Gabriel's Bride (14 page)

Gabriel washed his hands and dried them on the dishtowel as Samuel finished eating. At least his youngest wasn’t finicky. Course’n young Sam didn’t have non-dippy dippy eggs this morning, just an overcooked biscuit filled with scorched bacon.

“You ready, Samuel?”

Big green eyes focused on him as Samuel slowly shook his head. “I wanna stay with Wachel.”

Gabriel wasn’t surprised. Samuel was more accustomed to staying with his
aenti
and
grossmammi
than with his
dat
. He could find no fault with that. “Is this okay with you, Rachel?”

She nodded, “Of course.”

Gabriel smiled at the sprinkling of freckles across her nose. What a strange thing to notice about one’s wife the day after the ceremony. But their marriage was nothing else except strange.

“What is it?” She frowned, smoothing her hair and making sure it was all tucked in its pins and properly covered with a snowy white prayer
kapp
.

“Nothing.” He shook his head and started for the door, grabbing his straw hat off its peg.

Yes, indeed. Some kind of strange.

Milking the goats had to be her favorite time of the day. Her hands knew what to do without any direction from her brain, leaving her plenty of time to think about recipes for
chevre
and ways to improve her cheese. She was secretly proud of her little business operation which seemed to be growing day by day. Course, she had nothing on Annie’s pickle business.

Her sister-in-law had started the business after learning of Ruth’s cancer. Although Ruth had finished her treatments, Annie had kept the business going in order to add to the community coffers that helped pay for doctor’s visits and the like. Annie had said that she wanted everyone who needed medical care to be able to go if they so choose. They still advertised on the Internet, but the bishop—and the district as a whole—had turned a blind eye last year when Jacob Kauffman had fallen off the barn and nearly killed himself. The tumble had broken his back and only the medical care that he’d received, courtesy of Annie’s pickles, had saved the boy. After a year of rehabilitation, Jacob could walk again and showed no sign that he’d ever been wheelchair dependent.

Still her cheese brought in enough that she knew she could contribute to the overall household. Even if she couldn’t quite make the meals that Gabriel and his
sohns
were used to.

But she was trying.

Yesterday Katie Rose Fisher had told her that one of Gabriel’s favorite meals to eat was black-eyed peas flavored with smoked ham hock. As soon as he had left the house, Rachel had gone onto the back porch and found the bag containing the dried peas hanging just where Katie Rose said it would be.

It had been a while since Rachel had made beans of any sort, but it was—as they say—like riding a bike. She filled a pan with water and started it to boil while she searched through the freezer. A leftover frozen ham bone was just what she needed and she tossed it and the peas into the pot just as it started to boil. She covered it, turned the setting to low and went out to tend to her goats.

So breakfast still needed some tweaking. She had noticed the way Gabriel had chewed his eggs, like they had been made of a sow’s ear, but dinner would be fine and dandy. Okay, so she had never cooked black-eyed peas before. How different could they be from regular brown beans? Katie Rose had said as much and everyone in Clover Ridge knew what a
gut
cook she was.

A delicious aroma floated in the air as they let themselves back into the house. The peas seemed to be cooking nicely and she longed to check on their progress. But she resisted the urge to take the lid off the cast iron pot and release all that built-up heat. Instead she took out a loaf of crusty sourdough bread and sliced it.

“You want a cheese sandwich, Samuel?”

He nodded his head so hard his bangs flew in all directions.

Rachel laughed. “Then it shall be,” she said with a flourish.

She smeared the thick slices of bread with her favorite herb and garlic
chevre
and turned the oven to “broil.” She sliced tomatoes while the bread and cheese toasted and added the leftover bacon to their plates. A few minutes later she and Samuel were enjoying their quick meal.

Rachel smiled to herself. At least she could do something right, and that was make the best goat cheese in three counties. Sure, her bread left a little something to be desired and her eggs were not the best, but her cheese was grade A.

“More, more,” Samuel chanted, his mouth still stuffed with the last bite.

Rachel ruffled his hair. “It’s not
gut
to talk with your mouth filled with food,
liebschdi
.” She glanced at the clock wondering if Gabriel was coming in to eat or if he was staying at his parents’ house for the noon meal.

“One more and then we’ve got some house cleaning to do.”

Samuel’s face fell into a quick frown. “I do not like cleaning house.”

Nor do I, little one.
“That’s because you’ve never done the work with me.”

“S’pose.” His bottom lip protruded even more than usual, and she heard him kick at the chair next to him. “I wanna go to school.”

“
Jah
, I know. But if you go to school, who will be here with me to help with the goats?” That seemed to brighten him up just a little bit. At least he quit swinging his feet and instead propped his chin in his hand and thought about her question. “I guess I should stay here then, Wachel.”

