by Debby Giusti
In spite of her tight muscles, she straightened her spine and narrowed her gaze. “Did I not ask you last night why you came back?”
His mouth twitched, revealing dimples that used to play with her heart. “You did ask me that question.”
“I remember dreaming I saw you, then I woke to find you hauling feed to my barn.” She rubbed her forehead. “My mind is a bit fuzzy this morning, and I cannot recall your answer. Why did you return to Amish Mountain?”
“Someone wants to buy my father’s property. I’m here to sign the papers. Although after what happened last night, I’m not sure why anyone would want to live on the mountain.”
“Some of us do not have the luxury of moving,” she said with a huff.
“Sorry. As you probably remember, I was never known for my diplomacy.” He stepped toward the stove, poured two cups of coffee and handed one to her. “Who beat you up, Ruthie?”
“It was not a social visit,” she said, still irritated by his earlier comment. “We did not exchange names.”
“The fire was started with gasoline. If not for the rain...” He shrugged. Both of them knew what could have happened.
Had Gott intervened? If so, maybe He cared about her and her boys, after all.
Ruthie raised the cup with shaky hands, then sipped the coffee, appreciating the rich brew she had missed, and stared at her near-empty pantry. “Where did you find coffee beans?”
“At my dad’s place.”
“Along with bacon?” She glanced at the cast-iron skillet warming on the back of the stove.
He lifted his eyebrows, a ploy Simon used when he wanted to make a point. “You used to like bacon.”
“That was ten years ago, Noah. A lot has changed since then.”
“I remember you were the prettiest girl in the entire area.”
She sealed her ears to his sweet talk. She had been fooled once but would not be fooled again.
“I wanted you to go with me that night, Ruthie.”
“You were young, Noah, and tired of being Amish.” She grimaced inwardly. Because of Noah, she had almost walked away from her faith. How different life would have been if she had left with him.
The sounds of the boys’ voices filtered into the kitchen.
“You’ve raised two fine sons.” The word sons hung in the air. “Why didn’t you tell me you were pregnant?”
The hurt and rejection she had felt so long ago bubbled up anew. She squared her shoulders defiantly. “I did tell you as soon as I realized what was happening to my body. I wrote you immediately and then wrote again and again. Why did you never answer my letters?”
“What?”
“You heard me, Noah. I did not know your address so I took letters to your father and asked him to mail them to you. I expected a reply, even if you did not want to acknowledge our son.”
His eyes widened. “I never got any letters.”
“Perhaps you forgot.”
“Having a son is not something a man would forget.”
She glanced away, unwilling to argue. Noah had made his decision all those years ago. She could not change what had happened then, but she would protect her son now. Simon had lost one father. He did not need to know he had a biological father, as well. Especially one that would stay a few days and then move on with his life. A life without his newfound son.
Needing to hide her upset, she went to the cabinet and pulled out four plates, then set the table and filled glasses with water for the boys.
“I brought milk.” He pointed to the icebox. “And packed the box with more ice.”
“Did you check my pantry last night as well as my icehouse before you headed home?”
“I spent the night on your porch to ensure the attacker did not return. Once the sun came up, I felt you and the boys would be safe while I made a quick trip home for a few supplies.”
Although touched by his thoughtfulness, she needed to remain strong. “Thank you, Noah, but I did not ask for your help.”
“I’m well aware of that, Ruthie. You always were a bit stubborn as well as independent.”
His words stung. “Stubborn because I did not run away from my responsibility? My father needed me.”
“Didn’t your husband come first?”
She bristled. “What do you mean?”
“I read about your wedding in The Budget newspaper. Ben Eicher wasn’t from around here. Why did you both stay on the mountain instead of returning to his home?”
A good question, and one she should have asked before they married. Although a woman in her fourth month of pregnancy needed a father for her unborn child and could not be particular.
Marrying Ben had been a mistake, she had learned quickly, but by then she had been baptized and had committed fully to living the Amish way. No matter how Ben treated her, Amish women did not leave their husbands. Even husbands caught in addiction.
“Ben knew my father needed help,” she said in defense of a husband who did not deserve to be defended. At first she had not known he was a gambler, although it did not take long for her to realize the little money they had disappeared whenever Ben went to town. Still, she did not want Noah to know the truth about her husband and their dysfunctional marriage.
“Your father had a brother,” Noah stated.
“Yah.” She nodded. “My uncle Henry owns a bit of land south of here, but he left the area years ago.”
“Perhaps he didn’t think your family farm was worth saving, Ruthie,” he continued, no doubt unaware of her upset.
“Is that what you told your father when you and Seth ran away in the middle of the night?”
Noah’s face tightened.
The pain of learning he had left without her washed over Ruthie again. She had been naive to think Noah would change his plans for her. All she had wanted was a few days until she mustered the courage to tell her father she was leaving. Why had Noah not understood her need to wait?
“You have not mentioned your brother.” Regretting her sharp tongue, Ruthie steered the conversation away from the past. “Did he return to the mountain, too?”
