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An Amish Courtship
Jan Drexler
Amish RedemptionSamuel Lapp all but accepts his estrangement from the Amish community—until Mary Hochstetter moves in next door to care for her elderly aunt. The young woman with the pretty brown eyes sees Samuel differently than his neighbors do. If he can earn her respect while helping with her aunt’s chores, perhaps the rest of the community will follow. But Samuel can’t let Mary get too close, lest he disappoint her as well.Mary’s relocation to Shipshewana, Indiana, means confronting her deepest fears. By helping Samuel rebuild his life and his farm, she finally feels ready to embrace her future. But as their delicate friendship grows deeper, they both must overcome their painful pasts before they can build a home together.Amish Country Brides: Small-town love, plain and simple


Amish Redemption
Samuel Lapp all but accepts his estrangement from the Amish community—until Mary Hochstetter moves in next door to care for her elderly aunt. The young woman with the pretty brown eyes sees Samuel differently than his neighbors do. If he can earn her respect while helping with her aunt’s chores, perhaps the rest of the community will follow. But Samuel can’t let Mary get too close, lest he disappoint her, as well.
Mary’s relocation to Shipshewana, Indiana, means confronting her deepest fears. By helping Samuel rebuild his life and his farm, she finally feels ready to embrace her future. But as their delicate friendship grows deeper, they both must overcome their painful pasts before they can build a home together.
“When we met this morning, I was very impolite.” Mary twisted her fingers together.
“Forget it.” Samuel cleared his throat.
“I let myself form an opinion of you without learning to know you first.”
She smiled then and his heart wrenched at the soft curve of her lips.
“I wasn’t very polite myself.”
“You were fine. I mean, you didn’t do anything—” Her face flushed a pretty pink. “I mean, you were friendly.” Her face grew even redder. “Except for...when you winked... I mean, I’m sure you didn’t mean to be forward.” She bit her lip and turned away.
Samuel resisted the urge to step close to her, to cover her embarrassment with a hand on her arm. “I think I know what you mean.”
She tilted her head toward the house in a quick nod. “I think it is wonderful-gut that you want to help with that poor farmer’s work.”
He felt a flush rise in his cheeks at her words of praise. “Thank you.” If he could earn Mary Hochstetter’s respect, maybe he could change everyone else’s opinion, too.
Dear Reader (#ub77ddd3a-2a68-5069-ba16-ed569b84e2a7),
I hope you enjoyed this visit to Indiana’s Amish Country with me!
Shipshewana and the surrounding area are home to the third largest Amish community in the country. Today’s Shipshewana is a busy place, full of tourists and fun activities all through the year.
We love to visit our favorite businesses in the area: Das Essenhaus, Yoder’s Department Store, E&S Sales, and many others. And if we’re there on a Tuesday or Wednesday, we make the time to go to the Shipshewana Flea Market on the grounds of the Sale Barn.
The Sale Barn? Oh yes. It’s the same place Samuel and Mary went in their story. The livestock auction is still held every week, year-round.
And while we’re there, we enjoy breakfast at the Auction Restaurant. They serve the best fried mush I’ve ever eaten.
I love to hear from my readers! You can contact me through my website, www.JanDrexler.com (http://www.JanDrexler.com), or visit me on Facebook!
Jan Drexler
JAN DREXLER enjoys living in the Black Hills of South Dakota with her husband of more than thirty years and their four adult children. Intrigued by history and stories from an early age, she loves delving into the world of “what if?” with her characters. If she isn’t at her computer giving life to imaginary people, she’s probably hiking in the Hills or the Badlands, enjoying the spectacular scenery.
An Amish Courtship
Jan Drexler


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me. Cast me not away from Thy presence; and take not Thy holy spirit from me. Restore unto me the joy of Thy Salvation; and uphold me with Thy free spirit.
—Psalms 51:10–12
To Mrs. Harrington, the kind of teacher I would like to be someday.
Soli Deo Gloria
Contents
Cover (#uf398939f-52d4-5c1e-a5f8-3c95fdfa64c2)
Back Cover Text (#u3433a967-6b5f-54ef-b1c4-6167eb175754)
Introduction (#ud31e4ede-39de-59a8-ac4d-c58c8b0114f1)
Dear Reader (#u490299f1-a6ff-51a0-8d1e-b7eb33612f0d)
About the Author (#u5a8393e3-7dac-5cb3-bad9-2405fd5a74f3)
Title Page (#u76934fcf-2842-5229-a678-82f2d86300f5)
Bible Verse (#u93147be1-a4cb-50e8-9490-6b5d8c4cffcb)
Dedication (#ub56e0c93-d4d2-5b9e-a2eb-ecc4e465604f)
Chapter One (#u0e7c8424-fc69-541a-9aee-a8ea4d375789)
Chapter Two (#u33b57d70-c33d-5617-952e-79dc126f0ae3)
Chapter Three (#udd7b7b8b-709d-556e-a7cd-2a0c735645a7)
Chapter Four (#ud3f23044-328b-53c6-9411-c85e3332a6f5)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#ub77ddd3a-2a68-5069-ba16-ed569b84e2a7)
Shipshewana, Indiana
April 1937
“I’m so glad we aren’t late,” Aunt Sadie said as Mary turned the buggy into the farm lane.
Mary Hochstetter looked ahead, clutching the reins with damp hands. At least twenty buggies lined up along the barn like a flock of blackbirds on a telegraph wire and the lines of people moving toward the house were long.
So many strangers! But she must face them for Ida Mae’s sake. She straightened her shoulders and glanced into the back seat to give her sister a reassuring smile. There was nothing frightening about attending the Sabbath meeting.
Ida Mae gave her a weak smile in return. “I’ll be all right. After all, we already know the ladies we met at the quilting last week. The rest will soon become friends, too.”
A boy stepped forward and grasped the horse’s bridle. “I’ll take care of Chester for you, Aunt Sadie.”
“Denki, Stephen.” Sadie climbed out of the buggy. Mary joined her, with Ida Mae right behind. “You’re growing up so fast. I remember when your mother had to pull you out of mud puddles at Sunday meeting.”
Stephen laughed, his voice slipping down to a deep bass and back up again. “That was a long time ago.”
“Not to me, young man. The older I get, the faster time flies. You’re a fine man, just like your father.”
Sadie grasped Mary’s arm to make sure she had her attention. “Here come the Lapp sisters, Judith and Esther, who you met at the quilting last week,” she said. “That’s their brother, Samuel, driving. They’re our next-door neighbors.” She leaned closer, dropping her voice. “And Mary, Samuel is a bachelor.”
Mary shook her head. “I’m not looking for a husband.”
“You never know what the Good Lord has planned.”
Mary knew what the Good Lord had planned, and it was clear to her that marriage had no part of whatever He had in mind.
The Lapps’ dusty buggy pulled up next to theirs and two young women jumped out. The man who was driving barely waited until they had stepped down before he started his horse forward to the buggy parking area. But just then Aunt Sadie’s horse stepped sideways into his path.
Mutters and growls came from the buggy as it rocked under the weight of the man who jumped to the ground from the driver’s seat, nearly landing on Sadie. He caught the older woman’s arm to steady her.
“Sorry, Aunt Sadie.” He waited until the older woman was stable again, then grasped his horse’s bridle. “If someone hadn’t left your buggy in the middle of the drive, I could have been out of the way by now.”
“We just got here ourselves, Samuel,” Aunt Sadie said. “There’s no need to be in such a hurry.” She turned to Mary with a satisfied smile. “I’m sure you and Mary will be able to straighten out the horses.” She took Ida Mae’s arm. “Let’s go inside. I’ll need your help.”
Ida Mae gave Mary a helpless look.
“Go on in.” Mary lifted her chin with confidence she didn’t feel. “I’ll be right there.”
“It’s going to take hours to get this mess straightened out.” Samuel gestured toward the road where a buggy had just turned in, with another close behind it. “It’s becoming a real log jam.”
“Once I get Chester off to the side, things will clear up.” Stephen took the horse’s bridle and led him down the drive toward the barn, patting his brown neck.
As the buggy moved out of the way, Mary found herself face-to-face with Samuel Lapp. She felt her cheeks heat as he stared at her with dark blue eyes.
She leveled her gaze, focusing on the front of his coat. He was a solid wall in front of her, a man a couple years older than her own twenty-three years. His closeness sent her heart racing and she took a deep breath to steady her nerves. He wasn’t Harvey Anderson. She bit her lip, forcing that thought out of her mind. Samuel was only an Amishman driving his sisters to Sunday meeting. There was nothing threatening about him.
Mary stepped to the side of the driveway so he could move past her.
“I think you can follow Stephen now.”
He didn’t budge.
“The way is clear.”
Ignoring three more buggies that had driven into the barnyard, he still stared at her. Suddenly, his eyebrows shot up as if he had gotten a flash of insight. “You’re that Mary Hochstetter that Sadie’s been expecting.”
“Ja, I am.”
“From Ohio.”
“Ja.”
He ran his hand down his short beard. “You’re not what I imagined when Sadie said you were coming. I thought you’d be older, being her niece.”
“Sadie is actually my mother’s aunt.” Mary glanced behind Samuel’s buggy. Families walked toward the house, voices hushed as they separated into women’s and men’s lines. Stephen and two or three other boys had lined up the buggies in order and were unhitching the horses. The log jam had cleared.
She looked back at Samuel. “I should go in. Meeting is about to begin.”
The corner of his mouth, visible above his short beard, quirked up.
“You’re anxious to be rid of me?”
Now he was laughing at her, maybe even flirting with her. She drew herself up to her full height and looked him in the eyes, lowering her brow in the expression that always sent her younger brothers hurrying to do their chores.
He stepped forward to grasp his horse’s bridle. “You’re not only younger than I expected, but you’re prettier, too.”
Then he winked at her.
Mary stared at him, her fists clenched. What an infuriating man! Gruff and blustery until he found out who she was, as if any new woman he met would fall at his feet. As if she needed a man to run her life.
“Like I said, meeting is about to begin.” She fought to keep her voice even.
“Go ahead,” he said, gesturing toward the house. “I’ll be in shortly.”
But under her irritation, another feeling rose. That familiar twisting in her stomach that stole her breath. She swallowed, glancing around. The only other people in the barnyard were a few women on their way into the house. She would soon be alone in the yard with this man.
She shot another look in his direction, one that she reserved for her brothers’ worst crimes, and hurried into the house.
She found a place on a bench next to Aunt Sadie and Ida Mae and took a deep breath, trying to forget that wink. No wonder he wasn’t married. His beard only confirmed that he had given up looking for a wife. Only married men and old bachelors wore beards.
The worship began with a low, soft note sung by a man sitting on the front row. As the tune continued, she recognized the hymn from the Ausbund and joined in the singing with the rest of the community, settling into the familiar worship.
