An Unexpected Amish Romance
Patricia Davids
New beginnings. New job. New love?Amish Bachelors are full of surprises…After a broken engagement, Helen Zook is embracing her independence—starting with a new job working for carpenter Mark Bowman. Sparks fly as Helen immediately butts heads with her handsome yet gruff boss, whose complicated past makes him hesitant to plant roots in Bowmans Crossing. But Helen's eccentric aunt and a matchmaking basset hound have their own plans for Helen and Mark’s future…
New beginnings. New job. New love?
Amish Bachelors are full of surprises...
After a broken engagement, Helen Zook is embracing her independence—starting with a new job working for carpenter Mark Bowman. Sparks fly as Helen immediately butts heads with her handsome yet gruff boss, whose complicated past makes him hesitant to plant roots in Bowmans Crossing. But Helen’s eccentric aunt and a matchmaking basset hound have their own plans for Helen and Mark’s future...
After thirty-five years as a nurse, PATRICIA DAVIDS hung up her stethoscope to become a full-time writer. She enjoys spending her free time visiting her grandchildren, doing some long-overdue yard work and traveling to research her story locations. She resides in Wichita, Kansas. Pat always enjoys hearing from her readers. You can visit her online at patriciadavids.com (http://www.patriciadavids.com).
Also By Patricia Davids (#ue127335b-dcdf-560a-baed-b61d24d2498b)
Love Inspired
The Amish Bachelors
An Amish Harvest
An Amish Noel
His Amish Teacher
Their Pretend Amish Courtship
Amish Christmas Twins
An Unexpected Amish Romance
Lancaster Courtships
The Amish Midwife
Brides of Amish Country
Plain Admirer
Amish Christmas Joy
The Shepherd’s Bride
The Amish Nanny
An Amish Family Christmas: A Plain Holiday
An Amish Christmas Journey
Amish Redemption
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
An Unexpected Amish Romance
Patricia Davids
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-08239-6
AN UNEXPECTED AMISH ROMANCE
© 2018 Patricia MacDonald
Published in Great Britain 2018
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
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www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Whoso findeth a wife findeth a good thing,
and obtaineth favour of the Lord.
—Proverbs 18:22
“I don’t need a lecture from you.”
“I thought you wanted my advice,” Mark replied.
She fisted her hands on her hips. “You thought wrong. Since you seem to know so much about business, why don’t you come up with a plan that will work.”
“For you?”
“Ja, for me. I’d like to see you figure out everything I need to do to turn a profit. Since you are a furniture maker and not a baker, I don’t believe you can do any better than I did.”
“It would be difficult to do worse.”
Helen made that huffing sound that told him he should’ve stopped talking a while back. She took the dog’s lead from Mark’s hand. “Thank you for escorting me home. Good night.”
“I’ll do it,” Mark blurted.
“What?”
“I’ll come up with a business plan for you,” he said, wondering why he felt compelled to help someone who clearly didn’t want it.
“Don’t bother.” Helen tugged Clyde up the porch steps.
“It’s no bother.”
But she entered the house and shut the door without answering.
Dear Readers (#ue127335b-dcdf-560a-baed-b61d24d2498b),
I have both a cat and a dog and I love them both, but my dog loves me back while my cat only likes me. Clyde is the combination of several dogs that I have owned. While none of them have been basset hounds, they shared some of the clownish behavior that is characteristic of the breed. Bumper, a Boston terrier, was a true clown. He would sing along while my husband played his accordion, and he would torment our cat.
Kahn, a massive black Lab, could knock you off your feet without a second thought. He was always sorry and would cover your face with kisses before you could get to your feet. He was also noted for licking my ear while I was driving. Not often, but it was distracting when it happened.
Gertie, a shepherd mix, would vanish at night and show up the next morning with a gift for me. Usually, it was a stick of firewood, cut and cured. I’d add it to our woodpile and thank her. Once, she brought me a pair of men’s underwear. We lived out in the country, and our nearest neighbor was a half mile away. I did not try to return the briefs. I sure wished she could tell me that story.
Sadie was a yellow Lab-and-pointer mix who owned our hearts for nine beautiful years. She had pussy-willow ears—long and softer than silk. I believe she understood everything we said. She had the amazing ability to do what we asked with happy, loving energy. I miss her greatly.
I believe our pets are angels sent from God to lighten the burdens of our lives and to show us truly unconditional love. As I am writing this, Sugar, my rat terrier mix, is watching me from the bed. She naps while I write but if I get up and put on my shoes, she becomes a bouncing ball of energy. She knows I’m going outside.
I hope you enjoyed meeting Clyde and Juliet as well as Helen and Mark. Charlotte will remain one of my favorite characters of all time. Thanks for letting me tell you another tale about the Bowman family. Paul’s story will be next. I’m searching for the perfect girl for him right now.
Blessings,
Patricia Davids
This book is dedicated with boundless love to my granddaughter Shantel Widick. You are a smart, beautiful young woman of many talents, a lover of animals, a keen-eyed photographer and the person I most enjoy laughing with on a late-night sleepover. Remember to put down the phone and experience life firsthand. Oh, and never drive the four-wheeler that fast in front of your great-grandfather again. Ever.
Love you always.
MeMa Pat
Contents
Cover (#ufe055cef-cd0c-527d-bed2-1dad2cf8c9a8)
Back Cover Text (#u8ed1ef92-cb14-5601-81dd-d05b11ede336)
About the Author (#u1e6927ac-4b28-52ae-809a-cab830c6c1e0)
Booklist (#u0fadc2bf-8b6e-5ad4-ab97-6cd0ef9fe246)
Title Page (#uae98b5b8-0ad7-5260-9076-ae54a633d1be)
Copyright (#uc6b88b12-56c7-591d-a5f1-a1e2937b166c)
Bible Verse (#u4130ed4c-eaed-5bf6-9103-165cc20242bf)
Introduction (#ue41136d3-1451-59c3-a22e-ed8ab02ed72d)
Dear Readers (#u74963303-84da-5cea-9f1a-f3774d762822)
Dedication (#u2a6f212c-415f-58dc-bde2-1136546a6623)
Chapter One (#ubc69963a-36d3-5b9b-b96d-f8f22b4c27b6)
Chapter Two (#u7c3693d1-947c-5569-8db7-c9ec416e868a)
Chapter Three (#u779aa9ed-431c-59e6-bb2b-50fbdb7421dd)
Chapter Four (#u122afd07-37d6-5e5a-a63b-04abfefebb3d)
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)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#ue127335b-dcdf-560a-baed-b61d24d2498b)
Mark Bowman lifted his straw hat off his face and sat up with a disgruntled sigh. Trying to sleep on a bus was hard enough, but the sound of muffled weeping coming from the seat behind him was making it impossible. He turned to look over his shoulder. The culprit was an Amish woman with her face buried in a large white handkerchief. She was alone. Should he say something or ignore her?
Normally he avoided meddling in the affairs of others, but he recalled his uncle’s advice to him before he’d left Bowmans Crossing four days ago. A business owner needed to be a good listener as well as a good salesman. Success wasn’t always about numbers, it was about making people feel you cared about them and their concerns. It was about building friendships. Isaac had asked Mark to make an effort to be more outgoing on this trip.
There was no one Mark respected more than his uncle. Isaac Bowman had achieved everything Mark was working toward. He had a successful furniture-making business and a large happy family. Isaac was well respected in his Amish church and in the community and with good reason. He was always willing to lend a helping hand.
Mark didn’t have to imagine what his uncle would do in this situation. He would ask if he could help. Taking a deep breath, Mark spoke softly to the woman. “Fräulein, are you all right?”
She glanced up and then turned her face to the window. “I’m fine.”
It was dark outside. There was nothing to see except the occasional lights from the farms they passed. She dabbed her eyes and sniffled. She was a lovely woman. Her pale blond hair was tucked neatly beneath a gauzy, heart-shaped white kapp. He didn’t recognize the style and wondered where she was from. “You don’t sound fine.”
“Maybe not yet, but I will be.”
