The Amish Maid's Sweetheart

by Samantha Price

  “No. I’m happy for you if that’s what you want.”

  He stopped the car in the parking lot at the grocery store and turned his body to face her. “And what do you want, Claire?”

  Claire smiled as she thought of what she wanted. “To have my own home, my own little family and to be happy.”

  “Is that all?”

  “That’s everything. It is to me anyway.”

  He studied her carefully. “Let’s go. Help me choose some food.” They walked into the supermarket and he picked up a basket just inside the door.

  “You’re not going to get much?”

  Donovan shook his head. “Just enough for a couple of days. Then I’ll come back and get some more.”

  “It would save time if you bought more now. I mean, you’re here. It would save some trips.”

  He breathed out heavily. “Very well.” Donovan changed his basket for a grocery cart.

  “Don’t look so worried; we’ll be quick.” Claire took hold of the cart and whizzed around the store filling it up. Donovan followed behind and grunted his approval or disapproval every time Claire asked his opinion on something. “That’s it then. That didn’t take long.”

  Donovan looked at the full cart. “Thank you, Claire. This was a good idea. It’ll be good to have basic food in the cupboard.”

  “You’re welcome.” It was good to have his approval.

  After the groceries had been processed through the checkout, Donovan wheeled the cart to the car.

  “We’ve got already-cooked beef and I can make potato salad for lunch.”

  “Sounds like that’ll take a long time. Let’s just get something in there.” Donovan nodded to a small diner next to the food mart.

  Claire only agreed because she was hungry, and besides, refusing might be impolite.

  Chapter 7

  They ordered two hamburgers with the works. Donovan put his elbows up on the table and clasped his fingers together while he stared at Claire.

  Seeing him smile, she asked, “Have I done something funny?”

  He shook his head. “No, but this isn’t getting my work done. And you know what? I don’t even care.”

  “Once you’ve got food in your stomach you’ll be able to work better. Can I help you with anything when we get back?”

  “You’re helping me enough by getting my life organized.”

  “I wouldn’t say I’m doing that. I’ve just rearranged some closets.”

  The waitress brought their sodas and hamburgers to the table.

  Donovan lifted the top of his bun and looked at what was inside. “It must be comforting to live in a community such as yours.”

  Claire nodded. “It is, but some people feel it’s too restrictive, like their life is mapped out.”

  “Is that how you feel?” He took a mouthful of hamburger.

  “I just sometimes wonder, what if my life doesn’t turn out the way it’s supposed to?”

  He frowned and when he swallowed, he asked, “What do you mean? Do you mean there aren’t any men your age in the community?”

  Claire giggled and put her fingers to her mouth. “How would you know that?”

  Donovan laughed. “Your friend, Jessie, happened to mention it. She only said it in passing, but I believe she’s found someone now?”

  “Yes, Elijah. Elijah who’s doing the work for you at the B&B.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  “He is the brother of one of our good friends.”

  “And what will you do, Claire? You want to have a family, so how do you plan to do that seeing there are no men in the community for you to choose from?”

  Claire scrunched her shoulders up. “I’m leaving it up to God.”

  “Ah, so you’re ignoring the issue.”

  She frowned at him. “No. I’m simply not allowing my faith to waver.”

  “For how long are you going to leave it up to God?”

  The bishop was right when he said not to associate with those out of the community. She really had nothing in common with Donovan. Besides that, he was putting doubts in her mind. She’d fought hard to rid her mind of such doubts. “As long as it takes.”

  “You do know after the age of thirty it’s difficult for women to have children?”

  Her mouth fell open. “I’m nowhere near thirty.” Is that what he thought?

  “What if you get older and there are still no men in the community for you?”

  Claire took a bite of her hamburger, so she would have time to think of an answer. When she finished it, she said, “It will be God’s will so it won’t matter.”

  He nodded. “Everything is God’s will whether good or bad?”

  She frowned. “Are you trying to trick me?”

  Donovan shook his head. “No, I’m simply trying to understand some things.”

  “The answer is ‘yes.’ We can pray about things, but God knows the beginning and the end. Something we pray for might not be good for us, and God knows that—He can see how the end will be.”

  “Well, I know what’s good for me.” He took a last bite of his burger.

  Claire hurried to finish her food, so he wouldn’t complain about how long she took to eat because, Time is money.

  The waitress came hurrying back to their table. “Have you folks heard about the severe storm watch and the tornado watch?”

  “No,” Donovan said.

  “The weather service has issued a watch for severe storms and possibly a tornado. They say this area is almost certain to be hit. We’re closing up pretty soon.” The waitress left them to speak to other patrons.

  Donovan jumped to his feet, left money on the table and grabbed Claire by the arm. “Let’s go.”

  Once they were driving away, Claire said, “We haven’t had one of those in a while. They usually issue so many of these watches, and then nothing happens. A little wind and rain at most.”

  “Doesn’t matter. I’m driving you home.”

  “Okay, denke.”

  “I’d feel safer if you were with your family.”