After the service ended, Mary followed Judith and Esther Lapp to the kitchen to help serve the meal.
“I can introduce you to the others,” Esther said as she led the way through the lines of benches that the young men were already converting to tables for dinner.
“I’ll never remember everyone’s names.”
Esther took her arm. “Don’t worry. They don’t expect you to. You’ll learn them all eventually.”
Mary joined in the work easily enough. The meal of sandwiches, pickles and applesauce was similar to what the folks would be having in her home church in Holmes County. Mary opened jars and poured applesauce into serving dishes while the other young women whirled around her, taking the food to the tables as the young men set them up.
“Hello,” said a girl as she took one of the dishes Mary had prepared. “You’re one of Sadie’s nieces, aren’t you? I wish I could have gone to the quilting on Wednesday. I’ve been wanting to meet you ever since I heard you were coming.”
Mary shook the jar she was holding to urge the last of the applesauce from the bottom. “I’m Mary. My sister is Ida Mae, over there helping with the rolls.” She tilted her head toward the counter at the far end of the kitchen.
“I’m Sarah Hopplestadt. My mother said she met you at the quilting.”
Hopplestadt? Mary sorted through the faces in her mind. “Ja, for sure. Isn’t her name Effie?”
Sarah’s face beamed. “It is!” She grabbed the filled serving dish and whirled away. “I’ll be back with some empty dishes for you soon.”
Mary watched her go as she reached for another jar. Sarah placed the applesauce on the table closest to the kitchen, in front of an older man. Across from him sat Samuel, red-faced with the tight collar fastened at his throat. He looked as uncomfortable as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs.
She shook her head at her own thoughts and glanced at him again. His brow was lowered and he kept his eyes on his plate, ignoring the other men around him. The confident man who had given her that exasperating wink was gone. He looked as out of place as she felt. She caught her lower lip between her teeth as she remembered how rude she had been before church. He might be a man, but he was also Aunt Sadie’s neighbor. She quelled her shaking stomach. As much as she hated the thought of initiating a conversation with him, she needed to apologize.
As the men talked, their voices carried into the kitchen.
“Vernon Hershberger needs help with his plowing, I hear.” The man sitting next to Samuel spoke, stopping the other conversations.
The man at the end of the table stroked his beard. “Ja, for sure. His leg is healing after his fall last month, but he still isn’t able to get around very well.”
A man on the other side of Samuel, one of the ministers who had preached that morning, gestured with his fork. “We can all help him get his fields plowed and planted. Is Saturday a good day for everyone?”
Beards waggled as the men around the table nodded, but Samuel still looked at his plate.
“What about you, Samuel?” the minister asked.
The man sitting at the end of the table shook his head. “He’s a Lapp. He won’t help.”
Samuel’s face grew even redder. He leaned on his elbows, his hands clenched together, not looking at the men around him.
“I’ll help.” His voice was as low as a growl.
One of the men laughed. “Just like his daed. Today he’ll help, but we won’t see him come Saturday.”
Laughter rippled around the table, and Samuel stood, backing away from the bench. He glared at the laughing faces, then turned to the minister. “I said I’d be there, and I will.”
The minister held his gaze for a long minute as the laughter died away. “I believe you. We’ll look forward to it.”
Samuel nodded, swept his glance around the table again and then went out of the house.
Mary startled as Sarah appeared at her elbow again.
“That Samuel Lapp. I don’t see why the men even invite him to help with the work.”
“Why not?”
Sarah shrugged. “He rarely shows up, and then when he does, he doesn’t do anything but stand around. His father was the same way.”
“Perhaps he has changed. He seemed sincere to me.”
“Maybe.” Sarah picked up two more dishes of applesauce. “But this is a Lapp we’re talking about. Some people never change.”
As the girl walked away, Mary looked up to see Esther watching her. Samuel’s sister had heard every word of their conversation.
“Esther...” Mary stepped across the kitchen and took her arm. “I hope you weren’t offended by what Sarah said.”
Esther plucked at her apron. “Ne. It’s true.” She looked at Mary, her narrow chin set firm. “But what you said is true, too. Samuel isn’t Daed, and he can change.” She glanced at the kitchen door, where Samuel had disappeared. “I just hope more folks come to see that.”
* * *
Samuel Lapp charged out of the Stutzmans’ house, ignoring everyone he passed. He’d hitch up the mare, find his sisters and head for home. He was a fool to think this morning would be different than any other Sabbath morning that he had attended the meeting.
His steps slowed. When was the last time he had come to the Sabbath meeting? A month ago? Two months? When he reached the pasture gate, he leaned on the post. Several of the horses started walking toward him, but his mare stood next to the water trough, ignoring him and the other horses.
A bay gelding stopped a pace away from him and extended his nose slightly.
“I have no carrots for you.” Samuel spoke softly. Whose horse was this one? He eyed the sleek neck and the muscled haunches. Someone who knew horses and took good care of them.
The words of the men around the dinner table washed over him again. Even two years after his father’s death, the Lapp legacy followed him no matter what he did. No matter how much he wanted to change.
He bent his head down to meet his fist, quelling the sick feeling in his stomach. Why should he even try? Men like Martin Troyer would never let him forget whose son he was. Samuel squeezed his eyes closed, seeing Martin’s pompous figure at the end of the table once more.
Then the minister’s words echoed over Martin’s mocking tone. Jonas Weaver had said he believed him. He expected him to show up to help with Vernon Hershberger’s farm work. The minister’s confidence made Samuel want to follow through with his promise.
But Daed had burned too many bridges with his habit of promising help that he never delivered, and he was guilty of the same thing.
His father had lived on the edge of being shunned and put under the bann. How many times had the deacons stopped by the farm to talk to Daed? To reprimand him? And then he would promise to do better. He’d take the family to meeting for a month, maybe two. He’d promise to join in the community activities. He’d promise to stop the drinking...but then forget his promises.
Samuel rubbed his hands over his face. Could he face Martin again? Not when this slow burn continued in his stomach. The world was full of Martin Troyers who would never let him come out from under Daed’s shadow.
He leaned on the fence, watching the horses. They had lost interest in him and had gone back to cropping the grass.
When Bram had returned home after living in Chicago for twelve years, he had been able to avoid Daed’s legacy. His older brother had escaped the shame of the remarks and pitying looks and Samuel envied him.
The envy was worse than the shame.
When people spoke of Bram, respect echoed in their words. Respect Samuel had never heard when people spoke of their daed...or him.
As much as Samuel wanted to prove to the community that he wasn’t the same man as his father, he had fallen short. Nothing he said made any difference. They treated him the same way they always had, as if a man could never change.
That girl with the brown eyes, Mary, was different, though. New in the community, she knew nothing about his past. Nothing to make her judge him. Perhaps if he could do something to earn her respect, the rest of the community would follow.
Samuel rubbed at his beard, remembering how Mary Hochstetter had stood up to him before church. If he could earn her respect, he wouldn’t care about anyone else’s opinion.
He picked at a loose sliver of wood on the fence post. It broke off and he stuck it in his mouth to use as a toothpick.
“Samuel?”
The woman’s voice came from behind him. Unfamiliar. It wasn’t Judith or Esther.
“Samuel Lapp? Is that you?”
He straightened and turned, facing this new challenge. But when he saw Mary Hochstetter standing next to the wheel of the last buggy in line, watching him, he felt his tense face relax into a smile.
“Ja, it’s me.”
She twisted her fingers together.
“When we met this morning, I was very impolite.”
“Forget it.” The words came out rough, and he cleared his throat.
She ran her hand along the wooden buggy wheel, brushing off a layer of dust. “I let myself form an opinion of you without learning to know you first. Sadie says I should be careful not to judge a book by its cover.”
She smiled then, still watching the dust drift from the buggy wheel into the air. His heart wrenched at the soft curve of her lips.
“I wasn’t very polite, myself.”
“You were fine. I mean, you didn’t do anything—” Her face flushed a pretty pink. “I mean, you were friendly.” Her face grew even redder. “Except for...when you winked... I mean, I’m sure you didn’t mean to be forward.” She bit her lip and turned away.
Samuel resisted the urge to step close to her, to cover her embarrassment with a hand on her arm. “I think I know what you mean.”
“I heard what you said in there.” She tilted her head toward the house in a quick nod. “I think it is wonderful-gut that you want to help with that poor farmer’s work. In Ohio, the community always works together when one family is having trouble.”
He felt a flush rise in his cheeks at her words of praise. “We do that here, too.” He couldn’t look at her face. If she had heard what he said, then she had also heard the derisive remarks from the other men.
“That’s good.”
Samuel dared to raise his eyes, but she was fingering the buggy wheel again. As another little cloud of dust drifted to the ground, she glanced at him and smiled. “I must go help wash the dishes.”
Mary walked back toward the house, turning once when she reached the center of the yard to give him a final glance. Samuel raised his hand in answer and leaned against the fence post behind him. She opened the screen door and entered the covered porch, disappearing from his view.
Samuel scratched his beard, running his fingers through its short length. Sometime after Bram had come back last year he had stopped shaving. A clean chin had been a sign of his single status, but last fall he had stopped caring. Stopped thinking that what he looked like mattered to anyone.
But now, his insides warm from Mary’s kind words, he suddenly cared what she thought about him and his farm. Maybe he could earn her respect. Maybe he could hope to move out from under Daed’s shadow and become a member of the community the way Bram was.
He tugged at his whiskers, watching the screen door that had given a slight bang as Mary had disappeared. He tugged at the whiskers again. Maybe he would shave in the morning.
* * *
“Who would think that two nice girls like Judith and Esther would have a brother like that?”
Ida Mae leaned her arms on the back of the front buggy seat and tilted her head forward between Mary and Aunt Sadie.
All three of them were tired after the long Sunday afternoon at the Stutzmans’, but they had enjoyed a good time of fellowship. All of Mary’s fears had been for nothing. This new community had welcomed them with open arms.
“Samuel has a burden, for sure.” Aunt Sadie turned to Ida Mae. “Don’t be too quick to dismiss him, though. There’s more to him than he shows us.”
“Judith and Esther are nice girls, didn’t you think so, Mary? Judith is going to bring a knitting pattern over this evening. She is so friendly.”
“Ja, they both are. Is it only the three of them in their family, Aunt Sadie?”
“Their parents have passed on.” The older woman’s expression softened as she looked back over the years. “There were six children. A nice family, it seemed, until...” She glanced at Mary and Ida Mae. “I don’t want to gossip. They were a nice family. Bram is the oldest. He left the community during his rumspringa, but his mother never gave up hope. Even on her deathbed she had faith that Bram would come back home.”
“Did he?” Ida Mae watched their aunt’s face, interested in the story.
“Ja, he did. Not until after she had passed on, but he did come back. He married a widow from Eden Township and lives down there with their children. A good Amishman, even after all his troubles.”
