“The quilts look at home here,” he said, turning his head to take in the sight of one draped casually over the back of a rocker, another smoothed to cover a bedstead. Quilt racks held several crib- or wall-hanging-size ones.
“Ja, they look fine, ain’t so?” Daad said from just behind him.
Julia smiled at them, although not the smile that lit her entire face and warmed Luke’s heart. “Denke. And I’ll have you know, I’ve already sold a crib quilt. A woman was walking past, stopped dead on the sidewalk to look at it through the window, then hurried in.”
Eli chuckled. “I hope she wasn’t truly dead. Perhaps she would be wrapped in the quilt for the funeral.”
Julia blinked at him. “Why—? Oh. That’s just a saying. I mean, stopping dead.”
Luke’s father patted her arm and said in Deitsh, “Ja, I know. Ach, having fun with you, I am.”
“That’s certain sure,” she shot back, also in his language.
Eli beamed. “My daughter is teaching you, ja?”
“Ja, and I listen.”
More than any of them had realized, Luke couldn’t help thinking. For the first time, he speculated on why she was so determined to learn to speak his native language. Many people in the area knew common phrases, but unless they’d grown up having a close friendship with an Amish boy or girl, not so common, they were hardly fluent. Determined was a good description of Julia, he decided. For whatever reason, she had set the goal of becoming fluent in Deitsh, and was progressing with surprising speed. He wondered if she’d confided her motivation to his sister—and whether Miriam would tell him if he asked.
They locked the door, turned the sign to Closed, and all walked out the back together. Under his father’s eye, Luke pretended to pay no mind to her departure. During the trip, he and Daad did discuss this new change, with Luke pointing out that the quilt shop might benefit financially more than they did, but not disputing that the sale of an occasional extra rocking chair would be worthwhile.
“We may be surprised,” Eli commented. “Having Julia putting so much more on the website has brought more sales, and this will bring different people into our store. Maybe Englisch visitors who wouldn’t have thought of buying furniture while they travel, but who will like what they see and discover that we can ship to their door.”
Luke inclined his head. It was another ten minutes down the road before he said, “We could let Julia sell her quilts in our store, too, if it’s clear that they are not Amish made.”
His daad gave that some thought before nodding. “Ja, I think we could do that. It seems fair, ain’t so?”
Luke didn’t remark further.
He had already decided not to stay at his parents’ house for dinner tonight, but he tied up Charlie so he could go in with his father. In the kitchen, Luke greeted his mamm, then looked around.
“Did Abby have a good day? Where is she?”
He could tell from her expression that good was too positive a word.
“Not afraid today, she wasn’t,” Mamm said, “but quiet. She keeps to herself.” She nodded toward the front of the house. “She’s in the living room.”
Hiding his dismay, he kissed her cheek. “Denke, Mamm.”
A tuneless humming caught his attention as he approached the living room. Was this what the foster mother had described as singing? Thrilled to hear Abby’s voice, he was still disappointed at the lack of words.
He paused in the doorway, watching her.
Abby sat cross-legged on the sofa, feet bare, still wearing the saggy pink leggings and threadbare unicorn shirt she’d chosen that morning, as she did whenever it reappeared in her drawer. She’d permitted him to do two pigtails, lopsided because of his inexperience. Now, wisps of blond hair straggled out of the braids. Luke knew without asking that Mamm would have tried to convince Abby to change into one of the dresses she’d made for this new kinskind, but to no avail.
Abby held two of the faceless cloth dolls the Amish made for their children, one in each hand. If he had to guess, they were dancing. Or maybe two boxers warming up, he thought wryly.
The moment she lifted her head and saw him, she quit humming. She did slide off the sofa and come to him as he crouched to greet her. She held up the dolls.
“Your grossmammi gave you these? Do you like them?”
One wore a lilac dress, the other green. White aprons and white kapps seemed to be sewed on, or Abby would have figured out how to get them off.
Not answering in any recognizable way, she let the dolls drop as if she’d lost interest, and leaned against him. With a tight feeling in his chest, Luke closed his eyes and gave thanks to the Lord for her increasing trust.
Amusement threaded through his other emotions. For a traumatized child, this new daughter of his was amazingly stubborn, willful. The Deitsh word agasinish suited her perfectly.
“I missed you today,” he murmured against the top of her head, only then realizing how true that was. He’d missed being able to wander out front and see what his daughter was up to, her impish smile, and hear Julia’s laughter. He missed eating lunch with them. Much as he loved his father, having lunch in the workshop where his daad might want to talk hadn’t held any appeal, and he couldn’t join Julia. It did occur to him that today he could have used the excuse of talking to her about her clever idea, but an excuse was what it would have been.
No, spending unnecessary time with her wasn’t a good idea. He didn’t need his father to chide him.
And no, there’d been nothing wrong with the food he’d packed from Miriam’s flurry of cooking, but it seemed tasteless eaten while he baked in the sun leaning against the paddock fence out back. Hiding out. Charlie seemed pleased to keep him company and share a few bites, but it wasn’t the same.
Yes, he missed spending time with Julia and Abby.
