An Amish Match (10 page)

“All right.” She felt as if she'd been dismissed like a
kind
caught eavesdropping on her elders.

As she turned to go to the house, he added, “It's going to take time to get the buildings fixed up. Once everything is in decent shape, we'll talk about the future of the farm. Okay?”

“Ja,”
she said, though they were postponing the inevitable clash of wills. There must be some way to explain why she needed to keep the farm without revealing the truth about Lloyd.

But how?

* * *

Joshua watched as his youngest brother poked at a beam with a nail, and he tried not to sneeze as bits of hay and dust and spiderwebs drifted down onto his upturned face. Daniel was trying to determine if any insects or dry rot had weakened the wood. If the nail slid in easily, it was a bad sign. A board along the side of the barn could easily be replaced, but if one of the beams failed, the whole building could collapse. From where Joshua stood at the foot of the ladder, he couldn't see what his brother was discovering at the top.

“Looks
gut
,” Daniel said as he came down the ladder at the same speed he would have walked up the lane.

His younger brother was finally filling out after spending the past five or six years looking like a black-haired scarecrow, disconnected joints sticking out in every direction. His shoulders were no longer too wide, and his feet and hands seemed the right size. The gaze from his bright blue eyes was steady. He and his twin Micah looked identical except for the cleft in Daniel's chin, something Daniel hated and was looking forward to hiding when he grew a beard after he married.

“No dry rot?” Joshua asked.

He shook his head. “In spite of how it looks, the barn was kept up well for many years. Any damage is recent, say the past five years or so, and it's only on the surface.” He dropped the nail into a pocket of his well-worn tool belt. “But if the barn doesn't get some maintenance soon, it'll tumble in on itself.”

“I know at least that much about construction, brother
boppli
.” Joshua smiled, knowing how the term annoyed Daniel, who had been born more than a half hour after his twin.

“Are you sure your ancient mind can hold so much information?” his brother shot back.

Laughing with Daniel erased the rest of the tension he'd been feeling since he decided to bring Rebekah and the
kinder
to Lloyd's farm. Much of it had eased when she'd told him she would like to visit the buggy shop. Her effort to learn more about his life showed she wanted their marriage to have a chance, too.

His relief at hearing that revealed how uncertain he'd been about her expectations from their marriage.
Maybe you haven't given her a chance before today to tell you that she wanted to visit
, scolded the little voice from his conscience. He couldn't expect her to be candid when he withheld himself from her. At first he hadn't wanted to mention Tildie, because he hadn't wanted Rebekah to think he was comparing her housekeeping and interactions with the
kinder
to how his first wife would have handled them. Again he regretted not taking more time to talk before they spoke their vows. If they'd had more discussions then, the situation might be easier now.

“So how long to fix up the place?” Joshua asked.

“At least a month to do the basics, including the painting. That's assuming I can get
gut
helpers. It's not easy this time of year when everyone's so busy.” He rubbed the cleft in his chin and arched his brows. “If the barn burned, everyone would be here even sooner.”

“I'm hoping you aren't suggesting burning it down so we can have a barn raising.”

Daniel laughed. “I never thought I'd hear my big brother, the volunteer fireman, make such a comment.”

“I wanted to make sure
you
didn't.” He clapped his brother on the shoulder, then looked around again. “Just a month to repair and paint? That's faster than I'd guessed.”

“That's assuming I can get plenty of help. I may be able to get it done even more quickly if you're willing to hire a few of my
Englisch
coworkers.”

Now Joshua was surprised. “Why wouldn't I?”

“
Englischers
think we Amish are the most skilled construction workers. I wasn't sure what you thought.”

“I think I want this job done quickly and well.”

“
Gut
. There are a couple of
Englisch
guys I work with who can run circles around me with a hammer and nails. I can ask them if they'd like some extra work.”

He knew his brother was being modest, because Daniel's skills had an excellent reputation. “Sounds like a plan.”

“I'm pretty sure one will, because he's been talking about his wife wanting him to take the family on a trip to Florida.”

“How much are you planning to charge me?” Joshua asked with mock horror.