Ida Mae leaned closer. “What about the rest of the family?”
“Samuel inherited the farm when their father died a couple years ago. The oldest girl...her name...I can’t remember it. Maybe Katie? Anyway, she married a man from Berlin, Ohio. We haven’t seen her since then. The next girl is Annie. She married a Beachey from Eden Township, the oldest son of their deacon. I go to quilting with her every other Thursday, and she has a sweet little boy.”
Sadie’s voice trailed off, smiling as she watched the roadside pass by.
“And the rest?”
“You’ve met them. Esther and Judith. They keep house for Samuel and have since Annie got married.” She brushed at some dust on her apron. “I’ve tried to help those girls once they were on their own after their older sisters left home. I don’t know how much they remember about their mother, but they were quite young when she died.”
“What kind of help?” Ida Mae asked.
“We made soap together last winter, but I’ve also been longing to help them with their sewing. You’ve seen how worn their clothes are. They haven’t made new ones for a couple years, and I don’t think Katie or Annie taught them to sew. If we had fabric, we could have a sewing frolic, just the five of us.”
Mary glanced at the smile on Sadie’s face. “I think you would have a thing or two to teach us, too. We should invite them over.”
“If they have time. They keep themselves at home most days. Our Wednesday quiltings are about the only time they get to be social with the rest of the women of the district.”
“Maybe if we tell Samuel that we’ll make new shirts and trousers for him, he’ll like the idea.”
“Ja, for sure.” Aunt Sadie’s chin rose and fell. “I’ll talk to Samuel when he comes over tomorrow and make sure he encourages them to come.”
Mary’s stomach gave a little flutter at the thought of seeing Samuel again so soon. That flutter was very different than the clenching feeling she got when she thought of men like Harvey Anderson. She pushed it down anyway and cleared her throat.
“Why is Samuel coming over tomorrow?”
“He does my heavy chores for me.” Sadie turned to her. “Didn’t I tell you? He comes by to clean the chicken coop and cut the grass, and whatever else might need doing. He comes every Monday.”
“Then Judith and Esther should come with him whenever he comes. We could have a sewing time every week,” Ida Mae said. She was clearly excited about the idea.
They rode in silence for a while, and Mary watched the way ahead through Chester’s upright ears. Now that she and Ida Mae were here, Samuel wouldn’t need to bother doing Sadie’s chores for her. She and her sister were more than capable of taking care of things without a man around.
As they passed the lane to the Lapps’ farm, Mary glanced toward the house and barn. The odor of a pigsty drifted through the air.
Aunt Sadie had spoken of the Lapps as if they were a normal Amish family, but Samuel wasn’t a normal Amishman. He had been pleasant enough at church, but some of the folks had spoken of him as if there was something very wrong.
“Why don’t some of the men like Samuel? The women seemed to like Judith and Esther.”
“Sometimes Samuel is too much like his father.” Sadie’s voice was so soft that Mary barely caught her words. “He is a troubled man. He learned some bad habits from Ira, but there is hope for him.”
Less than a half mile down the road from the Lapps’ farm, Chester turned into the drive of Aunt Sadie’s place without any signal from Mary. Mary pulled up at the narrow walk for Ida Mae and their aunt to go into the house, and then she drove the buggy the short distance to the small barn. As she unhitched the buggy and took care of Chester, her thoughts went back to the Lapp family.
It wasn’t unusual for sisters to keep house for their brother after their mother passed on, but both Judith and Esther were pale and worn, like they worked too hard. Mary smiled to herself as she brushed Chester’s coat. Here she was, judging people before she got to know them again. The sisters seemed like nice girls. And since they were Aunt Sadie’s closest neighbors, they would be able to spend much time together.
Their brother, though...
Mary turned Chester out into his pasture and hung up the harness.
Samuel was a strange one. Mary had never met anyone quite like him. And what had Aunt Sadie meant when she said he was a troubled man?
Underneath the grouchy stares and gravelly voice, he was quite good-looking. And when she had apologized to him, he had been friendly. Even intriguing. And Aunt Sadie seemed to be very fond of him. He might be a puzzle worth figuring out.
Mary stopped her thoughts before they went any further. She wouldn’t be the one to figure out the puzzle that was Samuel Lapp, so she should just forget about him. Forget about all men.
But she couldn’t forget. It was too late. Her thoughts went on without her, down into that dark hole. Her skin crawled as if she could feel Harvey’s sweaty palms through her dress, pressing close, and closer. She shuddered, willing the memory to disappear, but Harvey’s hands groped and pulled. His breath smelled of stale tobacco and beer as he pushed his kisses on her.
Mary forced her eyes open, trembling all over. She concentrated her thoughts, trying to remember where she was—in Sadie’s barn, hanging the buggy harness on its hooks.
Stroking the smooth leather of the harness, she focused on the buckle, the straps, the headpiece still damp from Chester’s sweat. She kept her breathing even and controlled as she counted the tiny pinpoints of the stitching where the straps were fastened together until she reached one hundred.
Mary took a deep shaking breath. The memory had retreated to the back of her mind. She leaned her head against the warm wood of the barn wall. Someday those memories would stay buried. As long as she avoided men, she could forget the past.
But Samuel would be at the farm tomorrow, and she would see him again on other days. Mary pushed at the shadows that threatened at the edge of her mind. A brother. The shadow retreated. She would treat Samuel the same as she treated her brothers. He wasn’t Harvey Anderson.
Chapter Two (#ub77ddd3a-2a68-5069-ba16-ed569b84e2a7)
Monday morning dawned with the promise of a hot, sticky day ahead. On the way back to the house with the basket of eggs, Mary stopped by the garden to look for some early peas to go with their noon dinner. Noticing some stray lettuce seedlings among the beans, she bent to pull them out, but then saw how many there were. It was as if Sadie had planted the beans and lettuce in the same row.
She left the lettuce where it was and picked a couple handfuls of peas from the vines in front of her for lunch. Continuing on to the house, she paused at the sink in the back porch to wash up. The others were in the kitchen fixing breakfast.
“I want to ask Judith about the knitting pattern she brought over yesterday evening if the girls come this week,” Ida Mae was saying.
Mary set the peas on the counter. “What is the pattern?”
“It’s for stockings that you knit from the toe up, rather than the top down. I’ve never seen one like it. I was trying to figure out how it works last night, but it’s beyond me.”
“Margaret used to make stockings like that,” Aunt Sadie said. She sat at the table, paring potatoes. “Margaret Lapp, Judith and Esther’s mother. I have a pair of stockings she made. I’ll show them to you...” Her voice trailed off as she dropped her knife on the table and started to rise.
Mary put a hand on her shoulder. “You can show us after breakfast. There’s no hurry.”
Aunt Sadie sank back down into her chair. “Ja. No hurry.” She sat with her hands in her lap, a frown creasing her brow.
“What’s wrong?”
The older woman startled and looked at Mary. “What was I doing?”
“You were peeling potatoes.”
Aunt Sadie looked at the paring knife and potatoes on the table, her face vague. Then her brow cleared. “Ach, ja. The potatoes.”
Mary glanced at Ida Mae. This wasn’t the first time they had needed to remind Aunt Sadie of what she had been doing. In the six days since they had arrived, small lapses in their aunt’s memory had been frequent. Perhaps their older relative did need them to take care of her, even if she wasn’t ready to admit it.
They finished fixing breakfast in silence, each of them caught up in their own thoughts. As Mary scrambled the eggs, Ida Mae fried the potatoes and onions, the aroma filling the little kitchen.
Mary hoped the move to Indiana would be the healing balm her sister needed. The death of Ida Mae’s young, handsome beau in a farming accident six weeks ago had been a terrible thing, and even though Ida Mae had put on a brave face this morning, grief still shadowed her eyes.
At least Ida Mae’s tragedy gave Mary an excuse whenever someone questioned her own pale face and shadowed eyes. No one needed to know the real reason for her own grief, even her closest sister.
Mary set the table, laying the spoons next to the plates, carefully lining them up next to the knives. One by one she set them down, her fingers lingering on the smooth handles. She missed, ne, she craved Ida Mae’s cheerfulness. She relied on her sister to keep things going, to keep Mary’s mind off the past.
Soon, though, Ida Mae would move on. She would meet a young man, get married, have a family of children and be happy again. The same dream that Mary had shared with her sister for so many years.
She blinked back tears as she straightened the fork she had just laid on the table. Ida Mae would see her hopes fulfilled, but not Mary. She laid another fork on the table. That dream belonged to an innocent girl with dreams of the future, and she had left that girl in Ohio.
* * *
The sun was already above the tops of the trees as Samuel walked to the barn. As he shoved the big sliding door open, he scanned the building’s dusty interior, filled with equipment and clutter from days gone by. How would that Mary Hochstetter see Daed’s barn? Thinking about her coffee-brown eyes, so much like Mamm’s, pulled at something deep inside, something that reminded him of another time and another place.
A week, years ago, when he and his brother, Bram, had been sent to Grossdawdi’s farm in Eden Township. He must have been four or five years old. Grossmutti’s kitchen had been a wonder of cinnamon and apples and as much food as he could eat. Grossdawdi’s brown eyes crinkled when he smiled, and he had smiled often. The barn had been a wonderful place to play, with hay piled in the lofty mow.
Samuel relaxed against the doorframe, remembering Grossdawdi’s patient hands teaching him how to rub oil into the gleaming leather harnesses. His hand cupping Samuel’s head and pulling him close in the only hug he remembered.
He had never seen the old couple again, but he hadn’t forgotten the peace that had reigned in their home. And one quiet glance of Mary’s eyes had brought it all back.
Daed’s barn had never been as orderly as Grossdawdi’s, even now when it was nearly empty. There hadn’t been enough horses to fill the stalls since before Daed had passed on. Their driving mare spent her days in the meadow, too ornery for the girls to handle by themselves.
Samuel walked over to her stall and peered out the open side door to where the mare stood, one hip cocked and head down, drowsing in the afternoon sun as she swished flies with her tail.
Daed had left the barn a mess when he passed away two years ago. Broken harnesses still sat in a moldy pile in the corner and the unused stalls were knee deep in old straw. They had never been cleaned out when the work horses had been sold to pay off Daed’s debts. The cow was gone, too, and the bank barn’s lower level was empty except for the mash cooker.
Every time he thought about trying to bring order to the chaos, Samuel felt like he was drowning in memories and past sins. Soon after Daed’s funeral, he had started clearing out the old, moldy harnesses and had found one of the bottles Daed kept stashed away. The smell brought back sickening scenes of Daed trying to hide the bottles from him with clumsy motions. When he found another stash among the straw in one of the empty box stalls, he had given up. Let the old barn keep its secrets.