“Indeed, you should,” she agreed with a quick nod.

She made him another cheese toast, placed it in front of him, and watched him eat, a small measure of pride mixed with the warm feeling of love spreading over her.

This
fraa
stuff wasn’t so hard. She was definitely improving—and after just one day! When Gabriel came home to his favorite meal . . . why then she would definitely feel that she wasn’t the only one who had reaped benefits from their agreement, and that Gabriel Fisher had gotten the bride that he deserved.

8

M
mm . . . something smells
gut
.” Gabriel walked through the front door to the pleasing aroma of . . . “Is that peas I smell?”

“Gabriel!” His wife of one day came flying down the stairs,
kapp
strings trailing behind her like wisps of smoke. A bright pink colored her cheeks and a smudge of dirt ran underneath one brown eye before fading away into her hairline. Her hair itself was once again sticking out from under her
kapp
, little wisps curling around her face in a way that seemed most becoming. Though it shouldn’t have.

One, he shouldn’t be thinking that way about his wife. And two, she should be more presentable. Even if she were only at home. Who knew who could stop by during the day? The preacher’s wife, the preacher, even the bishop himself might decide to come by and see what was going on in this new household.

He frowned.

Her tiny hands immediately flew to her disheveled hair. She smoothed it back into place only to have it pop free again.

His frown deepened.

“I wasn’t expecting you.”

He raised a brow. “This is my home,
jah
?”

She nodded, her color deepening until it was the color of a ripe fall plum. “I meant to say ‘so soon.’ I wasn’t expecting you home so soon.” She slowed her steps and continued down the stairs, easing her way past him.

He grunted, unable to form a reply.

“I was just cleaning the
buwe’s
rooms.”

“Where are they?”

Her gaze flew to the clock on the mantel just as her hand fluttered at her throat. “I—I don’t know. Still walking home from school, I suppose.”

“It’s fifteen after five. They should have been home two hours ago.” All but Matthew, who was undoubtedly still helping Gideon.

She swallowed. “I guess I didn’t realize how late it was. Should we go look for them?”

“I have a feeling I know where they are.” He brushed past her and stalked to the back door, all too aware that she flitted behind him like a tiny bird. That alone was enough to fuel his trek across the yard and to the tree line at its edge. “Joseph, Simon, Da-vid!”

He didn’t have to call twice. In seconds, he heard them crashing through the underbrush. They appeared before him, smiles on their faces as if they had been doing exactly as they had been told.

“Jah, Dat?”
It was Simon who spoke, standing in the middle of his brothers who suddenly found the ground beneath their bare feet incredibly interesting.

“Where have you been?”

“Fishing,” Simon boldly answered.

“Where are
der fisch
?”

Simon’s confidence wavered, then stilled on his freckled face. “We, uh, didn’t catch any today.”

“And your chores?”

Simon’s gaze strayed to a spot behind Gabriel that he knew was Rachel.

“Look at me,” he commanded.

The
bu
swung his attention back to Gabriel.

“Did you get your chores done before you decided to take your chances on the creek bank?”

“Nay, Vatter,”
Simon mumbled.

Gabriel crossed his arms and tried to ignore the ball of energy and heat that was standing behind him. He shouldn’t be so . . . so
aware
of his wife. “So you’re telling me that the chores haven’t been completed because you went fishing and caught no
fisch
for your trouble.”

“Jah, Dat.”
The words were directed at his feet.

Likewise, Joseph and David shifted uncomfortably in the dirt, neither willing to look him in the face.

“
Guck
here,” he said. The
buwe
reluctantly met his gaze. “Tomorrow you will help Rachel scrub the floors in the
haus
. And Monday you will come straight home from school and finish your chores before you do anything else. Understand?”

“Jah, Dat,”
the three mumbled in unison.

“Now, get on up to the house and do your chores. I want them all done by supper.”

They took off like the devil was on their heels.

Gabriel shook his head.

“I—I’m sorry, Gabriel. I guess I wasn’t paying enough attention to the time.”

“That trio is a handful, for sure and for certain. You’ll have to be careful in the future that they don’t find another way to take advantage of you.”

“
Jah
. I suppose.”

“Come on,” he said, reaching for her elbow and then thinking better of the idea. He gestured for her to walk ahead of him. “Let’s get back to the house. There’s no telling what those three will be into next.”

Failure. Total, utter failure. Well, maybe not
totally
. She had managed to get the floors cleaned upstairs, the beds made up with fresh sheets, and the windows washed in all three bedrooms. Not that anyone would notice. Not now that they were all scrambling around trying to get their chores done before their father took a switch to them.

Rachel stirred the buttermilk into the cornmeal as she fought back tears. She wouldn’t cry. She wouldn’t cry.
She wouldn’t cry.