“Don't worry. It'll be fair. Let me talk to the guys I have in mind, and I'll get back to you soon. Okay?”

“Ja.”

After Daniel left, Joshua wiped his brow with a soiled handkerchief and walked across the freshly mown backyard. He waved to Levi, who was now cutting the front yard. A glance at the garden told him Debbie and Sammy had finished there. The back door was open, so he headed toward it to find out how much longer Rebekah needed at the house.

He jumped back as a large box was carried out of the kitchen. Only when it had passed did he realize his oldest was toting it. He watched, puzzled, as Timothy set it in the wagon beside a pair of ladder-back chairs.

“What's in the box?” Joshua asked.

“Some stuff Rebekah wants to take home with us.”

He nodded, even though he was curious what was in the box. Her clothing and the boy's as well as the clothing she'd prepared for the
boppli
were already at his house. He'd brought Sammy's toys and several of her quilts the first week after they were married.

“I hope the rest will fit,” his son said.

“Depends on how much else there is,” Joshua replied as his mind whirled.

Rebekah hadn't said anything to him about bringing any of her furniture to his house. Tildie had remarked often what a comfortable home it was. Didn't Rebekah have everything she needed?

What if their situations were reversed? There were some items he'd want to bring with him into her house. His buggy supply catalogues, the lamp that was the perfect height when he was reading, his favorite pillow and the quilt
Grossmammi
Stoltzfus had made for him, some of Tildie's rag rugs...and, most important, the family Bible.

“I don't know what else she's planning to bring,” Timothy said. “She's in the house. You can ask her while I pack the rest of the canned food.”

“I will.”

As his son headed toward a bulkhead door and vanished down the stairs to the cellar, Joshua went to the kitchen door. The last time he'd come this way was to ask Rebekah to marry him.

He entered the kitchen. “Do you intend on bringing much more...?” His voice faded as he glanced around in disbelief. The kitchen cabinets looked abandoned because the stove and refrigerator were gone. The table where he'd sat while he discussed marriage with Rebekah had vanished, too. He looked through to the living room. Except for the sewing machine, the other room was empty, too. He frowned. Timothy had brought out only a box and the two chairs. Where was everything else?

He heard footfalls upstairs. He climbed the steps two at a time and followed the sound of muffled voices past a bathroom. Glancing into a room on the other side of the hall, he guessed it'd been a bedroom. It was empty except for a carved blanket chest. The top was open, and a tumbling-blocks quilt in shades of green, black and white was draped over the edge.

He kept going and looked into the other bedroom. Rebekah stood in the middle of it, her hands pressed to her mouth as if trying to hold in a cry. Debbie and Sammy stood on either side of her, for once silent.

Catching his daughter's eyes, Joshua motioned with his head for Debbie to leave. She obeyed, bringing Sammy with her. He smiled at her and patted her shoulder.

“Rebekah's sad,” she whispered before she led the little boy down the stairs.

No, he thought as he walked into the room. Rebekah wasn't sad. She was furious. Every inch of her bristled with anger.

“Where is your furniture?” he asked when she didn't acknowledge him.

“Gone,” she said, slowly lowering her hands.

“Gone?” He knew he sounded silly repeating what she'd said, but he was stunned to find another room stripped of everything including the dark green shades. “We need to let the bishop know you've been robbed. He can inform your neighbors and the police.”

She put a hand on his arm, halting him. His astonishment that she'd purposely touched him instead of shying away eclipsed his shock with the stripped house.

“There's no need to alert the bishop. The day of our wedding I told my
mamm
to let Lloyd's family know they were welcome to take anything they could use.” She drew in a deep breath and gave him a weak smile. “I guess they needed a lot.”

“They took all the furniture?”

“Except my sewing machine, a pair of wooden chairs that belonged to my
aenti
and the blanket chest my
grossdawdi
built for me when I was twelve.” She struggled to hold back the tears shining in her eyes. “I put the linens they left in the box Timothy's already taken out.”

He thought about the box in the wagon. It wasn't very large. “What about your cradle? Where is it?”