Walking on to the horse’s stall, he stopped at the stack of hay on the barn floor and pulled out a forkful. The mare poked her head into her stall, her feet planted firmly in the dried mud in the doorway between her pasture and the dim barn, watching Samuel. Her ears pricked forward as Samuel thumped the fork on the side of her manger to dump the hay off, but she didn’t move. The horse was right to be suspicious. Samuel had never been overly kind to the beast. He had never been cruel, but had only followed Daed’s example.
Daed hadn’t taken much time with the horses, using them until they were worn out and then buying new ones, and Samuel had always expected to do the same. He had never thought much about it until he saw the sleek horses in the pasture at meeting yesterday. His horse had looked sickly compared to them, and men judged a farmer’s abilities by the condition of his stock. Anyone looking at his poor mare would know what the rest of his farm was like without even having to see it. They would know how he had been neglecting his legacy.
Samuel pulled the carrot he had brought from the root cellar out of his waistband. Daed had bought the mare cheap at a farm sale the year before he died. She had been strong enough, but with Daed’s lack of care, she had never become the sleek, healthy animal the other men at church kept.
He turned the carrot over in his hand. Daed’s horse, Daed’s problem. Except that Daed wasn’t here anymore. Like everything else around the farm, the horse was his responsibility now whether he liked it or not.
“Hey there.” Samuel kept his voice soft, and the mare’s ears swiveled toward him. “Look what I have for you.”
He broke the carrot in half and her head went up at the crisp snap. She stretched her neck toward him and took one step into the barn. He opened the gate and let himself into her stall.
“Come on, girl.” He should give her a name, something Daed would never do. Searching his memory of other horse names, he decided on one. “Come on, Brownie.”
Not much of a name. He stretched the carrot out toward her, wiggling it between his fingers. She took another step forward.
“You’ll like this carrot.” He tried another name. “Come on, Mabel.”
She snorted.
“All right then. Tilly.”
She swiveled her ears back and then forward again.
“Have a carrot, Tilly.” The name fit. He took a step toward her. “Come on, Tilly-girl. You’ll like it.”
He held the carrot half on his outstretched hand and she picked it up, lipping it into her mouth. She stood, crunching the carrot as he grasped her halter. He gave her the other half.
She pulled wisps of hay from her manger as he brushed her lightly. She needed more than just grass to live on if he wanted her to become the kind of horse the other farmers kept. Sadie kept oats on hand and gave Chester a measured amount every day, rather than the hit-or-miss rations he gave Tilly. Sadie’s horse thrived on her care.
So he would need to buy oats for the mare. Samuel held up the old brush, inspecting the matted and bent bristles. And he needed to buy a new brush. And a currycomb.
Taking care of this horse was going to cost money.
When Tilly finished her hay, he turned her out into the pasture again and grabbed the manure fork. He hauled forkfuls of soiled straw out to the pasture and started a pile. Somewhere in the past he remembered a manure pile in this spot. Mamm had used the soiled bedding on her garden after it had mellowed over the winter.
By the time he finished emptying the stall and spreading it with the last of the clean straw he had on hand, it was time for breakfast. The aroma of bacon frying pulled him to the house.
The girls didn’t look up when he walked into the kitchen after washing up on the back porch.
“Good morning.” Samuel broke the silence, and Esther stared at him in surprise. He didn’t blame her. When had he ever greeted her in the morning?
Judith placed a bowl of scrambled eggs on the table with a smile. “Good morning, Samuel.”
He started to reach for the platter of bacon, then remembered. He waited for Judith and Esther to take their seats, and then bowed his head for the silent prayer.
He had never prayed during this time, but had always let his mind wander while he waited for Daed’s signal to eat. But this morning, as the aroma of the bacon teased his hunger, he felt a nudge of guilt. Did his sisters pray during this moment of silence?
After the right amount of time had passed, Samuel cleared his throat just as Daed had always done, and reached for the bacon.
“Some coffee, Samuel?” Esther stood at his elbow with the coffee pot.
Samuel nodded, his mouth full. She poured his coffee and then her own and Judith’s. Her wrists, sticking out too far from the sleeves of her faded dress, were thin. The hollow places under her cheekbones were shadowed and gray.
Esther had been keeping house for him since Annie got married and before that had taken on her share of the work, just as Judith did now. Her brow was creased, as if she wore a perpetual frown at the young age of twenty-one. He had never noticed that before.
Not before he had met Mary. Tall and slim, Mary looked healthy and strong. Compared to her, Judith and Esther reminded him of last year’s dry weeds along the fence.
Samuel shifted in his chair, the eggs tasting like dust in his mouth. The sight of the bacon on his plate turned his stomach. A sudden vision filled his memory. Sitting at this same table, watching Daed fill his plate with food, leaving just enough for the rest of the family to share between them. Daed eating the last piece of bacon every morning. And Mamm at the other end of the table, her face as thin and gray as Esther’s, nibbling at a piece of toast.
Neither Judith nor Esther had taken any of the scrambled eggs but were eating toast with a bit of jam. Normally, Samuel would take two or three helpings of eggs and empty the platter of bacon. He pushed the bowl of eggs in their direction.
“I can’t eat all of this. You take some.”
Esther startled and looked at him, her eyes wide. “Did I fix too many eggs?”
He shook his head. “I’m just not as hungry this morning. You and Judith can eat them. Don’t let them go to waste.”
The girls glanced at each other, then Esther divided the last of the eggs between them. Judith dug in to hers eagerly.
“The bacon, too.” Samuel pushed the platter in their direction. He had already eaten half of what Esther had prepared.
He drank his coffee, the bitter liquid hitting his stomach with a burn. The girls did without decent food and clothes...but whenever he had extra cash, he bought whatever he thought he needed. He stared at Esther’s thin wrists. Just like Daed had done, he made his sisters make do with whatever was left over after he had taken what he wanted.
Samuel loosened his fingers carefully from his tight grip on the coffee cup. He had been so blind. No different from Daed.
“This afternoon I’ll take you girls to town.”
They exchanged looks.
“You don’t need to do that,” Esther said. “We don’t need anything.”
“I know you need groceries.”
“We have no money.”
“I’ll take one of the hogs to sell at the butcher.” Samuel drained his cup and rose from the table. “So make a list. I’m going over to Sadie’s this morning, and then we’ll head to town right after dinner.”
Samuel took the path that led from the back of the barn through the fence row to Sadie’s place. A well-worn path that he had traveled ever since he had been old enough to chore. Daed hadn’t cared whether Sadie’s chores were done or not, but Grossdawdi had drilled the habit of shouldering the responsibility into Bram and Samuel.
Grossdawdi Abe. Not the grossdawdi far away, Mamm’s parents, but Daed’s father. The old man had lived in the room off the kitchen for as long as Samuel could remember, until he became sick with fever fifteen years ago. Grossdawdi Abe had called Samuel and Bram into his room one afternoon when Daed was away.
“I want you boys to promise...” He had broken off, coughing, but then continued, “Promise me you’ll look after Sadie Beiler. You boys are big enough to remember. Make sure her chores are done.”
Then he had grasped Samuel’s wrist and pulled him close.
“Promise me.”
Samuel had nodded his promise. And he had kept his promise, even though Bram had forgotten. Every week, no matter what else happened, he was at Sadie’s farm to do the chores he couldn’t bring himself to do around Daed’s farm.
Choring on Daed’s farm brought too many memories to the surface, but when he worked on Sadie’s farm, he could feel Grossdawdi Abe’s approval. He did the chores for Grossdawdi, and for Sadie, and no one else.
Now that Sadie was elderly he made daily trips to her farm. Not to do the small chores that the old woman insisted on doing herself, but to make sure she was all right. Sadie was more frail and forgetful than she wanted to admit, so Samuel had taken it on himself to check the chickens after breakfast.
If the morning came when the eggs hadn’t been gathered, he’d be there to make sure the elderly woman was all right. So far that morning hadn’t come, but he still took the walk across the fields after breakfast each day. As far as he knew, Sadie had no clue that he made the daily visits.
On Mondays, though, she expected him to be there to clean the chicken coop and do some other heavy chores. She would meet him at the barn to visit for a few minutes before she went back to her work in the house and he went in to the barn. Those Monday morning talks were more than just idle chats with his neighbor. Sadie reminded him of better times, when Mamm was still alive. Before Daed became a slave to drink. Talking with her made him think that there were still peaceful and happy places in the world.
Today, as he rounded the corner of the woodlot, Sadie was nowhere to be seen. Mary was in the garden, attacking the weeds with a hoe.
“You don’t need to do that, you know.”
She jumped as he spoke, but relaxed when she recognized him.
“Good morning to you, too.” She straightened and gave him a smile. “And why don’t I need to weed the garden?”
“I do the heavy chores for Sadie. I always have.”
“But Ida Mae and I are here now, so we can take care of things.”
Samuel stared at her. He had to admit that there had been times when he had wished for someone else to take on the responsibility of watching out for Sadie, but now that Mary was offering, he didn’t want to let it go. He clenched his hand, as if he could keep a wisp of smoke from slipping through it.
“At least I can clean out the chickens’ pen.”
She shook her head as she continued hoeing. “I’ve already finished that. Chester’s stall, too.”
Samuel looked around the orderly farmyard. “You’ve cut the grass?”
“Ida Mae did.”
“Then I’ll fix the hole in Chester’s stall. Sadie told me about it yesterday and I said I’d get to it today.”
Mary got to the end of the row and looked at him.
“You fixed the stall, too?”
“Ja, for sure.” Her brown eyes twinkled in the morning sunlight. “My sister and I were taught to do all of the chores around the farm. Daed’s thinking was that everyone in the family needed to know how to do chores, from cooking breakfast to mucking stalls. So, we learned.”
“And you’ve left me with nothing to do.” Samuel felt the growl in his voice.
“There is something we do want you to do.” Mary’s face lit up. “We hoped you could bring Judith and Esther over for a sewing frolic. Just the five of us. Aunt Sadie knows so much that she can teach us, and we all need new dresses for summer.” She twisted the hoe handle. “I’m sure the girls could make a new shirt or two for you, too.”
Samuel scratched at his chin. The skin was itchy and irritated after being shaved this morning.
“I’ll make you a deal.”
Her eyes narrowed. “What kind of deal?”
“I’ll bring my sisters over tomorrow morning, like you said, if you let me do some of the work around here. There are some fence rails that need replacing, along with a few other things, so I’ll have plenty to do.”
She pressed her lips together, as if relinquishing the fence mending was the last thing she wanted to do.
“All right,” she said. “You can mend the fence. But bring your sisters, and any fabric they might have. Even an old dress we can make over into something new.”
Esther’s faded and ragged sleeve edge flashed through his mind. He would make sure his sisters each chose a dress length of fabric while they were in town this afternoon. Maybe he would sell two hogs. Then he thought of the shadowed look on Esther’s face. She would appreciate the time she spent with Sadie just as much as he did.
