Second Chance Amish Bride
Marta Perry
An Amish NannyCaring for her late cousin's young kinder is Jessie Miller's duty—even if it means seeing their father again. Years ago, she thought Caleb King might be her husband—until he met her cousin and Jessie's dream was cut short. Laid up with a broken leg and a demanding dairy farm, Caleb needs her. But Caleb wants no woman around…and no reminder of the wife who abandoned her family before her death. Especially since he fears Jessie will throw a wrench in his plan to remain a single dad. She's gentle, kind, and if Caleb isn't careful, she may be just what his little Amish family needs.Brides of Lost Creek: In Amish country, all roads lead to weddings
An Amish Nanny
Caring for her late cousin’s young kinder is Jessie Miller’s duty—even if it means seeing their father again. Years ago, she thought Caleb King might be her husband—until he met her cousin and Jessie’s dream was cut short. Laid up with a broken leg and a demanding dairy farm, Caleb needs her. But Caleb wants no woman around...and no reminder of the wife who abandoned her family before her death. Especially since he fears Jessie will throw a wrench in his plan to remain a single dad. She’s gentle and kind, and if Caleb isn’t careful, she may be just what his little Amish family needs.
There was a clatter at the back door as the kinder came in.
Jessie folded the mending. “I’ll go up and get things ready for bed.”
When she came downstairs afterward, Timothy was on the floor, showing his daadi something about his farm animal set, while Becky cuddled on Caleb’s lap.
He smoothed back the strands of hair that had slipped out of Becky’s braids, and the tender look on his face told Jessie everything was all right between them now.
Even as she thought it, Caleb’s gaze moved to her face with a smiling acknowledgment that her words had helped. Her heart swelled. Perhaps they could be friends one day.
Caleb glanced at the clock. “Time you young ones were in bed.”
When she bent over to reach for Timothy, Caleb caught her wrist. She raised startled eyes to his, wondering if he could feel her pulse pounding.
“Denke,” he said.
He let go, looked away, and Jessie hurried after the kinder who were already scrambling up the stairs. She couldn’t let Caleb imagine she had any feelings for him. She just couldn’t.
Dear Reader (#ud5a6ba60-31e2-5d82-b6c9-f7fb80ab7ec0),
Thank you so much for deciding to read my latest story. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did creating it!
I have always been touched by the importance with which the Amish view forgiveness. Their firm belief that they will be forgiven in the same measure they forgive others is at the bedrock of faith.
That doesn’t mean it is easier for the Amish than it is for any other Christian. All of us must surely struggle with forgiving the wrongs that have been done to us and to our loved ones. Sometimes I think I must forgive the same things over and over again, every day, until at last I realize that the forgiveness sticks!
Caleb and Jessie struggle with this concept of forgiveness in my story, and it doesn’t come easy for either of them. I hope you were moved by their struggles, and you feel they’d earned their happy ending when they finally succeeded.
I’d love to hear what you think of my story. You can contact me at my website, www.martaperry.com (http://www.martaperry.com), find me on Facebook, www.facebook.com/MartaPerryBooks (http://www.facebook.com/MartaPerryBooks), or write to me at marta@martaperry.com (mailto:marta@martaperry.com) or in care of Love Inspired Books, 195 Broadway, 24th Fl, New York, NY 10007. I’ll be happy to send you a signed bookmark and my brochure of Pennsylvania Dutch recipes.
Blessings,
Marta Perry
A lifetime spent in rural Pennsylvania and her Pennsylvania Dutch heritage led MARTA PERRY to write about the Plain People who add so much richness to her home state. Marta has seen nearly sixty of her books published, with over six million books in print. She and her husband live in a centuries-old farmhouse in a central Pennsylvania valley. When she’s not writing, she’s reading, traveling, baking or enjoying her six beautiful grandchildren.
Second Chance Amish Bride
Marta Perry
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Do not judge, and you will not be judged. Do not condemn, and you will not be condemned. Forgive, and you will be forgiven.
—Luke 6:37
This story is dedicated to my husband, Brian, with much love.
Contents
Cover (#u00829dae-c554-5e13-a80d-1cdda7cff015)
Back Cover Text (#u23cb4b58-ebc3-57af-9cd0-97ad11599a40)
Introduction (#u19e3437a-d70e-5555-9cc9-9cc48809fd9a)
Dear Reader (#u30e80fb5-0a47-5d59-ab07-885dba005bcc)
About the Author (#u136674bd-ac4a-5b97-ad7a-a7b6a26886fd)
Title Page (#u7a65a8bc-2cc1-56dc-9c05-16a372cd7929)
Bible Verse (#u2a97ab74-cafa-5717-83fd-c915eae3d53a)
Dedication (#ud875cf7a-1a37-5a12-8079-4bc6d5459b8b)
Chapter One (#u4f7650d5-bab0-511b-8297-fbab2b4faee9)
Chapter Two (#u304d2400-0106-5aff-a056-942b85a68450)
Chapter Three (#u3e0af198-8fac-5cb9-84bd-d944f228d3f3)
Chapter Four (#ua1dd576a-4d4c-5c49-951b-1739c15bb9d8)
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)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#ud5a6ba60-31e2-5d82-b6c9-f7fb80ab7ec0)
The hospital van bounced over a rut in the farm lane, and Caleb King leaned forward to catch the first glimpse of his home. At last—those four weeks in the rehab hospital after his leg surgery had seemed endless, but finally he was coming back to his central Pennsylvania farm. If only he could jump down from the van, hug his kinder and plunge back into the life of being a dairy farmer.
But he couldn’t. His hands tightened on the arms of the wheelchair, and he glared at the cast on his leg. How much longer would he have to count on the kindness of his family and neighbors to keep the farm going?
Caleb glanced toward the Fisher farm across the fields. The spot where the barn had been before the fire was cleared now, and stacks of fresh lumber showed a new barn would soon rise in its place. For an instant he was back in the burning structure with Sam Fisher, struggling to get the last of the stock out before the place was consumed. He heard again Sam’s shout, saw the fiery timber falling toward him, tried to dive out of the way...
He should have thought himself blessed it had been only his leg that suffered. And doubly blessed that Sam had hauled him out of there at the risk of his own life.
The van stopped at the back porch. Caleb reached for the door handle and then realized he couldn’t get it open. He’d have to wait for the driver to lower the wheelchair to the ground. How long until he’d be able to do the simplest thing for himself? He gritted his teeth. He was tired of being patient. He had to get back to normal.
By the time Caleb reached the ground, Onkel Zeb was waiting with Caleb’s two little ones, and his heart leaped at the sight of them. Six-year-old Becky raced toward him, blond braids coming loose from under her kapp, which probably meant Onkel Zeb had fixed her hair.
“Daadi, Daadi, you’re home!” She threw herself at him, and he bent forward to catch her and pull her onto his lap, loving the feel of her small arms around him.
“Home to stay,” he said, and it was a promise. He hugged her tight. His young ones had lost too much with their mother’s desertion and death. They had to know that he was always here for them.
Reminding himself that whatever Alice’s sins, he must forgive her, he held out his hand to Timothy, who clung to Onkel Zeb’s pant leg. “Komm, Timothy. You know Daadi, ain’t so?”
Little Timothy was almost four, and his blue eyes had grown huge at the sight of the lift and the wheelchair. But at the sound of Caleb’s voice, he seemed to overcome his shyness. He scrambled into Caleb’s lap, managing to kick the heavy cast in the process.
Onkel Zeb winced at the sight. “Careful, Timmy. Daadi’s leg...”
Caleb stopped him with a shake of his head. “It’s worth it for a big hug from my boy.”
Nodding, Onkel Zeb grasped Caleb’s shoulder, his faded blue eyes misting over. His lean, weathered face seemed older than it had been before the accident, most likely from worry. “Ach, it’s wonderful gut to have you home again.”
The driver slammed the van door, smiling at the kinder. “Don’t forget, I’ll be back to pick you up for your therapy appointment next week.” He waved as he rounded the van to go back to the driver’s seat.
Caleb grimaced as the van pulled out. “I wish I could forget it. I’d like to be done with hospitals.”
“Never mind. You’re getting well, ain’t so? That’s what’s important.” Zeb started pushing the wheelchair toward the back door, where a new wooden ramp slanted down from the porch. “Sam Fisher and Daniel put the ramp in last week so it’d be all ready when you came home.”
“Nice work.” Of course it was. His brother Daniel was a skilled carpenter. Caleb tried to look appreciative, but it was hard when he kept seeing reminders of his helplessness everywhere he looked. “Is Sam still helping with the milking?”