“Shall we go home, little one?” he asked, and Abby tugged away to search his eyes, although what she looked for he didn’t know. She didn’t protest their departure or seem to notice that her new grandmother was sad. He regretted this child’s resistance to the loving mother who’d raised him, but didn’t know what he could do differently.
And he could see all too clearly that Abby wasn’t ready to welcome a new mamm were he to marry in the near future. Waiting seemed sensible. Luke told himself that, in her own way, Abby would let him know when she was ready.
It wasn’t as if he felt any urgency, given that he had yet to meet a suitable woman he could imagine waking to every morning for the rest of his life.
Chapter Fourteen
JULIA LIFTED HER head at the sound of the bell, surprised to see an older Amishman walking in. His iron-gray, somewhat stringy beard reached the middle of his chest. He seemed an unlikely customer, although she had sold quilt racks to a couple of Amishwomen and, once, a handsome wood chest to a young man just growing a beard. He had blushed during the entire transaction.
She smiled and came around the end of the counter. “May I help you?”
He studied her with unexpected care. “You must be Julia?”
“Yes.”
“You do gut work, so I’m told.”
“I do my best. Thank you. Denke.”
He nodded. “I am here to speak to Eli and Luke.”
“They’re both in the workshop, this way—” She felt her cheeks color. “You must know that.”
“Ja.” His smile was sweet. “But you were being helpful.” With a nod at her, he rapped on the door and entered the workroom.
The door didn’t quite close behind him, the gap only a few inches, but a temptation to her. If she walked just a little closer . . .
Who he was and what they were saying were none of her business. And besides, what if one of the men came out unexpectedly and caught her eavesdropping?
She wrinkled her nose. So much for personal integrity. Only the risk of be
ing humiliated kept her from inexcusable nosiness.
Business had so far been slow today, so this would be a good chance to take some new photographs of the display room now that the furniture was accented by colorful quilts. They would liven up the website, which had been in the doldrums when she arrived.
Julia didn’t quite understand why. If Luke had worked in a computer field before returning to his faith, why hadn’t he taken over jobs like the website? He’d no doubt be faster and more efficient than she was. She was lucky, because whoever had set up the site in the first place had planned for changes to be made with an ease that was almost insulting.
As if that person had envisioned her ineptitude.
She surprised herself with a smile. No, that person had envisioned Eli fumbling to upload a photograph or change the posted hours. Yes, she fit in perfectly here at Bowman & Son’s Handcrafted Furniture—in all but one way. And that was a big one. The Berlin Wall, choked with twisted barbed wire and impregnated with mines.
No, it was wrong to use such a violent image to define the separation the Amish maintained from the modern world around them. They wouldn’t wish anyone to be hurt trying to draw too close. Better to picture a crevasse too deep to jump from her side, although they did occasionally make the leap from their side.
As Luke had done. But for those like him, a bridge existed, allowing a return trip. Julia wondered if it ever happened that outsiders sought to join the Amish. She didn’t suppose it was common, given how large the sacrifices the Amish made to live as they believed God asked them.
Her forehead wrinkled as she stood unmoving.
Were the lifestyle choices made by the Amish really sacrifices? Or did they only choose to concentrate on the things in life that truly mattered? It was true the women rarely had careers, but they had the joy of caring for the people they loved most. Many did essentially have part-time jobs as well, baking goods for sale or selling quilts or other crafts. And women like Ruth and Miriam weren’t discouraged from working, either. Julia had been told that, more unusually, an Amishwoman in a settlement near Jamestown was much admired for her skill in training buggy horses.
Shaking off useless thoughts, Julia fetched the digital camera and began snapping pictures, trying for angles that would captivate the eye. She had crouched to capture the sheen on the spindles of a rocking chair, when voices drifted through the open door to her.
She’d moved farther to the back of the store than she’d intended.
The men were speaking in Deitsh, of course, but she made out enough to get a sinking sensation in her stomach. Something arig—bad—had happened at a greitsweg. She knew that word, but had to grope for the meaning. Crossroad, that was it. A waegli was involved, a buggy. And if she was understanding right, the horse had been killed and maybe a person, too? They must all pray for Sol.
The voices became louder and she realized the visitor was emerging, accompanied by at least one of the men. Eli, who was saying that, ja, they would help for certain sure.
She stood, the camera in her hand. Hesitating to use her clumsy Deitsh with a stranger, she said in English, but timidly, “Is something wrong?”
Both men looked at her in surprise. No, all three men, because Luke had followed the others through the doorway, too.
He was the one to say, “Yes, an Englisch teenager with friends in his car hit a buggy this morning.” Of course, he sounded grim. “An older boy was killed, the younger boy was injured but will be okay, and their father is in bad shape. Not conscious yet, and has so many broken bones he’ll probably be in the hospital and then rehab for months, at least, before he can walk again.” Pause. “A girl in the car wasn’t wearing a seat belt and is in critical condition, too.”
They would all pray for her as they would for their brethren, she knew. And that was one of the things she most admired about them.
