Leveling a no-nonsense, tell-me-the-truth look at his brother, Adrian repeated himself. “Who is it this time?”
“Edna Hershberger,” Ben admitted and flinched.
“Edna? She’s at least fifteen years older than I am.”
“Her cousin is visiting from Apple Creek. Her younger female cousin. I hear she’s nice-looking.”
“Why does mother keep doing this?” Adrian started walking again. He wasn’t interested in meeting marriageable women. He would never marry again. He had sworn that over his young wife’s grave when he’d laid their son to rest beside her.
“Mother wants to see you happy.”
“I am happy.” The moment he said the words he knew they were a lie.
“No, you’re not. You haven’t been happy since Lovina and Gideon died.”
The mention of his wife and son sent a sharp stab of pain through Adrian’s chest. He bore wounds that would not heal. No one understood that. “I’d rather not talk about them.”
“It’s been three years since Gideon died, Adrian. It’s been eight years since Lovina passed away.”
“For me, it was yesterday.”
God had taken away the people he loved, leaving Adrian an empty shell of a man. An empty shell could not love anyone, certainly not God, for He had stripped away the most important parts of Adrian’s life.
Adrian went through the motions of his faith, but each day it became harder to repeat the platitudes that no longer held meaning for him. Disowning his Amish faith would only lead to being separated from his remaining family. For their sakes he kept his opinions about God to himself.
Ben laid a hand on Adrian’s shoulder. “You can’t blame Mamm for worrying about you.”
Adrian met his brother’s gaze. “Mother needs to accept that I won’t marry again. You can tell her I’ve made other plans for tomorrow evening.”
“What plans?” Ben called after him.
Adrian didn’t answer him. Instead, he walked to the end of his lane and up the road for a quarter of a mile to where a small field of tombstones lay enclosed by a white wooden fence. A fence he painted each year to keep it looking nice.
He opened the gate and crossed the field to where an old cedar tree had been cut down. The stump made a perfect seat for him to sit and visit with his wife and son.
The breeze blew softly across the open field. Beyond the fence he saw fat black-and-white cattle grazing in a neighbor’s pasture. Overhead the blue sky held a few white clouds that changed shape as they traveled on the wind. He took off his hat and looked down at the small tombstones that bore the names of his wife and child.
“It’s another pretty day, isn’t it, Lovina? I remember how much you enjoyed the summer evenings when the days stretch out so long. I miss sitting with you on the porch and watching the sun go down. I miss everything about both of you.”
Tears filled his eyes as emotions clogged his throat. It took a minute before he could go on.
Clearing his throat, he said, “We’ve got a new neighbor. Her name is Faith Martin. I think you’d like her. You should see the strange animals she has. They spit. I think I like sheep better and you know how much I dislike them.”
Clasping his hands together, he leaned forward with his elbows propped on his knees. “Mamm is at it again. She’s trying to fix me up with a cousin of Edna Hershberger. I wish she would learn to leave well enough alone. I don’t want anyone else. You will be my only wife in this life and in the next. If Gideon had lived, it might have been different.”
The tears came back, forcing him to lift his head. “A boy needs a mother, but he’s with you now. I know that makes you happy because it gives me comfort, too.”
He sniffed once and wiped his eyes with the heels of his hands. “I’m not going over to Mamm’s for supper tomorrow. I’m sorry if that disappoints you. I’ve decided to go over to Faith Martin’s. That place needs too much work for a woman alone to do it all. I can spare an hour or two in the morning and again at night. The days are long now,” he added with a wry smile.
The memory of Faith declaring she wasn’t afraid of work slipped into his mind. “She reminds me of you a little bit in the way her chin comes up when she’s riled. She said an odd thing yesterday. She said she didn’t want people here to think she would be a burden. It makes me wonder who made her feel that way in her last community.”
Having said what he needed to say, he rose to his feet. “Enough about our neighbor. Give Gideon a kiss for me. I miss you, Lovey.”
So much so it was hard to put into words. “Sometimes, I wake at night and I still reach for you. But you aren’t there and it hurts all over again.”
As he walked away, he wondered if Faith Martin woke in the night and reached for the husband who was gone.
Chapter Three
Faith woke to the sound of a persistent clanking coming from outside her house. Squinting, she could just make out the hands of the clock on her dresser. Six thirty-five.
Her eyes popped open wide. Six thirty-five! Panic sent her heart racing. Mose would be so angry when he discovered she’d slept late.
Throwing back the sheet, she sat up and stopped as every muscle in her body protested the quick movement. Had he beaten her again? What had she done wrong this time? She couldn’t remember.
Swinging her feet off the mattress, she reached for her clothes. They weren’t on a chair beside the bed. Looking around the strange room, she saw them hanging from a peg on the wall. Her panic dropped away like a stone from her chest. She drew a deep breath.
Mose might be gone, but his imprint remained in her life. In moments of mindless panic like this one. In nightmares that left her weak and shaking in the night.
Faith began to recite her morning prayers, letting the grace of God’s presence wash away her fears and restore her peace.
