’t you make some?”
“Not easily. They have to be the right size down to
the millimeter.”
She looked around the room. Horseshoes of every size hung from pegs on one wall. Assorted tools were lined up in a metal rack. A huge anvil stood near the furnace. The forge itself was a brick structure that resembled a large table with a hood over it and which had a depression where a low fire burned. At the rear of the building were open wooden shelves that held stacks of long steel rods. “I’m afraid I don’t know much about the blacksmith trade. A blacksmith’s shop is called a smithy, am I right?”
“You are.” He busied himself choosing a round steel rod from the stack.
“I see you use coal for your fire. Why not propane? Vera mentioned your church approves the use of some propane appliances and generators.”
“A few blacksmiths use propane. I prefer coal or coke as it is called. I get better heat and a coke forge has an advantage because it can be scaled easily.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I can make the fire larger or smaller depending upon my needs.”
She moved closer to the forge, where a bed of coal glowed bright red. She had to take a step back as the heat scorched her face. “How hot does it get?”
“Very hot. About fourteen hundred degrees, but there are times when I need it hotter or colder.”
“Hotter than fourteen hundred degrees?”
“Welding requires more heat.”
“No wonder you don’t allow the girls out here. Lucy is quite brokenhearted that she can’t watch you work.”
“It’s too dangerous. Her pouting will not sway me.”
She walked over to the anvil and ran her fingers along the curved surface. “Thank you for that. It must feel good to pound away your frustrations out here.”
“If I am frustrated, I clean my shop and go do something else. A clear mind means good work. If I make something when I’m distracted, it often goes in the scrap barrel for another day.” He gestured toward a fifty-gallon drum in the corner.
She saw a number of metal pieces sticking out of it. “I hope we are not the cause of these failed projects.”
Amish Christmas Twins Page 6