“I told him not to come in the morning anymore. With Thomas Schutz working every day, we’re getting along all right.” Zeb paused. “I was thinking it might be gut to have Thomas stay on full-time even after you’re back on your feet. We could use the extra pair of hands.”
Caleb shrugged, not willing to make that decision so quickly. Still, Thomas seemed eager to earn the money for his widowed mother, and he was a bright lad. They could do worse than take the boy on until Timothy was of an age to help.
“At least for now we’ll keep him full-time,” he said. “And we’ll have Edith Berger continue with the house and the young ones.”
Onkel Zeb stopped pushing when they reached the door. Caleb glanced up and was surprised at the look of discomfort on Zeb’s face.
“About Edith...her daughter has been having some health troubles and needs her mamm. So Edith had to go to her. She isn’t coming anymore.”
Caleb’s hands clenched again as the chair bumped over the doorstep into the house. He could hardly care for the kinder when he couldn’t even go up the stairs. “We’ll have to find someone...”
His words trailed off as they entered the kitchen. A woman in Plain dress stood at the stove, taking a pie from the oven.
“Here’s a blessing arrived this morning that we didn’t expect.” Onkel Zeb sounded as if he forced a note of cheerfulness into his voice. “Look who has komm to help us out.”
The woman turned as he spoke. Her soft brown hair was drawn back into a knot under a snowy kapp. She had on a dark green dress with an apron to match that made her hazel eyes look green. The woman wasn’t one of the neighbors or someone from the church. It was Jessie Miller, cousin of the wife who’d left him, and the last person he wanted to find in his kitchen.
For a long moment they stared at each other. Jessie’s oval face might have been a bit paler than normal, but if she was uncomfortable, she was trying not to show it. Caleb’s jaw hardened until it felt it might break. Jessie had offered her assistance once before, just after Alice left, and he’d turned her down in no uncertain terms. What made her think she could expect a wilkom now?
“Caleb.” Jessie nodded gravely. “I’m sehr glad to see you home again.”
He could hardly say that he was happy to see her, but a warning look from Onkel Zeb reminded him that the kinder were looking on. “Yah, it’s wonderful gut to be here.” Becky pressed close to the chair, and he put his arm around her. “What are you...how did you get here?” And why have you komm?
“Jessie took the bus and got a ride out from town.” Zeb sounded determined to fill up the silence with words, probably because he was afraid of what Caleb might say. “It’ll be wonderful nice for the kinder to get to know Cousin Jessie, ain’t so?”
Caleb frowned at his uncle, unable to agree. He supposed, if he were being fair, that Alice’s family deserved some chance to get to know her children, but not now, not like this.
Before he could speak, Zeb had seized the handles of the chair. “I’ll show you the room we fixed up for you so you could be on this floor. Becky, you and Timothy give Cousin Jessie a hand with setting the table for supper. Daadi must be hungry, and Onkel Daniel will be in soon.”
Becky let go of Caleb reluctantly and went to the drawer for silverware. Timothy raced to get there first, yanking so hard the drawer would have fallen out if Jessie hadn’t grabbed it.
“Ach, you’re a strong boy,” she said, a bit of laughter in the words. “Best let Becky hand you the things, ain’t so?” She smiled at Becky, but his daughter just set her lips together and proceeded with the job. Even at her young age, Becky had a mind of her own.
Zeb pushed Caleb’s chair to the back room that had been intended as a sewing room for Alice. The hospital bed looked out of place, but Caleb knew it would be easier to get into and out of than a regular bed.
Once they were inside, Caleb reached back to pull the door closed so no one could overhear. He swung to face his uncle.
“What is she doing here?” he demanded.
Onkel Zeb shrugged, spreading his hands wide. “She just showed up. Seems like word got to Ohio about your getting hurt, and Jessie said she thought she was needed.”
“Well, she’s not.” Caleb clamped down on the words. “We’ll do fine without her, so she can just take tomorrow’s bus right back again.”
“Ach, Caleb, you can’t do that.” His uncle’s lean, weathered face grew serious. “Stop and think. What would folks think if you turned your wife’s kin out of the house? What would the bishop and ministers say?”
“I don’t want her here.” He spun the chair to stare, unseeing, out the window. “I don’t need any reminders of what Alice did.”
“What Alice did, not Jessie,” Zeb reminded him. “It’s not Jessie’s fault. She wants only to help, maybe thinking she can make up a little for what her cousin did.”
“She can’t.” He bit out the words. It was easy telling himself that he had to forgive Alice. It wasn’t easy to do it.
“Even so, you’ll have to agree to let her stay for a short visit, at least.” His uncle pulled the chair back around to give Caleb the look that said he meant business. “I’ll not have you hurting the woman for someone else’s wrongdoing.”
Onkel Zeb hadn’t often given orders to Caleb and his brothers, even though he’d shared the raising of them. But when he did, they listened.
Caleb clenched his jaw, but he nodded. “All right. A short visit—that’s all. Then Jessie has to go.”
* * *
With Caleb out of the room, Jessie discovered that she could breathe again. She hadn’t realized how hard this would be.
Caleb had changed over the years, just as she had. She’d first seen him on the day he’d met her cousin, and a lot of years had passed since then. His hair and beard were still the color of a russet apple, and his cheeks were ruddy despite his time in the hospital.
But the blue eyes that had once been wide and enthusiastic seemed frosty now, and lines etched their way across his face. Lines of pain, probably, but maybe also of grief and bitterness. Who could wonder at that, after what Alice had put him through?
Guilt grabbed her at the thought of the cousin who had been like her own little sister. She’d been meant to take care of Alice, but she’d failed.
A clatter of plates brought her back to the present with a jolt, and she hurried to the kinder. “Let me give you a hand with those,” she said, reaching for the precarious stack Becky was balancing.
“I can do it myself.” Becky jerked the plates away so quickly they almost slid onto the floor. She managed to get them to the round pine table and plopped them down with a clank. “I don’t need help.” She shot Jessie an unfriendly look.
Had Becky picked up her father’s attitude already? Or maybe she saw herself as the mother of the little family now that Alice was gone. Either way, Jessie supposed she’d best take care what she said.
“We can all use a bit of help now and then,” she said easily. “I’m not sure where there’s a bowl for the chicken pot pie. Can you help me with that?”
Timothy ran to one of the lower cabinets and pulled the door open. “This one,” he announced, pointing to a big earthenware bowl. “That’s the one for chicken pot pie. Ain’t so, Becky?”
He looked for approval to his big sister, and when she nodded, he gave Jessie an engaging grin. “See?”
“I do see. That’s just right, Timothy. Do you like chicken pot pie?”
Still smiling, he nodded vigorously. “And cherry pie, too.” He glanced toward the pie she’d left cooling on the counter.
Jessie took the bowl, smiling in return at the irresistible little face. Timothy, at least, was friendly. Probably he wasn’t old enough to remember much about his mother, so her leaving and her death hadn’t affected him as much as Becky.
She began ladling out the fragrant mix of chicken and homemade noodles. The men would doubtless be back and hungry before long. Even as she thought it, Jessie heard the door of Caleb’s room open and the murmur of voices.
“Let’s get those hands washed for supper,” she told Timothy. “I hear Daadi coming.” She reached out to turn on the water in the sink, but Becky pushed her way between Jessie and her brother.
“I’ll do it.” She frowned at Jessie. “He’s my little bruder.”
Jessie opened her mouth, found herself with nothing to say and closed it again. Her mother’s voice trickled into her mind, and she saw again the worried look on her mother’s face.
“I wish you wouldn’t go. You’ll be hurt.”
Well, maybe so, but she couldn’t let that stop her from doing what was right. She had to atone for the wrongs Alice had done, and if she was hurt in the process, it was probably what she deserved. Given Becky’s attitude, she didn’t doubt that Alice’s daughter was hurting inside, too.
The hustle of getting food on the table was a distraction when Caleb and his uncle returned to the kitchen. Zeb went to the back door and rang the bell on the porch. Almost before its clamor had stilled, Caleb’s brother Daniel came in, pausing to slap Caleb on the back.
“So you’re home at last. I thought I would have to sneak you out of that hospital.”
Caleb’s face relaxed into the easygoing smile Jessie remembered from his younger self. “You just want to have more help around here, that’s all.”
“Can’t blame me for that. I’ve got the carpentry business to run, remember? I can’t spend all my time milking cows.”
Daniel’s gaze landed on Jessie, and he gave her a slightly quizzical look. He’d already greeted her when she’d arrived, so he wasn’t surprised to find her there as Caleb had been. Maybe he was wondering how Caleb had taken her arrival. If so, she didn’t doubt he’d soon see the answer to that question.
