A Miracle of Hope (The Amish Wonders Series) (13 page)

Once they were outside, she didn’t have to guess. Hannah pointed to the outhouse. Lindie released the girl’s hand and let her run ahead.

Lindie strolled over and waited beside the door. Faint voices drifted from the shed area. She scanned the crowd of milling men and spotted Josiah. The barn door rattled closed and the women walked in a group toward the house. Lindie wished she could hide in the outhouse.

A man’s cough drew her attention. Josiah had turned away from the crowd, his hands covering his mouth. A head taller than all the others, he was handsome. Had he lived in her district, plenty of women would have offered to do his laundry, cook his meals, and be his wife. Women who were more suitable than herself. A woman he deserved.

Josiah captured her with his grin, but then looked down at the ground right away. When he looked her way again, the man standing beside Josiah elbowed him and caused his face to redden. His sheepishness took her by surprise. She stifled a giggle.

He cleared himself of the men and approached her. “Are you getting sick?”

She lowered her hand. “
Nay
. I was laughing at how cute—I mean red—” Now her face was heating.

Josiah smiled.

“I’m waiting for Hannah.” She motioned to the outhouse door.

He touched his face, then looked down at the snow and shuffled his feet.

“
Denki
, Josiah.”

He lifted his head. “For what?”

“I appreciate the kindness you’ve shown me,” she said softly. “I know I upset you yesterday when I spoke up about Hannah.”

He reached for her arm and gently gave it a squeeze. “I haven’t treated you like I should. Like . . .
mei fraa
.” He stepped closer. “It’s going to take some time before everything works out.”

The door opened and slammed against Lindie’s backside, pushing her forward into Josiah. Inches apart, they stared at one another. Lindie’s mind swirled with his last comment.

Josiah stepped back. “Maybe you should take Hannah inside with the others.” He eyed his daughter, who was searching the clouds with a blank expression.

“
Gut
idea.” During the service, she’d noticed other children about Hannah’s age. They could all play together. First, though, Lindie needed to get the bean casserole from the back of the buggy. She didn’t want to go into the house empty-handed. She reached for Hannah’s hand, gave it a gentle squeeze, then pointed
toward the buggies. “Let’s go—” The girl turned her eyes away without giving Lindie a chance to finish. Hannah’s shoulders slumped as she plodded alongside. Lindie debated if she should try to explain that they weren’t leaving, but until she could sign fluently, it would just frustrate Hannah.

At the buggy, Lindie grabbed the dish of beans. Pork fat skimmed the surface. The beans would need reheating, although more cooking would make them mushier. Maybe she could shove the dish off to the side so it wasn’t as noticeable.

Lindie knocked on the front door. While waiting for someone to answer, she smiled at Hannah, who stood beside her, then looked toward the gathering of men. Lindie silently beckoned Josiah. The first time attending a service was more difficult than she thought. Waiting for someone to answer the front door reminded her that she hadn’t instantly blended in with the new settlement. In her district, there was an unspoken invitation. No one stood on the stoop waiting for the door to open. She hadn’t yet established that level of familiarity. She looked over her shoulder again for Josiah. This time he must have realized something was wrong because he stepped away from the group, then stopped when he saw the front door open.

“
Ach
, dear,” said the stick-thin woman. She opened the door wider for Hannah and Lindie. “I hope you weren’t standing on the stoop long. With all the commotion in here, it’s a wonder any of us heard the door.”

The woman was right about the level of noise. A mixture of chatter and clanging dishes echoed from the kitchen.

“I’m Sarah.” She reached for Lindie’s hand. “
Kumm
, everyone will want to meet you.”

Hannah stood close to Lindie. For someone who grew up in this community, the girl appeared as out of place as Lindie.

The sitting room where Josiah and she were married now had large tables placed end to end and benches that took up the length of the room. When the time came for her and Josiah to host the meal, she hoped the weather would permit eating outdoors. Seating would be cramped in their small space.

A child, perhaps a year or two older than Hannah, stood at the top of the stairs and waved at Hannah to join her.

Busy watching the youngsters’ interactions, Lindie flinched when someone touched her arm.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” The young woman, heavy with child, introduced herself as Ada Fisher. She placed a handful of utensils on the table, then extended her hand. “
Wilkom
to Cedar Ridge.”

“Denki.”

Sarah tapped Lindie’s shoulder. “This here is Josiah Plank’s Lindie.”

