Love’s Journey Home (9 page)

“Well, I think I have a solution to that problem.” He introduced himself as Isaac
Gless and the girl, who plucked at her apron and ducked her head, as his sister Mary
Elizabeth. “Mary Elizabeth is a good baker and she needs a job.”

“Does she, indeed? Then maybe we should get to know each other a bit.”

“Good idea.” He grinned, apparently unaware that Annie meant she and Mary Elizabeth
should get to know each other. Funny job interview, when the interviewee couldn’t
get a word in edgewise. Isaac lifted his head and sniffed loudly. “You could start
by letting us sample the wares. I smell bumbleberry pie and maple drop cookies.”

“You have a good nose.” Annie found herself smiling, although she wasn’t sure why.
“Right on both counts.”

“With a honker like this, how could I miss?” He pointed at a nose that seemed suited
for the size of his handsome face and grinned. “Got it from my daed. They say I look
exactly like him, only better.”

“Isaac!” Mary Elizabeth finally spoke. “Annie will think you’re bragging on yourself.
Remember what Daed says: No
hochmut
, only
demut
.”

“I’m never prideful, always humble. I also try to always speak the truth.” He laughed.
His laugh was deep and natural and unfettered. It made Annie laugh too, something
she hadn’t done in a long time. He snatched a piece of cookie from the sample plate
left from the previous day. “Let me have a taste—see how the goods are in this bakery.”

“Nee, nee.” Annie scurried forward and grabbed the plate. “Not day-old samples. I
have cookies hot from the oven.”

She whirled and scooped up the fresh, hot snickerdoodles and turned to give them each
one. The look on Isaac’s face made her stop. His sly grin said it all. She’d been
tricked into giving him a fresh cookie free of charge. “You are quite the smooth talker,
Isaac Gless. Now you best get along with your business while I talk to your sister
about this job.”

“I can’t hang around while you talk?”

“Not unless you plan to be the one doing the baking.”

“No, no, I’m either running my daed’s implement repair shop or I’m working for your
brother at the blacksmith shop—I’m not sure which it will be yet. I went by but his
shop was closed. A sign on the door said he’d gone to make a house call.”

He imparted all this information while leaning on her counter, grinning at her. He
didn’t sound unsure at all. Annie longed for that kind of self-assurance. Somehow
hers had disappeared with David’s death. She found his a little daunting. She turned
to Mary Elizabeth. “Come behind the counter. I’ll pour some fresh lemonade and we’ll
talk while I make the rhubarb pies. In fact, if you’ve a mind to, you could start
the oatmeal raisin cookies for me. A bit of a trial run, how about that?”

“That would be nice.” Mary Elizabeth put a hand on the swinging door that separated
the bakery’s public space from the work space. “I’m not so good at conversation, but
my cookies are good.”

“They’re very good,” Isaac interrupted. “I’ll be a witness to that.”

“Tell your brother he can go now.” Annie cocked her head toward the door. “Job interviews
are usually done by the person seeking the job, not a family member.”

Mary Elizabeth’s cheeks turned rosy. “Isaac means well.”

The clink of the door closing told Annie that Mary Elizabeth’s brother had taken the
hint.
Gut
. “All the ingredients you’ll need are on these shelves.” She gestured to the oak
planks that lined the wall. Shelves made with loving hands by Sadie’s husband many
years ago. Annie ignored the pang. She missed working with Sadie, but time marched
along, taking prisoners, and leaving people behind. “Help yourself and I’ll get started
on the pies.”

“My
bruder
doesn’t mean any harm.”

Surprised at her insistence, Annie glanced back at the girl. “I didn’t think he did.
I just have a lot of work to do. No time for silliness.”

Mary Elizabeth selected cinnamon and nutmeg from the row of spices, then set them
next to the enormous container of oatmeal. “He acts silly to hide his broken heart.”

“It’s hard to tell.” Isaac had a broken heart? He didn’t act like it. Anyway, it wasn’t
her place to know about Isaac Gless’s heart. “We should talk about your cooking skills.”

“My mudder died so Abigail and I do all the cooking and we take care of my sisters.
They’re special.” Mary Elizabeth wiped her hands on her apron. Her eyes reddened,
but her voice remained steady. “Both of them, even though Daed doesn’t want to see
it.”

“I’m sure your daed believes he is blessed with each one of his children.” Annie knew
what it was like to lose a mother and try to help raise little brothers and sisters.
“It’s hard, isn’t it? But you’re blessed to have a big family to help care for the
little ones.”

“Jah.” Mary Elizabeth looked doubtful, but she nodded. “I love Isabelle and Rachel.
I…I hope to have many some day.”

“Of course you do. It’s what all Plain women want.”

What Annie wanted more than anything she could imagine. Children with David. Many
children. Gabriel Gless had eight. She couldn’t imagine such bounty. Yet he suffered,
just as she did. Perhaps more so with no fraa to care for those children. Maybe Isaac
tried to help Mary Elizabeth get a job because of this. Otherwise she would be a substitute
mother and miss her chance to be mudder of her own children. Annie put the thought
away. She must not meddle in other people’s problems. She had a penchant for doing
that, and the results weren’t always what she would have hoped.

“You’re Mary Elizabeth Gless, aren’t you.” Mark’s voice interrupted Annie’s reverie.
Her brother stood in the doorway, a twenty-five-pound bag of flour on his shoulder
topped by another of sugar. He marched forward with a jaunty stride as if they weighed
no more than a puppy. “I saw you at the parade.”

The girl’s face turned pink once again. She barely glanced at Mark, instead giving
Annie an imploring look. Annie took pity on her. “Jah, this is Mary Elizabeth. She’s
come to work here. You’d best do the same. She’s on a try-out and she wants to do
well so she doesn’t need you nattering on about parades and such.”

