Treasuring Emma (10 page)

He turned around, and her heart gave a lurch. “Adam.”

“Emma.” Adam walked toward her with that confident half slouch he’d always had. He opened his mouth. Shook his head and said nothing.

“What are you doing in
mei
barn?”

“Checking on Dill.”

“Dill’s fine.”

“Not according to Leona.”

Emma lifted her chin. “I’m handling it.”

“I’m sure you are.” He slid his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Still, I wouldn’t mind checking on Dill for you.” A light breeze ruffled the edges of his newly cut hair.

She turned away. He looked much better with an Amish cut. More like the Adam she remembered.

He stepped toward her. “She’s having trouble walking?”

After a long pause, Emma looked up, meeting his hazel eyes. She inched away from him, wishing he would leave.
“Ya.”
She had spent two years trying to forget about him. He was back two minutes, and everything inside her was mixed up again.

“I know you’re upset with me,” Adam said. “But think about Dill. If she’s in pain, maybe I can help her.”

His words reached through her resentment. “All right.” She shoved past him and went inside the barn. Two of the dogs, Archie and Rodney, came up to her, their long tails wagging. Archie rubbed his black muzzle against Emma’s leg.

“New dogs?” Adam opened Dill’s stall.

“Archie was a stray. Rodney was hit by a car last year.” She knelt down and rubbed both dogs’ backs, and got several slobbery licks as a reward. “He’s fine now. I never did find out who he belonged to.”

“What about Molly?”

Emma was surprised he remembered her other dog, a bluetick hound. “She’s getting old. Her favorite place is underneath the porch.”

Adam didn’t respond. He had already gone into Dill’s stall. Emma didn’t want to keep talking to him anyway. She added a bit more food to the dog dishes and listened as he spoke to the horse in soft tones.

Adam could sense when horses weren’t well, and he usually knew what to do to make them better. Despite being upset with him, she hoped he could find out what was wrong with her horse.

The stall door hinges squeaked, and Adam came out. He didn’t look at her. Instead his gaze flicked over his shoulder, back at Dill.

She knew that look, and it wasn’t good.

C
HAPTER
9

“What’s wrong with
mei
horse?”

He rubbed his beard, wishing he didn’t have to break the news to her. But he didn’t want her to hear it from anyone else either. “I’ve seen it before, in a couple of my father’s horses. It’s a type of arthritis. Navicular disease.”

“She’ll get better. Right?”

He paused. “It’s incurable.”

She backed away. “
Nee
. She can’t die.” A desperate whisper.

He took a step toward her. “Emma, she’s not going to die. She’ll probably live several more years.” For a minute he thought she might lean against him.

She straightened. “When will she feel better?”

Archie rubbed against Adam’s leg. He reached down and patted the mutt on the head. His gaze remained on Emma. “Rest will help with the pain.”

“How much rest? A week? Two?”

“Emma.” He said her name as gently as possible. “Dill can’t pull the buggy anymore. Or do any other hard labor. It’s time for her to retire.”

She walked over to the stall and stood on tiptoe, looking in at the horse. Adam moved next to her.

“But she’s going to live, right?”

He lifted his hand to put it on her shoulder. A gesture he would have done before. But not now. Too much had changed. He let his arm fall to his side. “
Ya
. She will. And she’s still a
gut
horse.”

“I know that.” Emma pressed her lips together and faced Adam. “I have to
geh
to the store.” She walked past him. He followed her.

“Emma, do they still have the horse auctions in Bloomfield?”

“Ya.”

“Then I can take you to get a new horse.”

She faced him.
“Nee.”

“I’ve got a truck. I can hitch up a trailer—”

She shook her head, turned, and hurried to the house.

Adam heard the back door slam. Was she that angry at him that she wouldn’t even consider his offer to help her get the new horse she needed?

Ya
, he thought
. She is
.

Emma leaned against the kitchen door and shut her eyes. Dill wouldn’t die. But she couldn’t work either. Her eyes grew hot. She couldn’t afford a new horse. She couldn’t even afford to keep Dill fed, not if she wasn’t working. A horse was an expensive pet. Yet Emma couldn’t part with her.

She banged the back of her fist against the door. She could sell Dill; the money would help pay for a new horse. But the thought tore her heart to pieces. It would be like selling a member of the family. And who would buy her anyway?

She could go to Adam’s father. As the deacon, he could secure funds through the church community to purchase her a new horse. But then Adam would get involved.

