The Protector

by Shelley Shepard Gray

  “Where?” A split second later, he stepped back in alarm, his eyes wide. “Oh! Watch out! The thing just jumped.”

  Mattie would have grinned if she wasn’t so scared. However, his fright made her braver. Little by little, she scooted closer. “I told you. It’s enormous.”

  In front of her, Graham’s muscles tensed. She watched him hesitate, then roll up the latest edition of the Budget into a paper sword.

  “My daed isn’t going to like you using that.”

  “He’s going to like living with this . . . beast even less. Watch out now.” Like a fencer, he charged the spider. The spider, of course, scurried out of the way.

  Graham straightened, obviously flummoxed. “Where did it go?”

  “There!” Mattie pointed to the top of the butcher block.

  Graham attacked again. Splat! went the paper. But the spider was quicker. It darted out and literally hopped three inches.

  “Ach!” Mattie screamed again, unable to help herself. When Graham grunted, slammed down the newspaper, and missed, she scanned the table and found it next to her mother’s glass vase filled with flowers. “There it is!” she said, pointing.

  Down went the newspaper.

  With a resounding crash, the vase broke, leaving a trail of broken glass and water in its wake.

  But Graham beamed triumphantly. “I got it!”

  Mattie peeked around his shoulder and wrinkled her nose. “You got it, all right. But—oh, what a mess. The spider is on the paper, on the butcher block, too. Graham. Did you really have to put quite so much force behind your attack?”

  “I’m afraid I did, Mattie. See, I hardly know my own strength.”

  “Oh, brother.”

  Looking almost contrite, he said, “I am sorry about the vase. I thought my aim was a bit better.”

  “It wasn’t,” she retorted just as her mother came running in.

  “What in the world is going on? I heard you carrying on when I was parking the buggy,” she explained, looking at the both of them like they were mischievous schoolchildren.

  Just like she used to do when they were mischievous schoolchildren.

  “Oh, nothing, Mamm. Graham was just killing a spider for me.”

  “Only one?” She looked from one to the other and shook her head. “It sounded like you were waging war on a colony of intruders, Graham.”

  “It was mighty big,” Graham said.

  Her mother frowned. “You two broke my vase.”

  “It couldn’t be helped, Mamm,” Mattie replied. “Believe me, you’d rather have the spider gone than a vase in perfect condition.”

  “I would have rather had both.” Looking from one to the other, her mother sighed. “Graham, are you sure you killed it, at least?”

  “Positive.” Looking helpful, he lifted up the paper to show her the remains. “I am sorry about the mess, but it truly was a verra big intruder.”

  Grabbing a handful of paper towels, Mattie said, “I’ll clean it up.”

  Again looking back and forth at them, her mother’s scowl slowly faded away into a full-fledged grin. “Oh, you two. Together, you really are a pair of trouble. Just like when you were small. Some things never change, hmm?”

  She snatched the paper towels from Mattie’s hands. “For now, I think it would be best if I did the cleaning. Mattie, you may go out and clip more flowers for me from the garden. Graham, you may help her carry them.”

  “Danke, Mamm.” Sharing a mischievous look with Graham, Mattie led the way outside. “I truly am grateful for your help with that spider, you know.”

  “I know.”

  “What brings you by here? Other than to kill giant bugs?”

  “Actually, I came for a reason. I need some advice,” he said, taking the wicker basket from her hands and leading the way to her mother’s flower garden.

  “About what?”

  “About Jenna Yoder.”

  “Jenna? What about her?”

  Looking almost embarrassed, he mumbled, “I think she’s pretty. I want to court her.”

  Pure dismay made her stop in her tracks. “When did this come about? I . . . I didn’t know you were interested in courting anyone.”

  Once again, he looked at her like she was being particularly naïve. “Why wouldn’t I want to be courtin’? Most everyone in our group of friends is paired off.”

  That was true. Everyone did seem to have someone. Some, like Lucy and Calvin, and Corrine, were already married. Others had just announced their engagement.

  And still others were falling in love.

  Everyone but her, of course. She’d been busy fighting cancer while others were kissing and flirting and planning their futures.

  Graham swung the basket slightly. “So, what do you know about her? You two used to be friends in school, weren’t ya?”

  “We were.” Thinking of her golden hair, greenish blue eyes, and perfect smile, Mattie struggled for something to say. “Jenna is a sweet girl.”

  “All girls are sweet,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

  “No, they’re not.”

  He sighed. “Mattie, help me out, please. What does Jenna like? What does she like to do? I want to take her on a drive on Saturday afternoon.”

  A pang of jealousy slid through her, as unwelcome as that spider had been. “She likes most anything, I imagine.”

  “That is no help. Tell me something useful.”

  No, she wasn’t being any help at all, Mattie realized with some dismay. Why was she so jealous?

  Graham certainly didn’t deserve that. Thinking quickly, she said, “You know what? Jenna has always liked arts and crafts. She draws well, sews darling little animals for newborns, and has even designed quilts. I’m sure she would enjoy walking around the arts-and-crafts festival.”

  “The one on Chardon Square?”