Ada nodded. “
Jah
, I heard the bishop introduce them before service let out.” She smiled at Lindie. “It’s nice to meet you. I’ll show you where to set your dish in the kitchen.” She looped her arm with Lindie’s and guided her toward the kitchen. “It’ll be nice to have someone else here close to my age,” she said. “Our district is small, as you probably figured out during service.” She patted her belly. “I’m doing my part to increase the settlement. This one is number four.”

“Congratulations,” Lindie said as they entered the noisy kitchen. She touched her forehead. Moist. Meeting new people had never been easy for her. So many names to remember at once, she hoped she didn’t mix them up.

Ada rattled off the names and ages of her children. “. . . and this one, William if a boy and Susan if a girl, is due next month.”

Another woman joined them. “Just in time for cabin fever too.”

Ada rolled her eyes. “Don’t start that discussion
nau
, Naomi.”

But Naomi paid no attention and turned to Lindie. “Anyone tell you about cabin fever?”

“Naomi!” Ada elbowed the other woman.

“She’s married.”

“Cabin fever.” Ada giggled, her face blushing. “It’s a joke amongst us womenfolk.”

Lindie wiped her forehead.

Naomi jumped in. “Let’s just say it tends to be a productive season . . .” She paused as though expecting some response from Lindie.

Lindie wasn’t about to speak. Especially seeing the shade of pink Ada had turned. The idea that Josiah had already brought up the subject frayed her nerves. Only he described cabin fever as loneliness, and that sure didn’t match the women’s definition.

Not far from them, a small group of unmarried girls chatted about an upcoming wedding. Listening to them talk about the dress color surprised Lindie. Traditionally, at least in her home district, brides wore royal blue. Except Lindie, of course. Her dress was brown . . . and crumpled.

The dark-haired woman Lindie suspected had made the apple crisp approached the group. “What are you all giggling about?”

“Just explaining the cabin fever phenomenon,” Naomi replied.

The woman’s expression soured.

“Hello.” Lindie switched the bean dish to her other arm and extended her hand to the woman. “I’m Lindie Wy—Plank.” The first time she’d used her married name, it felt odd.

“
Jah
, I know who you are.” The woman shook hands, then introduced herself as Ellen Yoder. “So you’re from Ohio?”

Lindie nodded. “Geauga County.”

Ada nudged her arm. “
Kumm
, I’ll show you where to set your dish.”

Relieved to have a reason to walk away, Lindie followed Ada as she eased around a few other women. They stopped near the stove. “I’m sorry if Naomi embarrassed you. She shouldn’t have said anything, you being newly married. Around Ellen either, since she lost her husband not long ago.” She leaned closer. “Although Ellen knows all about cabin fever—she has four boys with birthdays in the fall.”

That explained Ellen’s sour expression. A widow with four boys. No wonder her eye was set on Josiah. Lindie lifted the dish. “I probably should warm these beans.” Not that she planned to eat any. Her stomach had turned queasy.

“I have other dishes to heat. I can add yours,” an elderly woman said.

“Denki.”
Lindie handed the casserole to the woman who then slipped it on the rack beside the others.

“I’m Lois. We haven’t met, but I’ve heard about you.”

Lindie dropped her smile even though Lois was jovial as she said it.

“
Gut
things.” Lois chuckled. “Are you going to take your cape off and stay for a while?”

The crowded room was warm. She removed the covering as someone took hold of her arm.

“I see you’ve met
mei mamm
,” Rebecca said, giving Lindie’s arm a squeeze. Without waiting for Lindie to answer, she continued, “We are so thrilled that you’ve moved to our district. So many times our young men move away when they fall in love. Have you and Josiah corresponded long?”

It would raise too many questions for Lindie to admit she’d only received one letter. Indirectly at that since Josiah had
mailed the letter to Eli. Thankfully, before she could think of a response, the door opened and the men filed inside.

“I better get the
kaffi
ready.” Rebecca turned to the stove.

Lindie inched toward the door. She needed air. The different food scents had upset her stomach. While Hannah was distracted with the other children, Lindie slipped outside.

She rubbed her arms, wishing she had thought to grab her cape.

The door opened and Ellen stepped outside. “It gets noisy in there, ain’t so?”

“
Jah
,” Lindie agreed. Though it was more than noise that drove her out.

“Hannah seems to have taken to you. I suppose she thinks of you as a playmate.”

