The Hearts of Middlefield Collection

by Kathleen Fuller

  “And that’s my point. If you keep causing trouble for other people and yourself, that will be your problem. I can’t get work anywhere else. I don’t have the best reputation around here because of the stuff I did as a kid. Because of the bad decisions I made. Some of those decisions have cost me money, like the schulhaus. I’m in debt up to my eyeballs over that. But others have cost me the respect of people who are important to me. I don’t want to see that happen to you.”

  “It won’t.”

  “It already is.”

  Jacob looked at him with belligerence. Zach worried that he wasn’t getting through, but then the boy said, “If it’s so important I geh to school, then how come you told Fraulein Byler to get out of here?”

  Zach frowned. “If I’d known you were out there, she would’ve been talking to you.”

  “Nee. I’m not the one who needs to talk to her. You do.”

  “What?”

  “I guess you don’t think school is that important either. Especially reading.”

  “Now wait a minute. My problem with reading has nothing to do with you.”

  “I heard her say she could teach you. I bet she could; she is a gut teacher.” Jacob curled his upper lip into a sneer. “But I guess you’re better at giving advice than taking it.” He turned on his heel and walked out of the buggy shop.

  Zach stood there, stunned. Jacob’s words hit him hard. Zach didn’t have the right to tell Jacob anything. Not when he wouldn’t give Ruth a chance. He’d rather hang on to his pride than have her see how dumb he really was. He’d been trying so hard to change these past few weeks, and he thought he had. But it took the words of an obnoxious kid to show him that, deep inside, he hadn’t changed much at all.

  That evening, Zach walked into the kitchen where his parents had already started to eat. He put his cooler on the counter, his hat on the peg, and washed his hands before sitting down. After a quick, silent prayer, he reached for the bowl of potatoes and put a spoonful on his plate. But he didn’t touch it. His appetite was gone.

  “Aren’t you going to eat?” His mother looked at him, a worried expression on her face.

  He didn’t say anything for a moment, then shook his head. “Nee. I’m not really hungry.”

  “Your mudder worked hard to prepare this food.” His father gave him a harsh look. “Don’t waste it.”

  Zach looked at the potatoes, then at his father. Even though they tasted like cardboard in his mouth, he finished off the potatoes, and the glass of iced tea his mother had poured earlier.

  He excused himself, saying he needed to clean out Maggie’s stall. He escaped to the barn, and when he’d finished his task, he still wasn’t ready to go inside. His mind mulled over what Jacob had said. What Ruth had told him. And how he responded to both of them. He sat down on a hay bale and let his head drop into his hands.

  At the sound of footsteps entering the barn, he looked up. His father was walking toward him. Zach popped up from the hay bale. He must have done something wrong again, although he couldn’t imagine what. Not that it mattered. In his father’s eyes, almost everything Zach did was wrong.

  But his father didn’t say anything right away. He didn’t even look at Zach at first. He walked over to Maggie and patted her, then peered over the top of the gate and inside the stall. Suddenly Zach realized his father was checking on his work. When his father didn’t speak, Zach turned around to leave.

  “Zachariah.”

  Zach didn’t think he could take another insult or admonition from his father. Not tonight. He should ignore his father and walk away, save himself from more pain. Hadn’t he experienced enough shame for one day?

  But something kept him in place. Whatever his father had to say, Zach needed to face it. After his conversation with Jacob, he knew what it was like to have your words ignored, your advice questioned and rejected outright. He turned around and looked at his daed. “Ya?”

  “Gabriel Miller came by today. He was looking for you.”

  “Is something wrong with the schulhaus?”

  His father shook his head, then reached into his pants pocket. He took out a few folded bills. “He wanted to give this to you.”

  Zach stepped forward and took the money. It was over a hundred dollars. “What’s this for?”

  “Apparently Ruth told him that you paid for the replacement window out of your own pocket. He wanted to make sure you were reimbursed.” His father scratched his beard. “I didn’t know you did that.”