“I only wanted to say hello and welcome.” Mark wasn’t one to be bullied—especially
by a sister. “It’s the neighborly thing to do.”

Annie doubted Mark’s intentions were that lofty. “Consider it said and take the pineapple
sheet cake on the counter to Mrs. Fisher. While you’re out, stop at the IGA and pick
up a large can of shortening. I’ve run short and the restaurant supply truck won’t
be in town until tomorrow.”

Mark dropped the bags at Annie’s feet and made a show of dusting his hands. “I’m off
then.”

“Thank you for the welcome.” Mary Elizabeth managed to summon the courage to take
two steps in Mark’s direction. Annie hid a smile. “We’ve only been here a few days,
but everyone has been real nice. Makes it easier.”

“We’re pretty nice folks.” Mark tucked his thumbs under his suspenders. “You’ll see.”

Annie suspected Mark would go to great lengths to make sure of that. She suppressed
a sigh and turned back to cutting shortening into flour for the pie crusts. Those
first baby steps in getting to know another person. The joy of the journey toward
finding that individual who would be the one with whom a person could spend his life.
Mark and Mary Elizabeth had that journey still in front of them. Perhaps with each
other. Or with another. A journey full of delights and sorrows. Her own journey had
ended abruptly in front of a white stone marker in a long row of identical headstones.
She swallowed against the ache in her throat. She thought of Noah and began to count
her blessings as she did each day. The ache didn’t ease.

Helen added another dozen peanut butter chocolate chip cookies to a tray already laden
with snickerdoodles, haystack cookies, and thimble cookies. She glanced around her
kitchen. What else? Slices of banana bread. She wiped her hands on her apron and studied
the tray. Enough? With Thomas and his crew, Gabriel and his boys, and Luke and his
brothers, more than two dozen men and boys were working in front of the Crouch house.
The tree had taken out two windows, knocked in part of the front living room wall,
and damaged the wooden floor as well as any furniture in its wake. Rain soaked everything.
The east side of the house stood in shambles.

Better add the blueberry muffins too.

Helen inhaled the scent of fresh wood planks and vinegar and water cleanser. Calm
prevailed today. The storm, if nothing else, had put her problems in perspective.
Everyone had survived safe and uninjured, just as they had been after Edmond’s escapade.
Gott’s
timing allowed for the children to be safe in their beds on the other side of the
house when the tree fell. With the sun shining and the sky blue, the terrors of the
storm dissipated, brushed away by the girls as they swept the areas the men cleared.
Their excited, high-pitched chatter filled the air like birds singing in their nests.

“Helen, where are you?”

“Right at the counter, Mudder, getting ready to take snacks out to the men.”

Mudder trundled into the kitchen, her cane making a clickety-clack sound on the vinyl
linoleum. She didn’t seem any worse for the wear after the night’s adventure. No broken
bones or even bruises, despite the force of Helen’s desperate shove to the floor.
“It seems drafty.”

“That’s because there’s a big hole in the wall,” Helen reminded her. “Remember, the
tree fell into it.”

“That’s right. It did.”

Sometimes, it seemed Mudder’s mind might be going the way of her sight. The thought
made Helen’s stomach rock. Not Mudder’s mind too. “Sit here at the table and I’ll
bring you a glass of iced tea and a cookie. Would you like haystacks or peanut butter?”

“Nee. You take the food to the men. I can take care of myself.”

Between her failing sight, gnarled hands, and wandering mind, Mudder hadn’t been able
to take care of herself since before Daed’s death, but Helen didn’t argue. Her mother’s
continued presence brought her joy, and it lessened the blow a little of losing Daed
too soon.

“Sit. Here are your cookies. I’ll pour the iced tea when I come back.” Helen picked
up the tray. “I’ll be right back.”

She turned and smacked into Thomas’s broad frame in the doorway. Cookies flew. The
tray tumbled to the floor with a clatter. “
Ach
!”

“Sorry!” Thomas knelt at the same time as Helen. “I’ll get it.”

“Nee, let me.” She narrowly avoided butting heads with him. “I’ll have them cleaned
up in no time.”

“Here. I came to help fix a mess, not make a new one.” Thomas’s chagrined face surely
matched her own. “Such a waste of good cookies too. They smell mighty good.”

“There’s plenty more where these came from.” Helen scrambled to her feet, the tray
in hand. “Did you come in for something in particular?”

“Gabriel sliced a finger. We’ll need gauze and tape.” Thomas lifted his hat and resettled
it on his unruly hair. “Some antiseptic if you have it.”

“Of course. The girls can sweep this up when they finish in the living room.”

Glad to have a reason to turn away from the sight of a man who always brought her
a mishmash of feelings that ran the gamut from friendship to aching disappointment
that had to be buried—should’ve been buried deep, deep in the ground long ago, Helen
dumped the ruined cookies and bustled about the kitchen, gathering supplies.
Keep busy. Work hard. God knows best. God has a plan
. “Bad cut?”

“Nee, just enough that he doesn’t want to get blood on his shirt.”

“This should do it, then.”

She followed him through the living room, trying not to look at the gaping hole and
the smashed hickory rocking chairs and the ruined sofa, its cushions ripped and squashed
under the tree. What if her mudder had been sitting there? Better not to play the
what-if game. God had brought them safely through the storm.

“You’re making quick work of it.” She cast about for a safe topic of conversation.
“Are Thaddeus and Luke back with the supplies from the lumberyard yet?”

“Jah. They just arrived.” He looked back at her. “Gabriel’s a good man.”

Startled at this direction in the conversation, Helen slowed her pace. “I’m sure he
is. He’s your cousin.”