She’d have known Caleb and Daniel were brothers even if she’d never seen the two of them before. Their lean, rangy bodies and strong faces were quite similar, though Daniel’s hair was a bit darker and of course he didn’t have a beard, since he’d never married.
That was strange enough to be remarked on in the Amish community. At twenty-eight, Daniel was expected to have started a family of his own. She’d heard from the talkative driver who brought her from the bus station that folks around here said the three King brothers had soured on women because of their mother’s desertion. If that were true, she couldn’t imagine Alice’s actions had helped any.
There was another brother, too, the youngest. But Aaron’s name was rarely mentioned, so Alice had told her once. He’d jumped the fence to the Englisch world a few years ago and hadn’t been back since as far as she knew. Nothing about the King boys was typical of Amish males, it seemed.
Jessie found herself seated between Zeb and Timothy, and she scanned the table to be sure she hadn’t forgotten anything. Silly to be so nervous about the first meal she’d cooked in this house. It wasn’t like she was an inexperienced teenager.
Caleb bowed his head for the silent prayer, and everyone followed suit. Jessie began to say the Lord’s Prayer, as she usually did, but found her heart yearning for other words.
Please, Lord, let me do Your will here. Give me a chance to make a difference for Alice’s children.
For a moment after the prayer, no one spoke. The dishes started to go around the table, and Jessie helped balance the heavy bowl while Timothy scooped up his chicken pot pie. Warmed by his grin, she passed the bowl on to Caleb. He took it with a short nod and turned away.
Zeb cleared his throat. “It looks like you found everything you needed to make supper.” He passed the bowl of freshly made applesauce.
“The pantry is well stocked, that’s certain sure. Lots of canned goods.” She couldn’t help the slight question in her tone, since Alice hadn’t been here to do the housewife’s job of preserving food last summer.
Zeb nodded. “The neighbors have been generous in sharing what they put up. Some of the women even came over and had a canning frolic when the tomatoes and peppers were ready in the garden.”
“That was wonderful kind of them.” The King family didn’t have any female relatives nearby, so naturally the church would pitch in to help. “And someone made this great dried corn. That’s a favorite with my little nieces and nephews.”
Before anyone could respond, Becky cut in. “You don’t have to go back to the hospital anymore, right, Daadi? So we can get along like always.”
Zeb’s face tightened a little, and he glanced at Caleb as if expecting him to correct Becky for rudeness. But if Caleb caught the look, he ignored it. “I’ll have to go for just a few hours each week. It’s what they call physical therapy, when they help me do exercises to get my leg working right again.”
Becky’s lips drew down in a pout that reminded Jessie of her mother. “I thought you were done.”
“The therapy will help your daadi get rid of that heavy cast and out of the chair,” Daniel said, flicking her cheek with his finger. “You wouldn’t want him to skip that, ain’t so?”
Becky shrugged. “I guess not. But only for a little while, right?”
It wasn’t surprising that Becky wanted reassurance that her father would be home to stay. She’d certainly had enough upheaval in her young life.
“Don’t worry,” Caleb said. “We’ll soon be back to normal. I promise.”
Jessie rose to refill the bowl with pot pie. Caleb glanced her way at the movement, and his intent look was like a harsh word. She knew what he meant by normal. He meant without her.
* * *
By the time the uncomfortable meal was over, Jessie was glad to have the kitchen to herself while she washed the dishes, though a little surprised that Becky didn’t insist on taking over that job, too. The little girl certainly seemed determined to convince everyone that Jessie was unnecessary.
Jessie took her time over the cleaning up, half listening to the murmur of voices from the living room. It sounded as if Caleb was playing a board game with the young ones, and Daniel was helping Timothy keep up with his big sister. The play was punctuated now and then by laughter, and the sound warmed Jessie’s heart. Obviously everyone was as glad to have Caleb home as he was to be here.
She was just hanging up the dish towels to dry when Daniel and the children came back in the kitchen and started putting on jackets. “Going someplace?” she asked.
Daniel nodded. “These two like to tell the horses good-night. Timothy says it makes the horses sleep better.”
“It does,” Timothy declared. “Honest.”
“I’m sure you’re right,” Jessie said. “Do you take them a treat?”
“Carrots,” he said, running to the bin in the pantry and coming back with a handful.
“Share with Becky,” Daniel prompted, and Timothy handed her a few, obviously trying to keep the lion’s share.
Jessie had to smile. “Your mammi used to do that when she was your age,” she said.
Timothy looked at her with a question in his eyes, but Caleb spoke from the doorway.
“Best get going. It’s almost time for bed.”
“Komm, schnell. You heard Daadi.” Daniel shooed them out, and the door closed behind them.
“Don’t talk about their mother to my children.” Caleb’s voice grated, and he turned the chair toward her with an abrupt shove from his strong hands that sent it surging across the wide floor boards.
For a moment Jessie could do nothing but stare at him. “I only said that—”
His face darkened. “I know what you said, but I don’t want her mentioned. I’m their father, and I will tell them what they need to know about her.”
Her thoughts were bursting with objections, but Jessie kept herself from voicing them. “I didn’t mean any harm, Caleb. Isn’t it better that they hear people speak about Alice naturally?”
The lines in his face deepened, and Jessie felt a pang of regret for the loss of the laughing, open person he’d once been.
“I won’t discuss it. You’ll have to do as I see fit during your visit.”
He’d managed to avoid speaking Alice’s name thus far, and that should have been a warning in itself. Arguing would do no good.
“Whatever you say. I’m just here to help in any way I can.”
Some of the tension seemed to drain out of Caleb, but not much. She suspected there was more to come, and suspected, too, that she wasn’t going to like it.
“Since you’re here, you may as well visit with the kinder for a few days.” Instead of looking at her, he focused on the National Parks calendar tacked to the kitchen wall. “I’ll arrange for you to take the bus back to Ohio on Friday.”
“Friday? You mean this Friday? Two days from now?” She hadn’t expected this to be easy, but she also hadn’t anticipated being turned away so quickly.
Caleb gave a short nod, still not meeting her eyes. He swung the chair away from her as if to dismiss her.
Without thinking, Jessie reached out to stop him, grabbing his arm. His muscles felt like ropes under her hand, and the heat of his skin seared through the cotton of his sleeve. She let go as if she’d touched a hot pan.
“Please, Caleb. I came to help out while you’re laid up. Obviously you need a woman here, and your uncle mentioned that the person who had been helping couldn’t any longer. Please let me fill in.”
A muscle twitched in Caleb’s jaw as if he fought to contain himself. “We’ll get along fine. We don’t need your help.”
He sounded like Becky. And arguing with him would do about as much good as arguing with a six-year-old.
Would it help or hurt if she showed him the letter Alice had written a few days before she died, asking Jessie to do what she could for the kinder? While she struggled for an answer, he swung away again and wheeled himself toward the door.
“Friday,” he said over his shoulder. “You’ll be on Friday’s bus.”
Chapter Two (#ud5a6ba60-31e2-5d82-b6c9-f7fb80ab7ec0)
Jessie lingered in the kitchen until Daniel and the kinder returned. Becky and Timothy ran straight to the living room, as if they couldn’t bear to be parted from their daadi for more than a few minutes. Daniel, with what she thought might have been a sympathetic glance at her, followed them.
She stood, irresolute, watching the red glow in the western sky over the ridge. It turned slowly to pink, fading as dusk crept into the valley. She wasn’t used to being surrounded by hills this way. Her area of Ohio was fairly flat—good farmland. These enclosing ridges seemed to cut her off from everything she knew.
Caleb made good use of the land on the valley floor, and his dairy herd of forty head was apparently considered fairly large here. Where the ground started to slope upward toward the ridge, she’d spotted an orchard, with some of the trees already in blossom. Too bad she wouldn’t be here to see the fruit begin to form. Caleb would see to that.
She turned abruptly toward the living room. Best make what use she could of the little time he seemed willing to grant her with the kinder. As she entered, she heard Becky’s plaintive voice.
“But isn’t Daadi going to help us get ready for bed?” She stood in front of her father’s wheelchair, and her look of dismay was echoed by the one on Caleb’s face.
“Ach, Becky, you know Daadi won’t be able to go upstairs for a bit,” Zeb gently chided her. “That’s why we fixed up the room downstairs for him.”
“I’m sorry.” Caleb cupped his daughter’s cheek with his hand, his expression so tender it touched Jessie’s heart. “You go along now, and come tell me good-night when you’re ready.”
Timothy was already rubbing his eyes. It had been a big day for a not-quite-four-year-old.
“Komm. I’ll help you.” When Jessie held out her hand, Timothy took it willingly enough.
