by Jo Ann Brown
But farming was in his blood. So was helping take care of family. Malachi was hoping the farm and the furniture business would be successful enough that his other brother could join them. He knew Samuel and Gideon felt the same way. They might complain out loud, but they were familiar with hard work and didn’t hesitate to tackle it. They’d eventually find their own ways. Thanks to the excellent management of a badger with surprisingly delicate feet, they had time to think about it. They were also in a position to have their next youngest brother, Wyatt, join them when their father was ready to let him go.
Malachi squinted into the distance, thinking about being ready. Several of his friends back in Ohio had already married. Beyond kissing girls, Malachi hadn’t been tempted yet. He’d been too busy trying to establish himself at work, helping his parents watch out for his younger siblings and saving money to make a purchase such as the business and the farm. But now, he felt he was ready. For what, he wasn’t quite sure. But as he rose from the hay bale and reached out to pull the Z-braced wooden door closed, he thought it might have something to do with an auburn-haired woman who didn’t hesitate to run after cattle.
Chapter Ten
“Ach, you always make something with so many pieces.” Benjamin was helping Ruth disassemble the petite rolltop desk. To confirm quality staining, they took the furniture apart to ensure the sprayed stain and sealant got into all the corners and small areas of the piece. After the staining and sealing processes, he’d help her wipe the sprayed pieces with a soft cloth to create a uniform appearance.
They’d partnered on this frequently over the years. Their actions were automatic, leaving time for easy conversation.
“Hannah said at church that you have a puppy from their dog’s recent litter.”
Ruth smiled at the thought of Rascal. The joy he’d brought to her life with his company and antics had been sorely missed. “Oh, yes. I’m struggling, though. There are things he could easily learn, if I just knew how to train him. And sometimes, when he does something and I know I should scold and make him behave, all I want to do is laugh.”
Benjamin smiled in return as he unbolted a leg. “I know what you mean. We had a shepherd puppy one time. Smoky was his name. Smart as a whip. But with four young boys to see to his training...” He shook his head. “You can imagine how it went.”
His smile extended further over his lean, tanned face until it was a face-splitting grin. “One time, my brieder and I were busy in the hog pen. I think we were sorting. The puppy tried to get in and help but just kept getting in the way, so we’d tell him to go. He did for a while. But he came back. With what he was apparently hoping was a gift.” Benjamin snickered at the memory. Ruth poked him in the shoulder with a slat from the rolltop to get on with the story.
“Mamm had been hanging up the laundry on the other side of the house. While she was hanging up some sheets...” He started chuckling again. Grinning at his contagious amusement, Ruth poked him anew, highly curious by now.
“The puppy got into the laundry basket and pulled out some of her...” Benjamin blushed and waved his hand vaguely up and down in front of Ruth’s torso. Ruth’s eyes widened, not at Benjamin’s gesture, but at the thought of a puppy running around the yard with Mrs. Raber’s undergarments in his mouth.
“The puppy made it to the hog pen and before we could stop him, he’d crawled through the fence and started chasing the hogs with it. Waved it like a white flag, only he wasn’t surrendering. Not his new prize anyway. And it didn’t stay white for long. He wasn’t very big or agile yet, and some hogs got by him, trampling on his prize in the process. Pretty soon it got mired in the mud, and with four boys and a puppy chasing hogs around a messy pen, it got lost.” Benjamin attempted to get control of his mirth, only succeeding for a moment. “Daed found it in the hog pen three days later and offered it to Mamm. For some reason, she wouldn’t wear it again. The puppy stayed chained up in the backyard on washday ever since.” He burst out laughing at the memory.
Ruth started giggling and couldn’t stop. It felt so good. Her eyes watered. She wrapped one arm over her stomach and covered her mouth with the other, trying to muffle her laughter.
Her merriment drew to an abrupt halt when she heard an exclamation from across the room where Malachi was working with a jigsaw. Turning, she watched him jerk a bloodied hand close to his chest.