  Zach looked down at the money. It was more than the window had cost. Far more, and it would make a small dent in the debt he’d accrued. But he handed the bills to his daed. “You can give it back to Gabriel.”

  Surprise registered on his father’s face. “What?”

  “I don’t need the money.” At his father’s dubious look he added, “Ya, I need the money, but not this way. I said I was going to take care of the repairs for the school, and I meant it.”

  “But the window has nothing to do with that.”

  “Then consider it a contribution to the school. I’m sure the board can figure out a better way to use the money.”

  His father looked more perplexed than before as he pocketed the money. “Your mudder’s worried about you. It’s not like you not to eat her supper.”

  “I wasn’t hungry.”

  “You’re always hungry.”

  Zach looked at his father and shrugged. “Not today.” He turned away, and when he’d taken only a couple of steps toward the other side of the barn, he heard, “You’ve done gut, sohn.”

  Zach looked up, hearing the crack in his father’s voice. The light inside the barn wasn’t on, but there was still enough daylight for him to see his old man’s expression. His father’s bottom lip quivered for a moment but he turned around before Zach could see any more.

  As his father walked out of the barn, it felt like a boulder had lodged in his throat. For the first time since he could remember, his father had praised him.

  Chapter 16

  After her talk with Stephen, Deborah spent the next few days keeping an eye on her father as much as she could. He seemed all right, although the few times she’d approached him alone he was too consumed with farmwork to exchange more than a few words. He also stuck with his routine of leaving the house early and coming inside after dark, which made her wonder if he was avoiding her and Naomi. As of yet, he hadn’t done or said anything to alarm her, but she would continue to watch him.

  When she’d resolved to look after her father, she’d also vowed to avoid Stephen. On the night she’d cried herself to sleep, she’d tried to make sense of her feelings toward him. She was afraid she was falling for him. Then again, what woman wouldn’t in her situation? He had shown so much compassion toward her and her family. And no one could deny he was a very handsome man. But could she trust her heart? She wondered if her attraction to Stephen was driven by her loneliness. Her worry over her father had kept her tied to the house, and other than attending church the previous Sunday, she didn’t interact with too many people, not even Elisabeth, who was busy with her own life. Deborah didn’t begrudge her that. At the moment, Stephen was the only other adult she could talk to.

  She decided her feelings toward Stephen didn’t matter. There was no spark of attraction in his eyes when he looked at her. No desire. He was her best friend’s brother and a friend to her family. Nothing more than that. And her yearning for more from Stephen just kept her from trusting herself. She’d rather stay away from him than spend so much time second-guessing herself. Between Will, her father, Naomi, and the farm, she had enough to deal with.

  Shortly after supper she tried to play with Will inside, but he was antsy and wouldn’t behave, especially with the weather so beautiful outside. The temperature was mild, not stifling hot as before, and Will wasn’t the only one who didn’t want to be cooped up inside. She scooped him up and took him to the backyard, hoping she could avoid seeing Stephen. When she walked out the back door, though,
she was surprised to see Naomi standing by the vegetable garden. She thought her sister was still upstairs.

  Will squirmed. Deborah put him on the grass but hung on to his hand and led him to the tire swing. The swing had been there since she and Naomi were children. She put him in the center of the tire and knelt down, one hand on his waist as she gently pushed the swing back and forth.

  She kept her gaze on Naomi, who was still standing at the edge of the garden, staring at the ground. Deborah frowned. It wasn’t like her sister to be so still. She was constantly moving, always doing something. Deborah knew there were still a few green bean plants that needed picking and a couple of tomato vines that were still bearing fruit. Yet instead of tending the garden, Naomi remained as motionless as a cement figurine.

  “Ma!” Will called out, trying to climb out of the swing. Deborah sighed. His attention span was so short that he flitted from activity to activity like a bee in a flower garden.

  Naomi had jumped at the sound of Will’s voice, her expression startled. Without looking at Deborah, she headed back to the house.

  Deborah called, “Naomi, wait.”

