Mending Hearts

by Janice Kay Johnson - His Best Friend's Baby

  “I don’t know.” Her mother laid a hand over hers, calloused but gentle. “What do you think?”

  “I think that’s so. Lately, it seems as if I’m ferhoodled instead.”

  “Because of David Miller.”

  She shot a startled look at her mother. “I didn’t think you’d noticed.”

  “Hard not to,” Mamm said drily. “He shook something up in you, anyone who paid attention could tell.”

  “Grief, I thought at first. And happiness, because I knew he loved Levi as much as I did.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Miriam narrowed her eyes. “What aren’t you saying?”

  Mamm’s blink of bemusement didn’t fool Miriam. “Six years is a long time, that’s all. When was the last time you’d thought about Levi?”

  Oddly enough, the very day David appeared, Miriam remembered—and that was when she’d felt a pang at the realization that she didn’t often think of him anymore.

  Miriam fell silent for a long time. Her mother appeared endlessly patient, content to sit beside her and enjoy the silence when that violated her very nature.

  “How did you know?” she heard herself ask. “That Daad was right for you, I mean.”

  Her mother shifted on her seat, the only indication that she might be uncomfortable talking about such things. She answered, though, sounding reflective. “Seeing his work. That told me so much about him. Every line planned, just right, the wood so sleek to the touch. He’d never have hurried it, shrugged, and thought, ‘Who will notice?’ He was twenty-four, baptized, not shaky in his faith the way some young men are.”

  As Miriam’s brother had been, they must both be thinking. At twenty-two, Luke had long since left home. For that matter, Elam had put off baptism until this year, although not because he’d wavered from his beliefs.

  “Those blue eyes,” her mother surprised her by adding.

  Suddenly suspicious, she said, “You hadn’t seen his furniture when you first met him, had you?”

  “No, no, he just came to church one day, at our house. Your grossmammi and Barbara and all of us girls worked so hard to scrub every inch of the house and barn, excited to hold worship.”

  If that wasn’t a diversion, Miriam had never heard one. “But you knew the very minute you saw him. How?”

  Her mamm blushed. She didn’t have to say another word.

  * * *

  * * *

  Even as he navigated the busy city streets on Monday, David mulled over what he ought to do next about Esther.

  He hadn’t forgotten the condition of the roof on Esther’s house, but he thought he’d pushed her enough for now. Other men painting the barn and house had seen, too. Someone else might quietly start working on the roof, or ask a few other men to join together.

  Having helped with plenty of barn raisings and repairs on houses, David considered himself capable of joining a roofing crew, but he wouldn’t want to be fully responsible for such a job. But Abel Hershberger, there quietly working, was a roofer by trade. He would have noticed.

  Ja, waiting was the right thing to do, David decided, just as he reached his destination in Tompkin’s Mill. He reined in Dexter and applied the brake, getting out to hitch his horse in front of the buggy shop in town.

  Any store belonging to an Englischer—or, come to think of it, catering to Englisch customers—would have a fancy name, but this black-and-white sign read only “Buggies.” The buggy maker was an Amishman whose son worked with him, both members of the church district that lay to the south of town. David had dealt with the son, another Jacob, when he came in, right after arriving in town, to buy his current two-seat buggy. Now an older man appeared from the back, introduced himself as Ezekiel Stutzman, and asked how he could help.

  David explained that he needed a cart similar to those used for harness racing.

  “Two-wheeled, then?” Ezekiel asked.

  “Ja. I’ll use it in training young horses before getting them used to a buggy.”

  Ezekiel, a short but muscular man, led him through the workroom and to a covered area outside. During the ensuing discussion, David learned a good deal about buggy making he hadn’t known. The buggy parked in front was the only one he’d ever bought. When David turned sixteen, his daad had bought a used buggy for him. Never interested in mechanics of any kind, he was surprised to learn today how many parts that went into plain buggies were adapted from cars.