Dear Lord, I give You thanks for this new day, for my new home and for the strength to face whatever may come my way. I know You are with me, always. Watch over Kyle and keep him safe. If it is Your will, Lord, let him join me here, soon. Amen.
A few years ago her morning prayers had been much simpler. Please don’t let me make Mose angry today. Sometimes, she wondered if she would ever be truly free of him.
She stood and crossed to the open window. The sound of hammering started up again. It was coming from her orchard, but she couldn’t see anyone. What was going on?
She dressed and set to work quickly brushing out her hip-length hair. When it was smooth, she parted it straight down the middle and began to make a tight roll of it along her hair-line pulling all of it together and finally twisting the remainder into a tight bun, which she pinned at the back of her head. With her hair secure, she donned her kapp and pinned it in place. Outside, the clanking continued.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, she buckled on her leg brace, wincing as the padded bands came into contact with her chafed skin. She was paying for all the time she’d spent working and sweating the past few days. She needed to apply more salve to the reddened areas, but that would have to wait. Her priority was finding out what was going on outside.
After leaving the house, she limped to the barn to check on her animals. Copper dozed in her stall. The alpacas, all ten of them, as Faith quickly counted, stood or lay in their pen outside. Relieved, but with mounting curiosity, Faith made her way into the orchard.
A few yards from where she had stopped building fence the evening before, Adrian Lapp was pounding a steel fence post into the ground. He’d already added several stakes along the string she had laid out to mark the boundary of her pen.
What was he doing here? She hadn’t asked for his help. As quickly as her objections surfaced, she swallowed them. Humility was the cornerstone of her Amish faith. Being humble also meant accepting help when help was offered.
Adrian hadn’t seen her yet. She watched as he effortlessly drove in the stakes with a metal sleeve that fit over the top of each post. Compared to the heavy maul she had used to painstakingly
pound each post into the ground, his tool made the job much easier. And he didn’t even have to stand on the wooden box she had used just to reach the top of the six-foot-tall t-posts.
All right, he was strong and tall. It was a great combination when building fences, but that didn’t mean she needed to stand here staring. She had half a mind to go back to the house and let him finish the row, but her conscience wouldn’t let her. This was her property now. She was the one who needed to take care of it.
“Guder mariye,” she called out in her native Pennsylvania Dutch, the German dialect spoken by the Amish. “You’ve done a lot of work while I was lazing abed. Danki.”
He stopped pounding, wiped the sweat from his brow with his shirtsleeve, and nodded in her direction. “Good morning to you, too. You have accomplished quite a bit here yourself.”
His gaze swept across the posts that she’d put in yesterday, the yard she had mown into order with an old scythe and the fresh laundry waving on the clothesline she’d strung between two trees beside the house.
“I could have done more if I’d had a fence post driver such as you have there.” She walked toward him to look at the tool.
“They aren’t expensive. You can pick them up pretty cheap at farm auctions.”
“I will keep that in mind.”
It seemed to Faith that he wanted to say more, but instead, he returned to pounding the post he was working on until he’d sunk it another two feet into the ground.
“I appreciate your help, Mr. Lapp, but I can manage on my own. I’m sure you have plenty of work to attend to.”
“Call me Adrian. I’ve got a few free hours today. Do you have a wire stretcher? I can put up the fencing after I get these posts in if you do.”
“It’s in the barn along with the rolls of woven fence wire I want to use. Are you sure you have time to do this? I hate to impose.”
“I’ll do the posts this morning and come back this evening to finish putting up the wire. Unless you object?” He grabbed another stake, measured off the distance with a few quick steps and began hammering the post into the ground.
“That will be fine.” Other than taking care of her animals, she would have the whole day free to work on the house. Adrian’s help was a blessing she hadn’t anticipated.
Still, she had plenty to do to get the house ready for the social worker’s arrival next Wednesday. Would God understand if she did a little extra work on Sunday? Sundays were days of rest and prayer and a time for visiting with friends and family even if there wasn’t a service.
Since Amish church services were held every other Sunday, she would have another week before she had to face the entire congregation. Would they all be as kind and helpful as her new neighbor? He had a gruff way about him, but his actions spoke loudly of a kind heart.
After watching Adrian work for a few more minutes, Faith realized there was nothing she could do to help him and she was wasting time. She left him to his work and returned to the house giving thanks to God for her neighbor’s timely intervention.
Inside the house she applied salve to her chafed leg, then set about making breakfast and a pot of strong coffee. An hour later, just as she was pulling a pair of cinnamon coffee cakes from the oven, Adrian came to the screen door.
She fought back a smile. With the windows wide open to the morning breeze, she had been sure the smell of her baking would reach him.
He said, “I finished the row of posts you had laid out.”
She set the second hot pan on the stovetop. “Already? You’ve saved me a lot of work. Danki. Would you like some coffee?”
He hesitated, then said, “I would.”
When he came inside, her kitchen instantly felt small and crowded. Unease skittered over her skin. She moved away to make more room between them.
He looked for a peg to hang his hat on, but there wasn’t one. He settled for tossing it on the sideboard and took a seat at her table. When he wasn’t looming over her, Faith could breathe better.