The defiance in her tone took him by surprise and reminded him of his six-year-old sister when she didn’t get her way. Experience had taught him the best way to stop his sister’s tears was to distract her. “I don’t care much for bus rides. Makes me queasy in the stomach. How about you?”
“They don’t bother me.”
“Where are you headed?”
“To visit family.” The woman’s clipped reply said she wasn’t interested in talking about it. He should have let it go at that, but he didn’t.
“Then someone in your family must be ill. Or perhaps you are on your way to a funeral.”
She frowned at him. “Why do you say that?”
“It’s a reasonable assumption. You’d hardly be crying if you were on your way to a wedding.”
Tears welled up in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. With a strangled cry, she scrambled out of her seat and moved to one at the rear of the bus, effectively ending their conversation.
Confused, he stared at her. Somehow he’d made things worse, and he had no idea what he’d said that upset her so. He shook his head in bewilderment. Women could be so unpredictable. Fortunately, the woman he planned to marry was sensible and levelheaded. He couldn’t imagine Angela drawing attention to herself by weeping in public.
He noticed a few of the nearby passengers scowling at him. He shrugged and settled back to finish his nap. He should have gone with his first instinct to mind his own business. His brother Paul claimed most women were emotional creatures who enjoyed drama and making mountains out of molehills. Clearly she was one of those. He was fortunate she had moved to the back of the bus and wouldn’t trouble him again.
* * *
Helen Zook squeezed her eyes shut to stem the flow of fresh tears brought on by her nosy and insensitive fellow passenger. His beardless cheeks told her he was a single man. She didn’t want to talk to anyone, let alone a handsome dark-haired Amish fellow who was brash enough to strike up a conversation with a woman traveling alone. Perhaps he had meant to be kind, but his words stung. He was half right. She wasn’t going to a wedding. She was running away from one.
Today should have been her wedding day, but all her dreams of the happy life ahead of her had come crashing down when her fiancé announced three weeks ago that he had changed his mind. He wanted to marry her sister Olivia instead. Today had been their wedding day.
How could Joseph betray her like that? How could her own sister deceive her by seeing Joseph behind her back? They were questions without answers that tumbled around in her mind like leaves in a whirlwind. Helen refused to admit that some of the blame rested squarely on her shoulders. She was the victim.
The shock and the shame had been more than Helen could bear, although she tried to pretend it didn’t matter. She was so angry with them. That was wrong. She knew it, but she couldn’t change how she felt. The two people she trusted most in the world had betrayed her and made her a laughingstock in the community.
The morning of her sister’s wedding, Helen had realized she couldn’t remain at home and watch Olivia wed Joseph. Without a clear idea of what she was going to do, she’d taken her savings and purchased a one-way bus ticket out of Nappanee, Indiana, with the intention of staying with her aunt Charlotte. She hoped she could find a job and get a place of her own soon. She prayed her aunt would take her in. She hadn’t had time to write and explain that she was coming nor had she told anyone where she was going.
Helen had met her father’s youngest sister a few times over the years when they came to visit at Christmas and such, but she didn’t know her aunt well. Charlotte was something of an odd recluse and not overly fond of visitors, but Helen would make herself useful. She was fleeing to her aunt’s home because Charlotte lived the farthest away of any of the relatives. She had never married, choosing to stay at home and care for her aging parents until they were both gone. She had a small income from the rental of farmland her father had left her near Bowmans Crossing, Ohio. According to the letters she wrote to Helen’s parents, she lived happily with only her pets in a little house by the river.
It seemed like the perfect hideaway to Helen, but as the miles flew by she was learning distance alone didn’t diminish a heartache.
* * *
Mark roused as the bus slowed and jolted to a halt. “Berlin, Ohio,” the driver announced over the intercom. He opened the door with a loud whoosh.
Mark stretched and rose to his feet. After pulling his duffel bag from the overhead bin, he made his way down the aisle and got off the bus. It would be wonderful to sleep in his own bed after having stayed in motels for the past four days, but at least his trip had been a success. He looked forward to telling his uncle that they had two new stores in Columbus willing to sell the handmade furniture produced in his workshop.
Berlin didn’t have an actual bus station. They had stopped in a parking lot in front a local restaurant that was already closed for the evening. A single floodlight provided the only illumination, with moths and other insects fluttering around it.
Several other Amish passengers got off the bus including the weeping woman who seemed to have recovered her composure. She pointedly avoided looking at Mark and kept her eyes downcast. There were several buggies parked along the roadway. Various passengers gravitated to them. The woman spoke to the bus driver, who was unloading luggage. He pointed toward a white van at the edge of the parking lot. She nodded and crossed to the vehicle where she spoke to someone inside and then got in.
Not much more than a wide spot in the road, the village of Berlin was still fifteen miles from Mark’s destination of Bowmans Crossing. He looked around for his uncle or one of his cousins but didn’t see them. They knew he was coming in on this bus, so he expected they would be along soon.
The driver of the white van approached. Mark recognized Abner Stutzman. The wiry gray-haired man was one his uncle’s English neighbors who earned extra money by providing taxi service to the Amish folks in the community.
“Evening, Mark.”
“Guten nacht, Abner.”
“Your uncle arranged for me to pick you up and take you home tonight.”
Mark grinned. That meant he’d reach his bed all the sooner. “I’m grateful for Onkel Isaac’s thoughtfulness.”
“I hope you don’t mind me taking on another fare. There’s a young lady needing a ride, too. She’s going past Bowmans Crossing, so it won’t hold you up any.”
“That’s fine.” Mark hoped she wouldn’t start crying again when she saw he was sharing her ride.
Abner rubbed his hands together. “Okay, let’s get going. The missus came along to keep me company, but she doesn’t like to stay out late.”
Since Abner’s wife was seated up front, Mark had no choice but to get in the back. The woman from the bus was already seated in the second row. He had the option of sitting beside her or behind her in the third row of seats. Would she start crying again if he sat beside her? Riding in the back of Abner’s van might trigger Mark’s motion sickness. Which would be worse? He put his duffel bag on the rear seats and sat down beside her without a word. She kept her face averted.
“All set?” Abner asked, looking at them in the rearview mirror.
The woman nodded slightly. Mark said, “We’re ready.”
Abner pulled out of the parking lot and onto the narrow highway headed toward Bowmans Crossing. After a few long minutes of awkward silence, Mark decided perhaps he should apologize. He leaned toward her. “I’m sorry I upset you earlier.”
“It wasn’t you,” she murmured. He had to strain to hear her.
She kept her face turned toward the window. He wished he could see her better. “Goot. I’d hate to think I added to your troubles.”
“You didn’t.” Her clipped reply wasn’t encouraging.
“If no one is ill or has died, why were you crying?”
“My reasons are my own.”
He shifted uncomfortably on the seat, feeling out of his depth but sure that his uncle would want him to try and aid her. “Some people say it helps to talk about your problems.”
“Well, some people are wrong.”
He sighed inwardly with relief. She didn’t want to pour out her troubles any more than he wanted to hear them. “I find that’s true. I’m glad you don’t wish to discuss it with me.”
Her eyes widened. “Then why did you offer?”
“My onkel tells me I need to work on my communication skills. He says it’s important for a business owner. I’m supposed to practice showing interest in people and become a better listener.”
“So you chose me to practice on?”
He caught a hint of anger in her tone. “No need to ruffle your feathers.”
“My feathers are not ruffled,” she said through gritted teeth, her eyes snapping with irritation.
“I’d say they are getting more ruffled by the second.”
“You are a rude man. We’re done talking.” She folded her arms tightly across her chest and turned back to the window.
She had no idea how glad he was to hear her say that. Still, he couldn’t help wondering what had made her cry in the first place. She stirred his curiosity, and that was unusual.
Twenty-five silent minutes later, Abner pulled to a stop in front of Mark’s uncle’s home. Mark tipped his hat to the woman and got out. She didn’t even glance his way. To his mind, she was the one being rude.
His uncle’s advice was harder to put into practice than he expected it to be.
* * *
The following day, Mark stayed busy in his uncle’s workshop until early evening. Although he had been put in charge by his uncle and oversaw the day-to-day operations of the business, it was carving that Mark enjoyed the most. He was putting the finishing touches on a mantelpiece depicting foxes at play in the woods when his uncle stopped beside him.
