On Her Own

by Wanda E. Brunstetter

  Zachary darted across the grass like a colt kicking up its heels and bounded onto the porch. When Joseph jerked the screen door open, both boys scampered into the house.

  Barbara glanced across the yard. Aaron was seated on the swing hanging from the maple tree, kicking at a clump of grass with his bare toes.

  Lord, please give me the right words, Barbara prayed as she headed for the swing.

  Aaron looked up. “I suppose that tattletale Joseph told you we was sayin’ things about Paul Hilty,” he said with a lift of his chin.

  She nodded. “Did you tell your brother that Paul was mean and trying to butter him up?”

  He nodded. “Jah, and I meant it, too.”

  “That wasn’t nice, and it’s not true.”

  He grunted. “You haven’t seen the way that bossy fellow treats me whenever I’m in the harness shop. He acts like I’m dumm or something.”

  “I’m sure Paul doesn’t think you’re stupid, Aaron.”

  “Jah, he does.”

  “Are the jobs Paul has given you any different from the ones you did for your daed?”

  He dropped his gaze to the ground. “Not really, but—”

  “Then why do you think Paul’s treating you differently?”

  He shrugged.

  “You’re still young, Aaron, and Paul’s giving you jobs you’re able to do. If you keep doing them well, I’m sure Paul will give you other jobs as he sees that you’re capable of doing them.”

  Aaron stared straight ahead.

  “You need to give Paul a chance to get to know you better,” Barbara said. “Maybe you should have gone fishing with us. Then you’d have seen for yourself that he’s not mean.”

  “Humph! All Joseph’s been talkin’ about since Saturday is that dumb old fishin’ trip and how much fun he had with Paul.” Aaron wrinkled his nose. “Paul favors my little brothers—that’s for certain sure.”

  Barbara knelt and touched Aaron’s knee. “That isn’t true, son. Paul has reached out to Joseph and Zachary, but they’d also reached out to him. If you would give the man half a chance, you and he could become friends, too.”

  Aaron started pumping the swing. “I don’t care if he takes ’em fishin’ every day of the week. I’m never gonna like him!”

  Barbara wanted to say more, but the words wouldn’t come. It wasn’t likely anything she had to say would change Aaron’s mind. That would have to come from Paul, and since he wouldn’t be staying around Webster County much longer, she doubted there could be a resolution. All the more reason she had to get back to work as soon as possible. If Aaron helped her instead of Paul, he would be more agreeable.

  “Your brothers are having cookies and milk up at the house,” she said. “If you’ve a mind to join them, I’m sure there’s plenty left.”

  Aaron kept swinging. Barbara walked away with a sick feeling. Her oldest boy was becoming more belligerent all the time. If he didn’t come to grips with his father’s death soon, would he carry the resentment clear into his adult life? She had to find some way to help him. Maybe if she spoke to her father, he could get through to Aaron.

  Barbara headed for the house. When she stepped into the kitchen, she was greeted with a mess. Joseph and Zachary sat at the table with chocolate all over their faces and crumbs covering their light blue cotton shirts. The cookie jar was nearly empty, and an empty bottle of milk sat beside it. The milk was on the floor.

  “What happened?” Barbara yelled. “Just look at the disaster you two have caused!”

  Joseph gave her a sheepish look. Zachary continued to munch on his cookie.

  “Sorry, Mama,” Joseph said. “The milk spilled on the floor.”

  Barbara grabbed a sponge from the kitchen sink. So much for the quiet Sunday morning she’d hoped to have. First Aaron’s impossible attitude, and now this!

  The baby started to howl from the crib in the next room.

  “The boppli’s awake,” Joseph announced.

  “I can hear him.” Barbara tossed the sponge onto the kitchen table. “Here, Joseph. Please get things cleaned up while I tend to Davey.” She marched out of the room before he had a chance to respond. Tomorrow she would work in the harness shop no matter how tired she felt. At least that might bring some sense of normalcy to her life.