He nodded. “We have an agreement.”
Samuel stuck out his hand to seal the deal the way he would with another farmer and Mary hesitated, then slipped her slender one into his, her grip firm.
“Agreed.”
* * *
Tuesday morning Mary came back to the house after the morning barn chores to find Sadie and Ida Mae already sitting at the breakfast table waiting for her.
“I didn’t think I was that late,” Mary said, slipping into her chair at the small table.
“You aren’t.” Sadie folded her hands in preparation for their silent prayer. “We have company coming this morning, so we got breakfast started early.”
Mary bent her head over her own folded hands, struggling to force her thoughts away from Sadie’s comment. After a brief, silent prayer of thanks, she raised her head. Sadie sat with her fork poised, waiting for her to finish.
“I had nearly forgotten that the Lapps would be here today.” Mary cut a slice of sausage with the side of her fork.
“I’m glad Samuel is bringing the girls,” Sadie said. “I always enjoy their company.”
Ida Mae served herself some scrambled eggs from the bowl in the center of the round table. “Samuel looks different when he smiles. He was so gruff when we first met him, but then when he smiled, I nearly didn’t recognize him.”
Sadie sipped her coffee again. “He looks much like his grandfather did, years ago. Quite good-looking.”
“You knew his grandfather?” Ida Mae picked up the ketchup bottle. “That must have been a long time ago.”
“I was only sixteen when he asked to walk me home from Saturday night singing.”
Ida Mae stared at Sadie. “Did he court you?”
Sadie pointed at Ida Mae’s eggs. “You’re putting on too much ketchup.”
Ida Mae put the bottle down. Her eggs were covered with the sauce.
Mary passed her plate to her sister. “Here, spoon some onto my eggs, then it won’t go to waste.”
Sadie took another sip of her coffee, staring out the window as if she were watching her memories through it.
“He was my only suitor. We courted for two years.”
“What was he like?” Mary asked.
“Tall, with dark hair, just like Samuel. But careless. My daed didn’t like him very much.”
Mary took a bite of her eggs, trying to imagine Aunt Sadie’s father. He had been Mary and Ida Mae’s great-grandfather, and their mother had always described him as kind and loving.
Ida Mae finished her breakfast and leaned forward, folding her arms on the table. “What happened?”
Sadie sighed. “Abe—that was his name—liked to play practical jokes. One day he came to pick me up in his spring wagon, and he had whitewashed his horse.” Sadie smiled, shaking her head. “That scamp. We had a good laugh over his white horse, until Daed saw it.”
Mary picked up her coffee cup. “Then what happened?”
“Daed said the waste of the paint and mistreating the poor horse was the last straw.” Sadie’s eyes sparkled as tears welled up and she lifted the hem of her apron to wipe her cheek. “He told Abe not to bother coming around again. I would see him at Sabbath meeting, of course, but he never spoke to me again. He found a girl from the Clinton district a year later and married her.”
“So he just forgot about you?”
Sadie smiled at Ida Mae. “Ach, ne. You see, when Daed left the farm to my younger brother, your uncle Sol, I didn’t want to live there anymore. It was one thing to be an unwed daughter in my parents’ home, but with Sol and his wife having one baby after another, I was more in the way than I was a help. Elsie didn’t want an old maiden aunt telling her how to raise her children.”
“You couldn’t have been that old,” Ida Mae said.
“That was thirty-five years ago. I was fifty and had nowhere to go.”
“So what did you do?”
“Somehow Abe knew of my predicament. He gave me these ten acres and the church built this house and barn.” Sadie sighed. “Even after all those years, with his family grown and grandchildren coming along, Abe thought of me.”
They sat in silence, and Mary thought about Sadie’s story. How much was Samuel like his grandfather?
Sadie stood and started gathering the plates from the table. “The Lapps will be here soon. I have some scraps of material we can use to make a quilt top. We may as well start the sewing lessons sooner than later.”
Before the mantel clock in the front room struck eight, Samuel’s buggy drove into the yard.
“Go out and tell him to put his horse in the pasture with Chester,” Sadie said, pushing Mary toward the door. “And tell him we’ll have dinner ready at noon, and he and the girls should stay.”
Mary got to the buggy just at Samuel was tying the horse to the hitching post. “Aunt Sadie says to put your mare in the pasture.”
“I didn’t think the job would take very long. The horse can stand.”
“We’ll have dinner ready for you and the girls. Aunt Sadie says we’re to have a good visit.”
Esther climbed down from the buggy, followed by Judith. Each of them carried a bundle of fabric. “I’m glad we’re going to spend the day. We need Aunt Sadie’s help with our dresses.”
As the girls went into the house, Mary couldn’t contain her smile. “I’m so glad they found material to bring. I wasn’t sure they would have any.”
“We went into town yesterday afternoon.” Samuel fiddled with the reins in his hands as if he wasn’t sure what to do. He shifted his gaze toward the door, where the girls had disappeared. “I appreciate the offer of dinner. The girls will enjoy the visit, and I have plenty of work to do here.”
Mary stepped back as he climbed down from the buggy. He was freshly shaven again today, and even with his worn work clothes, he was a fine-looking man. If Sadie’s Abe had been anything like his grandson, she could understand why Sadie had fallen for him.
“I can show you where the repairs need to be done and where to put the horse.”
He led the horse out from between the buggy shafts. “I know my way around. I’ve been helping Aunt Sadie since I was a boy.” He gave her a brotherly grin as he walked away. “I’ll see you at dinnertime.”
Mary watched as he disappeared into the barn. Sadie’s story of his grandfather had made him more intriguing than ever.
When she went inside the house, she followed the voices until she found Aunt Sadie and the others in the sewing room. Judith and Esther had spread lengths of light-colored muslin on the cutting table.
“Samuel surprised us with the trip to town,” Judith was saying, stroking her piece of pale yellow fabric.
Esther fingered her own light green piece. “For some reason, he said we needed new dresses.” She looked at Sadie. “He has never noticed what we’ve worn before, but yesterday in town he kept piling things on the shopkeeper’s counter. Fabric, flour and sugar, butter. He even bought a new crock, since our old one broke last winter.”
Sadie fingered the edge of the fabric. “That must have cost a lot of money.”
Judith nodded. “I think it did. But he had taken two of the hogs to the butcher shop and sold them. He kept saying he should have done it months ago.”
Sadie looked out the window toward the barn, and Mary followed her gaze. Samuel had just opened the gate to the pasture and was letting the mare in with Chester. He glanced toward the house, and then went back into the barn. He looked like a man who was eager to start working.
“I wonder what has gotten into him,” Sadie said softly, and moved her gaze from Samuel to Mary.
Mary caught her look and felt her face turning red. Sadie couldn’t think that Samuel was trying to impress her. Romance seemed to be as far from his mind as it was from hers.
Chapter Three (#ub77ddd3a-2a68-5069-ba16-ed569b84e2a7)
Samuel straightened and thumbed his hat back on his head. Chester had punched a hole in the side of the stall, all right. After pulling off the scrap wood Mary had used to patch the hole and tearing away the splintered remains of the broken plank, he could see the extent of the damage. Mary might have thought her patch was adequate, but this needed more than a temporary fix. The entire board should be replaced.
He climbed the ladder to the haymow, nearly empty after the long winter. Sadie had some hay left, but someone would have to fill the mow again before the summer was too far gone.
Someone? Samuel rubbed at his bare chin. That someone should be him. Other years, the deacons had made sure the mow was filled, but he could do it this year.
On the other side of the haymow a stack of planks rose from the dusty floor. They had been left from when the barn was built years ago. Grossdawdi had said something about building a chicken coop out of them someday, but Sadie had converted an empty stall for her few chickens, cutting a door through the outside wall for them to use, and the coop had never been built.
Samuel picked up the top plank and stood it upright, thumping it on the wooden haymow floor to shake the dust off. From here he could see Sadie’s little house through the loft door. The windows were open to the spring air, and voices drifted up to him. He could distinguish Mary’s low voice, bubbling with laughter. He couldn’t keep a smile away at that thought.
Judith’s voice rose above the others, cheerful and eager. If he had known a length of fabric would make her this happy, he would have taken the girls to town long ago. Why didn’t he? He thumped the board one last time. Because Daed wouldn’t have. He didn’t remember Daed ever taking Mamm to town. None of them went anywhere except for Daed. He kept everyone at home, where no one would see Mamm’s bruised face.
He gripped the board as if he could split it in two. He had been following Daed’s example like a wheelbarrow following the rut he had left behind. As if he had no power over his own actions. He hadn’t treated Judith and Esther any differently than Daed had, and there was no reason for it.
How had Bram gotten free of Daed’s shadow? Or had he? Did his pretty wife live in fear of Bram’s temper?
Samuel leaned his head against the board, closing his eyes against the ache in his head. No woman would ever live in fear of him. He couldn’t be sure of controlling his temper, but if he stayed single and kept to himself, he could avoid Daed’s legacy in at least one area of his life.
He lifted the board and took it to the main floor of the barn.
Replacing the plank didn’t take much time. He spent another hour giving Chester’s stall a thorough cleaning, leveling the dirt floor and scrubbing the walls. The chickens’ area, divided from the rest of the barn by a fence of wood slats and chicken wire, was already clean with fresh straw spread over the floor. Mary and Ida Mae were giving Sadie the help she had needed.
Movement in the vegetable garden caught his attention. Mary was there, picking lettuce. Samuel stood in the shadows just inside the door, watching the young woman in the garden. She bent, stooped and then straightened as she worked with a grace that drew him.
A few steps brought him close. Her back was turned to him as she leaned down to reach some lettuce that was tangled in the young bean plants.
“I’ve finished repairing the stall.”
Mary jumped, whirling to face him. Her face was pale, and her hand clutched at the front of her apron.
“Are you all right?” Samuel took a step closer to her, but stopped when she moved away. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“Ne.” She shook her head. “I mean, I’m all right. I just wasn’t expecting anyone to be there. You surprised me.”
Her hands trembled, and she clasped them together.
“Are you sure you’re all right?”
She nodded and smiled, but the smile was stiff. “I’m picking some vegetables for dinner. Esther and Judith are having such fun with their new dresses. Aunt Sadie is teaching us all sorts of sewing tricks that I’ve never known before.”
She chattered on as she turned to the peas. Her voice became more natural, and her trembling hands stilled as she worked. When she got to the end of the row, he lifted the basket of vegetables and carried them to the back porch.
After dinner, he would work on the pasture fence. A few loose boards near the gate needed to be tightened, and a few more around the perimeter needed to be replaced. When he finished with that, they would return home...
“Do you think they would want to come?”
Mary’s question brought his attention back to her one-sided conversation. He was too used to ignoring his sisters’ chatter.
“Where?”
“To the quilting in Eden Township on Thursday.”
Samuel set the basket on the porch step. “Why would they want to go to another quilting?”
