“Here, let me take her.” He lifted Hannah off her lap.
Mary rubbed some feeling back into her arm. “She’s getting heavy. I don’t know how she has grown up so quickly.”
“My mother used to threaten to tie a brick on top of my hat so I wouldn’t grow so fast.” Joshua settled Hannah over his shoulder and extended a hand to help Mary down from the cart.
“Did it work? Maybe I’ll try it.”
“It didn’t work for any of her sons.”
Mary hesitated to take his hand, but her common sense won out. He was just being kind. She had to keep reminding herself of that. She allowed him to help her down and then quickly stepped away from him, still rubbing her tingling arm. She reached for Hannah, but Joshua shook his head.
“I’ll take her to bed if you’ll show me the way.”
“All right.” She walked up to the house and held the door for him.
Ada was unpacking the baskets they had taken into town. Mary said, “Leave them, Ada. I’ll take care of them as soon as I get Hannah into bed.”
“Danki, child. I don’t know why I’m so tired.”
“It was an emotionally difficult day,” Joshua said.
“It was. Guten nacht, all.” Ada walked down the hall to her bedroom at the rear of the house.
Mary led Joshua up the narrow staircase to the second floor. She opened the door to Hannah’s room and turned on the battery-operated lamp she kept on Hannah’s bedside table. Joshua laid Hannah gently on her bed and stepped back.
He treated her daughter with such tenderness. If nothing else about him appealed to her that would. The trouble was everything about him pleased her.
Mary removed Hannah’s prayer kapp and shoes and quickly changed her into her nightgown without waking her. Joshua crossed to the window and opened it to let in the cool night air as Mary tucked the sheets around Hannah and kissed her forehead.
“She’s a sweet child,” he said softly.
“She is the sun and the stars.”
They left the room together. Mary closed the door quietly. Then it was just the two of them in the dark hall. His nearness sent a tingle of awareness across her skin like a soft evening breeze. He smelled of wood shavings and his own unique scent that she remembered from their time together in the cellar. She stepped back and crossed her arms. “I hope you are comfortable in the spare room.”
“Compared to the backseat of my buggy and the chairs we tried to sleep in night before last, the spare bed felt wunderbar.”
“Was it only two days ago? It seems like ages.” She began walking down the stairs.
“A lot has happened since then. I got to meet Delbert.”
Mary tried to smother her smile but it broke free, anyway. “Was the ride with him comfortable?”
“I wouldn’t say it was comfortable. My arm was mighty tired of hanging on to the edge of the seat by the time we reached town.”
“Delbert is a good man. I shouldn’t make fun of him.”
“He’s a hard worker. Not fast, but he gets the job done.”
Crossing to the stove, she stoked the coals and placed a kettle over the back burner when the embers flared to life. Although the Ordnung of their church allowed propane stoves, Ada refused to get rid of her wood-burning one.
“Would you like some tea?” Mary wanted to prolong their time together. She shouldn’t. She should go to bed and forget he was even in the house.
Like that’s going to happen.
“I would love some tea. Danki.” He took a seat at the table.
Suddenly nervous, Mary finished unpacking the baskets, making a mental list of the things she would need to take with her in the morning. After putting out a pair of white mugs, she placed a tea bag in each one. She could feel Joshua’s gaze on her as she moved around the kitchen. He didn’t speak. Thankfully, the kettle began to whistle. She took it from the stove and filled the waiting mugs.
She carried them to the table and handed him one. “I would’ve thought you could have found a ride to Berlin with some of the Englisch volunteers.”
“I did think of that, but by then I had seen the extent of the destruction and I wanted to help. I can stay a few days. The vet told me Oscar won’t be fit to travel for at least a week unless I have him trailered home. You wouldn’t believe the number of injured horses and cattle that have been brought in. To say nothing of the dogs and cats.”
“So you’re staying for a week?” A flicker of excitement shimmered through her.
“Oh, I don’t have to stay here for that long. I can find somewhere else.”
Don’t make it seem important.
“I reckon the chair in your great-uncle’s basement is still available.”
Joshua chuckled. “As a last resort, I’ll keep that in mind.”
Mary took a sip of her tea. “You can stay with us. Ada won’t mind and Hannah will love having you. I can ask Nick to have Oscar brought here. We can look after him for you. We have room in the barn. It’s the least we can do.”
“That would be great. I’ll pay you for his keep.”
“There are plenty of chores you can do. The corncribs are going to have to be rebuilt before fall.”
“I’ll see what I can do after I get back from Hope Springs tomorrow.”
Mary sighed deeply. “This is not what I imagined I’d be doing a week ago.”
“What do you mean?”
“Sorting through the wreckage of people’s homes and lives, looking for something to salvage for them.”
“It’s not something anyone imagined. It’s just what needs to be done.”
“You sound very practical.”
“Do I? My family often accuses me of being the dreamer. The fellow who always thinks he can make things better, help people change.”
“Do I detect a hint of bitterness?”
He dunked his tea bag up and down without looking at her. “Sometimes people don’t want to change.”