* * *
It was good to be able to work on a few projects, Malachi reflected as he guided the jigsaw around a curve in the design. It was Thursday and the store was closed, but with so much business, his crew still toiled in the workshop. He was taking a welcome break from the office. The more involved he got in other parts of the business, the less time he spent actually making furniture. He missed it. Finishing the board length, he lifted it to examine the cut. Blowing off the sawdust, he reassured himself that he still had the knack.
As he eyed down the line of the walnut wood, he couldn’t help noticing two of his employees interacting beyond it. He could tell from their faces and postures they were deep in conversation, apparently a particularly enjoyable one. He’d seen a lot of expressions flit across the badger’s animated face, but so far, not one of total delight. At least not in his vicinity. It did something to her delicate features. Which did something to Malachi’s pulse.
Narrowing his eyes on the couple, he set down the cut piece of walnut and picked up the next. They were obviously very comfortable with each other, her and Benjamin. Malachi checked the wood for the design he’d be cutting and inspected it for any knots or imperfections that would affect the cutting process. He grunted. Comfortable and the badger were not words he’d normally use together. Malachi started the jigsaw over the design, eyes down, but ears perked in the direction of his employees.
He was halfway through cutting the design when he heard a sound he couldn’t identify. Malachi glanced up. The next second revealed what a terrible decision that was. He jerked his hand away from the saw. Then he identified the sound. It was Ruth. Laughing. Eyes brimming with mirth. Focused on another man. Malachi didn’t have to think long at all to determine, for some reason, that he didn’t like it. The focus. Not the merriment. The merriment was mesmerizing.
The pain in his hand intruded. Throbbed for attention, in fact. It was bloody. Malachi stopped and abandoned the jigsaw. Grabbing the bleeding hand with his right, he pulled it to his chest.
Closing his eyes, he tried to concentrate on how many fingers he gripped in his hand. Were there enough? He could feel the accelerated beat of his heart through the digits in his tight clasp. Sliding his right thumb to the end, he counted the tips. One, two, three and a very sore—but still there—four. Malachi blew out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.
In two quick strides, he reached a stack of absorbent wipes they kept on hand for cleaning up stain and topcoat. Malachi snagged a few from the stack without letting go of his hand. Before he could loosen his fingers to apply them, small, cool and capable hands gently cupped his from underneath.
“Let me see,” Ruth murmured. The demand was gentle but urgent.
Malachi loosened his grip. Immediately blood oozed from the end of his left index finger. Ruth quickly covered it with the wipes and reapplied pressure with her own fingers.
“Can you walk with me?”
“Ja.” Sure he could. He could walk by himself. But he didn’t want her to move from where she was, tucked almost against his chest, the back of her kapp almost brushing his chin. Malachi looked over the top of the kapp to see the men in the workshop converging on him if they weren’t already hovering nearby. All eyes were concerned, particularly his brothers’.
“I’m fine. Just a little nick. Been doing too much paperwork and not enough woodwork.”
There were a few beats of silence before Samuel spoke. “You’d better keep all your fingers so you can grip a pencil. Because none of us want to do the bookkeeping, either.” The
tone was casual. The speaker’s eyes, not so much. Malachi gave an infinitesimal nod of appreciation to Samuel as the tension began to ease from the shoulders of the surrounding men with the resulting chuckles.
“I think he’s just trying to get out of work,” Gideon quipped, eyes wide with concern.
“Ach, that’s more your line, little bruder.”
“I learn from the best, ja?”
“Well. I suppose that is me, then.” Malachi smiled over gritted teeth. His finger was throbbing. There was more laughter, then the men began to drift back to their own workstations. Malachi looked at his brothers. With uncharacteristic concern still in their eyes and characteristic shrugs, they returned to their work, as well.
He matched his steps to Ruth’s as she eased him over to the sink and the cabinet above it that housed the first-aid kit.
