Micah started to protest but then realized he’d probably prefer eating alone. At least he wouldn’t have to listen to his daddi’s plans for their work the next day. He was too tired to even consider more fieldwork, and the day wasn’t half-over.
Why had he never listened to the stories of how severe his daddi was?
If he had, he wouldn’t have agreed to this exile.
He tried to hold on to his bad mood, but the weather was fabulous, and he had over a dozen comments on his social media pages. He’d fetched the phone from the barn as soon as he’d left the kitchen. He paused at the fence line long enough to answer the comments and snap another picture to post.
It would probably be a bad idea to take the phone over to the bishop’s. Thomas Beiler was no doubt even more strict than Micah’s daddi.
He glanced around for a place to hide it, but all he could see was fence line and fields, so he shoved it into his back pocket. Fortunately, on his way to the bishop’s shop, he spied Susannah coming out of a small building set next to the house.
He called out to her and then jogged to where she was waiting.
“Do me a favor?”
“Like what?”
She was holding a basketful of fabric scraps. He pulled the phone from his pocket, picked up the stack of fabric and dropped the phone, then covered it back up. “Keep that for me until I’m done working.”
“Why would I do that?”
“So I won’t get in trouble on my first day in your dat’s shop.”
“If you knew you would get in trouble, why did you—”
“Thanks, Susannah. You’re a peach.”
Instead of smiling, she glared at him, which caused him to laugh.
“I don’t see what’s so funny.”
“You are. You just don’t know it.” He turned and walked backward so that he could point at her. “You’re going to be my new best friend.”
“Oh, I doubt that.”
“You’ll see.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Just don’t use up all my battery playing Candy Crush.”
“What is...”
But he never heard the rest because he realized it was five minutes past one and he was late. No doubt the bishop would relay that to his daddi and he’d be given extra chores, or perhaps they’d deliver yet another lecture. He absolutely hated lectures. It was difficult to sit there and act respectful and pretend to listen. He just did not understand old people. Best to avoid such a confrontation, so he broke into a run.
He was surprised when Thomas greeted him with a smile and no rebuke. “I was happy to hear you’d be here for a few months. I can use the help.”
“Don’t know as I’ll be that much help.”
“Does your mind work?”
“Excuse me?”
Thomas tapped the side of his head. He was tall for an Amish man, probably close to six feet. His beard was peppered with gray, and crow’s-feet stretched out from his eyes. He struck Micah as a man who smiled easily.
“Does your mind work? How did you do in school?”
“Oh, I did fine.”
“Then the work won’t be too hard for you to learn. It’s difficult physically... I’ll give you that. But anyone who is willing to learn the trade will always have a job.”
“Ya, always plenty of horses when Amish are around,” Micah joked.
“Exactly. Now, let’s get to work on Widower King’s buggy horse.”
Micah had never considered that he’d be straddling the leg of a thousand-pound beast. He’d lived around horses all of his life, but feeding a horse or harnessing it to a buggy was one thing. Getting that horse to raise its foot so you could trim away its hoof was another.
“A horse’s hooves are like our fingernails. They must be trimmed and exfoliated.” Thomas proceeded to show him how to cut off the excess growth, then clean and check the hoof for overall health. “It’s important that the horse trusts you. If you appear confident and act like you know what you’re doing, the horse will relax.”
“But I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“You will. Soon enough you will. See this triangle-shaped thing at the bottom of the hoof?”
“Sure.”
“That’s the frog. It acts as a shock absorber of sorts. We need to clean it up. Don’t want any ragged ends.”
“Why?”
“Gut question. We clean it so the dirt and muck is able to get out of the foot easier. Next we trim the hoof wall. Hand me the curved blade there on the shelf.”
Micah quickly did as asked. When Thomas was finished, he used a hoof nipper to trim the outside of the hoof wall, and then a rasp to even out everything.
“I never realized there was so much detail to shoeing a horse.”
“Few people do—they count on their farrier. Think of it as job security.” Thomas looked up and smiled. “Now let’s see what sized shoes we need.”
* * *
Susannah was tempted to find an excuse to visit her dat’s shop. How was Micah doing? And did he know anything about trimming hooves or shoeing horses? She knew firsthand that what her dat did was hard work. She’d sat in his workshop often enough and even helped him occasionally. She loved being around the animals whether they were buggy horses or workhorses.
It took her an hour to separate her fabric scraps by size and color. It was amazing what could be salvaged from one project to use in another. The process soothed her until she picked up the last piece of fabric and spied Micah’s phone in the basket. Why did he have such a thing? How much did he pay for it? And who did he stay in touch with?
Other Amish rebels?
Someone in his family who had left the faith?
Or maybe an Englisch girlfriend?
She dropped the phone into her apron pocket. It didn’t matter to her what Micah did with his phone, and she would set him straight that it wasn’t her place to keep him out of trouble. She didn’t think he was going to fit into their community very well. She didn’t think he even wanted to.