He motioned toward the wallpaper with its faded yellow flowers. “You will have a lot to do to make this a plain house.”
“Ja. It will be a big task. Every room is wallpapered.” She tapped the floor with her foot. “This black-and-white linoleum will be fine but there is pink-and-white linoleum in the bathroom.”
The colorful flooring and wallpaper would all have to be taken out. The Amish lived in simplicity, as they believed was God’s will. They avoided loud colors and worldly things such as electricity in order to live separate from the world. Hopefully, the bishop in her new community would give her plenty of time to make over the house from English to Amish.
She would have the option of painting her walls blue, green or gray. The brightly patterned linoleum on the bathroom floor would have to go. She could leave the planks underneath bare or replace the linoleum with a simpler, more modest color. It was all on her list of things to be done. A list she was whittling down much too slowly.
She cut two pieces of coffee cake and carried one of them along with a cup of coffee to the table. Adrian accepted her offering with a nod of thanks. “The county will take down the electric lines leading to the house, but you will have to take down the ones leading to the barn.”
“I know. At least the gas stove still works and I was able to have the propane tank filled before I arrived.”
Fetching a cup of coffee and a piece of cake for herself, she said, “I’ve cooked on a wood-burning stove, but I’m not a good hand at it.”
Adrian’s look of sympathy said it all. She sat down at the table with a heavy sigh. “I take it the Ordnung of this church district doesn’t allow propane cook stoves?”
“Nee, we do not. The stove must be wood-burning or coal-burning. But you may have a propane-powered refrigerator and washing machine.”
The thought of chopping wood or hauling coal on top of her other chores was enough to dampen her spirits. She glanced sadly at the stove. It was old, but it worked well. She would hate to see it go.
It was always this way when she moved to a new community. Each Amish church district had their own rules about what they allowed and what they didn’t. Each bishop in charge of a district often interpreted those rules differently.
She had lived in several communities that used tractors in the fields instead of horses. When they’d lived in Mifflin County, Pennsylvania, their church district permitted members to drive only yellow buggies, another place only gray ones. Here in Hope Springs the buggies were black.
She would have to make all new kapps for herself, too. The women of each district wore distinctive patterns. She would get around to that if, and only if, she met with the approval of this community and they voted to accept her as a new church member.
If they didn’t accept her, she would have to look for another nearby district who would or live as an outsider. “I must meet with your bishop soon.”
“Bishop Zook is a good man. He will help you learn your way among us.”
“Is he a good preacher?” she asked, half in jest. Church services often lasted three or more hours.
“I’ve only fallen asleep twice during his sermons.” Adrian didn’t crack a smile, but she saw the twinkle of humor in his eyes. It surprised and delighted her.
“Then he must be wunderbarr. I’m looking forward to my first church Sunday already.”
Adrian changed the subject. “Are you a relative of Mrs. Delker, the woman who used to own this place?”
“No, but Mose, my husband, was a grandchild of hers. I inherited this farm after he passed away. It’s odd really, because he never once mentioned owning a farm in Ohio.”
“I tried to buy it from him about five years ago.”
“Did you? That must have been when we were raising chickens in Nebraska. Why did he say he wouldn’t sell?”
They had certainly needed the money. The chicken houses had been another of her husband’s failed business ventures. They’d left Nebraska owing money to everyone from the feed stor
e to their landlord. Only Mose’s last venture, buying her first four alpacas, had actually turned out well.
She never understood how her husband talked people into loaning him money for his wild ideas or how he could just pick up and walk away without looking back or even feeling badly for those who’d lost money because of him. Every time they moved, they left hard feelings behind.
Would this new community receive her into the church if they knew her husband had left debts unpaid all across the Midwest? She was sorry now that she had mentioned Nebraska to Adrian.
“Your husband didn’t give a reason why he wouldn’t sell. He never answered my letters.”
She wanted to tell Adrian how lucky he was not to have done business with her husband, but she wouldn’t speak ill of the dead. She rose and took her cup to the sink. “We moved around a lot. Perhaps your letters missed him.”
“Perhaps. Do you find it hard to talk about him?” he asked quietly.
“Yes.” She kept her back to Adrian. It was hard to talk about Mose because there was so little she could say about him that was good.
“I understand.”
The odd quality in his tone made her look at him closely. The pain in his eyes touched her heart. Why was he so sad?
He rose abruptly and crossed the room to pick up his hat. “I must be going.”
“Wait a moment.” She quickly wrapped the remaining coffee cake in a length of cheesecloth and added a small package wrapped in brown paper and string to the top. She held it out to him. He stared at her as if he didn’t understand.
“It’s a small token of my appreciation for all your hard work. A pair of socks made from my alpaca yarn. Please tell your wife that she is welcome to visit anytime. I’m sure she and your children will enjoy meeting my animals.”
Adrian blinked back the sudden sting of tears. Gideon would have loved to have seen Faith’s animals and Lovina would have liked this new neighbor with her determined ways. It was so unfair that their lives had been cut short. So unfair that he had to go on living without them.
The Farmer Next Door Page 3
