A Widow's Hope (Indiana Amish Brides Book 1)

by Vannetta Chapman

  “Why would I do such a thing?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Though I did help both of your sisters find their husbands.”

  “I need a job, Mamm. I don’t need a husband. I have a son, I have a family and I have a home. I’m fine without Jacob Schrock or any other man.” Before her mother could see how rattled she was, Hannah jumped up, stepped over to the window and stared out at Jacob and Matthew.

  “At least you parted friends...or so it seems.”

  Hannah suddenly remembered Jacob kissing her behind the swing set at school. It had been her first kiss, and a bit of a mess. He’d leaned in, a bee had buzzed past her and she’d darted to the right at the last minute. The result was a kiss on the left side of her kapp. She’d been mortified, though Jacob had laughed good-naturedly, then reached for her hand and walked her back into the school building. It was three years later when he’d asked her out on the buggy ride.

  Remembering the kiss, Hannah felt the heat crawl up her neck. Before her mother could interrogate her further, she busied herself pulling two glasses from the cabinet and said, “Perhaps I should take both of the workers something to drink.”

  She filled the glasses with lemonade, snagged half a dozen of her mother’s oatmeal cookies, put it all on a tray and carried it outside.

  After setting it down on the picnic table under the tall maple tree, she turned to watch Jacob and Matthew. In spite of her resolution to maintain a safe distance from Jacob Schrock, her heart tripped a beat at the sight of him.

  Which made no sense, because Jacob Schrock was not her type.

  He was eight inches taller than she was, whereas David had been her height exactly.

  He was blond. David had been dark haired.

  His eyes were blue, and David’s had been a lovely brown.

  Nothing about the man standing near her son appealed to her, least of all the suggestion that he knew what was good for Matthew.

  She couldn’t help noticing, though...

  The sleeves of his blue shirt were rolled up past the elbow, revealing his muscular, tanned arms.

  Sweat gleamed on his forehead and caused his blond hair to curl slightly.

  As she watched, he handed one end of a tape measure to Matthew, stepped off what was apparently the length of the project and pushed a stake into the ground.

  When he was done, Jacob glanced up, noticed her waiting and smiled. Now, why did his smile cause her heart to race even faster? Perhaps she needed to see a doctor. Maybe the depression that had pressed down on her like a dark cloud for so long had finally taken its toll on her heart. Or maybe she was experiencing a normal reaction to a nice-looking man doing a kind deed.

  Of course, he was getting paid for it.

  But he didn’t have to allow Matthew to tag along.

  He certainly didn’t have to smile at her every time she was near.

  Jacob stored the tape measure they were using in a tool belt and said something to Matthew. When her son twisted in his wheelchair to look at her, she had to press her fingers to her lips. Yes, he still sat in his chair, but he looked like a completely different boy. He had rolled up his sleeves, sweat had plastered his hair to his head and a smear of dirt marked his cheek. When he caught her watching, he beamed at her as if it were Christmas Day.

  In short, he looked like a normal child having a great time building a playhouse.

  * * *

  Jacob glanced back at Hannah in time to catch her staring at Matthew, the fingers of her right hand pressed against her lips. Jacob considered himself open to beauty. Maybe because of his own disfigurement, he found contentment in noticing Gotte’s handiwork elsewhere.

  He’d often stood and watched the sunset, thinking that Gotte had done a wonderful thing by providing them such splendor. He’d helped his brother when it was time for birthing in the spring: goats, horses, cows, and once when a terrible storm came through and they couldn’t get to the hospital—a son. Jacob didn’t mind that such things brought him to tears, that he often had to pause and catch his breath, that he was sensitive to the joys of this world.

  But when he looked up and saw Hannah, an unfamiliar emotion brushed against the inside of his heart. It couldn’t be attraction, as he’d never asked a woman out on a date because of how she looked—not before the fire and not since. He hadn’t asked a woman out in years, and he wouldn’t be starting today. As for her personality, well, if he were to be honest with himself, she was pushy, obviously overprotective of her son and taciturn to the point of being rude.

  She was beautiful, though, and more than that, her obvious love for her son was moving. Her vulnerability in that moment reached deep into his soul and affected him in a way he didn’t realize he could be touched.

  So he stooped down and said to Matthew, “Best take a break. Your mamm has brought us a snack.”

  He walked beside the boy as they made their way toward the picnic table.

  “Mamm, I’m helping.” Matthew reached for a cookie, broke it in half and stuffed the larger piece into his mouth.

  “It appears you worked up an appetite.”

  Matthew nodded, and Jacob said, “We both did.”

  Hannah motioned for him to help himself. He popped a whole cookie into his mouth and said, “Wow,” before he’d finished chewing. Which caused Matthew to dissolve in a fit of laughter.

  “What-id I-ooh?” Jacob asked, exaggerating each syllable.

  “You have to chew first,” Matthew explained. “And swallow!”

  Jacob did as instructed, took a big sip of the lemonade and then said, “Danki, Hannah. Hit the spot.”

  “Looks as if actual construction on this playhouse is slow getting started.”

  “Measure twice, cut once,” Matthew explained.