  Given the simplicity of what he wanted, Ezekiel insisted he had an undercarriage he thought he could modify, and with no need for lights or dashboard, he promised to put it together right away even though he had orders for new buggies stacked up like cordwood.

  “I do need brakes,” David said.

  “Nothing to it,” Ezekiel insisted. “We have nobody here in the area training harness horses. If you’re willing to work with problem horses, once word gets out, you’ll be flooded with requests, I think. This”—he tapped what he’d called the running gear, which consisted of the wheels, axles, fifth wheel, and springs—“is a gut idea. It won’t take me any time at all.”

  They agreed on a price considerably lower than David had expected to pay. He was satisfied when he left, and eager to take possession of his cart. Worked in the arena, Copper had begun to settle down and was ready for more.

  David’s next errand today was to visit his old friend Micah Yoder and find out whether Abram would be interested in becoming a very part-time apprentice. A noisemaker and living scarecrow to start, but if he was genuinely interested in training horses, David would be glad to introduce him to the art of working with the animals. If David were lucky, once Abram finished school, he’d be interested in a full-time apprenticeship.

  David had assumed it would take several years before he was earning a real living from the business as he’d planned it: buying, training, and selling young horses, and eventually breeding his own. He hadn’t considered that there might be a demand for a trainer to work short-term with horses that had behavioral issues or hadn’t been well-trained in the first place. His exhilaration at the possibility of bringing in a livelihood sooner carried him during the half-hour drive to Micah’s.

  Passing the Bowmans’ driveway, he couldn’t help but turn his head, although he knew it was unlikely Miriam would be there. He’d been tempted in town to drive by the quilt shop. Ja, and what could he have done? Intrude in a place where men would be a rarity to say an awkward hello?

  He shook his head. He wasn’t a bashful boy anymore. Why would he even think of doing such a thing?

  He wouldn’t, but he’d wanted to. Sunday, seeing her with Gideon Lantz, had shaken the ground under his feet more than he’d realized.

  Copper, of course, chased the buggy along the fence line again. His last neigh sounded pitiful.

  Fortunately, the drive to Micah’s didn’t take more than another fifteen minutes. There, David was treated to coffee and an enormous piece of dried-apple pie swimming in cream. He liked Micah’s wife, Rhoda, a plump, cheerful woman who seemed to enjoy feeding anyone in the vicinity as much as Deborah Bowman did.

  Their youngest, a ten-month-old boy, crawled around on the spotless kitchen floor and twice used David’s pant leg to pull himself to his pudgy bare feet. He would teeter for a minute before plopping back down on his padded rear end. He had a happy grin that lifted David’s spirits. A little girl, maybe three or four, was more suspicious of him, a stranger. She sat across the table from him, coloring, and sneaking an occasional narrow-eyed peek.

  When David had arrived, Micah joined him in the house, hanging his hat on a peg and putting away an equally generous piece of pie. He both farmed and did some metalworking, although he wasn’t a farrier.

  “I make wrought-iron railings, fireplace pokers, fancy garden trellises, and hooks to hold flowerpots or to hold pans in the kitchen. We sell at mud sales during the summer, and I get repeat busi
ness.” A sign at the foot of the driveway had advertised his services. “Also, I have cards displayed wherever I can in town. Eventually, I might have enough work to employ one of my boys full-time, too.”

  Was that so different than what David and Levi had tried to do?

  Even here where farmland was more affordable than in the more populous states to the north and northeast, not every young Amishman would be able to buy land. Too many ended up employed by Englischers, traveling with a construction crew or taking a job like the assembly-line work in a manufacturing plant David had done when he first fled from home. Such work meant spending a lot of time away from their families. If he had a family of his own, David knew he, too, would start worrying about his children’s future from the minute they were born, just as Micah was.