As Mark had hoped, his uncle had been pleased with the success of his trip. He had omitted telling him about the woman on the bus, although he wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was because he hadn’t been successful in that endeavor. He kept going over their conversations trying to pinpoint what he’d done wrong, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.
“Time to close up shop, Mark. Ah, I see you’re almost done with the mantel. This is goot work. If you decide not to open your own business, I’d be happy to keep you on here. You have a rare God-given talent.”
“Danki, but I will stick to my plan.”
“I felt sure you would say that. Don’t let your supper get cold.”
“I’ll be along in a few minutes.” Mark ran his hand along the surface of his project, satisfied with the way it had turned out. All that was left was to stain the oak wood the color the customer wanted. It was one of his better pieces, although he was a long way from being a master carver the way his cousin Samuel and coworker Adam Knepp were.
A short time later, he entered the front door of his uncle’s home and saw his brother, Paul, waiting with a big grin on his face.
“Your fair Angela has written you another love letter, bruder. Will you read it aloud to us tonight?”
Mark ignored his brother and picked up the letter addressed to him from the top of the mail piled on the end of the kitchen counter. Despite his foolish younger brother’s suggestion, Mark knew it wasn’t a love letter. Angela was too practical for such nonsense. Their relationship was based on respect and the knowledge that their marriage would be mutually beneficial to both their families.
He slipped the letter into his pocket to read later and hung his straw hat on one of the pegs by the kitchen door. Seven identical Amish hats were already lined up. His uncle, his five cousins and his brother had come in earlier. Mark had lingered behind making sure the lights were off in the workshop, checking on the orders for the next workday and making certain the generator had enough fuel to start up again when they needed it. His uncle had placed Mark in charge of the business for the last three months of his apprenticeship. He was determined to show his uncle his faith wasn’t misplaced.
“Leave off teasing Mark and sit down for supper,” Anna Bowman said, carrying a steaming pot of roast beef and vegetables to the kitchen table using her folded black apron as a hot pad for her hands.
“I can’t leave off teasing him, Aenti Anna. It’s Gott’s will that I annoy my big brother since Mark annoys the rest of us. He has become a tyrant.”
“I never ask anyone to do more than I can do myself.” Mark pulled out a chair and took his place at the long table. His uncle Isaac sat at the head of the table with his oldest son, Samuel, at his right hand. The rest of Isaac’s sons were arranged according to age down the length of the table with Mark and Paul taking up the last two chairs. The wives and daughters of Mark’s cousins were seated on the opposite side, all in plain Amish dresses with their black work aprons and white prayer kapps. It made a big family gathering when everyone was home. The room was filled with chatter and the clinking of dishes along with the pleasant aromas of the stew, cornbread muffins and hot coffee.
Anna surveyed the table and then took her place at the foot. The noise died away. Isaac bowed his head, and everyone did the same, reciting the blessing in silence. When Isaac raised his head, signaling the prayer was finished, the business turned to eating. The talk was minimal until the meal was over.
After finishing his peach cobbler, Isaac leaned back in his chair and patted his stomach. “It was a goot meal.”
“Danki, husband. What time do you expect to start the frolic in the morning?”
“I imagine most workers will be here by eight o’clock as long as the rain holds off.”
All the members of the Bowman family had arrived to help with the work party set for the following day. The women had spent the day cooking and cleaning since Isaac and Anna were hosting the party. Most of their Amish community would come to help clear the logjam beneath the only bridge into and out of the valley on the far side of the river. While the men worked, the women would usually visit then serve coffee and a hearty lunch, but tomorrow there was to be a quilting party for the women, too. As the rest of the men went into the living room, leaving the women to clean up, Mark went upstairs to his room at the back of the house.
His window was open, and the evening breeze fluttered the simple white curtains his aunt had in all the upstairs bedrooms. Outside, the spreading branches of a huge ancient silver maple tree kept the room cool, but it obstructed the view of the river from this room. Mark didn’t mind. It was more practical to have a cool place to sleep in the summer than a view.
His uncle had been talking about cutting the tree down. The old thing was past its prime, having as many dead limbs as live ones branching off its enormous trunk. Silver maples were notorious for breaking in wind storms. Two large limbs had come down in the last storm, fortunately on the side away from the house, but it was only a matter of time before one fell on the roof. Mark’s aunt was the reason the tree hadn’t been taken down already. She had an irrational, sentimental attachment to it because Isaac’s parents had planted it the year Isaac was born.
Mark pulled out his letter and sat on the edge of his bed. Angela’s letters came like clockwork every Tuesday, and today was no exception. She normally wrote about the weather and the people back home, about her father’s lumber milling business and about what changes she hoped to make to the farm when she and Mark were married. Unlike with the overly emotional woman on the bus, he knew exactly what to expect from Angela.
His letters to her were about his work and the ways he saw he could incorporate his uncle’s teachings into the business he would own one day. The day was fast approaching when he could put his plan into effect.
It had been her father’s business and the location of their farm that first gave Mark the idea to build his future workshop there. Otis Yoder’s small farm had poor, rocky soil, but it fronted a busy road in an area where tourists flocked to gawk at Amish folks and buy Amish-made goods. The fact that Otis could supply almost all the raw lumber Mark would need cinched the plan in his mind.
When Mark had approached Otis about buying some of his land, Otis wasn’t interested. He saw value in Mark’s idea but wanted his farm and business to go to Angela, his only child. Mark persisted, and eventually Otis made a surprising counteroffer. If Mark would marry Angela, then Otis would enter a partnership with him. Angela was a widow a few years older than Mark. She was quiet, hardworking and practical. To his amazement, she agreed with her father’s proposal.
Getting a wife along with the land was a bonus in Mark’s eyes. He’d never had the time or the inclination to date women, but he did want a family one day. He wanted sons to carry on the business he would build. The idea of romance and falling in love to achieve that didn’t make sense. Why base one of the most important decisions a man could make on something as flimsy as a feeling? In his mind, it was much better to base it on mutual respect and shared goals than love.
He and Angela had settled on a long-distance courtship while Mark apprenticed with his uncle. Mark sent her a portion of his paychecks each month as a down payment on the land.
Little by little he had been accumulating the machinery and tools he would need and had them stored in his father’s barn not far from the Yoder farm. Isaac had put him in contact with people who were interested in purchasing Pennsylvania Amish–made furniture. Things were almost ready for him to open his business.
He slipped his finger under the envelope flap and tore it open. He quickly skimmed through her short letter. It didn’t contain any of the usual news. Mark couldn’t believe his eyes. He read the note again. Angela wanted to end their engagement.
For almost two years he had been working toward a goal that would provide them with a lifetime of security and now, two months before he was due to return home, she was tired of waiting for him?
They had talked about this before he left, and she had assured him that two years would pass before they knew it. Angela agreed they had to stick to a plan if they were going to succeed. He read her words again. She was sorry, but she no longer wished to marry him.
What was the plan now? What about the land? What about his partnership with her father? What about the money he’d sent? He had no idea where all of that stood. He crumpled the note into a ball and threw it toward the wastebasket in the corner. It bounced off the rim.
The door opened, and Paul stuck his head in. “What did the fair Angela have to say? Did she send you a hug and kiss with an x and o ?”
“My business is my own, Paul,” Mark snapped. He wasn’t ready to share this news, certainly not with Paul.
“Hey, you look a little funny. Is something wrong?” Paul took a step into the room.
“Your harassment is what’s wrong. I’m tired of your jabs.”
Paul held up both hands. “Bruder, I never mean you harm. I hope you know that. Forgive me if I have offended you.”
Mark rose from the bed. “Please forgive me also. I’m tired tonight, that’s all.”
He took Paul by the shoulders and turned him to the door. “I need my sleep and so do you. We’ll have a hard day tomorrow.”
“You might. I intend to have fun.”
“When do you have anything else?” Mark gave him a friendly shove out into the hall and closed the door behind him. He bent to pick up the crumpled letter. Instead of throwing it into the trash, he smoothed it out. He had planned a future with her for so long that he wasn’t sure how to plan one without her.