  “We’ve managed to mark off the dimensions and unload my tools.”

  “You brought all that lumber in your buggy?”

  “Nein. The store in town delivered it. I guess you didn’t hear the truck.”

  “I guess I didn’t.”

  “It was this big,” Matthew said, holding his arms out wide.

  “The playhouse will go up quickly,” Jacob assured her. “I’ll begin the base of the structure today. The walls will go up tomorrow, and the roof and final details the third day.”

  “Kind of amazing that a child’s toy takes so long to build.” Hannah held up a hand and shook her head at the same time. “I did not mean that the way it sounded. It’s only that when you consider we can build a barn in one day, it seems funny that a playhouse takes three.”

  “Sure, ya. But this isn’t a barn, and, as you can see, young Matthew and I are the only workers.”

  “I’m going to help,” Matthew exclaimed, reaching for another cookie.

  Hannah’s son was rambling on now, explaining that he could mark the wood before Jacob made the cut and hand him nails as he hammered.

  “Wait a minute, Matt. We have therapy tomorrow.”

  “But—”

  “Nein. Do not argue with me.”

  “Ya, but this is kind of therapy.”

  “What time is Matthew’s appointment?” Jacob asked, recognizing the escalating disagreement for what it was. Hadn’t he argued in the same way when he was a young lad? Maybe not over physical therapy appointments, but there was always something to pull him away from what he’d wanted to do—fishing, searching for frogs, climbing trees.

  “Matthew is scheduled for therapy three afternoons a week—Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday.”

  “That’s perfect, because I need help tomorrow morning.”

  Matthew and Hannah both swiveled to look at him.

  “In the afternoon, I’ll be doing other stuff that an apprentice isn’t allowed to do. But the morning?” Jacob rubbed his hand up and down his jawline as if he needed to carefully consider what he
was about to say. Finally he grinned and said, “Mornings will be perfect.”

  “Yes!” Matthew raised a hand for Jacob to high-five. “I gotta go inside and tell Mammi.”

  Without another word, he reversed the direction of his chair and wheeled toward the house.

  “That was kind of you,” Hannah said.

  “Actually, he is a big help to me.”

  Instead of arguing, she again pressed her fingers to her lips. Was it so she could keep her emotions inside? Stop her words? Protect her feelings?

  “It’s only a little thing, Hannah. I’m happy to do it. It’s plain to see that Matthew is a special young man.”

  She picked up the plate of cookies and stared down at it. “He never eats more than one cookie. In fact, he often passes on snacks and desserts. Today he ate two and drank a full glass of lemonade.”

  “Is that a problem?”

  He thought she wouldn’t answer. She glanced at him and then her gaze darted out over the area where construction had not yet begun. “The doctors said that the steroids might suppress his appetite, but that it was best to encourage him to eat more.”

  “And what purpose do the steroids serve?”

  “They’re supposed to decrease swelling around the spinal cord.” She placed the plate on the tray and transferred the empty lemonade glasses to it, as well. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bore you with the details.”

  “Do I look bored?”

  She sat on the picnic bench then, staring back toward the house, seemingly lost in her worries over Matthew. “The last thing we needed is him losing weight. Then there are the other complications...”

  “Such as?”

  “Children with spinal cord injuries often struggle with pneumonia and other breathing disorders. Secondary infections are always a worry—it’s why I was afraid for him to help you. If he were to get a cut or take a nasty fall, it could spiral into something worse.”

  “It must be a lot for you to monitor.”

  “Matthew needs all his strength, even when it comes in the form of oatmeal cookies.”

  “I’d like to ask what happened, but I know from personal experience that sometimes you feel like sharing and sometimes you don’t.”

  Hannah jerked her head up. She seemed to study his scars for a moment and then she nodded once. “It’s true. Sometimes I want to talk about it, need to talk about it, but then other times...”

  “I’m listening, if today is one of those days you want to talk.”

  She pulled in a deep breath and blew it out. “There’s not really that much to tell. David and I bought a farm in Wisconsin, after we were married. Life was difficult but gut. Matthew came along—a healthy baby boy. My husband was out harvesting, and Matthew was riding up on the bench seat with him. This was a year ago...one year next week.”

  “What happened?”

  “There was a snake coiled in the grass. The work horse nearly stepped on it. He reared up, throwing both David and Matthew. David was killed instantly when the harvester rolled over him. I suppose because he was smaller, Matthew was thrown farther. Otherwise he would have been killed, as well.”

  “Instead he was injured.”

  “He suffered a complete spinal cord break.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  Jacob allowed silence to fill the hurting places between them. Finally he asked, “Surgeries?”

  “Ya—two. The first was for the initial diagnosis, to evaluate and stabilize the fractured backbone. The second was a follow-up to the first.”

  “And you had to handle it all alone.”

  “Of course I didn’t.” Now her chin came up and when she glanced at him, Jacob saw the old stubbornness in her eyes. “My church helped me, my sister came to stay awhile and then...then my parents suggested I move home.”

  “Family is gut.”

  “Ya, it is, except that our being here is a drain on them.”