  Claire would feel safer too because all her family and the community prayed for safety. Claire looked out the car window to see the sky had changed from blue to an eerie shade of greenish-gray. “Where are you going?”

  “Me? I guess I’ll go back home. It’ll probably amount to nothing. You're right. Most of these tornados fizzle out before anything happens and it just ends up being a thunderstorm or a heavy rain.”

  “It’s down this road here and to the left. You can leave me here if you wish; I can walk the rest of the way.”

  “I’ve come this far I might as well drive you all the way.”

  Claire was thinking more of herself than his convenience. She didn’t want Sally to see her driven home by a handsome Englischer.

  He ducked his head to look at her house when he stopped outside it. “Keep safe.”

  She opened the car door and turned around to say goodbye. “Will you be all right?” Claire was sure there was a flicker of a moment between them as they looked into each other’s eyes.

  “Of course. I’ll see you tomorrow. Now I know where you live; I’ll fetch you at nine because you rode your bike today, didn’t you?”

  “I did. Where are you going to shelter?”

  “I’ll go back to the house.” He reversed the car without giving Claire any time to protest. Was there a storm shelter there? She hadn’t seen one.

  Light rain forced her into the house. Her family had already heard about the weather alert, now raised to a tornado warning. They’d secured everything, and their domestic animals were enclosed in the barn. Claire was grateful Sally said nothing about who had brought her home.

  As he drove away from Claire’s house, Donovan saw the clouds were darkening further and the daylight was turning a very odd green. The safest place might be in his house rather than the restaurant. He called his mother to make sure she knew about the tornado. Then he called his staff at the restaurant and the café and told
them to close up and get everyone to shelter.

  There might’ve been a lot of tornado watches and warnings, but something told Donovan this one was going to be more than just a watch or a fizzled warning, even though he’d acted in front of Claire as though he wasn’t worried. Despite his mother’s pleadings to go to her place, he insisted on going back to Finch House.

  He parked his car in the newly-built four-car garage, which was slightly away from the house. He considered staying in the garage but opted to find a safe place within the house. There was no basement, so he knew the safest place during a tornado was the center of an interior room or in a hallway, avoiding windows and doors. If things got really bad, he could get under the dining table, which was a solid piece of wood. He could even push the table into the hallway so it was away from windows and doors.

  His phone beeped. He looked at the caller I.D. and saw it was his mother again. “Yes, Mom?”

  “I’ve been listening to the storm reports; it’s not looking good. Come here and shelter in the basement with me.”

  “No, Mom, I’m okay here. Just make sure you’re safe, okay?” The phone clicked in his ear. She tended to end conversations abruptly when she didn’t get her way.

  He had no radio in his house, so he tried to download an app on his phone to hear news of the approaching storm. Finding he’d just lost service, he groaned and placed his phone in his pocket.

  Remembering the food still in the trunk, he pulled on a heavy jacket and hurried to the car to get the bulk of the shopping bags out. If some emergency happened, at least he’d have food. The gym workouts were paying off. With six bags of groceries in his hands, he made his way back to the house under a sky as black as night.

  As soon as he closed his front door and dumped the food in the kitchen, he tried the lights. At that instant a streak of lightning flashed across the sky and its immediate thunderclap made him jump. The electricity had gone out. Donovan got a flashlight from the kitchen drawer and knew it was time to take shelter.

  He grabbed his useless phone and sat on the floor in the hallway with his flashlight, and waited for the power to come back on. It was a short time later when he was dozing off he heard things banging against the outside of the house. The wind was howling and large objects were hitting the house. He hoped his old house would hold up against the storm. It had been weathering storms for hundreds of years; was this storm going to be the one to take it down?

  Suddenly, all went quiet. It was an eerie, dead silence and Donovan knew he was in the eye of the storm. There was an almighty crash and Donovan was surrounded by debris. He looked up in horror to see the front part of his house was gone. He bolted down the hall toward the bathroom as he was deluged with water and buffeted by ferocious wind.

  He managed to get into the bathroom, closed the door and clambered into the old claw foot bathtub. He knew he shouldn’t be near a window, but all the destruction was coming from the opposite side of the house. Donovan curled into a ball knowing he could be minutes from death if the howling winds didn’t stop. The roaring storm seemed alive, strong enough to pick up the whole house and hurl it into the air.

  “God help me!” he cried aloud. He closed his eyes and wondered if this was how his life was going to end. All the time he’d wasted on working and planning out his life was going to be for nothing.

  Seconds later, the bathroom ceiling caved in. It felt like he was being crushed by something and he could barely breathe. Were these his last moments on earth? Pain stabbed into his chest and something was crushing his head. He tried to move his hands to shift the thing from his head, but he couldn’t move his arms or his hands.

  God, if you get me out of this, I’ll spend the rest of my life following you.

  Silence engulfed him and everything went black.

  Chapter 8

  Where am I? Am I dead?

  With a huge effort, Donovan opened his eyelids. Bright lights pained his eyes and he closed them.

  “Donovan! You're awake.”

  It was his mother. He was alive. Too weak to speak, he lifted his hand slowly and touched his forehead to feel the fabric of what had to be bandages on his head. The last thing he remembered was the tornado and his house falling in on him.