If she didn’t want to marry him, that was fine, but what about the land? All she said was that her feelings toward him had changed. How was that possible if they hadn’t seen each other? Although their intentions hadn’t been made public, he saw her request as a breach of contract. With a few strokes of her pen she upset his carefully thought-out plan and left him twirling in the wind like a new-fallen leaf.
He needed to consider all the ramifications of what this meant. He didn’t have enough information. He sat down to write and ask for more details. Even if Angela’s father still intended to sell Mark the land, he now faced the distasteful task of finding another woman to marry. In his opinion, courting was a waste of a man’s time.
Unbidden, the memory of the woman from the bus slipped into his mind. She was the perfect example of why he dreaded looking for a mate. All he had done was try to help. In the first instance, his words had sent her fleeing in tears. In the second, they had made her spitting mad, and he still had no idea why.
Who was she? Why had she been crying? Abner had said she was going beyond Bowmans Crossing. The chances of seeing her again were slim.
So why couldn’t he get her tear-stained face out of his head?
Chapter Two (#ue127335b-dcdf-560a-baed-b61d24d2498b)
Two days after arriving unannounced at her aunt’s home outside of Bowmans Crossing, Helen Zook sat in the buggy beside her aunt Charlotte wishing she had thought to plug her ears with cotton before leaving the house. The woman had been talking nonstop for the past two miles. Her basset hound had been barking loudly for almost as long.
“Remember, Helen, as far as anyone knows, you are here to visit me for the summer. The less said about your unfortunate incident, the better. In fact, don’t say anything about it. Unless you are specifically asked, then you mustn’t lie. Liars never prosper.”
“It’s cheaters.”
“What did you say, Helen? Clyde, do be quiet.”
“I said cheaters never prosper.”
“Of course they don’t. I’m sure you have never cheated anyone. I know I haven’t. The truth is the best defense, Helen, but there’s no point in telling people everything. Bowmans Crossing is a wonderful community, but there are those among us who like to spread gossip. I shouldn’t name names, but Verna Yoder and Ina Fisher are the worst offenders. Clyde, get down, can’t you see I’m driving?”
Charlotte gently pushed aside the overweight brown-and-white hound dog trying to climb onto her lap. Helen took him by the collar and tugged him back to the floor. He gave her a mournful look before settling all seventy pounds of his wrinkles and flab on her left foot. Gritting her teeth, Helen tried to move him, but he refused to budge another inch.
Charlotte slowed the horse as the buggy rounded the curve beside the district’s one-room school. The playground and swings were empty now. The students were home for the summer, but Helen couldn’t go home.
“Are you paying attention to me, dear? I feel as if I’m talking to myself.”
Helen freed her foot, but her shoe remained under Clyde’s slobbery chin. “I’m paying attention, Aenti Charlotte. I’m visiting for the summer. Don’t mention that my fiancé humiliated me in front of all our family and friends when he threw me over because he wanted to marry my sister one week before the banns for our wedding were to be announced. Bowmans Crossing is wonderful, except for the gossiping pair Ina Fisher and Verna Yoder. Cheaters never prosper, but they can get married and live happily ever after, but I don’t have to watch them moon over each other. How could my own sister do this to me? How could Joseph?”
Helen didn’t share the part she had played in the disaster. Why should she? She was the one suffering now.
It was all so horrible. She might have been able to bear the pitying looks and well-meaning comments that only served as salt in the wound. The real thing she couldn’t tolerate was seeing how happy they were together.
“You girls will make up, and this will all be forgotten in time.”
“I don’t see how. She stole the man I wanted to marry.” Helen’s voice crackled.
Joe should have stood by her. If he loved her, he would have. Helen raised her chin. It was painful, but it was better to know how shallow his affections had been before they wed.
“You must not look at what you have lost for it is not your will that is important. It is His will.”
“His will was to marry my sister, and he did just that.”
Charlotte cast Helen a sidelong glance. “I’m not talking about that young man’s will. It is Gott’s will you must accept. You must forgive your sister and her husband as is right.”
“I forgive them.” Helen spoke the words, but they didn’t echo in her heart. The pain was too new and too raw.
“That is goot. Forgiving blesses the forgiver as much as the forgiven.” Charlotte clicked her tongue to get the horse moving faster.
The road straightened, and a covered bridge came into view. The weathered red wooden structure stood in sharp contrast to the thick green trees that grew along the roadway and along the river in both directions. Wide enough for two lanes of traffic, the opening loomed like a cave. A new community awaited Helen beyond the portal. What would she find? Hopefully employment.
Charlotte pointed with her chin. “Just the other side of the river is Isaac Bowman’s home, but you have to go about a quarter of a mile farther down the road and turn the corner to reach their lane. That’s where the frolic is being held today. He and his wife, Anna, have five sons. I’m sorry to say the young men have all married, but Isaac has two nephews from Pennsylvania living with him now and they are unwed, although one has a girl back home.”
It had been dark when the van stopped to let her rude companion out, but Helen was almost certain the Bowman house had been his destination. They hadn’t exchanged names so she couldn’t be sure of his identity. She hoped and prayed he wouldn’t be at the frolic. Her behavior hadn’t been the best but neither had his.
“Isaac also employs a number of unmarried fellows in his furniture-making business. You will have plenty of young men to pick from.”
Helen rolled her eyes. “You make it sound like I’ve arrived at the husband orchard.”
“The husband orchard. How cute. It should be the title of a book. I’d read it. Oh, that’s very clever.”
It hadn’t taken Helen long to realize her aunt was an avid reader. Her living room held stacks of dog-lover magazines and heaps of novels, from an extensive collection of the classics to some popular romance stories the bishop might raise an eyebrow at if he knew she had them.
Charlotte chuckled and looked at her dog. “Isn’t Helen a clever girl, Clyde?”
He took it as an invitation to climb into his mistress’s lap. Helen used the opportunity to grab her damp shoe.
“Not now, Clyde, I’m driving.” Charlotte pushed him aside. Helen quickly drew her knees up and wrapped her arms around them to give the hound more room to spread out on the floorboards. He locked gazes with her but didn’t test her patience by trying to climb in her lap. Instead, he started barking at the roof. Scrabbling overhead accompanied by a chittering sound proved her aunt’s pet raccoon was still safely riding atop the buggy.
“Did we have to bring Juliet?”
“Her feelings would be hurt if I took Clyde along and didn’t take her.”
“We could have left them both at home.” The buggy rolled into the dark interior of the bridge. The horse’s hoofbeats echoed back from the rafters. Helen stared through the slatted sides at the Bowman house on the hillside across the river. She could see tables had been set up on the lawn, and groups of people were already gathered there.
“Honestly, Helen, I don’t think you like my little friends. Please remember they had made their home with me long before you arrived, and they’ll be with me long after you have gone back to Indiana.”
“I’m not going back to Indiana.” Helen had no idea where she was going, but she would make her own way in the world. As soon as she found the means to support herself.
Charlotte’s brow wrinkled with concern. “You are welcome to reside with me for the summer, but you never said anything about staying permanently.”
“Don’t worry. You won’t be burdened with me for long.”
“That’s the spirit. Things will work out for you and your sister. You’ll see. Oh, Clyde won’t be happy until he can look out the windshield. Helen, take the reins.”
Helen grabbed for the lines her aunt dropped as she scooted over to make room for her dog. The horse veered sharply to the right as they came out of the dark bridge into the bright sunlight. A man standing on the edge of the roadway was forced to jump backward to avoid being run down.
Helen managed to stop the horse. Clyde, now taking up more than his fair share of the front seat, started barking wildly. Helen leaned out the door to look back to see if the man was injured. He appeared unharmed as he got to his feet. “I’m sorry,” she called out.
Her breath caught in her throat. The man picking his hat up off the road was the fellow from the bus. She knew by the way his eyes widened that he recognized her, too. His brows snapped together in a fierce frown. “If you can’t drive any better than that, you should give the reins to the dog,” he shouted at her.