  Chapter 14

  For the next several weeks, Barbara forced herself to get out of bed early, feed the boys, and send them to her folks’ house. With a renewed sense of determination, she worked in the harness shop three days a week, taking breaks only for lunch and to feed the baby. On the days her father had physical therapy, she took Aaron to the shop so he could help. Dad’s hands had become stiffer, but the therapy and wax treatments seemed to help some.

  At Barbara’s request, her father had spoken to Aaron about his attitude. The boy wouldn’t open up to his grandpa, but he seemed a little more compliant while working at the shop. Barbara suspected it might be because she was there, too.

  As Barbara cleared the breakfast table, she noticed for the first time in many weeks that her energy level was actually up. Maybe it’s because my appetite’s back, she mused. Or it could be because I’m back doing what I love best—making and repairing leather items. Maybe I can start working full-time soon.

  She placed a stack of dishes in the sink and ran water over them. It wasn’t easy being a full-time mother and running a business, but she enjoyed the work and it did support her family.

  “I’m ready to go when you are, Mama.”

  Barbara turned at the sound of Aaron’s voice. “I’ve still got to feed the boppli. Why don’t you head out to the shop. Zachary and Joseph are already at Grandma’s, so I’ll be along shortly.”

  Aaron’s dark eyebrows drew together. “I’d rather wait for you.”

  “But Paul might need you for something.”

  Aaron stared at the floor. “Do I have to go now?”

  “Jah.”

  Aaron huffed and turned toward the door. “Don’t be too long, okay?”

  “If I can get your wee bruder to cooperate, I shouldn’t be more than half an hour or so.” Barbara’s heart went out to her melancholy son. “Naemlich do, Aaron,” she called.

  “I love you, too.”

  The door clicked shut, and Barbara hurried into the next room to get the baby. She prayed things would go all right between Aaron and Paul today. She prayed that her full strength would return soon, too.

  “Here’s that bread you wanted, Papa,” Nadine said, as she handed John a loaf of bread with an overly browned crust.

  He grimaced. “What happened? Did you forget to check on it while it was baking?”

  “Papa, I—”

  “You’re fourteen years old, daughter. You ought to be able to bake a loaf of bread without burning it.”

  Nadine’s chin quivered, and her blue eyes filled with tears. “I’ll make another batch, and I promise I won’t leave the kitchen until it’s done baking.”

  He shook his head. “Never mind. I need to call on Barbara Zook so I can get back to work here.” He held up the bread and studied it intently. “Only the crust is overly brown; I’m sure it’ll taste okay.”

  “Papa’s right,” Betty put in as she put away the orange juice. “Some of the bread I’ve made has been overly brown, but it tasted fine and dandy just the same.”

  “How come you’re calling on Barbara again?” Nadine asked. “Didn’t you, Mary, and Hannah go there not long ago?”

  “That’s right, we did,” Mary said as she washed dishes. “Doesn’t Barbara have time to make bread?”

  “I—I don’t know if she’s had time for baking or not,” John sputtered. “She’s got her hands full taking care of the boppli right now, and she’s still looking pretty tired, so I’m sure she would appreciate the bread.” He took a seat at the table. Maybe now’s the time for me to tell the girls what’s on my mind.

  “How come you’re sitting down, Papa?” Nadine asked. “I thought you were in a hurry to get to Barbara�
�s.”

  “I am in a hurry, but it can wait a few minutes.” He motioned to the four empty chairs across from him. “Why don’t you all have a seat? I’d like to say something to you.”

  “But I’ll be late for work,” Betty said as she reached for her lunch pail sitting on the counter near the door.

  “This will only take a minute.”

  Betty and Nadine took a seat, and the two youngest girls dried their hands and did the same.

  John cleared his throat a couple of times.

  “What’s wrong, Papa? Have you got something caught in your throat?” Mary questioned with a worried frown.

  “Do you need a drink of water?” Nadine asked.

  He shook his head. “I’m fine. Just trying to think of the best way to say what’s on my mind.”

  The girls stared at him with curious expressions.