Meeting the older man’s eyes, she said, “I’m so sorry. If . . . if there’s anything I can do . . . Give a ride to anyone, or help if you’ll be doing a fundraiser . . .” She stumbled to a stop and looked to Luke for help. “Was this anyone I’ve met?”
“I don’t think—” He visibly changed his mind. “The man’s name is Sol Graber. His wife Lydia quilts, I know. She might have been at that quilt frolic, or you could know her from the shop.”
A picture formed in her mind, the woman short and plump, and encouraging to the newer quilters.
“I have met her. The boy who died—?”
“Was her oldest, yes.”
Julia closed her eyes. “I can’t imagine.”
“Evenings, it would be a help if you could drive Lydia to the hospital or home sometimes. She has two younger children who will need her, too.”
“After work, I don’t do anything important. I can be available anytime.”
His keen blue eyes softened. The man who had brought the horrible news studied her quizzically and said, “That is good of you. I will give your name and phone number to the family.”
Eli stepped forward. “Did you meet Bishop Amos Troyer, Julia? He owns Troyer Bulk Foods.”
“Oh, I’ve been in there!” She smiled weakly. “I’m glad to meet you, even at such a dreadful time.”
“What happened, it is Gotte’s wille,” he told her gravely. “Always hard to understand, but we must believe Gott has a reason.”
She took an involuntary step back, but swallowed and nodded even though she thought, Hard to understand? That was the understatement of the year. The decade, in her case. What possible purpose would God have had in allowing the vicious attack on her? She didn’t believe she’d become a better person, only one who lived in fear. The man who’d assaulted her hadn’t been caught because of her.
How many times had she reminded herself of Romans 12:19?
Beloved, do not avenge yourselves, but rather give place to wrath; for it is written, “Vengeance is Mine, I will repay,” says the Lord.
Nick believed no such thing, she knew. He yearned to take vengeance into his own hands. Either way, she took no comfort; she wanted that monster stopped so he couldn’t hurt other women.
She wanted to find some sort of silver lining to the painful dark event that had forever divided her life into a before and an after, yet she’d never achieved even that small comfort.
* * *
* * *
WITH DAYLIGHT STILL lasting well into the evening, Luke decided on Saturday to visit Sol in the hospital. Sol had regained consciousness on Thursday, Luke had heard. They’d been more casual friends than close; Sol—short for Solomon, of course—had been a placid boy who never questioned the rules. He’d apparently grown into an equally easygoing man who would never have dreamed of leaving the Amish life or questioning any part of the Ordnung, the unspoken rules that governed the lives of all Amish. Still, as children they’d gone to school together, and played baseball together during breaks and after the worship service. His father, Abram, was a close friend of Luke’s father’s.
Luke brought Abby along both because he wanted to include her in community events and because in her restrained way she still clung to him. She wouldn’t want to be left for additional hours at her grandparents’ house, however kind Grossmammi and Grossdaadi were to her. He had no intention of taking her into Sol’s room, however; he didn’t know what she’d seen or experienced when her mother died, but it had to have been bad. The waiting room would be full of Amish, because they always gathered in support of any members of their church who might be in need. Any of them would be happy to keep an eye on Abby for a few minutes.
He left Charlie still hitched to the buggy at the end of a row of other buggies and patiently waiting horses, then entered the hospital through a rear entrance, holding Abby’s small hand.
Following directions, he took an elevator up two floors and went down a hall until he saw a waiting room filled with Amishmen and -women. If asked, he c
ouldn’t have named one of them. All he saw was the one Englischer seated among them: Julia. He should have anticipated this; when she’d offered to drive Sol’s wife back and forth as needed, she had meant it. Julia was a woman who would keep promises, he knew.
She still wore her working attire of a drab skirt and white shirt, but the deep fire of her auburn hair stood out like a beacon.
Luke bent to pick up Abby, but the little girl stiffened, her eyes fixed ahead. Wrenching her hand from his, she cried, “Julia!” and raced toward her before he could do anything to stop her.
Julia saw her at the same moment and stood, taking a step, then another, until they collided. Abby hugged Julia’s legs until the woman Luke secretly wanted to hug, too, bent to squeeze his tiny daughter in her arms.
When he reached them, it was to find Abby crying even as tears streamed down Julia’s cheeks. Everyone else in the waiting room gaped. All were members of his church district, and all knew that his traumatized little girl didn’t speak.
Until now, for an Englischer.
A rock in his throat, he stood above the pair, unable to look away from the face of the beautiful woman his small daughter had chosen.
He was petty enough to feel a stab of hurt because Abby had said Julia’s name before calling him Daadi. But that hurt tumbled in a confusion of other emotions. He wanted to be able to take them both in his arms but couldn’t. He wanted not to feel so much for this woman who was forbidden to him. He wanted not to be standing here with no idea what he should do or say.
He identified the second person he knew of the many people in the waiting room when Bishop Amos rose to his feet and came to him. Neither Julia nor Abby so much as raised their heads.
“Why her?” he murmured.
Luke could only shake his head. “Abby trusted Julia immediately.”
Keen brown eyes studied him. “But she loves and trusts you.”
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