But Becky’s eyes flashed. “We don’t need your help.”
The sharp words were so unexpectedly rude coming from an Amish child that for a moment Jessie was stunned. She realized Zeb was frowning at Caleb, while Caleb was studiously avoiding his eyes.
“Becky, I’m ashamed of you to speak so to Cousin Jessie.” Zeb had apparently decided that Caleb wasn’t going to correct the child. “You go up at once with Cousin Jessie, and don’t let me hear you talk in such a way again.”
Becky looked rebellious for a moment, but at a nod from her father, she scurried ahead of Jessie and her brother, her cheeks flaming. Jessie, clutching Timmy’s hand, hurried after her.
She was quick, but not quite quick enough. Behind her, she heard Zeb’s voice.
“Caleb, I should not have had to speak to Becky. It’s your job to teach your kinder how to behave.”
Caleb’s response was an irritable grumble that faded as she reached the top of the stairs.
“That’s me and Becky’s room,” Timothy informed her, pointing. “And that’s where Daadi sleeps. Onkel Daniel has that next one.”
“Onkel Zeb is sleeping in the little front room,” Becky said. “He had to move to make room for you.” She shot a defiant look at Jessie.
But Jessie had no intention of responding in kind. Becky must see that rudeness wouldn’t drive her away, if that was what the child had in mind. It had been a natural thing in a houseful of men for Zeb to put her into the adjoining daadi haus.
“It was nice of Onkel Zeb to let me use the daadi haus,” she said. “He’s a kind person, ain’t so?”
Becky was forced to nod, and Timothy tugged at Jessie’s hand, his sister’s rebellion clearly passing over his head. “I’ll show you where everything is.”
With Timothy’s help, Jessie soon figured out how he expected to be gotten ready for bed. She had to smile at his insistence on doing everything exactly the same way as always, according to him. Her brother’s kinder were just like that. His wife always said that if they did something once, it immediately became a tradition they mustn’t break.
The bathroom was as modern as those in any Englisch house, save for the gas lights. And she’d noticed a battery-powered lantern in the children’s bedroom—a sensible solution when a light might be needed quickly. Caleb had done his best to make the farmhouse welcoming for Alice and the kinder, but that hadn’t seemed to help Alice’s discontent.
Alice had been too young, maybe. Not ready to settle down. She’d thought marriage and the move to Lost Creek, Pennsylvania, would bring excitement. But when life had settled into a normal routine, she hadn’t been satisfied.
Jessie had seen her growing unhappiness in her letters. Maybe she’d been impatient with her young cousin, thinking it was time Alice grew up. If she’d been more comforting...
But it was too late for those thoughts. Jessie bent over the sink to help Timothy brush his teeth, but Becky wedged her little body between them to help him instead. Fair enough, Jessie told herself. A big sister was expected to look after the younger ones. Maybe if she ignored Becky’s animosity, it would fade.
A line from Alice’s last letter slid into her mind. “You were right. I never should have come back here to die. Please, if you love me, try to repair the harm I’ve done to these precious little ones.”
Jessie’s throat tightened. She had begged Alice to stay with her for those final months instead of returning to Caleb. But Alice had been determined, and Jessie hadn’t been able to stop questioning her own motives. Whose interests had she had at heart?
Pushing the thought away, she reached over their heads to turn off the water. “All ready? Let’s go down and say good-night.”
Bare feet slapping on the plank floor, the kinder rushed down the stairs. Following more sedately, she saw them throw themselves at Caleb, and she winced at the kicks his cast took. But he didn’t seem to notice.
Caleb cuddled each of them, apparently as reluctant to send them to bed as they were to go. It must have seemed like forever to him since his life had been normal, but she knew him well enough to understand he’d never regret risking injury to help a neighbor. That’s who he was, and she admired him even when she was resenting the cool stare he turned on her.
“Go on up to bed now.” Caleb helped Timothy slide down from his lap. “Sleep tight.”
Smiling, Jessie held out her hands. Once again, Timothy took hers easily, rubbing his eyes with his other hand. But Becky pushed past her to grab Daniel’s hand.
“I want Onkel Daniel to tuck me in,” she announced.
“Sounds gut,” he said, getting up and stretching. “Cousin Jessie and I will see you’re all tucked in nice and snug. Ain’t so, Cousin Jessie?”
She smiled, grateful that he’d included her. “That we will.”
“Let’s see how fast we can get upstairs.” Daniel snatched up Becky and galloped toward the steps.
“Me, me,” Timothy squealed, holding his arms up to Jessie.
Lifting him and hugging him close, she raced up the stairs, and they collapsed on Timothy’s bed in a giggling heap. Timothy snuggled against her, seeming eager for a hug, and her heart swelled. If circumstances had been different, he might have been her child.
The unruly thought stuck to her mind like a burr. She remembered so clearly the day she’d met Caleb. He’d come from Pennsylvania for the wedding of a distant cousin, and she’d been asked to show him around. They’d hit it off at once in a way she’d given up expecting to happen to her.
And he’d felt the same. She was sure of it. That afternoon was surrounded by a golden haze in her memory—the beginning of something lovely. A perfect time—right up to the moment when they’d gone in to supper and Caleb had his first look at Alice. She’d turned from the stove, her cheeks rosy from the heat, strands of cornsilk-yellow hair escaping her kapp to curl around her face, her blue eyes sparkling and full of fun.
Jessie wrenched her thoughts away from that long-ago time. No sense at all in thinking about what might have been. They could only live today, trusting in God’s grace, and do their best to make up for past mistakes.
* * *
Caleb expected Onkel Zeb to chide him again about Becky’s behavior once the others had gone upstairs. His defenses went up at the thought. Becky was his child. It was his responsibility how she behaved.
Unfortunately, that wasn’t a very comforting thought. He’d let his own reactions to Jessie’s presence influence his daughter’s behavior. Besides, Onkel Zeb was as close as a father to him...closer, in some ways, than his own daad had been. It had seemed, after Mamm left, that all the heart had gone out of his father. Onkel Zeb had been the one to step up and fill the role of both parents for him and his brothers.
The unfortunate King men, folks said. Mamm had left Daad, and then Alice had left him. Onkel Zeb’s young bride had died within a year of their marriage. Daniel was definitely not looking for a wife, and as for Aaron—well, who knew what he was doing out in the Englisch world?
He darted a look at his uncle. Onkel Zeb was studying him...patient, just waiting for him to realize himself what should be done.
“Yah, you’re right. I’ll try to do better with Becky.”
“And with Cousin Jessie,” Onkel Zeb pointed out. “She is not to blame for Alice’s wrongs.”
“And Cousin Jessie.” He repeated the words dutifully. “At least she’s nothing at all like Alice was. She’s plain, not pretty and flirty.”
“To the Leit, plain is gut, remember?” Zeb’s lips twitched. “I’d say Jessie has a face that shows who she is...calm, kind, peaceable. Funny that she’s never married. It wonders me what the men out in Ohio were thinking to let her get away.”
Truth to tell, Caleb wondered, too. If anyone seemed meant to marry and have a flock of kinder to care for, it had been Jessie. His mind flickered briefly to the day they’d met and winced away again. He had no desire to remember that day.
But Onkel Zeb’s thoughts had clearly moved on, and he was talking about how things had gone while Caleb was in the hospital.
“...working out fine, that’s certain sure. Sam just can’t do enough for us, though I keep telling him we’re all right. Guess he feels like he wants to repay you, seeing it was his barn where you got hurt.”
“That’s foolishness, and I’ll tell him so myself. As if any of us wouldn’t do the same for a neighbor. Sam’s got plenty with his own farm to run. They’d best be getting his new barn up soon, ain’t so?”
“Barn raising is set for Saturday.” Onkel Zeb grinned. “The buggies have been in and out of Sam and Leah’s lane all week with the women helping to clean and get the food ready. Nothing like a barn raising to stir folks up.”
Caleb was glad Sam’s barn would soon be replaced, but Zeb’s words had reminded him of something else. “Maybe Leah would know of someone I can hire to help out with the kinder. What do you think?”
Onkel Zeb shrugged. “Not sure why you want to go looking for someone else when you have family right here eager to do it.”
Frustration with his uncle had him clenching his hands on the chair. Before he could frame a response, he heard Daniel and Jessie coming back down the stairs. They seemed to be chuckling together over something, and Caleb felt himself tensing. Irrational or not, he wanted his uncle and brother to share his own feelings about Jessie’s arrival.
They came in smiling, which just added to his annoyance. Onkel Zeb glanced at them.
“What funny thing did young Timothy say now?” he asked.