Mary’s hands became fists that perched at her waist. “You weren’t listening to me, were you?”
One look at her pursed lips, and he was done. Caught. He’d never be able to get anything by her.
“I missed the part about the quilting.” He stared at her brown eyes. A trick he had learned from Daed. Put up a bluster. Make them think you are right, no matter what happens.
She met his stare, her eyes narrowing. He shifted his gaze to the peas, lifting one as if to inspect it for brown spots.
“You missed everything.” She sighed and brushed some dirt off her apron. “On Thursday, the Eden Township group is meeting at your sister Annie’s house. Aunt Sadie is planning to go, and we wondered if Judith and Esther would like to come along.”
Annie. A pain he didn’t know he held washed through him at the thought of her curly red hair. She had left...how long ago? Almost two years? It had been soon after Daed passed away. He hadn’t spoken to her since, and he never even thought of taking the girls to visit her. Why had he ignored her after she left to marry the deacon’s son?
Because Daed would have been angry when she went behind his back, and he had followed in Daed’s footsteps without even thinking.
“Ja.” He made the decision quickly, before he could think of all the reasons not to go to Eden Township. All the reasons to avoid mending the family ties. “And I’ll drive you all in our buggy.”
“You don’t need to do that. We can take Chester.”
“I’m going to drive. I have something to do down there, too.”
Samuel lifted the basket and followed Mary into the kitchen. He needed to mend more than just the pasture fence. Daed had never apologized for anything he did, no matter how deep the wounds ran. But he wasn’t Daed, and he wasn’t going to act like him anymore.
He paused as Judith’s and Esther’s happy voices drifted into the kitchen from the back room. It was past time to apologize to Annie and her husband, and he had two days to prepare himself to face Bram.
* * *
“I can’t wait until Thursday,” Judith said.
The dress pieces had been cut out of the new fabric before dinner, and now, while Samuel mended the pasture fence and Aunt Sadie napped in her room, the girls sat together in the sewing room, each with pinned pieces to sew together.
“How long has it been since you’ve seen Annie?” Ida Mae asked.
“She left home two years ago.” Esther snipped the end of her thread as she finished the shoulder of her dress, then tied a new knot to begin sewing the side seam. “She had met Matthew Beachey when he came to one of our singings, and they courted secretly for months.”
“It wasn’t a secret to us,” Judith said.
Esther smiled, her sewing forgotten in her lap. “She was so happy with Matthew. When she came home from one of their buggy rides, we’d be waiting up for her. She’d tell us all about what they had done and where they had gone. Most often, he took her to his family’s house after dinner to play games with his brothers and sisters in the evening, or he’d take her for a ride around Emma Lake. It sounded so romantic.”
“Why was it such a secret?” Mary drew her thread through the seam. She had chosen the more difficult task of inserting the sleeves into the bodice of Judith’s dress.
“She was afraid that if Daed had known she was seeing someone, he would have put a stop to it, the way he had tried to do with Katie.” Esther’s voice dropped, remembering. “Katie ran away with her beau to get married in Ohio, but Annie didn’t want to run away. She didn’t want to be separated from us.”
Mary shifted in her chair. “But the bishop wouldn’t allow them to marry without your daed’s permission, would he?”
“I don’t know how Annie did it, but Bishop Yoder in Eden Township came here to talk to Daed, along with Matthew and Deacon Beachey. They wanted Daed to give his permission for the marriage.”
Judith looked up from her sewing. “Ach, remember how angry he was?”
“He was so angry that Matthew left without Annie.”
“I remember how she cried,” Judith said. “She was afraid she would have to run away like Katie did.”
“But Matthew came back when he heard Daed had died. It was after the funeral, but not too much time had passed.” Esther sighed. “Samuel acted just like Daed, until Annie told him she was going to marry Matthew with his permission or without it.”
“He stomped off to the barn then, didn’t he?”
“But he gave her his permission first.” Esther picked up her sewing again. “We haven’t seen Annie since that day. We didn’t go to the wedding, and we never go to visit the Eden Township folks.”
“But she lives so close,” Mary said. “I can understand that you wouldn’t see Katie, living in Ohio the way she does, but Annie is only a few miles down the road.”
“Even so,” Esther said, “we’ve never gone for a visit, and she hasn’t come here.” Esther stopped to thread her needle. “I hope we get to see Bram on Thursday. He’s our other brother, and also lives in Eden Township.”
“I do, too,” said Judith. “I was only five years old when he left home, and I hardly remember him.”
Mary sewed basting stitches in the right sleeve and then gathered them before she pinned the sleeve to the bodice. She had never met a family like the Lapps, where the scattered family members didn’t try to see one another, even when they lived in the same area. But if Samuel had been as angry as the girls said when Annie left...
Rethreading her needle, Mary tried to imagine Samuel being angry. She had seen him embarrassed, and a bit grumpy, but angry? She imagined his eyes darkening, his mouth twisting, his hand reaching toward her... Her vision suddenly blurred, swirling so that she couldn’t see the needle’s eye. She took a deep breath and started counting.
There was nothing to fear from Samuel. He was a neighbor. Judith and Esther’s brother. She would never be foolish enough to be alone with him in a secluded place. She would never let herself be at the mercy of any man again.
She started over. One, two, three, four... She fixed her eyes on the wooden planks of the floor in front of her toes. Ten, eleven, twelve... Her breathing slowed and she relaxed. Twenty-five, twenty-six...
Safe. She was safe in Aunt Sadie’s home. Safe with the girls and Ida Mae, without any men around to intrude.
Except Samuel, and he would soon learn that they didn’t need him to do Sadie’s chores any longer. Then she would only have to see him on church Sundays.
Esther’s voice penetrated the hum in Mary’s ears.
“What?”
“Did you enjoy church on Sunday?” Esther asked, looking at both Mary and Ida Mae.
“We did,” Mary said. She forced herself to smile. “There were a lot of new people to meet, but other than that it was very much like church at home.”
Judith giggled. “I saw someone taking notice of Ida Mae during dinner.”
Mary exchanged glances with her sister, but Ida Mae shrugged, her eyebrows lifted.
“What do you mean? I didn’t see anyone noticing me in particular.”
The girl grinned, looking at their faces. “I can’t be the only one who saw him. He couldn’t take his eyes off you.”
“Whoever it was,” Mary said, “he was probably only looking at us because we’re new.”
Judith shook her head. “He was only looking at Ida Mae. I don’t think he saw anyone else all day.”
Esther leaned forward. “You have to tell us who it was.”
Judith only grinned until Esther nudged her knee with her foot.
“It was Thomas Weaver.”
“The minister’s son?” Esther sat back in her chair. “Every girl around has been trying to catch his attention.”
Ida Mae turned to Mary. Her face was mottled pink. “I...I’m going to check on Sadie. I’ll be right back.”
After she left the room, Esther said, “I hope we didn’t say anything to upset her.”
“It isn’t anything to worry about. Ida Mae just isn’t interested in getting to know any boys right now.” She shifted the bodice in her lap and changed the subject. “There were so many other young people at church on Sunday. I’m looking forward to getting to know the girls. Do you attend the singings?”
“Samuel won’t take us, and he won’t let us drive ourselves. I think he’s afraid we’ll end up the same way as Annie and Katie.”
“But he lets you go to the quilting on Wednesdays.”
Judith nodded. “That’s because there aren’t any boys there.”
Esther stifled a giggle. “Can you imagine a boy at a quilting frolic?”
They all laughed at that.
Ida Mae came back into the room. “Sadie is sound asleep.”
“I’m so glad,” Mary said. “If she doesn’t take a rest she gets overtired in the evenings and forgets things too easily.”
“Everyone is glad you came to live with her,” said Esther. “She shouldn’t live alone anymore, not at her age. Too many things can happen.”
“Like when she didn’t come to church one Sunday last winter.” Judith’s face had grown pale. “The deacons went to check on her after the worship service was over. It turns out she had made a wrong turn on the way to meeting. They got here to her house just as she returned. She had gone all the way to Middlebury, but when she knew she had gone the wrong way, she let Chester bring her home.”
“It’s a good thing she has a smart horse,” Esther said.
Mary and Ida Mae looked at each other. Mary saw the same alarm she felt reflected in her sister’s eyes.
“That could have ended in disaster.”
“But it didn’t.” Esther tied a knot in her thread. “The Good Lord was watching out for her that day.”
What would they do if something like that happened again? Mary rubbed her tired fingers. She and Ida Mae would have to watch Aunt Sadie very closely.
* * *
Samuel was at work early on Thursday, preparing for the trip to Eden Township. Tilly stood with a hind leg cocked, head down, her side to the morning sun as Samuel brushed her. The new bristles lifted the dust off her coat with little puffs that glinted in the sunlight. The mare’s skin twitched in response. She was enjoying the pampering.
Samuel had curried and brushed her more in the last two days than he ever had before. He had even taken care of her hooves, trimming and polishing them until they shone. He stood back and inspected his brushing job. Her muscles could still use some filling out, but that would come with time. Meanwhile, her coat was beginning to take on the shine of a healthy animal. He didn’t need to be ashamed of her when he faced Bram.
He left Tilly still basking in the sun as he went into the barn and put the brush and currycomb on their shelf with care. One thing he remembered from Grossdawdi’s barn was how clean and orderly everything had been. Each step he took in that direction was progress.
The old buggy stood in the middle of the barn floor, still clean from yesterday’s washing. The wheels were worn, and should be replaced. The seats needed to be recovered, but the old blankets he had thrown over them would have to do for now. Even with as many years as the buggy had been around, though, the black lacquered oilcloth cover gleamed in the subdued light of the barn. Everything was ready for today’s trip.
Samuel took off his new hat and ran his fingers through his hair. Everything was ready except him. The thought of seeing Annie again filled his stomach with something like a bundle of puppies, but Bram...
He whooshed out a breath at the thought of his last encounter with Bram at the barn raising last summer. He had been stupid, making idle threats that didn’t mean anything, but Bram had responded like no Amishman ever did. He had drawn him close, like a brother would, but his grip had been hard on Samuel’s shoulder, and his words dripped of danger. Samuel swallowed at the memory. He had never encountered anything like the tone in Bram’s voice. The years his brother had spent working for gangsters in Chicago had hardened him.
Bram could be a dangerous man, but his life had changed since that hot day last summer. He had joined the church, married a pretty widow and was now a father to her three children. Was he any less threatening, though?
Samuel ran his hand through his hair again, making it stand up in spikes. He didn’t have long to wait to find out. He planned to take the girls and Sadie to Annie’s, where he would apologize to her and her husband. The puppies churned. That would be difficult enough. But then, once he learned where Bram lived, he would go to his farm and...what? Confront him? Try to make amends? Repair the broken places between them? It all depended on Bram’s reaction.