  Many Amish farmers or their wives ran a side business. Most common were fruit and vegetable stands. Signs that read “Quilts for Sale!” or “Homemade Root Beer!” were common hereabouts. Almost across the road from David’s place, his neighbors had added a sign since he had moved away: “Honey From Our Bees!” He remembered, growing up, two different women who sold annuals they’d raised from seed from rickety stands by the road. Better than having to take a job that pulled you away from community and faith.

  Who knew? He might find himself doing the same someday, although he wasn’t much of a cook, couldn’t sew, hadn’t displayed any skill as a craftsman, was unlikely to grow thriving plants of any kind—except, he hoped, hay—and had always been afraid of bees.

  No, his sign would read “Horse Trainer.”

  Accepting a second cup of coffee, David said, “I told you I talked to Abram on Sunday. He told me he’s interested in training horses.”

  Micah grimaced. “Ja, he’s good about helping in the fields, but doesn’t want to learn to work with metal.”

  “If you’re willing, I’d like to hire him a few hours a week. More when summer comes.”

  The boy’s mother was obviously listening, too, although she slowly wiped the already clean counter.

  David told them the kind of help he thought Abram could be, and that if his interest continued, he’d be willing to gradually allow him to do more.

  “I have one young horse I’m working with, but now that I’m settled, I intend to buy one or two more when I find the right ones. If people need help with a problem horse, I have room to take in at least one at a time, too. I also intend to clear a field and plant hay, while continuing to work on the barn and fences. My onkel hadn’t kept up with maintenance his last ten years or so.”

  The boy’s parents barely exchanged a glance before Micah set down his mug and nodded. “We’ll have to ask Abram, but I’ll be surprised if he isn’t excited. There’s nothing he likes better than horses.”

  “Good. I didn’t know where to find help until Abram appeared.”

  “He should be home from school any minute. It takes him longer than he likes,” Rhoda said wryly, “because he’s responsible for his brother and sister. Our Eva is only six, and her legs aren’t long enough to run the speed he wants her to.”

  David would have laughed if he hadn’t too vividly remembered how he and Levi—and often Micah—had always wanted to hurry, to shed the younger brother who held them up. He had no doubt his brother remembered, too. Still, it was reassuring to know that he might have been no worse than any other boy his age.

  “I remember bursting out of school. I always wanted to get on to the next thing.”

  Micah’s grin suggested that he, too, remembered what some of those activities had been. No reason to scare Abram’s mother, David thought.

  “If you’d rather talk to him first—”

  “No, if he seems uncertain, then we’ll talk more. If he jumps at your offer—ach, I have no objection,” Micah said. “This sounds like a fine opportunity for him. He can find out how much he really likes working with horses.” He grinned again. “And whether he’s patient enough.”

  David’s timing had been perfect, first because the pie had come out of the oven just before he knocked on the door, now because a clatter on the porch announced the arrival of the three older Yoder kinder without his having to wait.

  As his daad predicted, the boy leaped at the chance to work with David. That he would be paid for the time stunned him; David had the impression he’d have happily worked for nothing.

  They agreed that Abram would come over two afternoons a week after school and for half a day on Saturdays. He was strong enough to help clean stalls, he bragged. His daad said he could take their second horse and buggy. Rhoda could plan her own errands around Micah’s schedule.

  Micah offered to help David plow and plant hay, too, and they agreed on a day for that.

  Urging Dexter to a fast trot on his way home, David counted among his blessings having such a good friend despite the years he’d been away. Not just one; others had welcomed him with seeming joy, and he’d begun to count all of the Bowmans among his friends.

  What if he admitted to his brother that he needed help and guidance with that field?

  Chapter Fifteen

  Wednesday after they had all left work and Luke guided his horse out of town, Miriam’s father said, “Why don’t we invite David to join us for dinner again tonight? Your mamm worries about him living alone.”

  Miriam made sure he didn’t see her rolled eyes. That wasn’t all Mamm was thinking, although she didn’t know whether Daad was aware of that. And they had, after all, seen David on both Saturday and Sunday.