“Ach, it wasn’t Timmy at all.” Daniel grinned. “Cousin Jessie just didn’t agree with my version of the story of the three bears.”
Jessie shook her head in mock disapproval. “Even Timothy knew there wasn’t a wolf in the story of the three bears. That was the three little pigs.”
“Maybe you’d best stick to telling them stories about when you and their daadi were small,” Zeb suggested. “And not be confusing the kinder. Or better yet, let Jessie tell the bedtime story.”
Caleb could feel his face freeze. Zeb made it sound as if Jessie would be around more than a few nights to tell them stories. She wouldn’t.
Jessie seemed to sense the awkwardness of the moment. She turned toward the kitchen. “What about some coffee and another piece of pie?”
“Sounds wonderful gut about now.” Onkel Zeb seemed to be answering for all of them.
Caleb almost said he didn’t want any. But he caught Jessie’s gaze and realized how childish that would sound. So he nodded instead. Jessie’s guarded expression relaxed in a smile, and for an instant she looked like the girl he’d spent an afternoon with all those years ago.
It was disconcerting. If he hadn’t gone to that wedding, if he hadn’t met Jessie and through her met her cousin Alice...what would his life have been then?
* * *
Jessie cleared up the plates and cups after their dessert, satisfied that her pie, at least, had met with universal approval. She’d have to take any little encouragement she could get.
Zeb and Daniel had gone to the bedroom to set up a few assistance devices the hospital had sent, leaving her and Caleb alone in the kitchen for the moment. She sent a covert glance toward him.
Caleb had his wheelchair pulled up to the kitchen table, and at the moment he was staring at the cup he still held. She suspected that he didn’t even see it. His lean face seemed stripped down to the bone, drawn with fatigue and pain. Today had been a difficult transition for him, but he wouldn’t want her to express sympathy.
No man wanted to admit to pain or weakness—she knew that well enough from being raised with six brothers. And clearly Caleb would resent it even more coming from her. The hurt she felt for him, the longing to do something to ease his pain...it would have to stay, unspoken, in her heart.
But the silence was stretching out awkwardly between them. “Becky is...” she began. But the words slipped away when Caleb focused on her.
“What about Becky?” He nearly snapped the words.
That didn’t bother her. When folks were hurting, they snapped, like an injured dog would snarl even when you were trying to help it.
“She seems so grown-up for her age. Very helpful, especially with her little bruder.”
The words of praise seemed to disarm him. “Yah, she is gut with Timothy. Always has been, especially since...” His lips shut tight then.
Especially since Alice left when he was just an infant. Those were the words he didn’t want to say. She could hardly blame him. But if only they could speak plainly about Alice, it might do everyone some good.
“I know how Becky feels. I always felt responsible for Alice after her mamm passed.”
Caleb’s strong jaw hardened. “I don’t want to talk about her. Not now. Not ever. I thought I made that clear.”
She wanted to tell him that she understood, but that hiding the pain didn’t make it go away. It just let it fester. But she couldn’t, because he wouldn’t listen. If she had more time...
“I’m sorry. I promise I won’t say anything about Alice.” Until the day you’re willing to talk. “But please, think twice about sending me away. The kinder are my own blood, like it or not. I want to care for them, and they need me. You need me.”
But she could read the answer in his face already. He spun the wheelchair away, knocking against the table leg in his haste. Impulsively she reached out to catch his arm.
“Please...”
The anger in Caleb’s eyes was so fierce she could feel the heat of it. He grabbed her wrist in a hard grip and shoved her hand away from him.
“No.” Just one word, but it was enough to send her back a step. “We don’t need you. I can take care of my kinder on my own. You’ll go on the bus on Friday.”
Jessie looked after him, biting her lip. She should have known better than to start her plea by referring to Alice. She’d been trying to show that she understood how Becky felt, but she’d approached him all wrong.
Resolutely she turned to the sink and began washing the plates and cups. If a tear or two dropped in the sudsy water, no one would know.
Caleb might not want to hear it, but she did feel responsible for Alice, just as Becky felt responsible for Timothy. She could only hope and pray Becky never went through what she had.
“You’re the older one,” her mother had always said. “You’re responsible for little Alice.”
Most of the time she’d managed that fairly well. But when she’d grown older, she’d sometimes become impatient with Alice always tagging along behind her. She’d been about eleven when it happened, so Alice had been only eight. She’d tagged along as always when Jessie and her friends had been walking home from school.
They’d been giggling, sharing secrets, the way girls did when they were just starting to notice boys. And Alice, always there, always impatient when she wasn’t the center of attention, had tried to burst into the conversation. She’d stamped her feet, angry at being rejected, and declared she was going to run away.
Jessie’s shame flared, as always, when she thought of her response. “Go ahead,” she’d said. “I won’t come after you.”
She hadn’t meant it. Everyone knew that. But Alice had run off into the woods that lined the path.
“She’ll come back,” the other girls had said. And Jessie had agreed. Alice was afraid of the woods. She wouldn’t go far. She’d trail along, staying out of sight until they were nearly home, and then jump out at them.
But it hadn’t worked out that way. Alice hadn’t reappeared. Jessie searched for her, at first annoyed, then angry, then panic-stricken. Alice had vanished.
Jessie still cringed at the memory of telling her parents. They’d formed a search party, neighbors pitching in, combing the woods on either side of the path.
Jessie had followed, weeping, unwilling to stay at the house and yet terrified of what the adults might find. She didn’t think she’d been quite so terrified since.
It had been nearly dark when the call went up that Alice had been found. Alice wasn’t hurt. They’d found her curled up under a tree, sound asleep.
Alice had clung to Jessie more than ever after that experience. And Jessie hadn’t dared let herself grow impatient—not once she’d learned what the cost of that could be. She was responsible for Alice, no matter what.
Jessie tried to wipe away a tear and only succeeded in getting soapsuds in her eye. Blinking, she wiped it with a dish towel. She heard a step behind her.
“Ach, Jessie, don’t let my nephew upset you.”
She turned, managing to produce a slight smile for Zeb.
Zeb moved a little closer, his weathered face troubled. “You think it would be better to talk more openly about Alice, ain’t so?”
She evaded his keen gaze. “Caleb doesn’t agree, and they are his kinder.”
Zeb didn’t speak for a moment. Then he sighed. “Do you know why I was so glad to see you today?”
“Because you are a kind person,” she said. “Even Alice...” She stopped. She’d promised not to mention Alice.
“Even Alice liked me, ain’t so?” His smile was tinged with sorrow. “This business of not talking about her—Caleb is making a mistake, I think. You can’t forgive if you can’t be open.”
“Some things are harder to forgive than others.”
“All the more important to forgive, ain’t so?” He patted her shoulder awkwardly. “Don’t give up. Promise me you won’t.”
She didn’t know how she’d manage it, but she was confident in her answer. “I didn’t come this far just to turn around and go back home again.”
Renewed determination swept through her. It seemed she had one person on her side, at least. And she wasn’t going to give up.
Chapter Three (#ud5a6ba60-31e2-5d82-b6c9-f7fb80ab7ec0)
Caleb woke early, disoriented for a moment at not hearing the clatter of carts and trays. He wasn’t in the hospital any longer. He was home. Thankfulness swept through him, replaced by frustration the instant he moved and felt the weight of the cast dragging him down.
He was home, and those were the familiar sounds of going out to do the milking. He heard the rumble of Onkel Zeb’s and Daniel’s voices, and then the thud of the back door closing.
The source of the sound switched, coming through the back window now. Thomas Schutz must have arrived—he was calling a greeting to the others, sounding cheerful despite having walked across the fields in the dark.
Onkel Zeb was right about the lad. They should keep him on, even after Caleb was well enough to take on his own work. That would free Daniel to spend more time with his carpentry business instead of being tied to so many farm chores.
Caleb sat up and leaned to peer out the window. Still dark, of course, but the flashlight one of them carried sent a circle of light dancing ahead of them. Caleb’s hand clenched. He should be out there with them, not lying here in bed, helpless.
Stop thinking that way, he ordered himself. He might not be up to doing the milking or going upstairs to put the kinder to bed, but for sure there were things he could do. The sooner the better.
Using his hands to move the cast, Caleb swung his legs out of bed and sat there for a moment, eyeing the wheelchair with dislike. He didn’t have a choice about using it, so he’d have to figure out how to do things with it.
First things first. If he got up and dressed by himself, he’d feel more like a man and less like an invalid. His clothes were not far away, draped on the chair where Onkel Zeb had put them the previous night. That clamp-like gripper on a long handle was obviously intended for just such a situation. Maybe he should have paid more attention to the nurse who’d explained it to him.