“I don't have a cradle. Sammy slept in a drawer for a few months after he was born, and then I devised a pallet for him until he was big enough to sleep in a regular bed.”

Joshua frowned. He recalled very clearly Lloyd bragging about the beautiful, handmade cradle he had ordered from a woodworker in Ephrata. His friend apologized for his boasting, saying he was excited to be able to give such a fine gift to his wife. He'd even stopped by to show it off. Joshua remembered it well because it'd been his and Tildie's wedding anniversary, and Joshua had had to push aside his grief to try to share his friend's excitement. Lloyd had said he planned to present it to Rebekah the following week.

But he hadn't. What had happened to the beautiful cradle? Uneasiness was an icy river running through him. For some reason, Lloyd must have needed to sell the cradle before he gave it to Rebekah. Joshua tried to guess what would have been more important to his friend than providing for his wife and
kind
.

Chapter Nine

R
ebekah drew back on Dolly's reins to slow the buggy as it neared the parking lot where a sign painted with Stoltzfus Family Shops was set prominently to one side. The long, low red clapboard building held the local grocery store, which was owned by her brother-in-law, Amos, as well as the other shops where the brothers worked. The scent of hot metal came from Isaiah's smithy behind the main building, a
gut
sign because Isaiah was again working after taking time off in the wake of his wife's death.

Joshua's brother was moving forward with his life, and she must do the same. The sight of the empty rooms at the house in Bird-in-Hand had been shocking, but also felt like closing the pages of a book. An ending. She was beginning a new story with Joshua's family in Paradise Springs. Everything that had been part of that life was gone, except for the farm. She was grateful she wouldn't have to make a decision about it now.

A few cars and a trio of buggies were parked in front of the grocery store. When she halted her buggy, she heard the clip-clop of several horses. An
Englisch
man came around the end of the building leading four horses. He nodded toward her as he walked toward a horse trailer at the far end of the parking lot.

She watched him load the horses in with the ease of practice. It was amusing to think of horses riding.

“Sit here? No go?” Sammy asked when she didn't move to get out of the buggy.

Rebekah looked at her son, who held a bag of cookies he'd brought from the house. He wanted to see the buggy shop, too. The other
kinder
, who'd been to the shop often, were helping
Grossmammi
Wanda and
Aenti
Esther prepare pots of flowering plants to sell at the end of the farm lane. Passersby stopped and bought them along with the cheeses Joshua's brother Ezra made.

“Let's go.” She smiled at his excitement. It was infectious. She was eager to see where Joshua spent so many hours each day.

Still holding the bag, Sammy grabbed her hand as soon as she came around the buggy and swung him down. She winced when the motion she'd done so often sent a streak of pain across her back. A warning, she knew, to be careful. The ache subsided into a dull throbbing that matched her steps across the asphalt parking lot and up onto the concrete sidewalk in front of Joshua's shop.

Stoltzfus Buggy Shop.

The small sign was in one corner of the window beside the door next to another one announcing the shop was open. The hours were listed on the door, but Joshua was willing to come in early or stay late to help a customer.

As she opened the door, a bell chimed overhead and a buzzer echoed beyond an arch at the far end of the large room. It must lead into another space, but a partially closed door kept her from seeing. A half wall was a few paces from the doorway. On the other side were partially built buggies, spare parts and several hulking machines. The only one she recognized was a sewing machine with a table wider and longer than her own. She guessed it was for sewing upholstery for the buggies.

“What are you doing here?”

Rebekah recoiled from the deep voice coming out of a small room to the right, then realized it belonged to Timothy. She hadn't realized before how much he sounded like a grown man. There wasn't any anger on his face, even though his voice had been sharp. Maybe it was as simple as he always sounded annoyed.

“Cookies!” Sammy announced, oblivious to the teenager's tone. Running to the half wall, he held up the bag. “Yummy cookies.”

“
Danki
, little man.” Timothy gave a gentle tug on Sammy's hair.

Her son smiled as if Timothy was the greatest person in the world. He offered the bag again to the teenager. Timothy took it, unrolled the top and held it out so Sammy could select a cookie.