  He drew in a sharp breath and released it quickly. “The thing is. . .your mamm’s been gone over half a year now, and things have been kind of confused around here without her.”

  The girls nodded soberly.

  “And I’ve concluded that I need another wife—someone who’ll make a good mudder for all of you.”

  Betty’s eyebrows shot up, Nadine’s mouth dropped open, and the two youngest girls stared at him with wide-eyed expressions. Betty spoke up. “I don’t think we need a new mother, Papa. Me and the sisters are getting along just fine.”

  The other three girls nodded.

  “No one could ever take our mamm’s place,” Nadine put in.

  John gripped the edge of the table. He was botching things up badly and needed to think of something to say that would smooth things over with his girls. “Of course no one could ever take your mamm’s place. She was a loving mudder and a faithful fraa. Your mamm will always be with us in here,” he said, touching his chest with the palm of his hand.

  The girls’ heads bobbed up and down in agreement.

  “Even so,” he continued, “I think it would do well for me and be good for you if I got married again.”

  Betty leaned forward, her elbows on the table, as she gazed at him. “Have you got someone in mind?”

  He nodded. “Barbara Zook.”

  “What?” Betty and Nadine said in unison.

  “I said—”

  “But, Papa, Barbara’s a lot younger than you, and—”

  John held up his hand to halt Betty’s words. “Your mamm wanted to give me more kinner, but that didn’t happen because we lost her to cancer.” He drew in another quick breath. “Barbara’s still in the childbearing years, and she’s got four kinner of her own, so she would not only be a suitable wife, but she could give me those kinner your mamm wanted me to have.”

  The girls’ mouths dropped open, and they stared at him as if he’d taken leave of his senses.

  He shifted in his chair. The air had become so thick he thought he could have sliced right through it if he’d had a knife in his hands. Maybe he’d said too much. It might have been better just to state the obvious—that he needed a wife and they needed a mother.

  “Have you already asked Barbara to marry you?” Nadine questioned.

  His face heated up. “Well, I did make mention of it.”

  Betty’s pale eyebrows drew together. “Don’t you think we should have some say in this?”

  He puffed out his cheeks. “That’s why we’re talking about it now.”

  Betty shook her head. “But we’re not really talking about it, Papa. You’re telling us what we need and saying you’ve already spoken to Barbara about marrying you. It doesn’t sound to me like our opinion matters much at all.”

  John opened his mouth to reply, but Hannah cut him off. “Has Barbara agreed to marry you?”

  He shook his head. “She said she’d think on it, that’s all.”

  “Do her boys know about this?” The question came from Mary.

  “I don’t think so. . .unless Barbara decided to mention it to them after I left her place the other day.” John reached out and touched the plastic wrap surrounding the loaf of bread sitting in front of him. “Barbara’s been trying to run her husband’s harness shop for nearly a year now—ever since he died. And it’s getting harder for her to keep up with things, which is why she had to hire Paul Hilty to help out. What Barbara needs is a husband to care for her and the boys. She needs someone to protect her from. . .” His voice trailed off, and he turned to look at the clock on the far wall. It was past time for Betty to leave for work. He needed to wrap this conversation up so both he and she could be on their way.

  “Protect her from what, Papa?” Nadine asked.

  “From anyone who might want to take advantage of her.” John pushed away from the table and stood, snatching up the loaf of bread. “I’d better get going, and so should Betty. If Barbara has an answer for me today, then tonight I’ll let you all know what she said.”

  Paul had just entered the back room and was looking over an old saddle when he heard the front door of the shop creak open and then click shut.

  “I’m back here, Barbara,” he called.

  A few seconds later, Aaron came into the room. “It’s me, not my mamm,” he said with a frown.

  “Guder mariye,” Paul responded, hoping the greeting would wipe the scowl off the boy’s face.

  “Mornin’,” Aaron mumbled.

  “Where’s your mamm?”

  “Had to feed the baby. Said she’d be here soon.”

  Paul reached for a clean rag and handed it to Aaron. “Why don’t you rub this saddle down with some neat’s-foot oil while I take care of a few other things?”