She looked back over her shoulder to him, her expression apologetic. “It needs to be washed out in case there’s any sawdust in it and then have antibiotic ointment applied.”
Malachi nodded. He heard the words, but they could have been a chorus from the Ausbund for all he understood. Although he certainly wasn’t thinking of the Amish hymnal. He was thinking about how beautiful she was.
Ruth turned back around and he was again facing the stiff muslin of her kapp. Malachi could see over the top of her head as she pulled down, one-handed, the first-aid kit, opened the metal container and removed the materials needed. She turned on the faucet and checked the temperature of the water. Carefully pulling the now-bloody wipe from his hand, she guided the hand under the water and quickly, carefully and efficiently washed it out. She then gently dabbed it dry with clean wipes before pressing a gauze pad against the wound.
Malachi winced a few times at the resulting sting of pain. He glanced around the workshop. Only a few brief looks were cast their way, and those came from his brothers. Malachi’s lips quirked in another wince and stayed in a self-mocking half smile. Well, he now had Ruth’s attention focused on him. Not intentionally, and not in a manner he’d have preferred. And she wasn’t laughing. Malachi recalled the musical sound. Good thing he hadn’t been working with the band saw or the table saw. He’d probably have cut off his finger, if not his whole hand.
Looking down at the slight figure before him, Malachi was glad her kapp didn’t fully cover her ear. He could see most of the dainty shell that peeked out from its edges. There were so many delicate edges on the fierce little badger. She was like the desk she was finishing. Beautifully wrought, but sturdy and businesslike. And time-consuming to properly appreciate.
Progress, particularly Malachi’s, toward a satisfactory goal was measured in slow steps. He breathed in the scent of her hair that wafted through the kapp. Absorbing the warm clasp of her petite hand around his larger, rougher one, Malachi wondered what it would be like to be the focus of her joyful attention.
He speculated on the steps it would take to make that happen.
* * *
Ruth clamped the gauze against his finger, holding it in place while she waited and hoped the cut would soon clot. Looking down at the strong, tanned hand clasped in her smaller one, Ruth was startled to feel the hair follicles rise on her forearm. Her eyes swiveled from the goose bumps back to the clasped hands. It looked like they were holding hands.
A quick look while washing the wound had shown that, although currently bleeding steadily, the cut wasn’t that long or deep. It shouldn’t need stitches. She hoped. Ruth shuddered at the thought of what could have happened. Machines that cut and shaped wood could easily cut a man’s hand. Malachi didn’t seem the type not to pay close attention to what he was doing. She studied the calloused hand in hers. There weren’t any white scars or healed abrasions that would’ve indicated previous accidents. That made sense with how methodical and careful he normally was. What happened today to affect his concentration?
She checked the gauze. Still bleeding. Sliding the finger of her other hand over his wrist, Ruth checked his heartbeat. Steady. Just like Malachi. She curled the wayward fingers back into her palm before they could stroke over the wrist with its light blond hairs. What was the matter with her? It was like she was the one light-headed from blood loss.
To distract herself, Ruth wondered if any blood had gotten on the project he was working on. If so, the stain should cover it. Walnut didn’t come cheap. Of course, it came at a much lower cost than missing digits. Most of the blood covering his hand had come off when she irrigated the cut, but some red smudges were still visible. Ruth shuddered again, thinking of the missing fingers on some woodworkers she knew. He was lucky. He should have been paying attention.
“What were you thinking?” She didn’t turn her head. Malachi was standing at her shoulder. Even with the renewed sounds of machinery starting up again after the scare, he’d be able to hear her.
There was a pause before he whispered, “I must not have been.”
Ruth had never heard him whisper before. The surprising intimacy of his soft voice and the gentle wash of his breath by her ear raised gooseflesh on the back of her neck. Blinking her eyes at the sensation, she squeezed her fingers around his, only realizing her response when he flinched.
“Sorry.” She quickly loosened her grip.
“’S all right,” he murmured.