Of all the nerve. As much as Helen wanted to tell him exactly what she thought of his rudeness, she held her tongue for her aunt’s sake. It wouldn’t do to start her time in Bowmans Crossing by embarrassing Charlotte in front of her friends, for several women were walking along the roadway with hampers and baskets over their arms. The women all waved or called a greeting to Helen’s aunt. Charlotte waved Clyde’s front paw at them. Helen slapped the reins on the horse’s rump, and the mare trotted forward.
“Who was that rude man?” she asked, glancing in her rearview mirror.
Charlotte turned to look behind them. “The one standing by the bridge? That’s Mark Bowman. The nephew. He has a girl back home. I admit he’s a nice-looking young man with those striking green eyes, but handsome is as handsome is.”
“As handsome does,” Helen said, glancing back again. He wasn’t bad-looking, but she didn’t think he was particularly good-looking. Okay, maybe he was mildly attractive.
“As handsome does what, dear?”
Helen took note of her aunt’s faintly puzzled expression and sighed inwardly. She’d only been at her aunt’s home for two days, but it was already shaping up to be a trial. “Never mind.”
“You’d do better to try and attract the attention of the younger brother, Paul, although Anna tells me Mark is the more hardworking of the two.”
“I’m not here to attract a man.” She wouldn’t make that mistake again anytime soon. If ever. And certainly not with a rude, arrogant fellow like Mark Bowman or his brother.
* * *
Mark raked a hand through his hair as he stared after the buggy. That had been a close call. If he hadn’t been so preoccupied with thoughts of Angela’s letter, he might have seen the horse veering his way sooner. It wasn’t like him to be distracted. He grew angry with himself for allowing it to happen.
“Are you all right?” His brother, Paul, came up the steep bank, his eyes full of concern. His cousin Noah rushed up behind Paul.
“I thought you were going to be wearing hoofprints up the front of your shirt. Who was that?” Paul demanded.
“Charlotte Zook,” Noah said. “I recognized the raccoon on her roof. The woman is a little ab en kopp.”
Mark shook his head. “Charlotte may be off in the head, but she wasn’t driving. I don’t know the woman’s name, but I saw her get off the bus when I did the other night.” He decided not to share the conversation they’d had.
“Another mystery woman.” Paul craned his neck to see down the road.
“What does that mean?” Mark asked.
Paul grinned. “Haven’t you heard? We’ve got nearly a dozen new single girls visiting folks in the area. They are all unknown to me and waiting to be discovered. Was the girl driving Charlotte’s buggy pretty?”
His brother was always on the lookout for an attractive girl. He was four years younger than Mark, and he hadn’t yet learned that looks didn’t matter. A man needed a steady, strong, levelheaded woman for a helpmate. He thought he had that with Angela, but he had been wrong. “I didn’t notice. I was trying not to get run down. Let’s get this frolic under way.”
The frolic, a word the Amish used for almost any kind of work party, had been called by Mark’s uncle Isaac Bowman to clear a logjam from beneath the covered bridge. The recent rains and flooding had wedged an unusual amount of debris there, which was acting like a dam. Although the county was responsible for maintaining the bridge, the public works department was swamped with other repairs and couldn’t bring in their heavy equipment for another two weeks. With the forecast calling for more rain, flooding could threaten farms and homes on both sides of the river.
Men with chainsaws and teams of horses had been arriving for the past half hour and were now gathering on the roadway. Isaac strode up to Mark and surveyed the men around him.
“I reckon we have all the help we need to get started. I sure appreciate you coming,” Isaac said, addressing the group. “Samuel and I will oversee the men pulling logs free and getting them up to the roadway. Noah, Paul and Mark will cut and stack the usable wood beside our barn to be divided among our families. The Lord has supplied us with free firewood for the taking. We shouldn’t let it go to waste. My sons Timothy and Luke will flag down vehicles heading for the bridge to warn them we are working here.” Both men he spoke of were wearing their volunteer firefighter jackets and pants with bright fluorescent yellow banding.
Isaac turned to Mark. “There is more rope in the barn loft. Bring it with you. We may need it.” He turned back to the men. “Are there any questions?”
Everyone knew what was expected of them. The group split up, and Mark headed with his brother and his cousin toward his uncle’s barn, where the family’s draft horses were hitched to two large hay wagons. Noah looked over at Mark. “Aren’t you going to miss us?”
Mark knew what he was referring to. “Sure, I’ll miss all of you when I leave. Your whole family has been good to me.”
“But you won’t miss us enough to stay.”
“Staying here isn’t part of my plan.” Mark had learned the business of woodworking and furniture making from the ground up working alongside his uncle and his five cousins, but it was almost time to return home and put his knowledge to use and open his own business. He realized he was more upset about the uncertainty facing him now than he was about Angela’s decision not to marry him.
“Plans change,” Noah said with a wry smile. Mark knew Noah’s desire to play professional baseball had been changed by the neighbor girl across the road. Fannie and Noah had wed last fall.
Paul laid a hand on Mark’s shoulder. “My brother’s plans don’t change. He’s been talking about starting his own furniture-making business since he could talk.”
“I’m guessing it’s the girl back home that has Mark pining to leave us. Fair Angela. Paul, is she fair or is she dark-haired? Mark never talks about her.”
“I like to keep my personal life private,” Mark said before Paul could comment.
“I can respect that.” Noah nodded solemnly but couldn’t keep a straight face.
Paul chuckled. “Don’t let my brother fool you, Noah. He doesn’t have a personal life. With him, it’s all work, work, work.”
“Hard work and strong faith will supply a man with the best rewards in this life and in the next.” They were words Mark believed in.
“But will it put a pretty woman in your arms?” Paul asked, wagging his eyebrows.
Noah chuckled. “Are you ever serious?”
“Not if I can help it. Mark and Angela are the serious ones. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen them laugh.”
Mark scowled at his brother. “Not everyone is a jokester like you.”
“Fannie makes me laugh all the time. I love that about her.” Noah’s gaze shifted toward the house where the women were working. A gentle smile curved his lips. It was easy to see the newlyweds were still madly in love.
Love was okay for some men, but it took more than that frail emotion to build a future. Mark wanted the security of a home and a business where he could support a family. He never wanted his children shuttled from one temporary home to another the way he had been passed from relative to relative when his father was out of work. God willing, Mark’s younger sisters and his children would never know the kind of fear he had known wondering if his father would come back for him each time he left.
Mark glanced back toward the bridge. The first logs were already on the roadway. “We should get moving. They have started without us. Where is the extra rope?”
He wouldn’t tell his brother and his cousins about Angela today. He’d wait until he knew exactly where he stood with her father.
* * *
A quarter mile past the bridge, Helen and her aunt reached the stop sign on the main road between Berlin and Winesburg. An enormous oak tree stood near the intersection. Dozens of gaily painted gourds hung from its branches. Helen stared at them in amazement. “Look at all the birdhouses. How lovely.”
Smiling, Charlotte murmured her agreement. “Very pretty. I believe Luke Bowman makes them. Turn here, dear. The Bowman lane is up ahead.”
A sign proclaiming Amish-made gifts and crafts fronted the highway in front of a low blue building. There were several cars and buggies in the parking lot dotted with mud puddles left over from the recent rain. Helen glanced at her aunt. “Do the Bowmans run a gift shop?”
“Anna does. Isaac runs the woodworking business in that building up ahead. He employs almost two dozen young men along with his sons. He ships his furniture to Englisch businesses across several states. I understand his work is much in demand. The community is grateful for his efforts to keep our young men employed, since not all of them can farm these days.”
It was a common problem in many Amish communities. Cottage industries were needed where farmland was too expensive, or urban encroachment had gobbled up land that once supported small farms. “Does Isaac hire women in his factory?”
Helen needed a way to support herself. She’d been serious when she said she wasn’t going home.
“I believe he has hired one or two for office work.”
“Full-time jobs?” Helen didn’t know anything about woodworking, but she was willing to learn.
Charlotte shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
Helen eyed the gift shop. Maybe she could find employment there. She had worked in a fabric store for a while back home. She had retail experience.