There’s a real possibility that what Micah needs most is not a girlfriend but simply a friend...
Remembering her mamm’s words caused her to feel a twinge of guilt. Perhaps he had a good reason for having the phone, though she couldn’t imagine what that might be.
She didn’t have to wait long to find out.
She was pulling laundry off the line while Shiloh and Sharon played on the trampoline when Micah came walking around the corner of the house.
He headed straight to the water hose and preceded to roll up his sleeves and wash his hands and arms. He even swiped some of the water on his neck, wetting the hair that curled there, and then he doused his face.
“We have indoor bathrooms.”
“I like washing up with a water hose.”
Susannah handed him a clean hand towel.
“Danki.”
“Gem gschehne.”
He rubbed his face dry, then his arms, and finally remembered that water was dripping down his neck. When he was finished, he held up the towel and asked, “Where should I—”
“I’ll take it.”
“Do you need help with the laundry?”
She inclined her head toward the empty clothesline.
“I could help fold.”
“Do you know how to fold clothes?”
“How hard can it be?” He peeked into her basket. “Oh. Looks like you’ve already folded everything.”
“It’s easier to do while you pull the items off the line.”
“I knew that.”
“Sure you did.” She moved closer to the trampoline so she could keep an eye on the girls.
Micah followed and plopped down on the grass. For reasons she couldn’t quite fathom, she did the same. It wasn’t that she was interested in Micah, but she was curious as
to what made him tick. How did he become so unorthodox? And why? What was the point of rebelling against their conventions?
“Actually, I know nothing about housework.” He picked up their conversation as if there hadn’t been a long, awkward silence. “I’m the baby of the family.”
“Is that so?”
“Seven older schweschdern.”
“What was that like?”
“I loved it, but apparently...according to my daddi, I was spoiled and it’s time for me to grow up and become a man.”
“Ouch.”
“Yeah. Hence my exile here in Goshen for six months.”
“When you say it that way, it sounds like a long time.”
“It is a long time—a lifetime practically.” Micah leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Not sure I’m going to make it if every day is like today.”
“Why’s that?”
“It’s all so...grim.”
The sun was setting in a beautiful splash of color, the horses were pastured in the field, Sharon and Shiloh played happily a few feet from her, and dinner was nearly done. “I don’t understand.”
“What?”
“Grim. How can you call this...” She took an exaggerated gaze around them. “How can you call it grim?”
“The work is endless.”
“You didn’t enjoy helping Dat?”
“Actually, that part was rather interesting.”
“But...”
“But I’d already spent five hours in the field. I’ve done nothing but work all day. And tomorrow will be the same. It’s just so...boring.”
She fought the urge to defend their lifestyle, even their farm. So what if he didn’t like it? Why should she care what Micah Fisher did and didn’t like?
“If excitement is what you want, then ya, I agree that Goshen isn’t the place for you.”
“I knew you’d understand.”
“And the work is endless because it’s a farm. That’s pretty much the definition of farmwork.”
“I do not see the point.”
Susannah didn’t know what to say to that, so she asked, “How did it go working with the horses?”
“Better than I thought it would be. I only got kicked once.”
“Once usually does the trick.”
“You’ve helped your dat shoe horses?”
“Of course.”
“Not exactly girl’s work.”
“So now you’re a traditionalist?” She reached into her apron pocket, retrieved his phone and dropped it into his hand. “Except for that...”
“Have you ever owned a phone?”
“Nein.”
“Did you play around on mine?”
“Of course not.”
“It’s not going to burn your fingers, you know.”
“And yet it’s forbidden.”
“It’s discouraged. There’s a difference.” He winked at her.
She refused to let his charm muddle her thoughts. “Does that usually work?”
“What?”
“Winking at girls.”
“Not sure I wanted it to work. I was just being...friendly.”
“Ah.”
He stuffed the phone in his pocket and said, “Ah, what?”
“That’s what people who flirt say...that they were just being friendly.”
“So you think I was flirting with you?”
Susannah almost laughed, but she didn’t want to encourage his silliness. The twins continued to jump on the trampoline, giggling and calling out to one another.
“Watch me, Susannah. I can flip.” Sharon jumped and then fell onto her back. “Did I do it?”
“You didn’t do it,” Shiloh said.
“I did, too. Tell her, Susannah. Tell her I did.”
“Almost. Keep practicing.”
Micah flopped onto his back, staring up at the sky. “Your dat isn’t what I expected.”
“How so?”
“Well, he’s a bishop.”
“Ya.”
“I thought he’d be more conservative.”
“Don’t tell me he was watching TV again while shoeing the horses.”
Micah propped himself up on his elbows, then smiled at the twins, who were trying to get his attention. “I mean he seems rather open-minded. He asked all about our community in Maine, which many of the old folks don’t even want to know about. They think it’s much too progressive.”