  “You’ve got some broken ribs, and cuts and bruises, and Dr. Michaels said you also have a severe concussion, which means you have to be still for a few days.”

  Donovan couldn’t move his head, but his eyes opened once more, part way only, to observe his surroundings. He was in a hospital. “Claire?”

  His mother leaned over him. “What dear? Speak up.”

  “Claire.”

  “Claire, the maid, was here; I just sent her away. Do you want her to do something for you? I can do whatever it is.”

  Donovan moved his eyes to look at his mother. “Claire.”

  His mother lifted her chin as if she did not approve. “Do you want me to see if she’s still here?”

  “Yes.” His voice was so gravely and raspy, he barely recognized it as his own. He closed his eyes again. It was too much effort to keep them open.

  He heard his mother’s high heels tapping as she walked out the door. A moment later, he forced his eyelids to open when he felt a comforting hand on his shoulder. Opening his eyes, he saw Claire’s smiling face.

  “We thought we’d lost you.”

  Claire’s voice soothed him.

  His mother’s voice came from the other side of him. He hadn’t known she’d come back in. “If it weren’t for Claire’s father and brother pulling you out of the rubble, directly after the storm, you might not be here.” Her red-rimmed eyes belied her steady voice.

  Donovan’s mouth turned up at the corners. “Thank you, Claire.”

  “You get some rest now, Donovan. I’ll come back to see you tonight,” his mother said.

  After he closed his eyes, he heard Claire and his mother say goodbye to each other. Donovan did not know what day it was, and neither did he care. A little corner of his consciousness knew his life would never be the same. He had been granted a second chance and he wasn’t going to waste it.

  * * *

  Later in the evening, Donovan was strong enough to sit up. He learned he didn’t have any life-threatening problems, although he had a throbbing headache, and now he wondered how bad the damage was to the house. It had fallen about him, he was sure of it. He recalled half the house had been ripped away and the other half had collapsed on top of him. His mother had mentioned he’d been pulled out of ‘rubble.’ Was his whole house destroyed?

  An elderly man wearing a long white coat entered his room. Donovan knew it was his doctor. “Hello, I'm Dr. Michaels. You gave us quite a scare, Mr. Billings.”

  “I’m all right though, aren’t I?”

  The doctor walked right up to his bedside. “You’ve got three broken ribs. Broken ribs can be dangerous. You were lucky they didn’t pierce any major organs, which is a common complication in this type of break. We can’t splint ribs; for one thing, it would limit your breathing and cause further complications.” The doctor pulled some x-ray images out of the envelope he was holding. Holding them up to the light, he asked, “Can you see the break?”

  Donovan turned away. “I’d rather not look, thanks, Doc.”

  “You’ll need to do some deep breathing exercises to prevent pneumonia; even though it hurts, it's imperative you keep your lungs and ribcage flexible for maximal breathing capacity. Someone from respiratory therapy will be along later to show you those.”

  “When will I be better?”

  “It’s hard to say. You’ll have to take it easy for a while. You're young and healthy, but it still takes time. And concussions are pesky, especially if you don't let your brain get enough rest.”

  Donovan’s face twisted into a scowl. “I can’t be in here for any length of time.”

  The elderly doctor frowned right back, and then smiled at him. “You should be able to leave in a day or two, but you’ll need to rest. That m
eans absolutely no exertion—and you’ll need strong painkillers.”

  “They’ve been giving me lots of drugs. Normally, I don’t like taking painkillers.”

  The doctor shook his head. “If you stop taking them, you’ll regret it. Trust me. They’ve got most of the painkillers in your IV for now, but once you leave the hospital, believe me, the pain will get a lot worse. It's going to hurt to breathe, but you must keep stretching out your lungs so use the medication as needed.”

  A while after the doctor left, Donovan heard his mother’s high heels in the corridor. He opened his eyes and watched her come into his room. “You look better,” she said when she was by the bed.

  “I’m feeling stronger, only it hurts to move. Sharp pains in my sides.”

  “Yes, that’ll be the broken ribs. There’s not much anyone can do about them except wait for them to heal.”

  “I know, the doctor came not long after you left and I heard all about how dangerous broken ribs can be.”

  “He said there’s not any grave danger if you keep still and don’t do anything silly.”

  “Don’t worry. I won’t be doing anything, not with this pain. It even hurts to take a breath, but I’m still supposed to do breathing exercises. The breaks aren’t bad, the doctor tells me, just enough to be painful.”

  She sat on the chair next to him. “I’m afraid I’ve got some further bad news.”

  Donovan looked at his mother and waited for her to continue. How bad could it be? When he saw her bottom lip tremble, he asked, “Is the Porsche all right?”

  His mother nodded and her eyes darted away from him. “The Porsche is unharmed. The storm didn’t affect the garage at all.”

  Donovan's immediate reaction was a wave of annoyance with himself for not obeying his first instinct to shelter in the garage. “Well, what’s happened? Have I lost Finch House completely?”

  “The house, yes ... and the restaurant.”