Patience was a teacher and a helpful neighbor. Nothing else. She’d best remember it. Strong hands and broad shoulders didn’t change that she wasn’t the wife for Thomas.
Chapter Three
The horses trotted along the paved road, the scenery slowly easing past the buggy. Thomas flicked the reins and looked out past the ditch full of weeds and wildflowers, to the fields beyond. Cattle chewed their cud, lying in the long summer grass, and overhead a string of geese beat their wings heading south. These were the last weeks of warmth, and soon there would be frost in the mornings.
“It’s a carriage ride!” Rue said, seated between Thomas and Patience on the bench seat.
“A what?” Thomas asked, turning back toward his daughter.
“A princess rides in a carriage!” Rue said. “Like this.”
Thomas looked over Rue’s head and caught Patience’s eye. She shrugged subtly. Rue wasn’t raised with dreams of a gleaming kitchen or a neat new dress she’d stitched herself. She’d been raised with grander hopes, it would seem, the kind that elevated one person high above the rest. The Amish saw the danger in that.
Must this child be so foreign from everything he held dear?
Gott, I don’t know how to raise her, he prayed in his heart. She’s so...different.
And she was also his doing. He’d been the one to roam outside the community’s boundaries. He’d been the young man who needed to see if his mamm’s world might be better, after all. And back then, he’d deeply hoped that it would be, because he missed his mamm so much in between her visits, and her letters said very little that meant anything to him. Those who said that a teenager was old enough, that he no longer needed his mamm, were dead wrong, because at the age of fourteen, he’d lain in his bed night after night sobbing his heart out, wishing his mother would come back for good.
“Would you like to see our shop, Rue?” he asked.
“What’s that?” Rue asked.
“I’m a carpenter. I build things with wood, and I work at Uncle Amos’s carpentry shop. We build everything from beds to cabinets to little carved boxes for Englisher women to put their jewelry in.”
“A jewel box?” Rue breathed.
“Yah, but we Amish don’t use them,” he said. “We don’t have jewelry.”
“A princess does,” Rue said.
Right. He sighed. This would be a long journey in the making of an Amish girl.
“You could still come see our shop,” Thomas said. “Then you’ll know where your daet works.”
Rue looked up at him, silent. It didn’t seem to mean much to her.
“Can I hold that?” she asked, pointing to the reins.
Thomas smiled. He couldn’t exactly hand the reins over to a four-year-old, but it was a good sign that she wanted to try it herself. This was how children learned—they got curious and wanted to hold the reins.
“Come sit on my knee, and we’ll hold the reins together.”
The buggy ride into town wasn’t a long one. Patience sat quietly the rest of the ride, and he stole a few looks at her over his daughter’s head—noticing some details like the faint freckles across her nose and the wisp of golden hair that came loose from under her kapp. She was beautiful in that fresh, wholesome way that he’d missed so much when he’d left the community. But he was also feeling attracted to her, and that made him nervous. He needed to focus on his daughter right now, not the new teacher. Besides, Patience was comforting, and that was exactly what drew him to Tina in the city—a search for comfort. His comfort needed to come from his Father in Heaven, not a woman’s arms. He’d learned that the hard way.
A couple of farmers, both of whom Thomas knew, looked at him in open curiosity as their buggies passed, going in the opposite direction. Thomas nodded to them, and they nodded back. Word would spread quickly when they started telling their neighbors what they’d seen. Patience could be easily explained, but Rue wearing a striped Englisher sundress would require more. Thomas had a child—a distinctly Englisher child. People would have opinions about that, to be sure.
The town of Redemption was an Amish-friendly town, which meant that the shops all had buggy parking out front, and there were parking lots with hitching posts. Many of the restaurants and stores were Amish owned and operated, including Redemption Carpentry. Englishers traveled from miles around to visit Redemption and buy up the authentic Amish crafts and food. They ordered Amish cabinetry for their homes and stared at the Amish folk with the open curiosity that only Englishers could pull off.