  She nodded. “There are a lot of exhibits there. You two will be able to walk around and look at all the displays. It will be a gut way to spend some time together.”

  “Danke, Mattie.” Smiling, he said, “She sounds even better than I imagined. Not only is she mighty pretty, but she’s talented, too.”

  “Yes, she’s a wonder.”

  Luckily, Graham didn’t catch her note of sarcasm. “When I see her tomorrow, I’m going to ask her to the fair.”

  She stopped in her tracks. “Mariye? Tomorrow?”

  “Well, jah. I thought I’d stop by her family’s produce market and ask her there.”

  “You’re serious about her, aren’t you?”

  “I am. Well, I hope to be,” he explained, looking boyish.

  For some reason, she didn’t care for that news at all. Until today, it had never occurred to her that one day Graham would court a woman and get married.

  But that, of course, was no way to repay his friendship.

  Not only did he kill bugs at a moment’s notice, but he’d been with her through thick and thin. He’d held her when she’d been so sick with the chemotherapy treatments, and teased her when she’d first shaved her head.

  No matter what, she needed to support him. Even if it made her slightly uncomfortable to imagine him charming some other girl.

  Putting on her very best smile, Mattie reached out and squeezed his shoulder. “I hope she says yes to the fair. And I hope you both have a wonderful-gut time. You deserve it.”

  Pressing his hand to hers lightly, he nodded. “Danke, Mattie.”

  Suddenly, it felt too awkward. She gracefully pulled away from his touch and clasped both hands in front of her. She tried to concentrate on the way the warm breeze felt as it slid under her kapp and caressed her almost bare head.

  Pretended she didn’t mind that she no longer had long, pretty hair like Jenna did.

  Pretended that it didn’t matter that no man in J
acob’s Crossing was eager to take her for a buggy ride or for a walk around an arts-and-crafts fair.

  She supposed things would just stay the same. But obviously, like the appearance of cancer, one just never knew what the future had in store.

  Chapter 4

  “You’re an official landowner now, Loyal,” John Weaver, his uncle, teased from the other side of the counter of his donut-and-coffee restaurant, The Kaffi Haus. “How does it feel?”

  As several of the men in the restaurant looked on with amused smiles, Loyal shrugged. “For the most part, it feels pretty good.”

  “That’s it?” John asked, his expression filled with surprise. “You are the nephew who has something to say about everything.”

  “Not really.”

  “No, I’m afraid I have to tell you differently. Even when you were small you were never satisfied with a simple ‘pretty good’ with anything. Always, you had to expound upon things. Two words were never enough.”

  His uncle’s words embarrassed him. Made him think that perhaps he’d said too much too often. Or, perhaps he’d always liked the sound of his own voice? “Maybe I’ve grown up.”

  “Maybe.” Uncle John looked at him intently—in the way he had of making Loyal feel, with just one look, that he knew his deepest feelings. “Are the bills and the obligations already weighing ya down?”

  “Never. I can handle all of that with no problem.”

  “There’s the Loyal Weaver I remember,” Henry Miller said, making a small toast with his cup. “You always did have confidence to spare.”

  “Only a bit.”

  “It near drove your father to distraction when you were small,” Henry said as he eyed him with a smile. “But then, you were also a great source of pride, too. He’d be proud of you.”

  “I hope so,” Loyal said, feeling his heart expand in his chest. Sitting among his father’s friends brought forth a fresh wave of nostalgia. Being the middle son had always made him feel like he was not quite old enough, that he would never measure up to either his father or Calvin.

  But now, at this moment, it felt like he’d finally made a step forward into adulthood.

  It felt momentous.

  “Owning my own land feels like I expected,” he said after taking another sip of coffee. “Well, it feels like what I’d hoped,” he amended.

  “You’re going to do just fine. You’ve always had a way about you.”

  Actually, the whole situation felt far different than he’d anticipated. For most of his life, he’d yearned to step out of his father’s and Calvin’s shadows. He’d known the only way to do that was to go someplace where he could be in charge. For the last year, he’d been patiently waiting for some land to become available.

  As soon as he’d learned Ella Hostetler was putting her land up for auction, he jumped at the chance. On paper, it had sounded like a wonderful-gut situation. The Hostetler’s land was close to his family’s acreage. He would be nearby but also living a more independent lifestyle. In short, it would give him everything he’d always wanted.

  He’d been able to get the land for a good price, too. His mother was happy. And his brothers, while not necessarily understanding of his excitement, were sure to come around.

  After a few more minutes of ribbing, John said, “I haven’t seen Ella lately, but I hope she is making her adjustment all right.”

  “I hope so as well.”

  Every time he thought about Ella, and the complete look of dismay he’d seen on her face during the auction, a shadow fell upon his mood. He’d convinced himself that he was giving her the opportunity to live a better life in Jacob’s Crossing. Living in the middle of town instead of the outskirts gave her an opportunity to be around more people, to have her dream job of working in the library. After all, everyone knew she’d basically been by herself for the last year, caring for her mother as she had.

  But she’d looked so devastated at the auction, Loyal felt as if he’d just done something terrible. He really should have ignored Calvin’s advice and gone over to talk to her.