Getting dressed was a struggle. He nearly ripped his shirt, and got so tangled in his pants he was blessed not to end up on the floor. But when it was done, and he’d succeeded in transferring himself from the bed to the wheelchair, Caleb felt as triumphant as if he’d milked the entire herd himself.
A few shoves of the wheels took him out to the kitchen. Fortunately Zeb or Daniel had left the light fixture on, since he’d never have been able to reach that. Well, he was here, and a few streaks of light were beginning to make their way over the ridge to the east.
Jessie hadn’t appeared from the daadi haus yet. The small separate house was reached by a covered walkway. It was intended to be a residence for the older generation in the family, leaving the farmhouse itself for the younger family. When he and Alice had married, Onkel Zeb had moved in. Now Jessie was staying there, at least temporarily.
Definitely temporarily. Given how irritable she made him, the sooner she left, the better.
“The kinder need me. You need me.” That was more or less what Jessie had flung at him last night. Well, he was about to prove her wrong. He’d get breakfast started on his own. Even if he couldn’t go up the stairs, he could still care for his own children.
Oatmeal was always a breakfast favorite. Fortunately, the pot he needed was stored in one of the lower cabinets. Maneuvering around the refrigerator to get the milk was more of a challenge.
Feeling pleased with himself, he poured milk into the pot without spilling a drop. Now for the oatmeal. This would need the gripper, but he’d brought it out of the bedroom with him. Congratulating himself on his foresight, he used it to open the top cupboard door. The oatmeal sat on the second shelf. Maybe he ought to have someone rearrange the kitchen a bit to make the things he’d need more accessible. In the meantime, he could make do with what he had.
Caleb reached with the gripper but found it wavering with the effort of holding it out with the whole length of his arm. A little more... He touched the cylinder of oatmeal, tried to get the prongs open and around it. Not quite... He leaned over the counter, focused on the elusive box, determined to get it down.
He reached, grabbed at it, lost his hold, sent the oatmeal tipping, spilling down in a shower of flakes. The chair rolled with the imbalance of his body. He tried to stop it, and then he was falling, the floor rushing up to meet him. He landed with an almighty thud that felt as if it shook the house.
For an instant he lay there, stunned. Then, angry with himself, he flattened his palms against the floor and tried to push himself up.
“Wait.” A flurry of steps, and Jessie was kneeling next to him, her hand on his arm. “Don’t try to move until you’re sure you aren’t hurt.”
The anger with himself turned against her, and he jerked away. “It’s not your concern.”
“Yah, yah, I know.” She sounded, if anything, a little amused. “You are fine. You probably intended to drop down on the floor.”
Apparently satisfied that he was okay, she reached across him to turn the chair into position and activate the brake. “Next time you decide to reach too far and overbalance, lock the wheels first.”
Much as he hated to admit it to himself, she was right. He’d been so eager to show her he could manage that he’d neglected the simplest precaution. While he was still fumbling for words to admit it, Jessie put her arm around him and braced herself.
“Up we go. Feel behind you for the chair to guide yourself.” Her strength surprised him, but no more than her calm reaction to what he’d done.
It took only a moment to settle himself in the chair again. He did a quick assessment and decided he hadn’t damaged himself.
Jessie, ignoring him, was already cleaning up the scattered oats. He had to admit, she was quick and capable, even if she was bossy.
“Aren’t you going to say you told me so?” he asked.
She glanced up from her kneeling position on the floor, eyes widening as if startled. Then her lips curled slightly. “I have six brothers, remember? I’ve dealt with stubborn menfolk before. There’s no use telling them.”
“I suppose one of them broke his leg, so that makes you an expert.”
“Two of the boys, actually.” She finished cleaning the oatmeal from the floor and dumped a dustpan full into the trash. “Plus a broken arm or two. And then there was the time Benjy fell from the hayloft and broke both legs.” Jessie shook her head. “He got into more trouble than the rest of them put together.”
He watched as she started over making the oatmeal. Yah, capable was the right word for Jessie. Like Onkel Zeb said, it was surprising no man had snapped her up by now. She was everything an Amish wife and mother should be. Everything Alice hadn’t been.
Caleb shoved that thought away, even as he heard voices. The others had finished the milking.
Jessie darted a quick glance at him. “No reason that anyone else needs to know what happened, ain’t so?”
He had to force his jaw to unclamp so he could produce a smile. “Denke.”
Jessie’s face relaxed in an answering grin.
Onkel Zeb came in at that moment—just in time to see them exchanging a smile. He cast a knowing look at Caleb.
Caleb started to swing the chair away, only to be stymied because the lock was on. Still, he didn’t have to meet his uncle’s gaze. He knew only too well what Zeb was thinking.
All right, so maybe Jessie wasn’t as bad as he’d made out. Maybe she was deft and willing and good with children. But he still didn’t want to have her around all the time, reminding him of Alice.
* * *
Jessie’s heart had been in her mouth when she’d heard the crash in the kitchen, knowing Caleb must have fallen. She’d been halfway along the covered walkway, and she’d dashed as fast as she could for the house door. When she’d entered the kitchen...
Well, it had taken all the control she had to put on a calm exterior. Even so, her heart hadn’t stopped thumping until he was back in the chair and she could see he was all right.
She set a bowl of oatmeal down in front of him with a little more force than necessary. He was fortunate. Didn’t he realize that? He could have ended up back in the hospital again.
A stubborn man like Caleb probably wouldn’t admit it, even to himself. Any more than he’d admit that he could use her help. Apparently it would take more than a broken leg to make him willing to have her near him.
She slipped into her chair as Caleb bent his head for the prayer. Then she started the platter of fried scrapple around the table. Timothy took a couple of pieces eagerly, but she noticed that Becky didn’t serve herself any until she saw her father frown at her. Obviously Jessie wasn’t going to win Becky over easily.
Jessie’s heart twisted at the sight of that downturned little mouth. Becky looked as if she’d been meant by nature to be as sunny a child as Timothy, but life had gotten in the way. If only Jessie could help...but there was no sense thinking that, unless she could change Caleb’s mind.
The men were talking about whether or not it was too early to plant corn, all the while consuming vast quantities of food. Jessie had forgotten how much a teenage boy like Thomas could eat. He seemed a little shy, and he was all long legs and arms and gangly build. Tomorrow morning she’d fix more meat, assuming Caleb didn’t intend to chase her out even before breakfast.
“Sam says he’ll komm on Monday and help get the corn planted,” Zeb said. “Told him he didn’t need to, but there was no arguing with him.”
Jessie noticed Caleb’s hand wrapped around his fork. Wrapped? No, clenched would be a better word. His knuckles were white, and she guessed that the fork would have quite a bend in the handle when he was done.
Caleb wouldn’t believe it, but that was exactly how she felt when he refused to let her help.
Timothy tugged at her sleeve. “Can I have more oatmeal?”
“For sure.” She rose quickly, glad there was something she could do, even if it was only dishing up cereal.
“I love oatmeal.” Timothy watched her, probably to be sure she was giving her enough. “Especially with brown sugar. Lots of brown sugar,” he added hopefully.
“A spoonful of brown sugar,” Caleb said firmly, coming out of his annoyance. Jessie met his eyes, smiling, and nodded, adding a heaping spoonful of brown sugar that she hoped would satisfy both of them.
“Shall I stir it in?” she asked, setting the bowl in front of Timothy.
He shook his head vigorously. “I like it to get melty on top.” He sent a mischievous glance toward his uncle. “Onkel Daniel does, too.”
Daniel laughed. “You caught me. But I’ll need lots of energy at the shop today. New customers coming in to talk to me about a job.” He looked up at the clock. “Guess I should get on my way.”
With Daniel’s departure, everyone seemed ready to finish up. Soon they were all scooting away. Left alone with the dishes, Jessie looked after them. She’d think Becky was old enough to be helping with the dishes. Probably her desire to take over didn’t extend to the dishes. She’d certain sure been doing that at Becky’s age. But she wasn’t going to be here long enough to make any changes.
When she’d finished cleaning up the kitchen, Jessie followed the sound of voices to the living room. Becky stood backed up to the wheelchair, a hair brush in her hand. “It’s easy, Daadi. Just make two braids, that’s all.”
Jessie stood watching, oddly affected by the sight of the vulnerable nape of the child’s neck. Caleb had managed to part Becky’s long, silky hair, and now he clutched one side, looking at it a little helplessly.
Gesturing him to silence, Jessie stepped up beside him and took the clump of hair. For an instant she thought he’d object, but then he grudgingly nodded. Jessie deftly separately the hair into three strands and began to braid.