Biting her lower lip, Rebekah stayed silent. It was such a sweet moment, and she didn't want to do anything to shatter it.

The older boy looked over Sammy's head. “
Danki
, Rebekah.”

“The cookies are—”

“No, I mean
danki
for telling
Daed
I don't want to build buggies. We had a long talk about it this morning.”

“You did?”

“
Ja
. He suggested I try working a while with each of my
onkels
and see if I want to learn a craft from one of them.” He grinned. “So, starting next week, I'll work here half the day and with
Onkel
Jeremiah the other half. If making furniture doesn't interest me, and I'm not sure it will, I can apprentice with a different
onkel
. I think I'll like working at
Onkel
Isaiah's smithy or at the grocery store best.”

“What a
gut
idea!”

“It was mine.
Daed
actually listened when I suggested it.”

“Your
daed
is always willing to listen to a well-thought-out idea shared with him in a calm tone.”

He rolled his eyes, making Sammy giggle. “Okay, Rebekah. I get the message. Lower volume, more thought.”

She laughed and patted his shoulder, pleased he allowed it. “Timothy Stoltzfus, that sounds like something a grown man would say.”

He started to roll his eyes again, but halted when Joshua came around the door in the arch. “Who's at the door, Timothy?” He wiped his hands on an oily cloth as he walked toward the half wall. A smile brightened his face. “Rebekah, you should have told me you were planning to come this afternoon. I would have cleaned up some of this mess.”

“It looks fine,” she replied. “We decided you needed some cookies.”

“Cookies!” Sammy pointed to the bag Timothy held.

“More like crumbs.” Timothy shook the bag so they could hear the broken cookie pieces in it. “But they taste
gut
, don't they, Sammy?”

“Gut! Gut! Gut!”
The toddler danced around in a circle.

Joshua chuckled. “Why don't you take Sammy over to
Onkel
Amos's store, Timothy, and buy each of you something cool to enjoy with your cookie bits? Tell him I'll stop by later to pay for it.”

“I've got money.” Timothy squared his shoulders, trying to look taller. “Brad Granger paid me for helping him clean out his garage a couple of weeks ago. C'mon, little man. Let's see what
Onkel
Amos has that's yummy.”

Sammy gave him his hand and went out the door. He waved back through the glass.

“What a surprise!” Joshua ran his fingers through his beard as he stared after the boys until they walked out of view. “I didn't expect him to spend his hard-earned money. He's been saving up for something, though he hasn't said what.”

“Timothy has a
gut
heart,” she said.

“Which he hides most of the time.”

“All the more reason to be appreciative when he reveals it.”

“True.” He opened the swinging door in the half wall and motioned for her to come in. “What would you like to see first?”

“Everything!” She laughed as she lifted off her bonnet and put it on a nearby table. Smoothing her hair back toward her
kapp
, she said, “Now I sound like Sammy when he's excited. Can you show me what you're working on?”

He led the way past the machines, identifying each one by what it did. All were powered by air compression. Most were for working with metal when he built buggy wheels or put together the structure for the main part of the buggy. As she'd guessed, the sewing machine was used for making the seat upholstery. Tools hung from pegboard along one long wall. Hammers of every size as well as screwdrivers and wrenches. Those were the tools she recognized. Others she'd never seen before. She wanted to ask what they were used for, but her attention was caught by the fancy vehicle on the other side of the arch.

The grand carriage was parked in front of wide double doors. It was much larger than their family buggy and painted a pristine white. Open, with its top folded down at the back, it had two sets of seats that faced each other behind a raised seat, which had been painted a lustrous black at the front. The curved side wall dipped down toward a single step so someone could enter the carriage. The tufted seats were upholstered in bright red velvet. Large white wheels were topped by a curved piece of metal so no mud or stones from the road could strike the occupants. Narrow rubber tires edged the wheels.

“This is my current project,” Joshua said as he placed one hand on the side of the carriage.

“What is it?”

“Mr. Carpenter, the
Englischer
who asked me to restore it, told me it's called a vis-à-vis. It's a French phrase that means the passengers face each other.”

“It's really fancy and really fanciful, like something a princess would ride in.” She stroked the red velvet. “Does he drive it?”