  Jacob was unsure how to answer that. He didn’t know Claire or Alton Beiler well, but he was certain they didn’t consider Hannah and Matthew to be a drain. It was plain from the way they interacted that they wanted their daughter and grandson at home with them.

  “I’m happy to have Matthew working with me, Hannah, but only if it’s okay with you. I promise to be very careful around him.”

  She didn’t answer. Instead she nodded once, gathered up the tray and followed her son into the house.

  Leaving Jacob standing in the afternoon sunshine, wondering what else he could do to lighten the burden she carried, wondering why it suddenly seemed so important for him to do so.

  He needed to stay focused on his business, on making enough money to pay an accountant before the audit was due, on the other playhouses he would build after this. But instead, as he went back to work, he found himself thinking of a young boy with dirt smeared across his nose and a beautiful mother who was determined to keep others at arm’s length.

  Chapter Three

  Hannah was grateful that she was busy the next morning. Maybe it would take her mind off of finding a job, which was becoming all she thought about. She’d spent an hour before breakfast going over the Help Wanted ads once again, but nothing new had appeared. There wasn’t a single listing that she felt qualified to do, and she doubted seriously that anything new had been listed in the last few days. So instead of obsessing over what she couldn’t change, she focused on helping her mother.

  Tuesday was baking day. They mixed bread, kneaded dough, baked cookies and prepared two cakes. The kitchen was hot and steamy by the time they were finished. Her mother sank into a chair and said, “You’re a big help, Hannah. I wouldn’t want to do all of this alone.”

  Of course, she wouldn’t need so much if they weren’t there.

  And Hannah knew that her mother rarely baked alone. Most weeks her niece Naomi came over to help. Still, the compliment lightened her heart as she called to Matthew. She’d helped him change into clean clothes after lunch, and he had promised not to get dirty. Now he was sitting in his chair, watching out the window as Jacob raised the walls of his playhouse.

  “Looks like a real train, huh?” her mother asked.

  Hannah cocked her head left and then right. “Can’t say as it does.”

  “To me it’s plain as day.”

  “Which is all that matters.” She reached out and mussed her son’s hair. “We should get going so we won’t be late.”

  They made it to the PT center in downtown Goshen twenty minutes before their appointment. For the next two hours, Hannah sat in the waiting room and crocheted, or attempted to. Her mind kept wandering and she’d find that she’d dropped a stitch and then she would have to pull out the row and start over. After an hour, she’d made very little progress on the blue shawl, so she decided to put it away and flip through some of the magazines.

  The center served both Amish and Englisch, so the magazine selection was varied. There were copies of the Budget, but there were also copies of National Geographic, Home & Garden and even People magazine.

  She reached for Home & Garden.

  On the cover was a picture of a sprawling country home, with flowers blooming along the brick pavement that bordered the front of the house. Orange, yellow and maroon mums filled containers on the porch. Pink begonias hung from planters on either side of the door.

  “It would be nice if life were like those pictures.” Sally Lapp sat down beside her with a harrumph and a sigh. Sally was plump, gray and kind.

  “How’s Leroy?”

  “Gut. I suppose. Ornery, if I were to be honest.”

  Sally reached into her bag and pulled out a giant ball of purple yarn and two knitting needles. She’d shared the previous week that she was expecting her forty-second grandchild, and they were all sure it would be a girl. If by some strange twist of fate it was a boy, she’d save the blanket for a
n auction and knit another in an appropriate shade of green or blue.

  “Is Leroy able to get around any better?” Hannah asked.

  “Old coot tried to move from the living room to the bedroom by himself, without his walker. I was outside harvesting some of the garden vegetables when he fell.” She glanced over her cheater glasses at Hannah, but never slowed in her knitting. “Fell, bruised his hip and scared a year of life off of me.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “Not your fault, child. How’s young Matthew?”

  “Gut.” Hannah flipped through the magazine, too quickly to actually see anything on the pages.

  “There’s more you’re not saying, which is fine. Some things we need to keep private, but take it from me—it’s best to share when something is bothering you. Share with someone you can trust not to shout it to the nearest Budget scribe.”

  Hannah considered that for a moment. Maybe it would help to share her worries, especially with someone outside the family, and she could trust Sally to keep anything she said confidential.

  “The Sunshine Foundation purchased supplies for a playhouse for Matthew—a special one, you know. It will have handicap rails and all.”

  “What a wunderbaar thing.”

  “And the National Spinal Cord Injury Association hired someone to build it.”

  “Even better. I know your father is very busy with his crops.”

  “Jacob Schrock showed up yesterday—to build the playhouse, which is in the shape of a train. I’m afraid that Matthew is fairly smitten with him.”

  Sally glanced at her once, but she didn’t offer an opinion. She continued knitting, as if she were waiting for Hannah to say more. But Hannah didn’t know what else to say. She didn’t know why it bothered her so much that Matthew liked Jacob.

  “I suppose I’m worried is all. I know Jacob will be done in a few days and then...most likely...Matthew won’t see him anymore. I’ve tried to explain this, but Matthew doesn’t listen. He prattles on about how he’s Jacob’s apprentice.”

  “It’s natural for young boys Matthew’s age to look up to their elders—your father, your brothers-in-law, the men in church.”