“Seth died, Ruthie. It’s been almost six months.”
The two brothers had been inseparable. Ruthie’s heart broke for Noah. She lowered her gaze. “Forgive me. I did not know.”
The kitchen door opened, and the boys bounded inside. “We found eggs.” Andrew held up his basket. “Lots of them.”
Noah tousled Andrew’s hair and smiled at Simon. “Enjoy breakfast, boys.” He stepped toward the open door. “I’ve got a couple of jobs to do outside.”
“But you need to eat.” Though relieved that Noah was leaving, she also wanted him to stay.
“I’m not hungry.” Cool air swirled into the kitchen. “After breakfast, boys, come outside and we’ll finish the chores.”
“Go home, Noah,” Ruthie suggested. “Get some sleep. We can manage without you.”
He stared at her for a long moment. “You’re managing, Ruthie, that’s true. But I’m here for a few days. Let me help.”
“Then you will leave again?”
“At least this time, I’ll know who I’m leaving behind.”
“What did he mean?” Andrew asked after Noah had closed the door behind him.
She ignored her son’s question. “Wash your hands, boys, and put the bread on the table. We will have bacon along with our eggs.”
Simon neared the window and peered outside. “He went into Datt’s workshop.”
A warning tugged at Ruthie’s heart. “I thought you locked the door.”
Simon shrugged. “Maybe I forgot. We never used to lock it.”
But things had changed.
Before she could answer, Simon added, “That man last night could have been here before.”
She stepped closer. “Why do you say
that?”
“I saw a man near the river last week.”
A nervous thread tangled along her spine. “You did not tell me.”
“He asked where the fish were biting. I told him downstream a bit. Funny, though—he did not have a fishing pole.”
“What did he look like?”
Simon shrugged. “He stood in the shadow of a tree and held his hand up so I could not see his face.”
“Did he leave right away?” she asked, trying to keep her voice even.
“After he asked who was buried on the hill.”
Ruthie’s heart thumped a warning. “What did you tell him?”
“I told him about Datt and Dawdy.”
“About the accident?”
He nodded.
She would not fault her son, but Simon had revealed that she and the boys lived alone. Was the man who seemed interested in fishing the same man who had attacked her last night?
The sound of someone chopping wood drew her to the window. Simon and Andrew followed. As the three of them peered outside, Noah raised an ax over his head and then, with a powerful downward movement, split a log in two.
Andrew stood on tiptoe, his eyes wide. “Noah brought Simon and me moon pies this morning before you were awake, Mamm.”
Moon pies had been Noah’s favorite as a kid, although his datt rarely allowed such a frivolous waste of money. In spite of being Amish, Reuben Schlabach preferred to spend his hard-earned cash on liquid libations. Her own father called Noah’s dad a drunk. Ruthie had considered him an unhappy man who regretted the life he had made for himself.
“Even after eating moon pies, I know you are hungry.” She shooed the boys toward the sink. “Wash your hands.”
Simon reached for the bar of soap. “Did I meet Noah when I was a child?”
A child? She almost laughed. Nine years old, and Simon was trying to be a man. “Noah left the area ten years ago. I do not recall him returning to the mountain until now.”
Both boys lathered their hands with soap and rinsed them with the well water.
Simon reached for the towel. “Noah looks like someone I know, but I cannot remember who.”
Ruthie’s stomach tightened. The boys enjoyed looking at their reflections in the clothing-store mirror the few times they had gone shopping in town. Simon might not realize the truth yet, but as much as he resembled Noah, he would learn who his real datt was before long.
Noah was leaving, but would he leave soon enough?
* * *
As frustrated as he felt, Noah could have chopped down an entire forest. Ruthie needed wood so she could cook and keep her house warm. She needed other things, too. Her pantry was almost bare. He had checked the icehouse and found only a few pounds of frozen meat.
Thankfully, he had purchased hamburger and steaks when he was in town, so he was able to leave her enough beef in the icehouse for a few meals. He would return to town for more supplies as soon as possible.
In spite of the cool morning, he worked up a sweat before putting down the ax when the boys hurried outside. Andrew wore a milk mustache and had to run back inside for his hat.
“My brother wants to split wood, Mr. Noah. Mamm says he is too young to use an ax.”
“She doesn’t want him to get hurt. He’ll be old enough soon.” Noah’s heart warmed as he glanced at his son, slender and gangly with big feet and hands. Given time, Simon might grow taller than Noah.
“Have you split wood before, Simon?”
The boy nodded. “Sometimes I help Mamm. The ax gives her blisters that hurt her hands, but she never complains.”
Forever stoic, Ruthie had also never complained about her infirmed father or her need to care for him.
Noah handed Simon the ax. “You chop while I stack. We’ll work together.”
The boy’s face brightened. “Yah, gut.”
“Just remember to spread your feet apart as wide as your shoulders and keep your eyes on the wood you plan to split.”