Caleb watched the movement of her fingers so intently that she imagined them warming from his gaze. If he were going to be doing this he’d have to learn...but of course he wouldn’t. He’d find some other woman to take her place once he’d gotten Jessie out of the way. Maybe he already had someone lined up.
But it couldn’t possibly be anyone who’d love these children more than she did. She’d come here loving them already because they were all that was left of Alice. Now she’d begun to love them for themselves...Timothy with his sparkling eyes and sunny smile, Becky with her heart closed off so tightly that she couldn’t let go and be a child.
Feeling Becky’s silky hair sliding through her fingers took her right back to doing the same for Alice, laughing together as she tried to get her wiggly young cousin to hold still. From the time Alice’s mother died, she’d been a part of Jessie’s family—the little sister Jessie had always longed for. To help raise Alice’s kinder, to have a second chance to do it right this time...that was all she wanted. But with Caleb in opposition, apparently it was too much to ask.
The braiding was done too quickly. She showed Caleb how to do the fastening and then stepped back out of the way while he took his daughter by the shoulders and turned her around. “There you are. All finished.”
“Denke, Daadi.” Becky threw her arms around his neck in a throttling hug. “I’m wonderful happy you’re home.”
“Me, too, daughter.” He patted her.
The thump of footsteps on the stairs announced Timothy. He jumped down the last two steps and ran into the living room. “I brushed my teeth and made my bed,” he announced. “Can I show Cousin Jessie the chickens now?”
“She’ll like that,” Caleb said solemnly. Then he gave her a slight smile. He turned to Becky. “You go along, too.”
For an instant Becky looked rebellious, but then her desire to please her daadi won, and she nodded. Timothy was already tugging at Jessie’s hand. Together they went through the kitchen and out the back door.
“The chickens are this way.” Timothy pulled her toward the coop. “Reddy is my very own hen. I want to see if she has an egg for me.”
“In a minute.” She tried to slow him down. “Look. Is that someone coming to see us?”
Jessie pointed across the pasture toward the neighboring farm. A woman and a little boy walked toward them, the boy carrying a basket by the handle. He couldn’t have been much more than four or five, and he held it carefully as if mindful of his responsibility.
“It’s Jacob and his mammi.” Timothy dropped her hand to plunge toward the new arrivals. “Look, Becky.” His sister nodded and joined him at a trot.
Jessie stood where she was and waited, unsure. This was obviously the wife of the man who’d been helping so much. It was in their barn that Caleb had been injured, and Jessie had formed the opinion that Leah and Sam were close friends of his. That being the case, she wasn’t sure what kind of reception she was likely to get.
Leah and Jacob drew nearer. Caleb’s kinder had reached them, and Timothy was chattering away a mile a minute to Jacob, who just kept nodding. Taking a deep breath, Jessie went to meet them.
“You’ll be Jessie. Alice’s cousin.” The woman’s smile was cautious. She was thirty-ish, probably about Jessie’s age, with a wealth of dark brown hair pulled back under her kapp and a pair of warm brown eyes. “Wilkom.”
“Denke.” It was nice to be welcomed, even if Leah sounded as though she were reserving judgment. Jessie smiled at the boy. “And this must be Jacob.”
The boy nodded, holding out the basket to her. “Shoofly pie,” he announced. “For you.”
“I wasn’t sure what you needed,” Leah explained. “But I thought a couple of shoofly pies were always of use.”
“They surely are,” she replied. “Denke.”
A lively controversy had already broken out between Timothy, who wanted Jacob to look for eggs with him, and Becky, who thought he’d rather play ball.
“You should do what your visitor wants,” she informed her brother loftily.
“Chickens first,” Jacob said. “Then ball.”
Jessie couldn’t help smiling as the three of them ran off toward the chicken coop. “Jacob is a man of few words, I see.”
Leah’s face took on a lively, amused look that Jessie suspected was more normal to her than her cautious greeting. “Especially when he’s around Timothy. Does that boy ever stop talking to you?”
“Only when he’s asleep.” She looked after them. “I wish Becky...”
“I know.” Leah’s voice warmed. “If only Becky would loosen up and talk about things, she’d be better off.”
“You see it, too, then. It’s not just me.”
Leah shook her head, and that quickly, the barriers between them collapsed under the weight of their common concern for the child. “No, it’s not just you. She may be worse with you, though, because...” She stopped, flushing.
“Because of my relationship with her mother. I know. I don’t blame her.”
“Still, she must learn to forgive her mother, or she’ll be carrying the burden around with her for the rest of her life.”
Leah’s insight touched Jessie to the core. “That’s what I think, too.” Unfortunately, Caleb didn’t see it that way.
Leah seemed to measure her with a serious gaze. Finally Leah gave a brisk nod. “Maybe you’ll be able to reach her while you’re here.”
“I won’t be here long enough, I’m afraid. Caleb...well, I am leaving tomorrow.”
“You mean Caleb is insisting you leave tomorrow, ain’t so?” Leah frowned. “I’ve known Caleb King all my life, so I guess I understand. Everyone knows the King men have always been unfortunate with women. It’s turned him sour, I fear.”
Jessie stared at her. “I heard something like that from the driver who brought me out from town, but I wasn’t sure whether to believe it.”
“They’ve had a string of unhappy situations with women, that’s certain sure,” Leah said. “Zeb losing his young wife, and then Caleb’s mammi running off and leaving the three young ones. And after what happened with Alice...well, it’s not surprising folks think so. Or that it’s made Caleb bitter.”
She hadn’t realized just how deep that belief ran from the way Leah spoke of it. Poor Caleb. She knew full well that his attitude wasn’t surprising. She just wished she could make a difference.
Leah was watching her, and Jessie had to say something.
“You are wonderful kind to care so much about your neighbors. I just wish we could get to know each other better.”
“Yah, I wish it, too.” Leah clasped her hand, smiling. “Maybe you could dig in your heels and refuse to leave. Then what would Caleb do? He couldn’t carry you out.”
They were still laughing at the image when the kinder came running up to them. “Can we help with the barn raising on Saturday, Leah?” Becky looked more enthusiastic than Jessie had ever seen her. “Please?”
“You’ll have to ask your daadi. If he says so, we’d certain sure like to have your help. There’s lots you can do.” Leah held out her hand to her son. “Now we must be getting home to fix lunch. We’ll komm again when we can stay longer.” She gave Jessie a warm glance. “I hope you’ll be here.”
“It was wonderful gut to meet you, anyway. And we appreciate the shoofly pies.”
Timothy grabbed the basket handle as they walked away. “Can we have some shoofly pie, Cousin Jessie?”
“I’ll help carry it,” Becky said. “Let’s ask Daadi about the barn raising.”
They headed for the house, the basket swinging between them, and Jessie followed, smiling a little. For a moment there, in her enthusiasm for the barn raising, Becky had looked like any happy little girl. Somehow the glance gave Jessie hope. That child existed in Becky, if only she could bring her out.
Caleb sat at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee, looking a little startled at the excitement of the children. They swung the basket onto the edge of the table and rushed at their father.
“Daadi, we saw Leah and Jacob.” Timothy rushed the words, wanting to be first.
“Leah says we can go to the barn raising on Saturday if you say it’s all right.” Becky wasn’t far behind. “We’ll help.”
Caleb seemed to have mixed feelings about the barn raising. Was it the fact that he’d been injured when the old barn burned? Or maybe just the thought that ordinarily, he’d be up on the beams with the rest of the community, making sure the barn was finished for his neighbor?
“Barn raising is for grown-ups. I don’t know how you’d help,” he said.
“Jacob says he’s going to carry water. I could do that.” Timothy straightened as if to emphasize how tall he was.
“We could carry the food Cousin Jessie fixes. Leah said they could find something for us to do.” Becky didn’t look at Jessie when she said the words, but apparently she didn’t mind using her if it meant she’d be allowed to help.
Apparently Caleb hadn’t told them she was leaving tomorrow.
She touched their shoulders. “Why don’t you give Daadi a minute to think? You go and wash your hands, and I’ll cut the shoofly pie.”
When they’d stampeded toward the bathroom, she turned back to Caleb. “I guess the young ones don’t know I have to leave tomorrow. I’ll explain to them.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
She frowned slightly. “You mean you’d rather explain it yourself?”
“No.” His voice was gruff. “I mean I’ve been thinking about you leaving. Maybe I was a bit hasty. If you want to, you can stay. But just until I get back on my feet again. That’s all.”
It wasn’t the most gracious of offers, but she was too relieved to boggle at that. She felt as if an intolerable pressure had been lifted from her heart.