“Is it?”
“I don’t think so. Plus, look at this place.” He waved at the backyard. “Trampoline for the kids.”
“They need somewhere to play.”
“A new little modular house.”
“That’s my sewing shop, where I quilt.”
“I wondered what all those pieces of material were for.”
“They’re scraps and they’re for sewing.”
“Do you have an electric sewing machine in there?”
“I do not.” Her cheeks warmed, not because he was teasing her but because of the way he was looking at her. She stood and picked up her laundry basket. “Dinner will be ready in a few minutes. I assume you’re staying.”
“I wouldn’t miss it.”
Sharon jumped closer to the edge of the trampoline and held onto the netting, which prevented her from falling out. “Come and jump with us, Susannah.”
“Yeah, come and jump.” Shiloh was actually sitting on the trampoline, not jumping. She was careful even there, as if the thing might throw her onto the ground.
“It’s time to help with dinner. Come on inside.”
“Just five more minutes...please.”
It always made her smile how their voices could become one when they wanted something. Usually Sharon and Shiloh seemed like complete opposites, but when they joined together, they reminded her of two halves of the same whole.
“I have to go in, and you know Mamm doesn’t like you out here alone.”
“I’ll stay with them,” Micah said. “Unless you need me to help cook.”
“Have you ever cooked before?”
“Nein.”
“Then no—we don’t need your help.”
“I’ll just stay here, then. I promise to keep an eye on them.”
Actually, he did better than that. By the time she’d climbed the porch steps and looked back, Micah had removed his shoes and was pulling himself up onto the trampoline.
Not that he could ingratiate himself to her by playing with the girls. His comments had bordered on rude—first calling them progressive and then boring. Or, had it been the other way around? Regardless, he obviously didn’t like it here and she didn’t think he’d last even a week.
Which was absolutely fine with her.
The longer he stayed, the higher the risk he would be a bad influence on someone in their community. The last thing her friends needed was an Amish bad boy complete with long hair, Englisch phone, ball cap and blue jeans. Though he had been wearing more traditional clothes today. Where had those come from? Were they stuffed in his backpack?
Not her business.
She guessed he’d probably grow up eventually, but she didn’t think it would be today or tomorrow or anytime in the near future.
That boy was trouble with a crooked smile.
The sooner Micah Fisher was out of their lives, the better. If he needed a friend, he could find one back home in Maine.
Chapter Three
By the time Sunday rolled around, Susannah’s feelings regarding Micah had grown even more complicated. He’d shown up the second day with a fresh haircut but the same born-to-be-wild attitude. Her dat was happy with his work, but Susannah was growing increasingly uneasy around him. Micah reminded her of a wild horse temporarily corralled. It was only a matter of time before he broke out and th
en his grandparents would be heartbroken and her dat would be in need of another helper.
She spent much of the service praying that God would forgive her uncharitable feelings and clear the confusion in her mind. Since her dat was the bishop, she was aware that she was scrutinized more closely than others.
So even as her mind wandered toward Micah, she kept her attention on the person preaching.
When it was time to pray, she closed her eyes and petitioned her heavenly Father for clarity.
When it was time to sing, she stood and raised her voice with the others around her.
And as soon as the service ended, she hurried toward the serving area, not pausing to give their new neighbor a second glance. She worked at filling cups with water and lemonade. When she saw Micah walking toward her, she quickly changed tables to help with salads. It wasn’t that she was avoiding him, but he would simply want to tell her more about Maine, a subject she’d heard quite enough about. When she finally had a few free moments, she snagged Deborah.
“Care to walk out into the pasture?”
“I can think of nothing I’d rather do.” Deborah jumped up from her seat and grabbed her sweater from the big bag she carried around. Deborah was the only Amish person Susannah knew who carried what amounted to a baby bag though she had no baby. It was sometimes quite amazing what Deborah could pull out of that bag.
“Tell me about Micah,” Deborah said as soon as they were out of earshot of the others.
“What’s to tell?”
“Does he seem to be behaving himself?”
“Dat hasn’t complained.”
“I’m not surprised. Your father is the bishop. Of course Micah would be on his best behavior around him.”
“Ya, I suppose.”
“Betty heard that Micah had an alcohol problem when he was living in Maine. That’s why his parents sent him here.”
“Alcohol?”
“Or maybe it was drugs... She wasn’t really sure.”
Susannah sighed and pressed her lips together.
“You might as well say it,” Deborah teased.
“Then I would be as bad as Betty.”
“Oh. So you don’t want to be a gossip, which you would be if you pointed out that Betty is a gossip.”
That was such a convoluted statement that it made Susannah laugh, which helped her relax a little. “I guess I was thinking that Betty has been somewhat bitter since Joshua left the faith.”
An Unlikely Amish Match Page 3