Simon gripped the ax, adjusted his stance and glanced at Noah for approval.
“Move your feet out a bit,” he advised.
The boy responded.
He raised the ax and brought it down into the middle of the log, splitting the wood on the first swing.
“Good job.”
Simon puffed out his chest with the praise.
Before he could grab a second piece of wood, the kitchen door opened and Ruthie stepped onto the porch.
“Simon,” she called.
The boy looked up.
“Stack the wood. Then you and Andrew fill the mare’s trough with feed. Make sure she has water.”
With a sigh, he handed the ax to Noah.
As the boy started to gather the wood, Noah stepped toward the porch where Ruthie stood. “He did a good job.”
“You should have asked me first, Noah.”
“I chopped wood when I was Simon’s age.”
“Yah, you did a lot of things, but you are not my son.”
Simon was his son, too, but he didn’t deserve the title of Dad. Not now. Not ever. Not when he had turned his back on the boy. Although, in his own defense, he hadn’t even known he had a son.
Ruthie must have seen the confusion in his gaze because she came down the steps and put her hand on his arm. “You do not need to fill a role you have never known.”
“A boy needs a father.”
“Simon will grow into a strong man even though Ben is gone.”
Her words cut him like a knife.
“Come inside,” she said. “I kept a plate of food warm.”
He shook his head and pointed to a distant pasture. “Some of those fence posts look ready to topple. The boys can help me. You don’t want to lose the few head of cattle you have.”
“Ben planned to sell them at market, but he died, and I...”
She glanced at the grave site, her face tight with emotion. Noah saw the grief she still carried.
“Simon mentioned your father died, too.”
Ruthie nodded.
“I’m sorry.”
“Danki, Noah.”
He turned his gaze back to the pasture. “You could slaughter one of your steers for meat,” he suggested, hoping to turn the topic away from the deaths of her father and her husband. “Your ice is low. We might be able to have some delivered from town.”
She shook her head. “Not this month.”
Was money the issue?
He noted the way she steeled her jaw with determination, trying to hold on to her pride. Ruthie was doing her best to provide for her boys.
He glanced at the peeling paint on the house and outbuildings, and the dilapidated barn. No matter how hard she tried, it wasn’t enough.
“I’ve decided to go to town tomorrow. Why don’t you and the boys join me? You could tell the sheriff about your visitor last night and any details you might have remembered.”
“Everything happened so quickly.” She wrapped her arms around her slender waist.
“Is there something the man might want that is yours? Or could he be an acquaintance of your husband?”
“An Englisch lady’s stocking covered his head so I could not see his face. Simon told me about a man at the riverbank last week who asked where to fish.”
“A sportsman wanting a tip on where to toss his line?”
“Maybe, except he did not have a fishing pole, and he wanted to know who was buried on the hill.”
Noah turned toward the graves. “Your husband is buried there?”
She nodded. “Along with my mother and father.”
“You and the boys shouldn’t be left alone, Ruthie. I’ll bed down in the barn tonight.”
“As ramshackle as it is, the barn might collapse on top of you.”
He smiled. “
Then I’ll sleep on your porch again.”
“You have already done enough, Noah. Besides, I would worry about you if you stayed outside in the cold. Go home and rest. With the doors locked, the boys and I will be safe in the house.”
“I heard the dinner bell last night. Ring it if you need me.”
“Do not worry about us. We will be fine.”
But he was worried. A man had attacked Ruthie once. Noah had to ensure he did not hurt her a second time.
THREE
Noah kept thinking about Ruthie and her two sons when he returned home later that evening. After eating dinner, he brewed coffee and took a cup onto the porch, listening to the hoot of a night owl and the scamper of squirrels burrowing through the underbrush.
He also heard the flow of the river. Rain had fallen intermittently all afternoon and more was expected over the next few days. He and the boys had shored up the pasture fence in between the hardest downpours. Other repairs needed to be tackled in the morning.
Ruthie might think she could handle the farm, but it was too much for her. The boys were good workers and helped as best they could, but they couldn’t fill the gap left by Ben Eicher’s passing. Although from the level of disrepair Noah had noticed, Ruthie’s husband had failed to keep up the farm. Years of neglect under her father’s hand had been, no doubt, compounded by a lackadaisical husband.
Noah finished the coffee and returned the mug to the kitchen, then grabbed his keys, climbed into his truck and headed toward the bridge. Thankfully, the water level had lowered a bit with the ease in the rainfall. He checked the bridge’s underpinnings, and decided to brace the support beams as best he could tomorrow.
Leaving his truck on the far bank, he walked across the bridge to get a better view of the Plank farm, now shadowed in darkness. An oil lamp glowed in a downstairs window of the farmhouse, inviting him forward. He hurried to the porch and tapped on the door.
“Ruthie, it’s Noah.”
She opened the door. “Is everything all right?”
Her hair hung loose around her shoulders. A small triangular scarf covered her head and was tied under her chin, in lieu of her prayer kapp.
