“Danki. I appreciate you coming to let me know. I’ll try to talk to him about the importance of education sometime today.”
Shaking his head, David said, “You can try, but like I told Zach yesterday, my sohn isn’t too gut of a listener.” An embarrassed look crossed his face. “I guess the apple don’t fall too far from the tree. I was never much for school, although I see the importance of it now.” He tilted his head in the direction of the blackboard. “If I’d paid more attention to that, it’d be a lot easier to run my business. But when I try to tell that to Jacob, he doesn’t want to hear it. Anyway, I’ve got to get back to work. Let me know if you have any more problems with him.”
“I will.” She walked him to the door, then stepped outside. A few other students had arrived at the playground, and she could see Jacob running after a ball so fast that his hat flew off his head. He ran back to get it and plopped it on his head. The tension in his face was gone. It had been replaced with a grin as he played with two other boys near his age. Jacob seemed to fit in seamlessly with the other kids. But maybe that was just a fluke today, and he was fighting homesickness more than she realized. People masked their pain in different ways.
Her mind went back to her school days, which were only a few years ago but seemed longer. The younger children playing tag under a clear blue sky, with the bright sunshine glinting off their yellow straw hats and white prayer kapps. Then, as now, a few girls were standing in a small group, taking turns whispering to each other behind cupped hands. Jacob and his friends were punching a volleyball back and forth even though there wasn’t a net, the same way Zach and the other boys had done.
And her standing apart.
Although now she didn’t look at this group of kids and wish she could be a part of them. She was a part of this group. They were her class, and they would learn and grow together. That included Jacob, God willing.
She called out to the students, telling them to come inside. They all ran toward the schulhaus, those who were barefoot grabbing their shoes and carrying them inside. Jacob was the last one, and he dragged the toes of his shoes on the ground as he walked. He moved to go inside the schoolhouse, but Ruth stopped him.
Ruth said a quick prayer, asking God to give her the words to reach this child. “I’d like to talk to you for a moment before we start the day.”
He looked up at her, his hooded eyes barely open. “I already said I was sorry. What more do you want?”
“Jacob, there’s no need to be angry. I’m trying to help you.”
“I don’t need no help.” He wiped his nose with the top of his forearm. “Especially from you. I’m only here because mei daed made me come. But I ain’t gonna learn nothin’, and you can’t make me.”
“You’re right. I can’t make you.”
Surprise crossed his face, and he opened his eyes a little wider. “What?”
“I can’t force you to learn. My job is to help you learn. I can’t do that when you’re not in school.”
Although he was just thirteen, he was nearly equal to her in height. “I don’t wanna be here, and don’t act like you want me here.”
“But I—”
He walked inside, leaving her with her mouth dangling open. So much for reaching him. But at least he went inside and didn’t run away. Thank You, Lord, for small favors.
For the next week, Stephen went to the Coblentz farm every evening. Just as Deborah had warned, Moses wasn’t happy about it.
“You’re here again?” Moses growled as Stephen approached him in the barn at the end of the week.
“Now that’s a fine greeting.” Stephen grinned, but it faded when he saw the old man’s stern expression.
“We agreed you’d help out for a couple of days. Temporarily. Remember?”
“I know. But Deborah and Naomi are busy canning vegetables from the garden, and you need to get the corn in. Plus there’s the fence that needs fixing, the roof in the barn is leaking—”
“You think I don’t know all that?” Moses leaned against the horse stall. The dappled mare whinnied and took a step back. The old man looked up at Stephen, weariness seemingly permanently etched in the lines and crags on his face. “Maybe I should just sell it.”
“Sell the farm?” Stephen looked at him, incredulous. “Why would you do that?”
“I can’t keep relying on your charity.”
“It’s not charity—”
“And I know mei dochders can’t take care of the place themselves.” He looked down at the ground. “It would be different if they were married. But I can’t see that happening any time soon.”