Or she could give in to Clara about the fabric shop.

Sorrow and frustration combined in her stomach, a lump heavy as lead. What was she going to do? Sell Dill? Accept charity? Ask for Adam’s help? Cave in to Clara?

No good choices, as far as she could see.

After Emma left, Adam had looked for his father in the barn, then in the pasture. Adam couldn’t find him anywhere. His mother was busy baking. At loose ends, he had to do something. Replenishing the woodpile seemed as good a task as any.

He dropped a piece of wood on the woodpile and leaned against the handle of the heavy maul. Despite the fall chill, perspiration rolled down his back. The physical labor strained his unused muscles, but he felt energized. He picked up another chunk of wood and split it neatly.

If only he could deal so easily with Emma. He tried to get her empty expression out of his mind. He had expected more emotion from her: Doubt about Adam’s diagnosis of Dill. A plan of action, at the very least. But she left without a word, an invisible cloud of defeat hanging over her.

That wasn’t the Emma he knew. She never refused a challenge. He’d once spent six weeks in a cast because he dared her to jump over his uncle’s pond using the rope hanging from the tree. She made it. He missed. She didn’t accept circumstances, not without trying to change them. How hard had she tried to change his mind about leaving?

His gaze drifted to the Shetler house. It needed a lot of work. Four black shingles lay on the ground in the backyard. White paint peeled and flaked off the house. The two poles holding the clothesline tilted inward. Anyone passing by would see a house desperately in need of repair.

Adam remembered what the place used to look like. Emma’s father had kept it in pristine condition. Now it looked sad and broken. Not just the house. Emma too.

He was tempted to go over there and offer to help. But why bother? She’d refuse him anyway.

She would not, however, refuse his father.

Adam finished splitting the wood just as he saw his father pull the buggy into the driveway. He set the maul against the woodpile and hesitated. They had barely spoken since he arrived, only those few words over breakfast. Anything they said to one another was likely to dissolve into an argument. Still, he had to try. For Emma’s sake.

He walked toward the buggy as his father pulled to a halt. “Put Samson away,” he said.

Thirteen years disappeared with one statement. Adam was ten years old again, following his father’s terse orders. He gritted his teeth and took Samson’s head. His father got out and went inside the barn.

Adam unhitched Samson and led the horse inside the barn. His father picked up a bucket and filled it with water from the hydraulic pump in the back corner of the barn. He and Adam both reached the stall at the same time.

“
Geh
ahead.” His father nodded.

“
Nee
, you,” Adam said at the same time.

The men looked at each other, not speaking. His father went inside the stall. Then Adam. Norman poured water into the trough while Adam settled the horse. The men walked out. Adam closed the latch.

His father headed for the barn door.

“Daed
.
”

He stopped, then turned. “What?”

“I took a look at Emma’s horse today. Dill.”

“I know the horse’s name. She’s got a sore foot.”

“It’s worse than that.”

“How do you know?”

Adam grimaced at the doubting tone. “I’ve seen it before. Navicular disease.”

“You’re wrong. I’ll call the vet in the morning.”

“
Daed
, I’m not wrong.” He went to his father. “Remember Casey? And
Onkel
John’s horse? They both had it.”

“I’ll call the vet.” Norman turned around.

“You should have caught it.”

His dad halted. His fists closed and opened. He faced his son. “And you should shut your mouth.” He walked out of the barn.

Stung, Adam stormed over to the wall and slammed his fist. Pain exploded through his knuckles and shot up into his wrist.
Dummkopf
. He couldn’t control his emotions, like his father and so many other Amish. Another reason he didn’t belong here.

But at least something would be done about Dill and getting the Shetlers a new horse. Emma might refuse his help, but she wouldn’t refuse a deacon of the church.

“I’m glad you wanted to take a buggy ride this evening.” Peter smiled at Clara. “It’s been a long time since we’ve done this. Just the two of us.”

Clara gave him a tight smile. She turned and looked out the window as they traveled the road.

“Although we could have stayed home.” His words held a mischievous tone. “Julia would have taken the
kinner
next door, and Mark said he wanted to walk around the area and do some exploring. Knowing him, he wouldn’t be back for at least a couple hours.”

She turned and looked at his profile. “Doesn’t that sound odd to you?”

“Not if you knew Mark. When we were
kinner
he could never sit still. Was always doing something. Coming up with crazy plans. I reckon after he’s spent some time in New York he’ll move on to somewhere else.”