  Julia looked over her shoulder and smiled. “Mamm’s right. We shouldn’t let David feel too alone. I know what that’s like. I worry about Nick, too.”

  Julia’s brother had been the police chief for the city of Tompkin’s Mill for almost two years now. It was during a visit with him that she’d decided to stay. Nick Durant took the job here in rural Missouri for reasons even Julia didn’t know. She said he’d been a lieutenant in charge of many other detectives investigating murder in Cleveland, Ohio, a truly big city, when he suddenly quit. He didn’t want to talk about it, Julia had told Miriam.

  He’d made Miriam nervous when she first met him, a big, brusque, pushy man, but she’d learned that was just his way. He was gentle and protective of his sister, and had warmed to the Bowman family as he’d gotten to know them. Deborah had taken to hugging him when he came to dinner, maybe because he loved her cooking so much.

  “We talked today,” Julia added. “I invited him to Sunday dinner.”

  With all of them, she meant. She, Luke, and Abby most often came to his parents’ house on off Sundays, which were spent with friends and family. Nick attended a church in Tompkin’s Mill, but that was in the morning.

  “I’m glad,” she said.

  “Maybe we should invite David, too,” Julia said, as if blithely unaware of Miriam’s feelings. “Although I suppose his mother would be disappointed, and after he’s been gone for so long.”

  At this angle, Miriam could see Luke’s raised eyebrows and guessed he was no more fooled by his wife’s so-innocent suggestion than Miriam was. He didn’t say anything, though.

  When they drove up to David’s barn, they found another buggy already there, and a boy walked out of the barn with David, followed by the pair of yapping, excited puppies who raced toward Charlie and the Bowman buggy. Still young enough to be excitable, Charlie danced. One hoof shot out toward a puppy that tumbled back and rolled. Luke spoke firmly to his horse and tightened the reins in his hands.

  As if none of that were happening, her daad said, “Isn’t that Micah’s oldest? Probably here with his father.”

  But Micah didn’t join the two. David picked up both puppies, one under each arm, and seemed to speak sternly to them. Both tails whipped and they lunged upward to try to lick his face. He was laughing when he walked over to Luke’s side of the buggy. Shaking his head, he said, “One of these days they’
ll learn. Maybe.”

  Seeing that new lightness in his expression, Miriam thought the puppies were just what he’d needed. He looked less alone.

  They all exchanged greetings, and Eli invited David to dinner. “Abram, ain’t so?” he said to the boy. “You’d be more than welcome to join us. Your daad, too, if he’s here.”

  “Denke,” Abram said, “but I’m alone. Mamm will worry if I don’t come home when I said I would.”

  David handed him a squirming puppy. “Abram will be working for me a few hours a week for now, maybe more when school lets out. He’s good with horses, interested in becoming a trainer, too.”

  The burst of discussion had the poor boy blushing before he said, “I’ll lock the puppies up, if you like.”

  “Denke.”

  They all watched the boy grappling with both wriggling puppies until he disappeared into the barn.

  Looking back into the buggy, David said, “I’ll be glad to join you.” One side of his mouth tipped up. “I won’t ask again if Deborah will mind being surprised.”

  Abram left, and David disappeared briefly into the house. Once he came back carrying two empty baskets to return and had started to get into the back, Miriam and Daad squished together again to make space. In the cramped confines, her hips and thighs pressed against David’s. She hid beneath the brim of her bonnet, but she had to look at something. Water beaded on the dark hairs of his forearms, exposed below his rolled shirtsleeves. She found herself staring at the muscles and sinews in those strong arms even though she knew she shouldn’t. Her daad seemed to be placidly gazing past her at the road ahead, and Julia was chattering about something Miriam didn’t catch.

  Was she supposed to respond? she wondered in alarm when Julia’s voice seemed to rise on a question before she fell silent.

  David said calmly, “I don’t think Miriam heard you.”

  She looked up, saw the glint in his gray eyes, and knew warmth had already risen to her cheeks.