Stephen wondered if exhaustion combined with grief over Martha’s death had clouded Moses’ mind. It was unusual for a woman Naomi’s age to still be single, but that didn’t mean she’d never get married. And as for Deborah . . . he had no doubt she’d get married. There was something special about her. The way her eyes filled with love when she looked at her son. Her thoughtfulness in making sure Stephen had something to eat, despite him refusing supper before. Then there was the shy way she’d looked at him the other evening in the kitchen, when he’d accidentally bumped into her. He hadn’t realized how pretty she was until that moment. No, she didn’t have to worry about not getting married. Any man would be lucky to have her.
Moses’ deep sigh brought him out of his thoughts. “You don’t need to give up yet, Moses. Helping you isn’t work for me. I enjoy it. And I’m learning a lot. So don’t worry about not being able to pay me or taking advantage of me.” He looked down at the man. “I don’t know what else I can say to convince you, other than this. Think about your grosssohn. If you sell the farm, what will his legacy be?”
Moses blinked a couple times, and Stephen thought he saw his lip tremble. “I hadn’t thought about that. You’re right. This will all be his someday, Lord willing.” With renewed energy he stood up. “Let’s get back to work.”
Relief ran through Stephen. He followed Moses outside to the south end of the barn. He looked up to see several five-inch gaps and holes in the roof.
“There’s the ladder.” Moses pointed to the six-foot-tall metal ladder leaning against the side of the barn. “You’re not afraid of heights, are you?”
“As tall as I am, I better not be.”
Moses laughed, making Stephen grin. The speed with which the man could switch moods was amazing, and in this case, he was glad to see Moses had snapped out of his melancholy.
After checking that his tool belt was secure, he fetched the ladder and started to climb. Once on the roof, he looked down and saw Moses heading for the pasture. Stephen noticed he spent a lot of time out there, repairing the fence, which was broken in a few places. Seeing the sudden slump in the old man’s shoulders, Stephen frowned. Maybe he hadn’t shaken off his sadness after all.
Chapter 14
Deborah sat in the old hickory chair on the front porch, watching her father trod to the back pasture again. Over the past week, he had spent every evening out in that pasture, and tonight was no exception. She saw him disappear beyond the gentle slope, and she sighed. Stephen had mentioned that the fence needed repairing, and undoubtedly her father was doing that. But the memory of finding him disheveled and partly out of his head with grief when she first arrived in Middlefield was never far from her mind. She wanted to talk to him, especially about her mother. No one mentioned Mami anymore, as if she’d never existed. Her connection to her mother was slipping away, and she was trying to cling to it. But like Naomi, her father went to bed right after dark and rose early, often heading outside before sunup.
The pounding of a hammer pulled her gaze to the roof of the barn. Stephen was crouched on the steep incline, working on one of the holes. Even at this distance she could see the strength in his arm as he brought the hammer down, the muscles visible because the short sleeves of his white shirt were rolled tightly above his upper arm. She jerked her head away from the view of the barn, bothered by the sudden surge of attraction she felt.
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br /> She forced herself to ignore Stephen and focus on the job she needed to do. She had been in Middlefield for two weeks and she still hadn’t written to Thomas, mostly because she was busy, but she also had to admit that she had been avoiding the task. After she’d put Will to bed, she sought out some of her mother’s stationery, then grabbed a ballpoint pen and came outside. She ran her finger across the delicate rose drawing at the top of the paper, fighting back tears. Deborah had received many letters from her mother over the past two years, written on this same paper. She brought the tablet to her chest. Would this pain ever go away?
Wiping her nose, she took a deep breath and began the letter. Dear Thomas . . . But for some reason the rest of the words wouldn’t come. Even his image was fuzzy in her mind. She hadn’t thought about his marriage proposal since she’d come back home. If he barely entered her thoughts, how could she even consider marrying him?
She looked at Stephen again. He had moved to another part of the roof. He was still crouched but leaning back, almost to a sitting position. He took off his straw hat and wiped his forehead with the back of his arm, then ran his fingers through his hair, making it mussed and a bit wild-looking. He put the hat back on and went back to work.