  Mr. Schlabach looked him over. “What are you going to do first? Repair the barn or the house? I heard both need a lot of work.”

  “I hope to work on both at the same time. Both are usable, just in need of some elbow grease.”

  One eyebrow rose. “From several elbows.” Looking at the other men at the breakfast bar, John said, “I am thinking next Saturday would be a wonderful-gut time to lend you a hand. What say you?”

  “I’d say I’d be grateful for your hands. And elbows! Danke.”

  “We’re happy to help, aren’t we, men?”

  That, of course, brought along another round of teasing. Then, one by one, they got up and said goodbye. “Good luck to you,” Henry said as he left the donut shop. “See you on Saturday.”

  Taking a tasty bite of his chocolate donut, Loyal waved him and the others off and noticed Ella leaving her house and walking down the sidewalk.

  Her gray dress seemed looser than usual, her pace slow. Actually, her whole body looked tired and depressed.

  Instantly, the guilt came back. No matter how hard he tried to pretend otherwise, he knew he was the cause of her pain.

  There was no way he could stay seated as she walked by. What he needed to do was finally gather his courage and go say something to her. Even if she was mighty angry at him, it was the right thing to do.

  It was surely what his father would have expected of him.

  After a quick wave goodbye to Uncle John, he darted out of the shop and ran across the street. “Ella? Ella, hello!”

  She stopped for him, but even he couldn’t describe her expression as anything less than put-upon as he approached.

  “Gut mariye, Loyal.”

  “Good morning to you.” When she continued to look curiously at him through her glasses, the pretty little speech he’d planned to say went walking. “I was, uh, just having a donut. Want to join me?”

  She froze, looking like he’d just sprouted feathers. “I already had breakfast today.”

  “Oh, I have, too. I ate early. Lucy’s cooking for us now, and she makes a fine breakfast at five A.M.” He closed his eyes as he realized he was rambling. “I’m, uh, just having a little snack. Would you care for one?”

  “A snack?”

  “Yes.”

  “Ah, nee. No, thank you.”

  Loyal supposed he didn’t blame her. Never before had he gone out of his way to talk with her, not even when they were teenagers and both were at the same singings. Actually, he’d gone out of his way to ignore her.

  Remembering how brash he’d been, he tried to connect with her again. “I didn’t know if you’d had breakfast yet. It was just an idea.” Still floundering—floundering terribly—he added, “I can’t seem to stay away from the donuts.”

  Her gaze skimmed his face, then, to his surprise, a reluctant smile formed. “Obviously not.” Pointing to the corner of her lips, she said, “You’ve got a bit of chocolate there.”

  “Do I?” Feeling like he’d lost all his manners, he wiped his face with the side of his hand. “I guess I should be more careful, hmm?”

  “Perhaps.” After another, almost-amused look his way, she started walking again.

  He fell into step beside her. “So, where are you going this morning?”

  “Work.” Beneath the glasses, her brown eyes lit up. “Today is my first day of work at the library.”

  “Are you looking forward to it?”

  “Oh, yes.” Some of that light in her eyes seemed to travel to her cheeks, turning them rosy. The added color did wonderful things to her skin, making it seem almost translucent. All of a sudden, Plain Ella didn’t look plain at all.

  No. All of a sudden, she looked pretty and fresh—and younger, too.

  With another almost-hesitant smile his way,
she continued: “I’ve always loved the library. I feel blessed to work there now.”

  Something about the way she said it gave him pause. She really was looking forward to her job. “What will you do?”

  “Oh, shelve books and check them out, I suppose.” Darting a sideways glance his way, she smiled. “And do whatever else Ms. Donovan asks of me.”

  Her enthusiasm made him smile, both at her and at himself. Selfishly, he’d been only thinking about how different her life was. And that she would be sad because of his part in it.

  Sometimes his ego seemed too big for his head!

  “I hope you have a good day,” he finally murmured, though he ached to say so much more. He wanted to tell her how sorry he was that both her parents had gone to heaven.

  And how bad he’d felt for her circumstances, having to work her land by herself for the last year. And that he was going to do his best by her property. How he would be a good protector of it.

  But how could he put all that into words without seeming too full of himself?

  “I hope you have a pleasant day as well.” She took two steps, then looked his way again. Probably because he was still walking with her!

  “Loyal . . . ah, I hope you won’t take this the wrong way, but please don’t feel guilty about the auction. Or my move.”

  Now he was completely embarrassed. He really should have said something earlier. “I don’t,” he fibbed. At her look of confusion, he amended his words. “Well, not too much.”

  “You shouldn’t feel guilty at all. I’m the one who put it for sale. Not you.”

  “But I was anxious to have the land,” he admitted, his cheeks heating.

  To his amazement, she chuckled. “That’s the way of auctions, don’tcha think? Someone has to buy what’s offered.”

  “I suppose . . .”

  “I just want you to know that, since someone had to buy my farm, I’m glad it was you.”

  “Really?” He couldn’t have been more surprised. Or humbled.

  “You care about the land.”

  She swallowed, finally losing some of that careful reserve he’d spied under her frames.

  “And, um, you’ve always been a nice person.”