Ruth could feel the movement of his broad and steady chest with the brief words. She realized that if she closed her eyes, she could pretend that not just one, but both of his arms were around her again. And that his hand was entwined with hers not due to necessity but desire for her companionship. With Malachi, it could always be all right.
Ruth blinked her eyes open and the thought evaporated, leaving a feeling of longing as residue. Because she wasn’t with Malachi. And never would be. She’d planned a different direction for her life, and marrying an Amish man wasn’t part of it.
* * *
No, Malachi admitted, he hadn’t been thinking, and he must not be thinking now. Because he was definitely feeling. And smelling. And seeing. Malachi tried to breathe shallowly, when all he wanted to do was take a deep breath to inhale the clean scent of what must be shampoo, as Amish women didn’t wear perfume.
He felt the length of her arm against his, where they brushed from shoulders, along forearms, to meet at clasped hands. From his angle at her shoulder, he could see the sawdust sprinkled over the back of her delicate neck under her kapp, much like powdered sugar sprinkled over the top of a cake. No, he wasn’t thinking when he blew a gentle breath over the surface, dislodging the golden particles until they floated in the air. The fragile strings of her kapp danced in the light breeze he created.
She jumped. Malachi winced, as she’d taken his hand with her on the ride.
“What are you doing?”
“You had sawdust on the back of your neck.”
She huffed. “I probably always have sawdust on the back of my neck. Or stain on my fingers. At least it’s better than blood.” Her grip gentled as she checked the bandage again. Malachi was surprisingly content to let the cut continue bleeding. They’d barely studied any anatomy prior to finishing eighth grade years ago in Ohio, but from what he remembered, there was a good bit of blood in his body. He wouldn’t mind a little more dripping out if it meant Ruth would keep holding his hand.
And it was definitely keeping her out of conversation with Benjamin. Malachi slanted a glance over to where the dark-haired man worked. Unlike Malachi, his attention was firmly focused on his work. Concentration was obvious on the clean-shaven face as he continued to disassemble the desk.
Apparently the flow had reduced to a trickle, as Ruth efficiently whisked off the bloody piece of gauze and replaced it with a clean pad. More gauze was wrapped around it to keep it tightly in place. In the process, the remaining fingers of his left hand were bound together. Malachi sighed as she slowly let go of his hand.
“Keep that on at least overnight. T
omorrow you might be able to get by with a butterfly bandage, topped by a large Band-Aid to keep it clean. I don’t think you need to be in the workshop for the rest of the afternoon,” she advised primly. “You seem to have enough issues working safely with two hands. We might have to call the Englisch ambulance if you try it with just one.”
“Ach, I suppose you’re right. I’ve got some work I need to look at in the office.” It was his least favorite part of the business, the office work. Malachi was as comfortable as a duck on a pond in the workshop, with the equipment and managing the employees. But the office had been Solomon King’s domain and Malachi had rarely ventured there. The office had been just off the store area, as this one was. The store had been Leah’s territory. Malachi had avoided those areas as much as possible.
Ruth packed up the first-aid kit. Placing it back on the shelf, she glanced over at him. “Do you need some help?”
Malachi’s heart thumped a little faster. Good thing the cut had clotted. “Probably. I’m trying to figure out your accounting system.”
She scoffed. “It’s easy. Didn’t you look at the numbers before you bought the business?”
“Ja. But going over the profit and loss statements were easier than trying to read your chicken scratching.”
“Ha. I’d imagine my penmanship is much better than what you’ve probably scribbled illegibly since then. I’d better go check to make sure it’s something the accountant can read when she does the taxes.” She marched toward the door between the workshop and store.
Malachi ambled slowly behind her. Suddenly, tackling office work didn’t seem so irksome this afternoon.
Chapter Eleven
The following Wednesday afternoon, Ruth had half finished harnessing Bess before she noted the mare was grouchier than normal. Bess laid her ears back when Ruth buckled the girth. She rounded her back under the leather when Ruth swung her around in front of the buggy shafts.