“Sometimes they don’t know how,” she said gently.
“He knows how. He just won’t.”
“Someone in your family?”
Joshua shook his head. “I don’t want to bore you with our problems.”
“You saved my life. Feel free to bore me. Sometimes talking helps.”
He hesitated, then said, “I have a brother who left.”
“Left the Amish?”
Joshua hunched over his cup, staring at it intently. “Ja. Luke got in with bad company. He got into drugs.”
“It happens.” She rubbed the scar on her wrist. Her past was checkered with bad company and all the trouble it had brought her. Hannah was the only good thing to come out of that horrible time.
Joshua sat back. “Nee, Mary, it doesn’t just happen. My brother made a choice. He hurt a lot of people.”
“Including you?”
“Including me and everyone in our family.”
“I’m sure he regrets that.”
Joshua sneered. “Not that I can see.”
“Where is he now?”
“Far away.”
He looked so sad. She wanted to reach out and comfort him, but she held back. “I’m sorry.”
“Danki, but it doesn’t matter. He is my brother and I love him, but he is lost to us.”
“Perhaps not. With God, all things are possible. I’ll pray for him.”
“You are a good woman, Mary.”
The look he gave her warmed her all the way through. She basked in the glow of his compliment. When had she started needing someone’s praise?
When he started giving it. When he called her brave outside the cellar.
Had it only been yesterday morning? It seemed as if she had known him for years.
He took
a sip of tea. “Tell me how you ended up being adopted by two Englisch people? That’s got to be unusual for an Amish girl.”
She came back to reality with a thud. When he learned about her past, he would know she wasn’t good and she wasn’t brave. She took one last sip of her tea and carried the mug to the sink. “It’s a long story. I think I will save it for some evening when I’m not so tired.”
“Sure. I understand.”
She left him sitting at the table and went to her room, but it was a long time before she fell asleep.
* * *
Someone was patting his face. Joshua cracked one eyelid. Hannah was bending close.
“Are you awake?” she whispered.
“Maybe.” He glanced toward the bedroom windows. Only a faint pink color stained the eastern horizon.
“Mamm said I wasn’t to bother you until you were awake.”
He sat up stiffly and rubbed his face with both hands. “Okay. I’m awake. What do you need?”
“The wagon has a broken wheel.”
Did they have a wagon as well as a cart? He didn’t remember seeing one. How did a wheel get broken at this hour? “Do you mean the cart has a broken wheel?”
“Nee, my wagon does.” She shoved a wooden toy in front of his face.
He took it from her and held it out where he could focus on it. The rear axle was broken and the right rear wheel was split in half. “This looks bad.”
She held her hands wide. “I know. I can’t take my chickens to market without it.”
He heard the faint clatter of pans in the kitchen downstairs. Was Mary up already? He sighed heavily. He’d gotten out of the habit of rising early when he was in prison. There was no point. He stared at the broken toy. “How did this happen?”
Hannah spun to glare at Bella, sitting quietly behind her. “She got in it and she was too big.”
The Lab perked up and wagged her tail happily.
The image of the eighty-pound dog trying to fit in a toy wagon that was only ten inches wide made Joshua look closely at Hannah. Something wasn’t right. “Are you sure that’s how this happened?”
Hannah stared at her bare feet. “I wanted her to get in, but she wouldn’t. So I showed her how to jump in and the wheel broke.”
“You jumped in the wagon?”
“Only because Bella wouldn’t do it.”
“I think the results would have been the same either way, but it’s not right to blame Bella for something you did.”
“I know. But can you fix it? Mamm says she can’t.”
He could if he was home and in his father’s workshop. He didn’t have the tools he would need to fashion the parts here. He hated to admit he couldn’t help so he tried a different approach. “I’m afraid we’ll have to take it to a wheelwright. Is there a buggy maker in these parts?”
“Levi Beachy makes buggies in Hope Springs.”
“If his business hasn’t blown away, I’ll take your wagon in and see what he can do. It needs a new axle as well as a wheel. But Hannah, a lot of folks need their wagons and buggies repaired, too. Ones that aren’t toys. It might take a while for it to get fixed.”
“Okay. I guess I’ll take my chickens to market next week.”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t be more help.”
She picked up a cardboard box with paper cutouts of chickens in it and headed to the kitchen. “That’s okay. Mamm, Joshua is awake!”
Mary peeked around the door frame. He managed a little wave. She gave her daughter the same look Hannah had turned on Bella. “Did you wake him up?”
“Bella did.”
He couldn’t let that slide. “Hannah, what did I tell you?”
Her little shoulders slumped. “That it’s not right to blame Bella for things I do.”
Mary frowned. “So you did wake him.”
“Only because Bella wouldn’t do it. Do I have to go to the corner in the kitchen now?”
“Ja, right this minute.” Mary pointed toward the stairs. Bella followed Hannah with her head down and her tail between her legs.
Mary dried her hands on her apron. “I’m sorry, Joshua. You can go back to sleep for a while. She won’t bother you again.”
“I’m awake. I might as well see what can be salvaged of your corncribs after I take care of the horses.”