  Her sister took a few more steps forward, and for a minute Deborah thought she would ignore her again. To her surprise, Naomi looked at her. “What?”

  “I need to talk to you. It’s about Daed.” She picked up Will and balanced him on her hip as she walked over to Naomi. Will held his arms out to Naomi, but she ignored him.

  “What about Daed ?” she said, folding her arms over her skinny chest.

  Deborah noticed the movement. Her sister had always been thin, but she seemed to have lost weight since Deborah’s arrival. “Are you eating enough?”

  Naomi’s eyes clouded. “What does that have to do with Daed?”

  “Nix. It’s just that you look like you’ve lost weight.”

  “I don’t want to be fat like you.”

  The words dug in deep. True, Deborah had never been as slender as Naomi, and her hips had widened since giving birth to Will, but she wasn’t fat. She put Will on the ground next to her, partly to shield him from her sister’s wrath. “That was mean.”

  Naomi lifted her chin in response, peering down her nose.

  Deborah sighed. “I don’t want to play this game anymore. If it makes you feel better, insult me all you want. I don’t care. What I care about is Daed. I think there’s something wrong.”

  Her sister’s chin dipped a quarter inch. “I haven’t noticed anything.”

  “Has he talked to you about the farm? What his plans are for it?”

  She shook her head, her gaze narrowing. “Why? Has he been talking to you about it?”

  “Nee. But a few days ago he mentioned to Stephen that he might sell the farm.”

  “What? Why would he do that?” Naomi spoke through clenched teeth, her arms falling to her sides. “Doesn’t he know how important this farm is?”

  “He’s overwhelmed, Naomi. There’s a lot of work to do around here.”

  “If you’d do your part instead of chasing that kinn around all the time, he wouldn’t have to work so hard.”

  Deborah struggled to let the comment slide. Lord, help me! “Naomi, this isn’t about me. Or you. This is about taking care of Daed.”

  “He can’t sell this place,” Naomi shouted. “I won’t allow it.”

  “I don’t see how you can stop him, if he’s set on it. And it may not even come to that. Stephen reminded him how the farm is Will’s legacy. That seemed to change his mind—or at least give him something to think about.”

  Naomi looked ready to explode. “His legacy? Your illegitimate kinn doesn’t deserve any part of this land.” Her acidic tone dripped with anger. “Not a single blade of grass.”

  Deborah could take insults about herself, but not about her son. She picked him back up and held him close. “He is my kinn, and he’s as much a part of this familye as you and I are!” She took a deep breath and said, “Naomi, we need to focus on Daed. If the farm’s too much for him to handle . . . maybe he should sell it.” From the way Naomi’s face reddened, Deborah regretted voicing the thought out loud. And it hadn’t been easy to say. But it was something she’d prayed about the last few days since her talk with Stephen. At first, the idea of letting go of the farm had pained her, but she couldn’t ignore how exhausted and withdrawn her father had become. “We have to be realistic. Trying to keep the farm running isn’t worth ruining Daed’s health or spirit.”

  “I can’t believe this. I refuse to believe it.” She stared at Deborah. “Stephen told you all this? He’s lying to you, but you’re such a fool you can’t see it.”

  “Why would he lie to me?”

  “Ever think he might want the farm for himself ? He shows up here all of the sudden, offering to help Daed. He’s here every night checking out the property, assessing the value, calculating its worth.”

  “That’s not true.” Deborah couldn’t accept Naomi’s theory. “Stephen wouldn’t do something like that.”

  Naomi scoffed. “Pathetic. That’s what you are. All a mann has to do is say a few nice words and you’ll believe whatever he tells you. You’ll do whatever he wants.” She looked at Will, disgust coloring her features.

  Deborah stepped away from her, pierced by her sister’s anger. “What did I do to make you so angry with me?”

  Naomi glared at her, her eyes blazing. Then she spun around and stormed off.