“Park by the barn, Helen, and try to stay out of the mud. Clyde loves it. I’m delighted you will have a chance to meet so many people at this frolic. I do enjoy them, but sometimes I feel guilty visiting with my friends while we watch the men work.”
The grounds were dotted with puddles, but Helen saw a dry place to let her aunt get out. She drew the horse to stop. “Aenti, you and I have been up baking since before dawn. We have already done our work. I hope the men know it.”
“How could they? I wouldn’t want a bunch of men watching me at work in my kitchen. It’s much too small. I guess they could stand outside and look in the window.”
Helen sent up a quick prayer for a job and a place of her own as soon as possible.
Her aunt took Clyde’s face between her hands. “I’m sorry, dear friend, but you are going to have to stay on your leash until you calm down and mind your manners. I can’t have you jumping on everyone you see. Helen is going to look after you. I’ll take the hamper to the house.”
Helen got out, keeping a tight hold on the dog’s leash after noting his interest in the puddles. She glanced at the buggy top. “What about Juliet?”
Charlotte put the hamper down and stepped back to survey the top of the buggy. “Come here, dear one. She doesn’t jump on people, so she has no need for a leash.”
The plump raccoon scrambled down. A bright pink collar marked her as a pet. Charlotte picked her up and settled her in the crook of her arm, where she began purring loudly. After a moment, she climbed to the top to Charlotte’s shoulder and began patting her face and kapp.
A trio of women walked past, carrying baskets and boxes. Clyde nearly jerked Helen’s arm out of the socket as he tried to leap at them, woofing in his deep tone. Charlotte greeted the woman and walked off with them.
Helen bent to pick up the hamper of baked goods her aunt had left on the ground. As she switched Clyde’s leash to her other hand, he spotted a new victim and launched himself at a man stepping out of the barn door, ripping the lead from Helen’s hands. Her shriek wasn’t enough warning. Clyde hit the man in the back of knees and felled him like a scythed weed. Right into a puddle.
“I’m so sorry.” Helen rushed to snag Clyde’s leash before he could do more damage. Loud guffaws of laughter erupted from the two men who came to help the poor victim to his feet. When he turned around, Helen wanted to sink into the mud herself. It was Mark Bowman, the rude man from the bus. The one she narrowly missed running down ten minutes ago.
He stood and shook the mud from his hands. His eyes widened when he caught sight of her. “You! I might have known.”
“I’m sorry. He got away from me. He’s very strong.” She pulled Clyde to her side, where he sat happily with his tongue lolling, looking as innocent as only a dog can.
The men with Mark were trying to stifle their laughter without much success. He glared at them and then at her. “Has anyone told you that you’re a menace?”
Helen’s mouth dropped open. It wasn’t like she had planned to humiliate him. She fisted her hands on her hips. “Let me think. Nee, no one has mentioned it, but I’m sure someone has told you that you’re judgmental as well as rude.”
She spun on her heels and yanked on Clyde’s lead. He ambled happily beside her, occasionally stepping on his own long ears.
When she rounded the corner of the house and was sure she couldn’t be seen by him, she stopped and stared at Clyde. “This was not how I wanted to start out in a new community. I’m going to have to apologize.”
She peeked around the corner of the house. Mark was still standing with his friends. She jerked back when he looked her way. She pressed her head against the side of the house. She didn’t have the courage to return and face him.
“I don’t need to apologize, I just need to avoid him. How hard can that be?”
Chapter Three (#ue127335b-dcdf-560a-baed-b61d24d2498b)
Mark stared after the woman as she vanished around the corner of the house. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had made him so angry. “I think she did that on purpose. Who is she?”
Paul continued to chuckle. “What did you say that upset the madel enough to set her hund on you?”
Mark wasn’t proud of his earlier comment. “Nothing.”
“The truth now, I heard you shout something at her when the buggy flew past you. What did you say, bruder?”
“After she almost ran me down, I said if she couldn’t drive any better than that to give the reins to the dog.”
“Ouch.” Noah grimaced.
“I know. It was not my best moment.” He could see now that he’d been too harsh. Both times. He rubbed his hands on his pants. They would be dirtier than this before the day was over anyway. Hopefully, she and her mutt would stay out of his way from now on. He’d sure keep an eye out for the pair. Looking toward the house, he wondered how long she would be staying in the area.
Noah combed his short beard with the fingers of one hand. “She’s a good judge of character.”
Mark picked up the rope he had dropped. “What makes you say that?”
“I know that you can be judgmental and rude, but I’ve worked beside you for two years. She’s only just met you.”
“I’m not judgmental.” He looked at his cousin and his brother. “Am I?”
They both nodded. Mark tossed his rope in the wagon. “I like to see things done the right way. Stop laughing like jackals and get to work.”
Paul climbed to the wagon seat still chuckling. “I wonder if she will rent out her dog. I’d love to have a way to take you down a peg or two when you get short with me.”
“If you did your work, I wouldn’t get short with you, and if I never see that mutt again, it will be too soon.” Mark hauled himself up beside his brother.
“I like him. He’s a cute dog. Fannie adores him.” Noah boarded the other wagon and picked up the reins.
“He’s a ridiculous animal. His legs are too short, his ears are too big and he smells bad.”
Paul unwound the reins from the brake handle. “Careful, your rude and judgmental character is showing.”
“Go soak your head.” Mark glanced toward the house again, but she was staying out of sight. Who was she?
* * *
Helen found Anna Bowman directing the placement of tables and benches that would be used when the noonday meal was served. Charlotte was standing beside her. She caught sight of Helen and motioned her over.
Clyde tried jumping on Anna when she came within range, but Helen was prepared and held on tightly.
Charlotte swept a hand toward Helen. “I’ve brought my niece along. Helen is visiting me for the summer. That’s the only reason she is here, and I’m not going to say another word about it.”
Anna chuckled. “And a very good reason it is. It’s nice to meet you, Helen. I’m Anna Bowman.” She turned and beckoned to a young woman at one of the tables. “Fannie, will you show Helen where we are setting up the food? Fannie is married to my youngest son, Noah. She’ll introduce you to everyone and make you feel welcome.”
“Oh, I see Grace and Silas Yoder. Let’s go say hello, Juliet.” Charlotte and Anna walked away to visit with an older woman in a wheelchair and the man standing behind her. The couple called a greeting to Clyde, who barked and wagged his tail.
Her aunt was quickly surrounded by a group of children who wanted a closer look at Juliet. The raccoon seemed delighted with the attention, moving from shoulder to shoulder and patting each child’s face in turn.
“Your aunt is quite a character,” Fannie said.
Helen judged Fannie to be near her own age. Twenty-two or twenty-three perhaps. She had a contagious smile, red hair and more than her fair share of freckles. She turned aside to avoid Clyde’s leap and said, “Bad dog. Sit.”
To Helen’s amazement, he did. “I don’t believe it.”
Fannie laughed. “I’ve had a lot of experience training animals. My husband and I train horses. Let me take the hamper. Where are you from, and how long will you be staying with us?”
“I’m from Nappanee, Indiana, and I’ll be staying with Aenti Charlotte until I can find a job and get a place of my own.” Helen walked beside Fannie toward the house. Clyde trotted happily at Fannie’s side, sending her adoring glances.
“You’re planning to settle here permanently?” Fannie walked beneath the branches of a large tree near the door at the rear of the house. She held the door open.
“That will depend on what kind of job I can find. Any suggestions?”
“My husband mentioned something about his father’s business needing help the other day, but I don’t know any details. What kind of work are you looking for?”
“One that pays a salary. I’m not picky.”
“We don’t have many businesses in this area. Besides the woodworking shop, there is only Anna’s gift shop and a hardware store up the road that’s run by Luke Bowman and his wife. I’ll introduce you to Emma after we put this food out, but I’m sure they aren’t looking for help. Emma has two younger brothers.”
Helen followed Fannie to the kitchen and started to unpack her hamper. Clyde raised his nose to sniff the food already laid out on the counters. Fannie put a foot on the leash as he tried to jump up, foiling his effort to snatch a tidbit.
“Down.” The single stern word from Fannie made him plop on the floor. She praised him sweetly. He wagged his entire rear end but stayed put.