“Apparently he intends to use it on his daughter's wedding day. He tells me he has two matched bay horses to pull it to the church.”

She arched her brows, and he chuckled. After walking to the body of a plain gray buggy, she bent to look inside it. “Are you repairing this, too?”

“No. I'm building it for a family near New Holland. I start with a wood base, then make the frame out of metal. Once it's secure, boards enclose it and the body is painted. Next I need to add wiring for lights and put in the dashboard Jeremiah is making.” He glanced at a wall calendar from the bank in Paradise Springs. The squares were filled with notations in a multitude of colored inks. She guessed it was Joshua's schedule for each vehicle he was working on when he added, “He's supposed to have the dash to me soon.”

She listened, fascinated, while he described making and fitting the wheels to a vehicle, as well as building the shafts to harness the horse to it. The interior would be completed to the new owner's specifications. He pointed to a list of options tacked on the wall. She was amazed to see almost two dozen items until she realized it was for many different kinds of vehicles. A young man wanted a certain style of seat in his courting buggy, while a family might need an extra bench seat or choose to have a pickup-style bed for moving bulky items.

“I never guessed it took so many different steps to make a buggy,” she said when he finished the tour. “They're far more complicated than I'd guessed.”

“It's our goal to let our customers think their buggies are simple so they won't need much maintenance to keep them going. That's why I want each buggy we make to be the best we can do.”

“That sounds like pride, Joshua Stoltzfus,” she teased.

“It does.” He patted the unfinished buggy. “But what if I say I'm glad God gave me the skill to put a
gut
buggy together?”

“Better.”

“
Gut
. Let me show you the sewing machine. I think you'll find it interesting.”

Rebekah took a single step to follow him, then paused as she pressed her hands to her lower back. The faint throb had erupted into an agonizing ache when she moved.

Did she groan? She wasn't sure, but Joshua rushed to her. He put his arm around her shoulders, urging her to lean on him. Her cheek rested on his chest while he guided her to a chair by the half wall, and she felt the smooth, strong motion of his muscles.

“Are you okay?” His warm breath sifted along her neck, making her
kapp
strings flutter...and her heart, as well.

“
Ja
. I strained my back while lifting Sammy out of the carriage. He's getting bigger, and so am I.” She tried to laugh, but halted when another pang ricocheted up her spine. “I won't make that mistake again.”

“Take Debbie with you when you're going out with Sammy. She'll be glad to help.”

“I know.” She glanced up at him. “She's helping your
mamm
and Esther today. She was hoping her friend, Mandy, would come over, too.”

“But she would be happy to help you.”

“I know. You have raised a very sweet daughter.”

Her words touched him, she saw.
Hochmut
wasn't a part of the Amish way, but he knew how blessed he was that his
kinder
had stayed strong after the death of their
mamm
.

With his hand at the center of her back, he steered her toward the half wall, where she could sit while they waited for Timothy and Sammy to return. It was a simple motion she'd seen him use with the
kinder
, but his light caress sent a powerful quiver along her. Even when he didn't touch her, she was deeply aware of him. To have his fingers brushing her waist threatened to demolish the wall she had built around her heart to keep any man from ever touching it.

When she lowered herself to the chair, he knelt beside her. He took her hand between his much broader ones. Worry etched deep threads in his brow. Before she could halt them, her fingers stroked his forehead to ease those lines. They slipped down his smooth cheek, edging his soft but wiry beard.

His brown eyes, as liquid and warm as melted chocolate, were filled with pleasure at her caress and questions about what she intended it to mean. How could she explain when she didn't know herself?

Drawing her hands away, she clasped them atop her full belly. The motion seemed to free them from the powerful connection between them. Or so she thought until he put his hand over hers, and the
boppli
kicked hard enough that he must have felt it, too. A loving glow filled his eyes exactly like when he looked at his own
kinder
.

“A strong one,” he murmured.

“The
boppli
doesn't like to be ignored.”

A slow smile curved his lips and sparkled in his eyes. “Maybe it's giving us fair warning to be prepared for when it's born.”