She must’ve been the one whispering in the service. Lindie forced a smile, then scurried toward the outhouse.

Ellen followed. “So how long have you and Josiah known each other?”

Behind them, the screen door snapped and Josiah tramped down the porch steps. He took a few strides and was at Lindie’s side before she blinked.

“We’ve known each other for several years. Our districts in Ohio were only fifteen miles apart, and her
bruder
and I worked on the same construction crew.”

Ellen eyed Lindie as if trying to calculate the age difference between them.

“Ellen was the one who sent over the apple crisp,” Josiah said.

“
Denki
. Excuse me.” Lindie shot inside the outhouse. Not a place she wanted to loiter, but if it meant waiting until everyone went back indoors, she would. As she was busy ridding her
stomach of its contents, Josiah and Ellen’s conversation became a muffled background.

After a few minutes, Josiah knocked on the door. “Is everything all right? You’ve been in there awhile.”

Lindie unlatched the door and stepped out. She must have looked squeamish because he placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her toward the buggies.

“I’ll take you home.”

“What will everyone think?”

“That I want to be alone with
mei fraa
.”

Her muscles stiffened.

He capped her shoulder with his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “We’re newly married. What else would they think?” He waited for her to climb into the buggy. “I have to run back inside to get your cloak and to ask Simon to bring Hannah home with him.” He winked. “That way we can have some time alone.”

Chapter Ten

J
osiah shook his head at Lindie practically hugging the farthest side of the buggy bench. “You look more nervous
nau
than on our way
to
church. What’s wrong?”

She shrugged without making eye contact.

He reached across the bench and clasped his hand over hers. If she kept wringing them, her chapped hands would turn raw. “You’re
nett
feeling well, are you?”

She shook her head.

His stomach growled, a sharp reminder it was past mealtime.

“I’m sorry we left before you had a chance to eat,” she whispered.

“That’s okay. Besides, I wanted to be alone with you.” He winked. “With Simon and Hannah always around, we haven’t had much opportunity.”

She shifted farther away on the seat and began fidgeting with the hem of her apron.

“Does that bother you?” He couldn’t figure her out. He would have stayed for the meal if she hadn’t been hiding in the outhouse. Now she acted frightened to be alone with him.
“Lindie,” he said when she didn’t answer. “Don’t you want to get to know each other better?”

She sucked in a raspy breath. “Sure. If . . . if that’s what you want.” Her words sounded forced. She tilted her head up.

At first it looked as though she was studying the rooftop of the buggy, but then she blinked. Obviously trying not to cry.

Josiah led Molly off the main road toward home. Neither said anything until he stopped the mare next to the porch.

“I’ll take care of Molly and be in shortly. Maybe you could make us some sandwiches.”

“I thought—never mind.” She opened the buggy door and lowered one leg.

Josiah leaned across the bench to reach for her arm. “I meant for us to get acquainted by
talking
. Over lunch.” She hadn’t looked this frightened since the day he brought her home. His face heated. He shouldn’t have teased her about going home to be alone. He cleared his throat. “I’ll be in after I take care of Molly.” And after he prayed about what they’d talk about.

This time when she scurried to get out of the buggy, he didn’t stop her. She needed some time alone. And so did he.

Josiah clicked his tongue and Molly lurched forward.

He spent longer than usual removing the harness, filling the water and oat buckets, and wiping off the lather buildup on Molly. He didn’t believe it was right to stable a horse without towel drying her first. He also covered Molly with a blanket during the heart of the winter, when the temperatures dipped below zero, and rubbed liniment on her legs to save the mare’s joints.

He already owned one horse that limped when it got cold. Josiah grabbed the ointment jar from a shelf and opened Moose’s stall. He dug his hand into the gooey substance and crouched next to the horse. Each night he rubbed the gelding’s joints with
this special compound. Josiah’s eyes watered from the pungent scent. Moose was old. Josiah retired him from dragging logs out of the woods after Caroline’s death. Josiah moved to the other side and slathered the oily substance down the horse’s legs. It wouldn’t be long before Hannah would want to go for a sleigh ride. Another thing they hadn’t done much of since Caroline died. After he’d built a flatbed with ski runners for hauling lumber out of the woods, he’d built Caroline a sleigh. On wintry nights, they bundled up and took a family ride. Hannah loved it. She would motion for him to go faster and throw her head back, laughing.