Redemption Carpentry was on Main Street, with a convenient buggy parking area behind the shop. They also had a stable for their horses, and every few days, they’d bring out a new bale of hay and cart out the soiled hay to be used as fertilizer. Even housing horses during business hours took extra work. That was the life of the Amish—putting their backs into the labor and their hearts into Gott.
Next door to their carpentry shop was Quilts and Such, the fabric shop, and after unhitching the horses and settling them with their oats in the stable, Thomas took Rue’s hand and they all walked together to the front door. He felt the curious eyes of Amish and English alike sweeping over him. Benjamin Yoder stared in unveiled shock from his seat on his buggy, and his wife, Waneta, leaned forward to get a better look past her husband’s chest. Yah, he’d have explaining to do.
Thomas pulled open the door to Redemption Carpentry first. He let Patience and Rue go in ahead of him, out of sight from the passersby on the street. He heaved a sigh of relief as the door shut behind him, the soft tinkle of a bell pealing overhead.
“It’s you,” Amos said, poking his head out of the workshop. They had a small display room for a few finished products, giving customers an idea of the types of furniture they could order. There were some chests of drawers, sections of headboards, wood and stain samples, and a display shelf of ornately carved jewelry boxes.
“Oh...” Rue sighed, immediately drawn to the boxes. “They’re so pretty...”
“Yah, but why don’t you come see where the real work happens?” Thomas said, and he led the way into the back where Noah was working on a bedpost on a gas-powered lathe.
Thomas let them look around. Rue seemed most interested in the curls of wood shavings on the floor, and she collected a few in her hands.
“You have a good business here,” Patience said.
“Yah. It’s doing quite well,” Thomas said, and while he wouldn’t brag, they were doing more than well. The Englishers loved their work, and with the three of them meeting orders on time every time, they had a reputation for being reliable, as well.
“This is where your daet works,” Patience said, bending down next to Rue. “He makes all these beautiful things.”
“Could I have a jewelry box?” Rue asked, standing up and fixing Thomas with a hopeful look.
“Those are for the Englisher ladies,” he said.
“But I’m an Englisher lady!” Rue insisted.
“No, you’re an Amish girl,” he said. “And I will get you something that you’ll love. You’ll see.”
He glanced at Patience, and she shrugged faintly. There would be plenty of this in the coming weeks and months, he was sure. His daughter wanted an English life—it was what she was born to. He was the one asking her to change everything she’d been raised to be—and for what? For him, a father she hardly knew.
Thomas waved to Noah and Amos, then held the door for Patience and Rue to leave the workshop, heading out into the summer warmth once more. As they left the shop, Rue’s gaze lingered on their carved boxes. Maybe bringing her here hadn’t been the best idea just yet, but he felt like there were pitfalls anywhere they went.
Next door was the fabric shop, and they ducked inside.
“Good morning!”
It was Lovina Glick, the owner of this shop. Thomas often helped her with mucking out the tempor
ary stalls for her draft horses when she was forced to drive her own buggy into town for the day. Normally, her teenaged son drove her and picked her up again in the evening.
Lovina’s gaze landed on Rue, and she looked up at Thomas and Patience in surprise.
“Who is this?” she asked in German.
“This is...” Thomas swallowed. “My daughter.”
“Your—” Lovina’s gaze whipped over to Patience, and Thomas could see that he’d have to explain right quick.
“My daughter is from my Rumspringa,” he said in German, his voice low. “And this here is Patience Flaud—our new schoolteacher. She’s completely unrelated.”
“Ah...” Lovina came out from behind the counter and nodded slowly. Her gaze flickered up to Thomas’s face, and he could see the disappointment there. She’d been a good friend of his mamm’s back in the day, and Lovina had stepped up to be a sort of mother figure to them in their own mother’s absence. “I don’t think I have a right to ask more than that, Thomas. Not now that you’re grown.” She paused, and again he saw a flood of disappointment in her eyes. “So what do you need, then?”