He took a cloth and wiped a few stray specks of dust from the buggy, then led Tilly into the barn to harness her. Every clomp of her hooves on the wooden floor was one step closer to facing Bram. He tied Tilly to a post and stroked her neck.
“Well, Tilly-girl, it’s going to be a day to remember.”
Taking the harness from the hooks on the wall, he swung it onto the mare’s back. She stepped away, but then stood quietly as he murmured to her. “So, Tilly, so. You know we’re going for a drive, don’t you?” Her ears swung back and then forward at the unfamiliar tone in his voice. He reached under her to grab a strap, and as he fastened the harness onto her, he kept talking. “We’re going down to Eden Township today.” He patted her rump as he walked around to her other side. “You’ll like the drive. New places to see.” Once the harness was on, he led her to the buggy and backed her into place between the shafts.
After she was hitched up, he led her out of the barn to the hitching rail next to the house. Esther was waiting for him on the steps, bouncing on her toes and grinning. He had to smile at her.
“You look like you’re ready to go.”
“For sure I am!” She ran down the walk toward the buggy. “I haven’t seen Annie since she got married.” She stopped when she reached him and looked into his face, suddenly sober. “You don’t think she has forgotten us, do you?”
The litter of puppies in Samuel’s stomach clambered over each other as Esther’s words sunk in. He had been so concerned with his own meeting with Annie that he hadn’t considered how Esther and Judith must be feeling. They were her sisters, separated from her through no fault of their own.
“I’m sorry.” The words came out garbled, strangled by his swelling throat. As Judith joined them, he put a hand on each of his sister’s shoulders and tried again. “I’m sorry that I haven’t taken you to see Annie before.”
Judith and Esther glanced at each other.
“We understand,” Esther said. “You were angry—”
Samuel cut off her excuses. “But I shouldn’t have been. I shouldn’t have acted like I did when she wanted to marry that young man.”
“Matthew.”
Samuel squeezed Judith’s shoulder in silent thanks for providing the name he couldn’t remember. The name he had blocked. “Matthew.” He nodded. “Matthew.” The serious young man who had claimed their Annie. The puppies wouldn’t settle down.
Judith shrugged his hand off her shoulder. “Can we go now? I can’t wait to get there.”
Samuel stroked Tilly’s nose as the girls climbed into the buggy, ignoring their surprise at the changes he had made. He didn’t have to go with them. He could send them over to Sadie’s to ride with her. He didn’t have to face Annie and Matthew. He could stay home. There was plenty of work to keep him busy.
He swallowed. He didn’t have to risk Bram’s rejection.
Tilly nibbled at his shoulder. It was the first sign of affection she had ever shown him. He patted her cheek and smoothed the hair under her bridle.
“Well, Tilly-girl, I guess it’s time to face the lions.”
He climbed into the buggy and lifted the reins. The girls chattered to each other in the back seat, talking about Annie and her baby. He rubbed at his freshly shaved chin as they talked. He hadn’t thought that Annie would have a child. His nephew, from what the girls were saying.
Turning Tilly onto the road, he urged her into the quick trot she liked as they headed toward Sadie’s house. As they turned in, he saw Sadie and Ida Mae waiting for them at the edge of the drive. The churning in his stomach eased as Mary stepped out of the house and joined them just as he drew the buggy up. She gave him one of her quiet smiles as Ida Mae climbed into the back of the buggy. He stepped out to help Sadie into the front seat.
“Good morning, Samuel.” She clung to his hand as she put one foot on the buggy step. “It’s a fine day for a drive.”
“Ja, for sure.”
He waited for her to move to the center of the seat so that Mary would be able to sit next to her, but Sadie waved him away.
“I’d like to sit here, if you don’t mind. Mary can sit in the center, between us.”
Mary shot a look toward her aunt, then walked around the back of the buggy with Samuel.
“You know why Sadie wants me to sit in the middle, don’t you?” Mary whispered the words.
“Why?”
Mary stopped, out of sight of the others. “I think she’s trying to push us together.”
Samuel stared. Her cheeks were pink, and one wisp of hair curled around the edge of her bonnet, sending his thoughts down a path that led to tucking that wisp behind her ear. He gripped his suspenders to keep his hands still. “You mean like a matchmaker?”
“Shh.” Mary turned away from the buggy. “Don’t let her hear you.” She twisted her fingers together. “If she sees that she isn’t successful, then she’ll give up. We just have to ignore her attempts to match us up.”
“That sounds good to me.”
Mary continued around the buggy to climb into the front seat and Samuel followed her. His plans didn’t include a wife, and he should be glad that Mary had rejected the idea of the two of them making a match. So why did he feel like he had just watched something precious float away?
Chapter Four (#ub77ddd3a-2a68-5069-ba16-ed569b84e2a7)
The narrow seat on the buggy provided no opportunity for Mary to put any distance between her elbow and Samuel’s. She finally gave up, resigning herself to the occasional bumps in the road that jostled her against his warm, strong arm. His muscles were tense as he handled the reins, so maybe he didn’t notice when they made contact.
Sadie kept the conversation going with news about the neighbors as they made their way south.
“There’s the Miller farm,” she said as they passed a lovely shaded farmyard. Flowers lined the edge of the garden and some children were busy picking strawberries from the field next to the house. “They’re Mennonite, and good neighbors.” She went on without a pause. “And up ahead is the Jefferson place. They’re Englischers and their family has lived here as long as ours.” Sadie laid her hand on Mary’s arm as she turned toward her. “My daed never understood Thomas Jefferson. Ach, ja, that was his name. No relation to the famous president, though. The man was a go-getter, never leaving things be. Now his son, Phillip, has the farm. You won’t believe the bee he has in his hat.”
Sadie fell silent and Mary exchanged glances with Samuel.
He grinned. “You’re talking about the road paving he wants the county to do?”
Sadie nodded and set off again. “That’s right! Pavement in the country! What trotting along on that hard surface will do to our poor horses, I don’t know.” She huffed as she settled back in her seat. “He just wants a smooth road for his fancy automobile, and wants the county to pay for it.”
Samuel chirruped to the horse. “He says it will keep the dust down.” His words were mild, but Mary could see his Adam’s apple bobbing as he tried to keep from laughing.
Sadie crossed her arms. “There’s nothing wrong with a little dust.”
Samuel kept his voice calm, not letting the laughter emerge. “You just don’t like to see progress.”
“Of course not. Progress without wisdom isn’t good for anyone. People like Phillip Jefferson can’t see past the end of their own noses, and he has no thought of what unintended consequences this road of his might bring.” Sadie sat up, her attention on the next farm. “There’s the Zook farm. Good Amish folks, and now we’re in Eden Township.”
“Is that Levi Zook? I met him at a barn raising last summer,” Samuel said.
Sadie shook her head. “Ne, his cousin, Caleb. Levi lives a few miles east of here.” She leaned forward. “Matthew Beachey’s place is just past this crossroad. Up there on the right.”
Mary felt Samuel’s body stiffen at Sadie’s words. What must it be like for him to see Annie again after so long?
The other girls had been visiting in the back seat, but when Sadie pointed out their destination, Esther and Judith leaned forward to get a look.
“What a pretty place,” Judith said.
“Look at all of the flowers. Annie always said gladiolus was her favorite, and she has planted a whole row of them.”
Esther’s voice sounded strained and Mary turned around as well as she could.
“Are you all right, Esther?”
She nodded. “I’m just so happy to see Annie again.” She pointed, her arm extending between Mary and Sadie. “Look, there she is! Samuel, stop the buggy so we can get out.”
“You can wait until I turn in the drive.” Samuel’s voice held a growl. His face was tense as he drove the horse toward Annie, who was waiting for them next to the gravel lane.
When he drew the buggy to a stop, Judith and Esther jumped out and into Annie’s arms. The three sisters held each other close, none of them saying a word, until Annie pushed away from the embrace to look at the girls.
“You’ve both changed so much!” Annie’s happy smile made Mary want to smile back.
As the girls launched into the story of everything that had happened since they had last been together, Annie looked toward the buggy, then back at her sisters. Samuel remained in his seat, watching the girls, but making no move to get out.
Sadie reached across Mary to poke his arm. “Samuel, it’s time for you to say hello to Annie.”
Samuel swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Ja.” He sighed and secured the reins, but he didn’t make a move to get out of the buggy.
Mary laid her hand on his arm. There must be some way she could help. The poor man looked like he was about to meet his doom.
“She’s waiting for you.”
Samuel looked past Mary and Sadie. Annie had glanced his way again, and had pulled her lower lip in between her teeth.
“Go on,” Mary said. She pushed at his arm. “It’s time.”
His eyes met hers then, pleading with them as one of her younger brothers would do, but he climbed down from the buggy. Mary followed him and helped Sadie to the ground as she watched him greet his sister.
“Hello, Annie.”
He stood back, but his sister reached toward him and grasped his hand.
“I’m so glad you came.” Her eyes sparkled with tears. “I’ve missed you. All of you.”
Sadie pulled on Mary’s arm, and she led the way into the house with Ida Mae following.
“We’ll let the four of them get acquainted again without us interfering.”
Other buggies had already arrived, and as Mary stepped onto the porch, she could hear the hum of voices from inside the house. She swallowed down the thickness in her throat at the thought of all the strangers on the other side of that door, but she didn’t have time to be nervous as Sadie walked in. They laid their bonnets with the others on a bed in the room off the kitchen, then followed the sound of women visiting.
The front room was filled with a quilt on a frame, and ten or twelve women sat around it, needles in their hands and all talking at once. Sadie led Ida Mae to three empty chairs on the far side of the quilt, stopping to greet the women they passed on the way.
“Good morning, Elizabeth.” She grasped an older woman’s shoulder. “These are my nieces from Ohio, Mary and Ida Mae.” She went on to the next woman, a younger image of the first one. “And Ellie, I’m so glad you’re here. Meet my nieces.”
Mary had hardly had a chance to greet Elizabeth when she met Ellie’s blue eyes. “I’m so happy to meet you. I’m Ellie Lapp.”
“Lapp? Are you related to Esther and Judith?”
“Ja, for sure.” Ellie’s smile was relaxed and welcoming. “Their brother Bram is my husband, but I’ve never met the girls.” She stuck her needle in the quilt and half rose from her seat. “Did they come with you? Are they outside?”
“They’re talking with Annie. Samuel is there, too.”
Ellie sat back in her chair. “Samuel came?”
“He said he had some business here in Eden Township, so he drove us down here this morning.”
A little boy, about two years old, crawled out from under the quilting frame and pulled on Ellie’s skirt. “Memmie, I’m thirsty.”
Ellie cupped his head in her hand, a worried frown on her face. “Ja, Danny. We’ll go to the kitchen and get a drink.” She smiled at Mary, her brows still knit. “I’m so glad to meet you, Mary, and I hope we’ll be able to get to know each other better.”