Through the open kitchen window, Helen could see the operation below the bridge as logs were hauled out. An older man with a long gray beard was directing the operation. Mark Bowman and the two other men Helen had seen earlier stood conferring with him as several of the bigger logs were being hoisted onto a wagon. Why hadn’t she kept her mouth shut instead of calling him rude? He must think she was a sharp-tongued woman without an ounce of meekness, and he would be right.
She drew herself up straight. Maybe she was. She didn’t have to be meek, but she did have to find work. She studied the older man beside Mark.
“Is that your father-in-law, Isaac Bowman?” Helen would ask him about a job as soon as the opportunity arose.
Fannie glanced out the window. “It is. The good-looking fellow with the short beard is my husband, Noah. The other two with them are Mark and Paul Bowman. They are Isaac’s nephews.”
“I almost ran into Mark earlier and then Clyde did. It wasn’t pleasant.”
Fannie grinned and took a step closer. “That sounds intriguing. Do tell.”
Something about the sparkle in Fannie’s eyes prompted Helen to confide in her. “On our way here, Aenti Charlotte dropped the lines and I grabbed them as we came through the bridge. The horse veered sharply and almost ran into Mark as he stood at the side of the road. He suggested that I let the dog drive if I couldn’t do any better.”
“He didn’t?”
Helen nodded. “He yelled at me.”
“Mark can be gruff, but I’m sure he was sorry he shouted at you.”
“That wasn’t the worst of it. A short time later, Clyde jumped on him from behind and laid him out in a mud puddle in front of your husband and Paul.”
Fannie giggled and clapped both hands over her mouth. “That I would have liked to see. Mark is the stuffy sort. It’s odd that Clyde should pick on him.”
“I haven’t noticed that Clyde is particular about who he jumps on.”
“He can be. Mark is all business. I imagine my husband was laughing, but I’ll guess that Paul was roaring. He has a...large...sense of humor.”
“I was so embarrassed that I barely noticed. Mark was not laughing. He called me a menace.”
Fannie smothered her grin. “He shouldn’t have done that. He owes you an apology. It was an accident. Everyone knows Clyde isn’t exactly well trained.” Fannie glanced at the dog lying quietly at her feet.
“I’m afraid I’m the one who owes Mark an apology. I told him he was rude and judgmental, and then I fled.”
Repeating her comment aloud made her ashamed of her behavior. She bowed her head. “I’m afraid I showed a serious lack of demut.”
Fannie slipped an arm around Helen’s shoulders and gave her a squeeze. “Humbleness is something I struggle with, too. Don’t worry about it. I will say you hit the nail on the head about Mark. Don’t get me wrong. I like him, but he’s not the friendly sort. He’s hardworking, diligent and thrifty, all fine traits, but not much fun. I think underneath there is a happier man waiting to emerge.”
Helen appreciated Fannie’s understanding and knew she had made her first friend in Bowmans Crossing. “Would it be forward of me to ask Isaac about a job today?”
“You’ll have to ask Mark. Isaac put him in charge of hiring new workers a few months ago.”
“Oh, dear.” Helen closed her eyes. How much worse could this get? So much for not caring what Mark Bowman thought of her. He wasn’t likely to hire her after the way she had spoken to him, even if he had been rude first. “Are you sure you don’t know of anyone else looking to hire a maid or a nanny, a gardener, anything?”
“I don’t. I’m sorry, but there will be lots of people here today. Maybe someone will have better news for you.”
“If you hear of anything, please let me know.” If nothing else was available, she would have to apologize and soon. What could she say that would make up for her stinging comments to him?
Fannie lifted a container of pastry from Helen’s basket. “These cream horns look yummy. Did you make them?”
“I did. Have one and tell me what you think. It’s a new recipe. I’ve added something special to the puff pastry.”
Fannie bit into the cream-filled treat and her eyes widened. “Oh, Helen, these are amazing.”
“Danki.”
“I hate to admit it, but I’m not much of a cook. I’d rather be taking care of the horses outside instead of doing anything inside.”
“Baking is a pleasure, not a chore. I love finding ways to improve on things I’ve made or try out ways to add different flavors and textures to breads and cakes.”
“My mother always told me that the way to man’s heart is through his stomach. At least that is how she claims she won my father over.”
Helen stared out the window where Mark had climbed out onto the mass of debris to loop a rope around a tangled root mass. Two men in a small rowboat on the river surveyed the mass and called out directions. Mark moved confidently, but it looked like dangerous work. She waited until he was safely back on the bank. “I’m not looking for a way to his heart, only a way to apologize.”
“For a plateful of these, I’d forgive you just about anything.”
“Even a dog-assisted tumble into a puddle?”
“Ja.” Fannie nodded as she licked some of the filling from her fingers. Helen prayed Fannie was right.
“Then I’ll set aside a half dozen and brace myself to grovel with them later if I have to.” If she found work with someone before the men came in to eat, she might be spared the pain.
As it turned out, she came up empty while getting to know many of Charlotte’s friends and the likable young women of the Bowman family. Clyde had been turned over to some of the children who were wearing him out with a game of fetch. Juliet was occupied with getting a grape from Charlotte, carrying it down to the river to wash and then eat it before racing up the hill to beg for another.
When the men came in, Mark took a seat beside Isaac without so much as a glance in Helen’s direction. Before the meal was served, everyone bowed their heads for silent grace. After that, she kept a close eye on the men and noticed Mark took three of her ham and cheese–filled crescent rolls and managed to snag the last of her cream horns when the plate was passed. When he licked a smear of filling from his fingers, she knew he liked them. She’d been smart to keep some back.
She rushed to the house and took the half-dozen pastries outside as she rehearsed her apology. To her chagrin, Mark was already on his way back to the river. She hurried after him and called out, “Mark Bowman, may I speak to you for a moment?”
He stopped and looked back. She saw the indecision cross his face, but he nodded. “I reckon.”
Smile. Don’t look intimidated.
“I’ve brought some of my cream horns as a peace offering.” She lifted the plate just as her foot encountered Juliet racing past. The outraged raccoon squealed. Helen hopped over her to keep from tripping. Clyde, who until that instant had been fetching a ball for one of the children, leaped on Helen from behind, knocking her forward. She plowed into Mark as he tried to catch her. Horrified, she looked down at the plate of pastry sandwiched between them and then back to his darkening brow. Clyde danced around them, barking excitedly.
“What was it that you wanted?” Mark asked in a cold, calm voice as he held her away. The remains of the smashed cream horns covering his shirt began dropping to the ground. Clyde darted in to snatch them up.
“To apologize,” she answered in a small voice. She still had the empty plate in her hands.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t know your name. Who are you?”
“I don’t think I want to tell you.” She began plucking the stuck pieces off his shirt.
He grabbed her hand. “Miss?”
“Zook. Helen Zook. I’m visiting my aunt for the summer, and that’s all I’m going to say about it.” She turned away and walked back to the tables, aware of the snickers of laughter from the onlookers. She passed them with her head down and went to her aunt.
Charlotte was trying to coax Juliet out of the tree next to the house. Juliet hissed when Helen stopped beside Charlotte and went up to the top of the tree. “Aenti, I’m going to walk home.”
“That’s a goot idea, dear. Poor Juliet is very upset with you.”
“I’m afraid she’s not the only one.” Helen didn’t bother looking to see if Mark was still watching her. She could feel his eyes boring into her back.
“I have told Juliet you aren’t staying with us long, but I’m not sure she understands me. She isn’t fond of company.”
“Please tell her I’m sorry I stepped on her.” Helen kept walking and didn’t look back. She guessed her chance of being hired by Mark Bowman was now about zero or less thanks to Clyde. Things could get desperate if her aunt chose her pet’s happiness over her niece and asked Helen to leave.
She wasn’t going home, so where would she go?
* * *
Paul walked up to Mark, swiped his finger through a clump of cream filling and stuck it in his mouth. “She and that dog together are a menace, but you have to admit she makes a fine dessert.”
“Go away.”
Paul held out his finger. “Just one more lick?”
“Paul.” Mark bit out the name with as much threat as he could manage.