  Stephen stood near the barn, unable to move as he watched Deborah and her sister argue several yards away. Neither woman had noticed him. He couldn’t make out what they were saying, but from his vantage point, he had a clear view of Naomi. Anger radiated off of her; he could sense it from this distance. Will clung to Deborah, his chin resting on her shoulder. He saw the fear in the child’s eyes, and that spurred him to move.

  Just as he reached the backyard, Naomi stormed into the house, Deborah watching her go. Will’s eyes met his and the toddler lifted up his chin. “Da!”

  Deborah spun around, and the look on her face made Stephen halt his steps. Stricken didn’t begin to describe her expression. Her lips were a slash of red against her stark white skin, and her body trembled all over.

  He rushed to her. “Are you all right?”

  She looked up at him, opening her mouth but not saying a word. Will twisted in her arms, pushing against her shoulders as he tried to get out of her grip.

  Stephen held out his arm to the boy. “Let me take him for a minute.”

  She shook her head and took a step back. “Nee. He’s fine. I’m fine.” Her words ran together in one breath.

  “Look, I don’t know what happened with you and Naomi, but you’re not fine.” This time, when Will held out his arms, Stephen took him. “You need to sit down.”

  Her breathing came in spasms, and she shook her head.

  “No arguments.” Tucking Will against his side, he put his other hand underneath Deborah’s arm and led her to a small wooden bench on the edge of the garden. “Sit.”

  She looked as if she would refuse, then she lowered herself onto the bench. Stephen sat beside her, balancing Will on his knee. He bounced the child up and down as he looked at Deborah. “Take a deep breath.” He watched her try to calm herself. “That’s it.”

  Her breathing slowed, her shoulders dipping as the tension eased from them. “I don’t understand it,” she finally said, not looking at him.

  “Understand what?”

  “Why she’s so angry with me.” She looked up at him this time. “It’s like she . . . hates me.”

  “That’s not true. It can’t be.” Growing up Amish, he’d been taught not to hate, not to even utter the word. He knew Deborah and Naomi had been raised the same way.

  Her gaze went to Will, and Stephen thought that she might take him. But she didn’t. Instead she stared at her child, her eyes filling with sorrow. “Then why does she insult me? Insult my sohn?”

  He couldn’t answer that. Naomi hadn’t said much to him these past two we
eks, even though he had tried to make conversation with her. He gave up after a while. Bitterness flowed from the woman. Moses never discussed his daughters, other than the one time that he’d mentioned they might never get married. The more he learned about Naomi’s brittle personality, the more convinced he became that their father had been right.

  His heart ached at the pain on Deborah’s face. Her eyes were dry, but he would rather see her tears than the heavy sorrow she couldn’t release. He’d never felt so helpless in his life. Without thinking, he put his arm around her shoulders. “It’ll be all right, Deborah.”

  She leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder. His arm tightened around her. He closed his eyes. Something pulled at him, deep inside. Having her close to him felt right. As if he were meant to be there for her at that moment, comforting her while he held her son. When she looked up at him, his heart halted, his gaze lost in the deep brown of her eyes, his fingers suddenly longing to glide across the flawless skin of her cheeks.

  Then, in a movement so swift he barely had time to respond, she pulled away and took Will out of his arms. She popped up from the bench and began to walk away. He followed her and put his hand on her shoulder. “Deborah—”

  “Don’t.” She kept her back to him. “Don’t touch me, Stephen.”

  His heart ripped at her words. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean . . .” He swallowed. “I want to help you. That’s all.”

  “I don’t need your help.” She looked at him, her expression raw. “Naomi was right about one thing. I am a fool.” Then she ran back to the house.

  Stephen stilled, floored by her rejection. What did she mean by that?

  “Now if he gets upset, you can give him his little brown bear. That seems to calm him down.” Deborah handed Elisabeth her diaper bag. It was Saturday afternoon, and her friends had stopped by for a visit, then insisted on taking Will for a couple of hours so she could have a break. Deborah had refused at first. Will had never been away from her before, and she wasn’t sure he could handle it. It took almost fifteen minutes for Elisabeth to convince her to agree.