She took the little boy by the hand and led him into the kitchen as Mary made her way to the chair next to Sadie and Ida Mae. For the first time, she wondered what business Samuel had in Eden Township. Whatever it was, it had Ellie worried.
* * *
Samuel let Tilly choose her own pace as he set off down the road toward Bram’s farm. Annie’s welcome had bolstered his courage enough to ask for directions to their brother’s home, but when he saw Bram’s wife peering at them through Annie’s kitchen window, doubts began to crowd in again.
Meeting Bram wouldn’t be as easy as seeing Annie again. His sister had always been quick to forgive and easy to talk to. Bram had never been easy to deal with.
Samuel stopped at a crossroad. Annie had said he would turn right after he passed over the creek, and he could see the wandering line of trees and bushes that marked the creek’s progress through the fields ahead. Only one more mile before he turned onto Bram’s road. When he clucked to Tilly, she shook her head and started off at a brisk trot.
He and Bram had never enjoyed the kind of brotherly love he saw in other families. Daed had pushed at them, and Samuel could hear his voice now. “Bram can do it. Why can’t you?”
And then Bram would look at him with his superior, big-brother look that would spike Samuel’s temper.
Whether it was pitching hay down from the loft or hauling buckets of slop for the hogs, Bram had always done it better, faster, easier.
Even after Bram had abandoned the family, Daed had kept goading at Samuel, pushing him to be the man Bram was.
But he wasn’t Bram. He didn’t leave. He had stayed and absorbed the brunt of Daed’s anger right until the end.
Samuel fingered the reins. Why hadn’t he left? He could have followed Bram, but he shied away from the accusing voice in his head that said he had been too cowardly to strike out on his own. His eyes stung and he rubbed at them. He wasn’t a coward. He was the good son. The one who had stayed home. But Mamm had still died.
Tilly trotted across the culvert over the stream and the next crossroad was in sight. A quarter mile west, Annie had said. His stomach churned with something. Anger? Resentment? Or was he only nervous?
Samuel pulled Tilly to a stop at the corner. He didn’t have to turn. He could continue down this road, find a spot to rest until it was time to pick up the girls again and face Bram another day.
But he was done with putting things off. That’s the way Daed would have handled this. He would have ignored Bram, pretended he didn’t exist to punish him for taking off to Chicago all those years ago. If he was going to come out from his daed’s shadow, he needed to face Bram.
Make amends.
He turned the corner and headed west, keeping Tilly’s pace to a slow trot, even though she shook her head in protest. Samuel kept the reins tight, holding her in. He wanted time.
The farm was on the left after he crossed another little creek. A Dawdi Haus nestled in the grass near the creek, with a flower garden in the front. The main house stood on a rise near it, and a white barn sat at the back of the lane. A field next to the lane was planted with corn, and the stalks stood nearly a foot high. A team of four matching Belgian horses grazed in the pasture beyond the barn.
Samuel pulled Tilly to a halt in the road. The horses in the pasture meant that Bram was at home, not out in the fields. He fought the urge to keep driving down the road and turned Tilly into the lane. Someone had seen him coming. An old man watched him from the porch of the Dawdi Haus, but Samuel followed the sound of metal hammering on metal that rang from the barn.
He halted Tilly near the barn door and climbed out of the buggy. The ringing continued. He tied the horse to the rail alongside the barn. No break in the rhythmic hammering from inside.
Looking around, Samuel spied the old man, who had walked up to the main house and stood on the front porch. He lifted his hand in a wave and Samuel returned the gesture. There was no alternative now except to face Bram. Wiping his hands on his trousers, he walked into the barn.
Just inside the door, he stopped to let his eyes adjust to the dim light. Bram was at the end of the main bay, working on a plow, his back to the door. A boy stood next to him. The seven-year-old held his hands over his ears to block out the noise, but leaned as close to Bram as he could, fascinated by the work.
Bram stopped hammering and bent down to inspect his work. “You see here, Johnny,” he said as he pointed, “that was the piece that had come loose. But now it’s fastened in good and tight and should work fine.”
Samuel walked toward them and the boy saw him.
“Daed, someone’s here.”
Bram straightened and turned, a welcoming smile on his face until he saw who it was.
“Samuel.” His voice held a note of surprise.
“Hello, Bram.”
Bram pulled off his gloves and laid one hand on the boy’s shoulder without taking his gaze away from Samuel. “Johnny, we’re done here. Why don’t you go see if your grossdawdi needs any help?”
Johnny ran out the back door of the barn and Bram stepped closer.
“I didn’t expect to see you.”
Samuel tried to smile. “Annie told me where you live.”
“You’ve been to Annie’s?”
“I brought Judith and Esther to her house for the quilting this morning, and I thought I’d stop and see how you were doing.”
Bram stared at him. “If I remember right, when I stopped by the farm last year you told me that I didn’t belong there, and you didn’t want to see me again.”
Samuel took a step back. Ja, for sure, he remembered that day. Bram had been all slicked up in a gabardine suit. An Englischer through and through.
“You didn’t look like you wanted to stay.”
Bram stepped closer. “You didn’t even let me go to the house to see the girls.”
Samuel looked him in the eyes. “You weren’t our brother anymore. You were some fancy Englischer. How did I know what you wanted from us?”
His brother looked down. “You were probably right.” He rubbed at the back of his neck. “I was hoping to hide out at home, but when you sent me on my way, I had to make other plans.” He smiled then, looking at Samuel again. “I should probably thank you for that. If you hadn’t forced me to move on to Annie and Matthew’s, I would never have met Ellie.”
“But the last time we spoke, at the barn raising, you threatened me.”
“Ja, well, I did, didn’t I? You must understand, there were some dangerous men around and I didn’t want you to get mixed up with them. I was hoping to scare you off.”
Samuel felt the corner of his mouth twitch. “More dangerous than you?”
Bram’s mouth widened in a wry grin. “Dangerous enough. But that’s in the past. My life is different now. Better. Much better.”
Samuel nodded, looking around at the neat, clean barn. “Life has been good to you.”
“God has been good to me.” Bram grabbed Samuel’s shoulder and squeezed it. “What about you? How are things going for you?”
Samuel scratched at his chin, missing the whiskers. “Not as good.”
“When I stopped by last year, it looked like the farm was doing all right.”
He shrugged. “As well as when Daed ran it. The hogs sell, and that brings in cash when we need it.”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there when Mamm died. How did Daed take it?”
“You don’t know how she died? Annie didn’t tell you?”
Bram shot him a look. “What do you mean?”
“Daed was drunk. He and Mamm were arguing.” Samuel shut his eyes, trying to block out the memory of the shouts, Mamm’s cries. “She fell down the stairs and died three days later.”
“Annie never told me any of this.” Bram ran his hand over his face. “What do you think happened?”
“You know what Daed was like when he lost his temper.”
Bram nodded. “Especially when he was drunk.” He paused and their eyes met. “Do you think that had anything to do with the accident?”
Samuel shook his head. “I don’t know. Sometimes I wonder if it wasn’t an accident. I’ve gone over it in my head again and again. All I know is if he hadn’t been drinking, he wouldn’t have been fighting with her. But he drank all the time back then.”
They stood in silence as Samuel relived the memories again, and felt the release of having someone to share his suspicions with. Whether or not Daed had shoved Mamm, causing her fall, or if she lost her balance, he would never know. He had never told anyone about what he had witnessed that day.
Finally, Bram sighed. “I’m sorry, Samuel. I left home because I couldn’t take Daed and his temper anymore, but I left you alone with him. I shouldn’t have done that. We should have faced him together.”
Samuel shrugged. “You know Daed. He kept us working against each other so that we wouldn’t work against him.” Samuel stared at the barn floor as he realized just how strong their father’s influence had been. “We were never friends, were we?”
Bram shook his head. “Daed always picked at me, asking me why I couldn’t be more like you. He always did like you the best, you know.”
Samuel stared. “What do you mean? He always told me that I should be more like you.”
Bram stared back at him, then his laugh came out as a short bark. “That old rascal.”
“It isn’t funny. I’ve spent my life hating you.”
“Same here.” One corner of Bram’s mouth still held a grin. “Ach, then, what do we do about it now?”
Samuel’s thoughts whirled. What did he want? Could he be friends with this man when so many painful memories crowded in?
He stuck his hands in his pockets. “I’m not sure we can ever be brothers.”
Bram had bent his head down, and now looked at him from under the brim of his hat. “Could we be friends?”
Samuel shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Let’s start with a truce, and then go on from there.”
Bram stuck his hand out and Samuel looked at it. Calloused, strong, tanned by the sun. The mirror image of his own as he slowly took the offered hand. Bram’s grip was sure. Firm. Samuel tightened his fingers and Bram’s grip grew firmer. Samuel felt a grin starting as he met Bram’s eyes.
“Truce.”
* * *
Mary sat at the kitchen table while Ida Mae helped Sadie get ready for bed. They had quickly discovered that Sadie became confused easily at night, and more than once had gone to bed with her dress still on, or neglecting a final trip to the outhouse, so the two of them took turns keeping Sadie focused on her bedtime routine until she was finally settled and asleep.
But only half of Mary’s mind was on Sadie and Ida Mae. She drummed her fingers on the table, echoing the rolling thunder of an approaching storm. The rain would be welcome, if they got any. Last year’s drought was one for the history books, Daed had said often enough. But the thunder was outdone by the rising bubble of guilt that pricked at her conscience.
After the quilting today, Annie had sent some jars of canned asparagus and a loaf of bread home with Sadie. Mary hadn’t thought much about it until this evening. While she had been washing up after supper, she had realized that Sadie’s cellar was full of canned goods, and the kitchen cupboards held sacks of flour. Even baking powder and cinnamon. All items that were hard to come by at home.
The entire community was supporting Sadie, not only here in Shipshewana but even folks in Eden Township. They made sure she had enough food in her cupboards and plenty of staples to keep her comfortable. Even Samuel helped with her chores.
Ida Mae came into the kitchen, stifling a yawn. “It’s been a long day, and I’m going to go to bed.”
“Sit down for a minute, first.” Mary used her foot to push a chair out from the table. “We need to talk.”
Her sister yawned again, but sat down. “What about?”
“You know people give food and other things to Sadie. And the Yoders across the road bring a gallon of milk every day.”
“Of course they do. Our church at home does the same for older people and others who can’t work for themselves.”
Mary nodded. “And that is the right thing to do, except that we’re here now. Have you noticed that the Yoders used to send a quart of milk for Sadie, but now it’s a gallon? Everyone has sent more food for Sadie since we came. They aren’t only making sure Sadie has enough, but they’re sending extra for us.”
Ida Mae lifted an eyebrow.
“We can and should work for ourselves, and support Sadie, too. We should be helping to support the community, not taking aid that another family might need more than we do.”

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