Her sudden distance stung.
“We need to buy fabric enough to dress her,” Thomas said.
“And you’ll burn that, I suppose.” Lovina’s mouth turned down as she gestured to Rue’s sundress. “But yes, I understand. She needs to be dressed properly.”
Thomas cleared his throat. “We need enough fabric to make—how many dresses?” He turned to Patience.
“Three to start,” Patience said. “She’ll need more later, of course. But those will need to be warmer for winter.”
“Do you want three different colors?” Lovina asked. “Or all the same for now? It might be good for character to keep them the same—take away the temptation to glory in oneself. It’s best to quash that early. I’ve raised four daughters of my own, mind.”
That was aimed at Patience.
“All good girls, I’m sure,” Patience said with a smile. “I’m glad you can help me to sort this out, then.”
Lovina’s gaze moved down to Rue once more, and she cocked her head to one side, chewing the side of her cheek. Thomas knew that look from Lovina—that was her look when she was planning on fixing something, and Rue was the problem to be fixed.
Rue squirmed under that penetrating gaze and squeezed Thomas’s hand a little bit tighter.
“You’ll need a pattern, I take it?” Lovina turned to Patience, Thomas officially out of the conversation as they moved into more technical requirements.
“Yes, a pattern, thread...” Patience moved away with Lovina. “I brought my own needles, and I have some extra hook clasps, but we might need an extra package of those anyway...”
“You’re our new teacher, then?” Lovina’s voice this time, and Thomas sighed. He was glad Patience was here to take over this womanly task. He wouldn’t have known where to start, and Lovina wouldn’t have made it easy on him, either. In fact, if they were alone, she might have demanded a few explanations. She’d been more like an aunt in his teens, and she’d take his moral failing personally.
“I like that one...” Rue moved over to a bolt of fabric with a floral pattern, and she smiled up at him shyly.
“No, Rue,” Thomas said. “That’s fancy.”
She didn’t know what that meant yet, and he didn’t have the energy to try to explain it to her in a way she’d understand. So he walked with her over to the fabric in solid colors—blue, green, pink, purple. All sober and muted. Rue’s gaze kept moving back to the brighter patterns.
“Patience will choose for us,” Thomas said.
“Will it be a princess dress?” Rue asked, her eyes brightening.
“No. It is an Amish dress.”
“I can be an Amish princess.” She beamed up at him, and he simply stared at her, because he had no answers. The Amish didn’t have princesses, and he couldn’t give her something she’d like better. That was the hard part. He was offering her a life of humble work, of prudence and piety. How could that compare to her fantasies?
The bell tinkled again over the front door, and Thomas looked up to see two more Amish women come inside with two little girls. He knew the women by sight—one was a school friend’s older sister. The other was a distant relative of the bishop who had moved to their community when she got married. One of the little girls looked about the same age as Rue, and the girls moved in the direction of the Amish-approved fabrics. The women nodded a friendly hello to him.
The little girls wandered ahead of the women, fingers lingering on the fabrics as they passed them. The smallest girl reached them first, and she startled when she saw Rue, concealed behind some tall bolts of fabric.
“Hi,” Rue whispered.
The little girl frowned, and then started to smile when her older sister plucked at her sleeve.
“Stop,” her sister remonstrated in German, and tugged her in the other direction. Both girls then turned their backs and headed back toward the women.
“I want to play with her,” Rue said, loudly enough to be heard, and it was then that the women took notice. They looked at Rue, up at Thomas, and then steered their girls away from her.
“Englisher child...” he heard one whisper.
“With Thomas Wiebe, though? Who is she?” Their whispers carried, and Thomas felt his stomach clench in anger.
“You know about his mother...” the other woman replied.