She had yet to see Stephen angry or frustrated about anything. Even Will had taken to him, toddling over to him earlier that evening right after he’d arrived. Stephen had scooped him up in one arm and carried him back to her, tickling Will under his chubby chin before handing him over. He was a natural with her son, and she knew he would be a wonderful father someday. If only things were different, then maybe she’d have a chance with a man like Stephen.
But things weren’t different. By now, like in Paradise, everyone knew about Will’s father, about how she had foolishly ignored her Amish faith to be with a Yankee man. Maybe there was a man in Middlefield who could overlook that, like Thomas was willing to do. But what if there wasn’t?
She glanced down at the letter in her lap, then closed her eyes and prayed. She sensed the Lord telling her what was already in her heart—she couldn’t marry Thomas. He might be able to live without love, but she couldn’t. She put the pen to paper and forced herself to write. After quickly signing her name, she took a matching envelope from the box, slipped the letter inside, then sealed it. She hurried to the mailbox at the end of the driveway, placed it inside, and lifted the red flag. As she made her way back to the house, a heaviness settled over her heart, even though she knew she’d done the right thing.
She went back to the porch, intent on gathering the stationery and going back inside. But when she climbed the steps, she heard Stephen call out to her. “Deborah.”
Deborah turned and faced him. The hot and muggy evening had taken its toll on him. Beads of perspiration slid down the sides of his face, and his shirt was soaked. “Can I get you something to drink?” she asked.
He nodded, removing his hat. His face was flushed from the heat. “That would be wunderbaar.”
She dashed inside and fixed him some ice water, using the largest glass she could find. When she came outside he was squeezing himself into one of the plastic chairs on the front porch. “Sit here,” she said, touching the hickory rocker, which was bigger than the chair.
“I’m fine right here.” He smiled and sat down. “See? No problem.”
But he looked uncomfortable, his knees rising up to the level of his chest. She couldn’t help but smile. “Don’t be ridiculous. You can have the rocker. I’ll take the chair.”
He hesitated, then tried to get up, but the chair stuck to his back end.
A laugh escaped her lips. Mortified, she covered her mouth, hoping she hadn’t offended him.
He let out a low, rumbling chuckle. “Guess the chair wants to come with me.” He grinned and set the chair on the porch, then sat in the rocker.
She dropped her hand from her mouth. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh.”
“Why not?” He shrugged, still smiling. “It was funny. And it’s not the first time I’ve tangled with a chair.”
Giggling, she handed him the water. He gulped it down. “Danki. That hit the spot.” He set the glass down on the small table next to the rocker. “I was hoping it would cool down a little tonight. Too bad it hasn’t.” Removing his hat, he ran his large hand through his hair again, making the ends stick up in damp clumps. Then his expression grew serious. “I wondered if I could talk to you about something.”
Deborah sat and watched him, mesmerized. His hair was thick, the locks covering his ears, and she started to wonder how it would feel against her hand. She clasped her fingers together and squeezed them tight. When she realized he was waiting for her answer, she said, “Um, sure.”
“It’s about your daed. I’m a little worried about him.”
A thread of panic wound through her. “Why? Did something happen?”
“Nee, nix. He’s fine, although he seems pretty tired.”
“Ya. I noticed that too.”
“Understandable, considering the circumstances. But I’m more concerned with something he said to me.” Stephen angled his body toward her and leaned forward, resting his forearms against his knees. “He mentioned selling the farm.”
Deborah frowned. “He did?”
Stephen nodded. “Has he talked about that before?”
“Nee, not that I know of.” She paused. “But I was gone for a while and haven’t been back long.” She looked down at her lap, feeling a familiar twinge of guilt. “I could ask Naomi. But I can’t imagine him selling this place. It’s his whole life.”