“All right. Would you feed the chickens and the cow, too, while you are out there?”
“Sure. Do you want me to milk the cow?”
“Ada will milk her. They get along. She likes to kick everyone else.”
“Ada does?”
Mary giggled. He adored the sound. “Nee, Rosie the cow does.”
“Then I’ll leave milking Rosie to Ada.”
Mary turned around and left. Scratching his head and yawning, he headed for the bathroom. If he kept moving, he’d wake up. Every muscle in his body ached. It had been months since he’d done as much physical labor as he’d done yesterday, and it showed.
Twenty minutes later, he was wide-awake and pitching hay from the open door of the barn loft down to the horse, the pony and a doe-eyed brown-and-white Guernsey cow. His stiff muscles were loosening up and the fog had lifted from his brain. A decent night’s sleep could do wonders for a man. As could walking outside without seeing high barbed-wire fences and guard towers.
He had stayed up late last night writing a letter to his parents. He wanted to share his thoughts, and he knew it would ease his mother’s mind to hear more from him. It had been hard to describe the damage he saw and how the lives of people had been altered in Hope Springs, but it had been easy to write about Mary, Ada and Hannah. He might have written too much about Mary, but everything seemed to revolve around her.
He drew a deep breath as he leaned on his pitchfork and watched dawn break over the land. The springtime air was fresh and crisp. Thick dew covered the grass and sparkled where the sunlight touched it. If he faced south from the hayloft door, he could see fields of young corn just a few inches tall. By late summer, it would be higher than a man’s head and by winter it would be stacked in rows of shocks waiting to feed the cattle. It was good land. A man could make a fine living for his family farming it. At the moment, it was green and brimming with the promise of new life.
“Joshua, breakfast is ready,” Mary called from the front porch.
“Coming.” He tossed one more forkful of hay to the animals and went down the hayloft ladder. When he came out of the barn, he saw the sheriff’s white SUV coming up the lane.
Joshua’s joy in the morning vanished as dread seeped in to replace it. The one thing he hadn’t included in his letter was Mary’s relationship to an Englisch lawman.
The vehicle rolled to a stop in front of the house. The passenger-side door opened and Miriam stepped out with a friendly smile on her face. “Good morning, Joshua. I thought you would have been well on your way home by now.”
Nick got out, too. His smile wasn’t near as friendly. Joshua fixed his gaze on the ground. “I thought I would stay for a few days and help with the cleanup.”
“All help is appreciated,” Nick said. He and Miriam both looked weary.
She sighed deeply. “Yes, it is, and sorely needed. I don’t know how the town will ever recover from this.”
Joshua couldn’t think of anything to say. Fortunately, Hannah came flying out of the house just then. “Papa Nick, can you fix my wagon?”
He scooped her up in his arms. “What happened to your wagon?”
“Bella—” Hannah glanced at Joshua and lowered her face. “I mean—I jumped in it and it broke. Bella didn’t do it.”
“You are just in time to eat,” Ada said from the doorway. “Come in.”
“I was hoping you’d ask.” Nick set Hannah on the ground and they all went toward the house.
Breakfast was a feast. Mary had prepared bacon and scrambled eggs. There were fresh hot biscuits with butter and honey and oatmeal with brown sugar and cinnamon. He picked at his food. It was hard to have an appetite when he was seated beside the sheriff. Every bruise, every humiliation Joshua had suffered during his arrest and time in prison came back to choke him. He rubbed his wrists at the memory of handcuffs chafing his flesh. Bile rose in his throat.
Ada poured coffee into the cup in front of him, bringing him back to the present. A rich, enticing aroma rose from the steaming liquid. He grasped the cup and raised it to his lips. It was hot, but the slightly bitter brew settled the nausea in his stomach. He looked up to thank her and noticed that she still had dark circles under her eyes.
Nick seemed to have noticed, as well. “Miriam and I’ll head into town after we’re done with breakfast. Ada, you and Mary don’t need to come in today. There will be plenty of volunteers to help.”
“I think I will remain here. I’ve gotten behind on my own work.” Ada sat down at the table.
Hannah popped up. “Can I go to town with you, Papa Nick?”
“Nee.” Mary shook her head. “Papa Nick has too much to do to look after you in all that chaos. Besides, I need you to stay home and help Mammi.”
“But how will I get my wagon fixed?”
“I’ll see to it,” Joshua assured her. She seemed content with that.
Miriam laid a hand on Mary’s sleeve. “Are you going back today?”
“I am. Betsy and I have signed up for shifts at the food station.”
“You can ride with us,” Nick offered.
“That’s all right. I know you need to get going, and I’m not ready. Joshua and I will take the cart.”
Nick sent Joshua a sharp glance. “As long as you are both careful. The place is a zoo.”
“We will be,” Mary assured him. Joshua kept his gaze on his half-eaten eggs.
“May I have another biscuit? How long are you staying, Joshua?” Nick asked.
“I have to be home by Thursday so I need to leave by Wednesday.”
Amish Redemption Page 9