“Okay, okay, I’m going. It’s sad to say, because today has been mighty entertaining, but I don’t think we will see much of Helen Zook for a while.”
“I hope not.”
Fannie came down with a wet napkin in her hand. “I thought you might need this.”
He took it and began wiping the front of his shirt. “I’ve never met anyone like that woman.”
“I know. Clyde has taken a shine to her and to you. Isn’t that wunderbarr?”
He looked up in amazement, but Fannie was already heading back up the hill chuckling to herself.
The rest of the afternoon passed quickly and uneventfully, for which Mark was grateful. The work was hard, but it was satisfying when the jam finally broke free and washed under the bridge. They had gathered enough wood to keep a good many homes warm during the coming winter.
Exhausted and determined not to think about the outspoken and annoying Helen Zook or the troubling letter from Angela, Mark went up to bed not long after supper. With a cool evening breeze blowing through the open window beside him, he fell sound asleep just minutes after his head hit the pillow.
Until the howling began.
Chapter Four (#ue127335b-dcdf-560a-baed-b61d24d2498b)
Charlotte entered the kitchen the morning after the frolic and sniffed the air appreciatively. “Something smells wunderbarr. What are you making?”
After a sleepless night, Helen had been up mixing, kneading and watching her dough rise for over three hours already, and it was barely seven o’clock. “I’m making chocolate almond crescent rolls.”
Because she was unsure if the oven temperature was accurate on her aunt’s ancient propane model, she had put only four rolls on her baking sheet to test them first. They were done to a beautiful golden brown. She slid them onto a plate on the table and set the pan aside to cool while she rolled up another dozen. Now if only her decision to see Mark Bowman later today would turn out half so well. She wiped her damp brow with the back of her arm and then rolled up her sleeves.
“May I have one of these?” Charlotte took two from the plate on the kitchen table without waiting for Helen to answer her.
“Help yourself. I’m taking them with me when I go to ask for a job today. I hope Mark Bowman likes them, and I hope he doesn’t end up wearing them.”
It had occurred to her a little before 3:00 a.m. that it was highly unlikely that today could turn out worse than yesterday, but at least she wouldn’t have Clyde or Juliet to hinder her. She planned to go alone to the Bowman workshop.
If Mark would see her, and if she made a sincere effort to apologize, and if she could convince him that she desperately needed a job, he might offer her employment. And if he liked her chocolate almond pastry as much as he had seemed to like her ham and cheese rolls yesterday, she wasn’t above using them as a sweetener. It was a lot of ifs, but what choice did she have?
“Why would Mark Bowman want to wear your baked goods?”
Helen drew a deep breath and smiled fondly at her aunt. “I have no idea, but I desperately hope he will offer me a job. He should. I’ve had experience working in the fabric shop in Nappanee. I worked in a hardware store for a summer, but I didn’t care for the man who ran it. He was creepy. I’m conscientious. I’m hardworking. I’m a quick learner. I would be an asset to any business, even one run by a rude, judgmental and annoying fellow like Mark Bowman.”
“I don’t think he’s annoying. Did you let Clyde out this morning?” Charlotte stood in the middle of the kitchen turning in slow circles. She bent down to look under the table then moved the trash can to look behind it as if the dog might have become paper thin overnight.
“I did not.”
“He isn’t in the house. I’ve looked everywhere, and Juliet is missing, too.” Charlotte opened the door to the cellar and called down the steps, “Clyde, come here, boy.”
Helen placed her batch of rolls in the oven, wound the kitchen timer and set it beside the stove. “I’ll go outside and look for them in a few minutes. I’m sure they are playing in the yard. You mentioned that Juliet can open a door when she wants to. Was the back door open?”
“I believe it was. I’ll look, you finish what you’re doing.” Charlotte went to the back of the house. She returned a few minutes later. “They aren’t outside. I called and called. Clyde never misses a meal, and neither does Juliet. Something is wrong.”
“I’m sure they are fine.” Helen realized she hadn’t heard or seen the dog and raccoon all morning. That was unusual.
Charlotte’s eyes widened. She pressed both hands to her cheeks. “Someone has stolen them.”
Helen caught herself before she laughed aloud. She struggled to speak in a reasonable tone. “Aenti, calm yourself. Who would want to steal your pets?”
“I’ve read that the Englisch people make hats out of raccoons, and Clyde is a very valuable animal. Why, the bishop’s wife remarked on his amazingly long ears just yesterday. Oh, the nerve of that woman to take him from my house. Well, she can’t have him. I’m going right over there and tell her so.”
Helen caught her aunt by the arm as she marched toward the kitchen door. “Nee, you are not going to accuse the bishop’s wife of dognapping. She said his ears were foolishly long for such a squat-bodied hund. I was standing right beside you when she said it.”
“I heard her say his ears were luxuriously long, and she deeply admired such a dog.”
Clearly her aunt heard only what she wanted to hear when people were talking about her pets. “Even if she admired him, she wouldn’t steal him.”
“You don’t know that woman. Her family is from Nappanee.”
“So is your family.”
“Exactly!”
Helen caught the sound of distant barking. “I think I hear him.”
“You do?” Charlotte rushed to the door and pulled it open. “Clyde! Where are you?”
Helen moved to stand beside her aunt. Dawn was turning the eastern sky a pale gold color beyond the tree-covered ridge to the east. “I’m sure it was him.”
The barking started again, closer now. Charlotte pressed her hands to her chest. “I hear him, too. It is Clyde. Come here, baby boy.”
She rushed outside just as a horse and buggy turned off the main road and rolled up her lane. The barking, louder and more frantic now, was coming from the buggy. Helen stepped out onto the porch but almost turned and scurried back into the house when she saw Mark Bowman was driving. What was he doing here? The barking was definitely coming from his buggy. Why did he have Clyde with him?
Mark started to step down, but her aunt planted herself in front of him with one hand on her hip as she shook a finger in his face. “How dare you! I never would have suspected a Bowman of such dastardly behavior.”
“What?” He looked utterly confused. Helen knew exactly how he felt.
Charlotte folded her arms over her ample chest. “Stealing is a sin and beneath you, Mark Bowman, but I forgive you, since you have returned him.”
Mark looked at Helen. “What is she talking about?”
“She thinks that you stole Clyde.”
His puzzled expression snapped into a fierce scowl. “I did no such thing. Your miserable mutt began howling outside my window at three o’clock this morning. I couldn’t make him leave. He woke the entire household. I almost returned him then, but I decided to wait until a reasonable hour.”
Charlotte already had the rear buggy door open. Clyde was smothering her with doggy kisses as he struggled against the makeshift leash preventing him from jumping out. “Untie him at once, and I won’t mention your deplorable behavior to Bishop Beachy.”
“I didn’t steal your dog!”
Helen patted his shoulder. “I think I can help. Aenti, listen carefully. Mr. Bowman didn’t take Clyde. Your poor dog became lost in the woods last night. Mr. Bowman found him and took time out of his busy morning to bring your precious pet home because he knows how much you love Clyde. Mark is a mighty goot fellow.”
Charlotte eyed him suspiciously for a long moment and then looked at Helen. Her eyes brightened. “He’s a hero just like in the book I’m reading. He rescued poor Clyde from a terrible fate. Bless you, my boy.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Mark muttered under his breath. He untied the rope holding Clyde in the buggy.
The overweight hound tumbled out the door and immediately jumped up on Charlotte. She toppled to her backside and hugged him close as he climbed into her lap. “My poor fellow. You are safe at home. Danki, Mark. Do come in and join us for breakfast.”
“I can’t. I must get home.” Mark helped Charlotte to her feet.
“Nonsense. I insist. I must reward your efforts on behalf of poor Clyde. My niece makes the most delicious rolls. Where is Juliet?” She rose on tiptoe to try and see the top of his buggy.
“Who is Juliet?” Mark asked, looking to Helen for an explanation.
“Her raccoon.”
Charlotte bent to pet her hound. “Juliet is Clyde’s dearest friend. They go everywhere together.”
“She’ll be along shortly,” Helen said to appease her aunt.
“Oh, goot.” She shook a finger at Clyde. “You were a naughty dog to wander off.”
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