And then he couldn’t hear anymore, but they cast a couple of sidelong looks in his direction. They wouldn’t ask him directly—they didn’t know him well enough for that. They’d simply ask anyone else who might know him better if they knew who that Englisher child was.
The Englishers were perfectly acceptable as tourists or as customers, but not as playmates for their children. Thomas knew that full well—part of the reason why Rue desperately needed plain clothing. When he was a boy, he’d learned the same lesson—don’t chat with them, don’t do anything more than give a quick answer to a question if forced, and never form friendships with other Englisher children. They wouldn’t understand the Amish way, and they’d do what Englishers always did—try to find some common ground with which to lure you away from the narrow path.
Englishers were necessary for an income, but dangerous to their way of life. It was a delicate line to walk, and Amish children learned it early.
“Daddy?” Rue asked, her voice carrying. “Daddy?”
Thomas looked down at her, trying not to let his own tension show, but he wasn’t sure he managed it. He would not let his daughter think that he was embarrassed of her.
“Yes, Rue?” he murmured.
“I like the one with flowers.”
“We don’t have dresses with flowers, Rue,” he reminded her. “We’re Amish.”
And when Thomas looked up, he saw the direct stares of both women—aghast and suddenly understanding perfectly. They quietly herded the girls out of the store in front of them, and the bell tinkled as they left.
Judgment felt heaviest when it was deserved.
* * *
Thomas came up beside Patience, and she could feel the anger radiating off him. He placed a protective hand on Rue’s head, but when she met his gaze, his eyes glittered, and his jaw was clenched. She caught her breath. Had she done something? She’d been focused on choosing cloth—
“It’s not you,” he murmured, as if reading her mind. “We need to get back. Have you finished choosing things?”
“Yah,” she said. “This will do.”
She’d chosen a blue color of fabric that would bring out Rue’s beautiful eyes, and a soft pink, because she thought that Rue would like it.
“Good.” He turned to Lovina and briskly pulled a wallet from his pocket. “How much?”
Patience waited as Thomas paid the bill, pocketed his wallet once
more and picked up the bag.
“We’ll see you,” Lovina said with a smile.
“Yah.” Thomas scooped up his daughter’s hand. “Let’s go now.”
“Wait.” Lovina picked up a basket of hard candies and lowered it down to Rue’s level. “Because you were so good, Rue. You can have two.”
Rue’s eyes lit up and she took a moment to choose her two candies. Patience looked over at Thomas, searching for a hint of what the trouble was, and the bell over the door tinkled again, another group of Amish shoppers coming inside.
“Thank you, Lovina,” Thomas said tightly as Rue picked up her second candy. “Let’s go.”
Thomas didn’t look up as they made their way to the door, but Patience nodded at the women. This would be her community, too, after all, and soon she’d get to know many of these women in kitchens and at hymn sings.
Thomas headed out the door, and Patience had to quicken her pace to catch up. The door swung shut behind them and the warm August air enveloped them once more.
“I was wrong to take Rue to town like this. She looks—” He sighed and changed to German. “She draws attention.”
“People will look later, too,” Patience pointed out, following his lead in speaking in the language the child wouldn’t understand. “They’ll get used to seeing her, though.”
“It’s not just the staring.” Thomas led the way around the building toward the buggy parking in the rear. “They pulled their girls away from her.”
As they would... But Patience’s heart gave a squeeze. Yes, that would sting. Had Rue noticed? She looked down to see Rue watching them in mild confusion. She gave Rue a reassuring smile.
“It was my fault,” Thomas said. “I shouldn’t have put her in the middle of that kind of scrutiny. We’ll go back home and...and...”
“And not be seen,” Patience finished for him.
Thomas didn’t answer, but he cast her one forlorn look. She’d been right—that was his hope. He just wanted to get her out of the public eye. They approached the buggy, still hitched, and Thomas took the feed bags off the horses.
The Nanny's Amish Family (Redemption's Amish Legacies Book 1) Page 4