“Denke.” Jessie struggled not to let her emotions show in her voice. “I would like that, Caleb.”
Her time was still limited, but at least she had been given a chance. A quick prayer of thanks formed in her mind.
Please, dear Father. Show me what to do for these precious children.
Chapter Four (#ud5a6ba60-31e2-5d82-b6c9-f7fb80ab7ec0)
Following the noise late Friday morning, Caleb rolled himself into the kitchen. It had turned into a beehive of activity since breakfast, with racks of cookies cooling while Jessie pushed another pan into the oven. Both Timothy and Becky were intent upon baking projects, Timothy with a dish towel tied around him like an apron. Young Thomas leaned against the counter, seeming right at home with a handful of snickerdoodles.
“What’s going on?”
His voice brought all the activity to a halt for an instant. Thomas straightened up, flushing and trying to look as if he didn’t have his mouth full of cookies.
Jessie straightened, as well, closing the oven door. She was flushed and smiling, and with her eyes sparkling, she didn’t look as plain as he’d thought. “We’re baking for the barn raising tomorrow. All those workers need plenty of fuel.”
“Look, Daadi.” Timothy waved a fistful of dough in the air. “I’m making the little balls, see? When Cousin Jessie bakes them, they’ll be snickerdoodles.”
Caleb wheeled himself closer to the table. “I see. What’s Becky doing?”
“I’m rolling them in cinnamon and sugar.” Becky’s attention was grabbed by the dough Timothy had in his hand. “That’s not how to do it, Timothy. They’re supposed to be round. Let me.”
Timothy flared up instantly. “This is how I do it. You do your own.”
Becky reached out to take the dough from him, but before it could turn into a fight, Jessie was there.
“Becky, can you help me? I need these cookies moved to the cooling tray to make room for the next batch. You’re old enough to be careful not to touch the hot pan, I know.”
Distracted instantly by the thought of doing something Timothy wasn’t allowed to do, Becky abandoned the battle over the shape of Timothy’s cookies, and peace reigned.
Thomas seemed to sidle toward the door, and Caleb waved him back. “Stay and help if you want.” He pushed his chair through the doorway and out onto the back porch.
The sun’s rays warmed his face, and he inhaled the familiar aroma of the farm, overlain by the baking scent coming from the kitchen. He should have been grateful just to be home instead of fretting about all that he couldn’t do, but it was hard to be helpless.
Still, if he could manage a little more each day, he’d see progress. He just had to make up his mind to it. The sooner he was back on his feet, the sooner life would return to normal. Without Jessie’s disruptive presence.
Hands on the wheels, he rolled himself carefully down the ramp, pleased when he reached the bottom without incident. He turned toward the barn and spotted Onkel Zeb and his brother coming toward him.
“You’re out and rolling!” Daniel exclaimed. “Gut work.” He grabbed Caleb’s shoulder, his face creasing in pleasure.
Maybe Daniel’s pleasure was mixed with relief. If the past weeks had been hard on Caleb, they’d been hard on everyone else, too.
“I had to get out,” Caleb said. “If you wander into the kitchen, you might get sucked into helping with all the baking that’s going on for tomorrow.”
“That doesn’t scare me off.” Daniel headed for the steps. “I’ll talk Jessie into a bag of cookies to take to the shop with me.” He waved in the direction of his carpentry shop, located in its own building about twenty yards beyond the barn.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He turned his attention to his uncle. “Thomas is in there, but he looks like he’s doing more eating than helping.”
Onkel Zeb shook his head. “I don’t know where that boy puts it all. He’s as skinny as a rake, and he eats all the time.” He put his hand on the chair handle. “Headed for the barn?”
“Seems like a gut jaunt. The doctor said to keep busy.”
“He probably also said to be careful not to overdo.” Zeb moved as if to push the chair toward the barn.
Caleb tried to turn the wheels on his own, but it was a lot harder than he’d expected on the gravel lane. He gritted his teeth and put more muscle into it. He’d have to try harder. Zeb grasped the handles and pushed, too.
For a moment they didn’t speak, but then Onkel Zeb cleared his throat. “Seems like you decided Cousin Jessie can stay.”
“For a while,” Caleb said quickly. He didn’t want any misunderstanding on that score. “Just until I get back on my feet.”
“What made you change your mind?”
He couldn’t see his uncle’s face since he was pushing the chair, but he should have known Zeb would want an explanation. And he didn’t have one, not really.
“I got to thinking about what you said. About her being kin to the young ones.” He hesitated, remembering how he’d felt when Jessie had interceded to braid Becky’s hair and then stepped back to let him take the credit. “I have to admit, she seems to care about them.”
“She must, giving up her business to komm all the way from Ohio to help, ain’t so?”
Caleb blinked. “Business? What business? I thought she just lived with her brother and his wife.”
“She does. She helps out a lot there, too. But she has a business of her own, making baked goods to take to the Amish markets in a couple of towns. Way I hear it, it’s turned into quite a success.”
Caleb stopped pushing and swung to face his uncle. “How do you know all this?”
“All you have to do is talk to get to know a person.” There was a chiding tone to Zeb’s voice that made itself heard. He meant that Caleb should have done the same.
Caleb ducked away from the implied criticism. “I guess that’s why she looks like she does about all that baking she’s doing,” he muttered.
“How does she look?”
Caleb shrugged. “I don’t know. Happy, I guess.” Pretty. Not beautiful, the way Alice had been when they’d met, but appealing in her own way.
“If she’s used to baking for market, I guess she’d take a little thing like a barn raising in her stride.” Onkel Zeb frowned a little. “As for the barn raising, are you wanting to go over for it?”
Caleb’s jaw tightened, and he slapped the chair. “Not likely I can be much help, is it?” Besides, he wasn’t sure he wanted to visit the site of his injury so soon. He’d relived the accident enough times already.
But Onkel Zeb’s frown had deepened. “Sam’s been doing a lot for us while you’ve been laid up. Seems like it’s only neighborly to go over for a spell. Visit with folks, anyway. I was thinking you could use the pony cart. It’s low enough that it wouldn’t be hard to get in, and the chair could go in the back.”
When Caleb didn’t answer right away, his uncle shrugged. “Think on it, anyway.”
It wasn’t easy to hold back when Zeb gave him the look that said he’d be disappointed in Caleb if he didn’t go. So he supposed he’d be hauling himself into the pony cart tomorrow.
But as for his uncle’s other expectation—well, why should he be interested in finding out more about Jessie’s life? She’d be gone soon enough, anyway, and he wouldn’t have to think about her at all. That would suit him fine, wouldn’t it?
* * *
Jessie brought the pony cart up to the bottom of the ramp on Saturday. She’d been wryly amused at the expression on Caleb’s face when he’d realized he’d have to let her help him get to Sam and Leah’s, since Zeb and Daniel, along with Thomas, had gone as soon as they’d eaten breakfast.
She stopped the black-and-white pony so that the cart was directly in front of Caleb waiting in his wheelchair. Timothy and Becky were on either side of him, Timothy bouncing up and down in excitement.
“Here we are.” Jessie hopped out of the cart and scooted around the wheelchair. “I think it will work best if the chair is right next to the cart seat.” She moved it into position as she spoke and then set the brake.
Caleb didn’t say anything, but he looked as if he held quite a few words back. He reached out for the cart. She intercepted him.
“Better let Becky get up there first, and she can steady the cast and help lift it in. Right, Becky?”
“For sure.” She was already scrambling in, eager to help her daadi.
“Me, too.” Timothy pouted.
“We need you to hold the chair steady so it doesn’t wobble when Daadi pushes off it. You think you can?” Jessie asked.
“Sure. I’m strong.” He seized the arm of the wheelchair and planted both feet, gritting his teeth.
“I can swing myself over.” Caleb sounded for all the world like his son. He grasped the rail on the cart seat. It was lower than a buggy, but still higher than the wheelchair.
“A little extra help never hurts.” Before he could object, Jessie slid her arm around him. “Ready? Go.”
She hadn’t given him time to argue, but she felt him stiffen, probably not liking her so close.
And they were close, very much so. Caleb grasped her shoulder with his free hand, his body pressing against hers for what seemed a long moment. Fighting not to react, Jessie concentrated on lifting him. Becky grabbed the cast, and in a moment Caleb was seated in the pony cart, breathing heavily.
She was breathless, too, but not from the exertion. She hadn’t expected—well, whatever it was she’d felt when she’d held him against her.
Nothing, she told herself fiercely, and knew it wasn’t true. It seemed the feelings that had been aroused that long-ago afternoon were still there, ready to flare up. Maybe that was why her mother feared coming here would hurt her.
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