  Aaron responded with a muffled grunt, but he did take the rag.

  “If you need me, I’ll be up front at my desk looking over some work orders.”

  “It ain’t your desk,” Aaron muttered. “It belonged to my daed.”

  Paul blew out an exasperated breath. Wouldn’t the boy ever lower his defenses? Couldn’t he see that Paul wasn’t his enemy?

  “I know it’s not my desk,” Paul said. “It was just a figure of speech.”

  No reply.

  Paul stood there a few seconds; then he shrugged and went to the desk. I sure hope Barbara gets here soon. Then she can deal with Aaron.

  Forty-five minutes later, Barbara finally showed up. “Sorry I’m late,” she said breathlessly. “I got the boppli fed okay, but then he wouldn’t burp.”

  “No problem,” Paul replied, barely looking up from the papers on the desk.

  “Is everything going okay?”

  “I guess so.”

  “What have you got Aaron doing?”

  “Oiling a saddle in the other room.” Paul craned his neck in that direction. “It sure is taking him awhile to get it done, though.”

  “Maybe he finished up and found something else to do.”

  “I didn’t give him any other chores.”

  “Would you like me to check on him?” Barbara asked.

  “Sure.”

  She took a step toward the back room but turned around and leaned over the desk. “Are there any new work orders I should know about?”

  When Paul brought his head up, it connected with Barbara’s.

  “Ouch!” they said in unison.

  “Sorry.” Paul rubbed his forehead; then instinctively, he placed his fingers against her head. “Are you okay?”

  “I think so.”

  “I don’t feel a lump anywhere,” he said, swallowing hard. Being this close to Barbara made his heart pound and his hands sweat.

  She stared at him with an anxious expression; then she reached out and touched his forehead. “You, on the other hand, do have a little bump.”

  Barbara’s fingers felt cool, and Paul’s heart pounded even harder when he noticed the tender look in her eyes. An unexpected flame ignited in his chest, and he fought against the sudden urge to kiss her. “I. . .uh. . .it’s nothing to worry about,” he mumbled.

  Barbara pulled her hand away, but her touch lingered in
his mind. His arms ached to hold her. His lips yearned for the touch of hers. This wasn’t good. Not good at all.

  Paul grabbed a work order off the top of the pile. “This one’s the most recent,” he said, handing the piece of paper to Barbara and hoping his trembling hands wouldn’t betray his feelings.

  She pursed her lips as she studied it. “Is this one for the saddle Aaron’s working on?”

  He nodded.

  Her eyebrows drew together. “But this says Harold Shaw wants the saddle repaired, not oiled or cleaned. Haven’t you got Aaron doing something completely unnecessary?”

  Paul sat up straight as the feelings of tenderness he’d had for Barbara dissolved like a block of ice left sitting in the sun. What right did she have to question him like this? Didn’t the woman realize it was good business to clean and oil a saddle that had been brought in for repair? He opened his mouth to say so, but she spoke first.

  “David always asked the customers if they wanted something cleaned or oiled. If they did, he wrote it on the work order so I would know. If not, then we didn’t do it.” She blinked a couple of times. “I don’t see any point in doing something not asked for when there’s lots of other work to be done.”

  A muscle in Paul’s cheek quivered, and he reached up to massage the spot.

  Barbara placed her hand on her hip and stared at him. “Your silence makes me wonder if you disagree with that practice.”

  He shrugged. “This is your harness shop. Who am I to say anything about the way you do business?”

  She tipped her head. “After working together these past few weeks, I think we know each other well enough to be honest. I’d like it if we could express our thoughts and concerns, not clam up or become defensive.”

  He pushed the chair away from the desk and stood. “I’d say you’ve expressed your thoughts clear enough for the both of us.”

  When he started to walk away, she stepped in front of him. “I think we need to talk about this.”

  “I don’t think there’s much to be said.” He grunted. “You see things one way, and I see them another. You’re the boss. I’m just helping out until you’re back working full-time.”