“He’s worried he can’t keep up with the place. And you were right the other night about him not wanting me to come out here so often. But I think I convinced him that it’s not a bother to me. I like doing the work.” He sat up straight. “I told him I’d help him out as long as he needed me. But he still seems to have some doubts about handling the farm himself.”
She sat back in her chair, dumbfounded. “Do you really think he wants to sell?” Just the thought of it triggered panic.
“I don’t think so, not right now anyway.” At the sound of her relieved sigh, he smiled and said, “Thought you’d be happy about that.”
“I am.” She rubbed her left earlobe. “But I also understand how he feels. I wish I could do more to help him, but keeping up with Will takes up a lot of my time.”
“As it should. Don’t feel guilty for taking care of your sohn, Deborah. That’s what gut mudders do.”
She looked at him, a lump lodging in her throat. He’d said exactly what she needed to hear. “What did you say to make Daed change his mind?”
Stephen leaned back in the rocker. “I told him to think of Will. That was the clincher. But I’m not sure the thought of selling won’t cross his mind again. That’s why I’m telling you about this. I figured you’d want to know.”
Deborah nodded. Despite her efforts, tears slipped out of the corners of her eyes. She averted her gaze and wiped them away.
“Deborah?”
She turned at the sound of Stephen’s deep voice, unable to resist his gentle tone. “I’m all right.”
His brows furrowed. “You’re crying.” He moved forward again. “I’m sorry.”
She shook her head. “It’s not your fault.” More tears flowed, and she fisted her hands. “I feel so stupid.”
“Why?”
“Crying in front of you.” She sniffed, wishing she had a tissue. Even more, she wished she could control her emotions, but the more she tried to stop the tears, the more they betrayed her. She squeezed her eyes shut, as if the action would cease the flow.
She heard the squeak of the porch floor as he got up from the rocker. She didn’t open her eyes, knowing that he was walking away. Her father could never abide his wife’s or daughters’ tears, always leaving the room whenever the waterworks started. She certainly couldn’t blame Stephen for doing the same.
“Deborah. Look at me.”
Opening her eyes, she saw Stephen k
neeling in front of her. It was a strange feeling, looking down on a man she had always looked up to. His dark blue eyes were filled with compassion. “Don’t apologize. You just lost your mudder. You have a right to grieve.”
His kind words touched her soul, making her more vulnerable. “It’s not just that. I’m worried about Daed too. He’s not the same since Mami died. Not that I expect him to be, but he’s so distant sometimes. Then the next minute he seems almost fine, like Mami’s still here but she’s gone to town for the day.” She brushed her cheek with the palm of her hand. “And then there’s Naomi . . .” She gazed down at him. “Never mind. I shouldn’t be telling you all this.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s not your problem. It’s mine.” She wiped her face and tried to force a smile. “I’m sure I’m boring you to death with my self-pity.”
He shook his head. “I’m not bored at all. I wish I could help you somehow.”
“You have, more than enough.” She sniffed and straightened her shoulders. “I’m okay, really.”
Worry creased his forehead. “I don’t think you are.”
He was right, but she didn’t want him feeling sorry for her. “Danki for telling me about Daed. I’ll let Naomi know, and together we’ll watch out for him.” She moved to get up from the chair, but he was in her way.
Taking the cue, he stood, allowing her to stand. She looked up at him, moved by his concern, which only made her want to cry more. Why couldn’t she get her emotions under control? She expected him to step aside and let her pass, but for some reason he remained there, staring down at her with kindness. If she didn’t get away from him, she would break down completely, and she didn’t want him witnessing that. “Did you need something else to drink?” she asked, trying to sound unaffected. But the tremble in her voice gave her away.
“Nee. Deborah, I—”
“Then I should get back inside, in case Will wakes up.” Before he could say anything else, she ran inside and upstairs to her room. Not wanting to disturb Will, she gently sat on her bed, lowered her head into her hands, and sobbed in silence.
The Hearts of Middlefield Collection Page 65
