The Baby Next Door

by Vannetta Chapman

  “Maybe she doesn’t know a thing about organic farming.”

  “Whatever. The point is, step back and give her some time.”

  “Okay. That makes sense.”

  “Number three. Don’t go too slow.”

  “Seems to contradict your second point, which was don’t go too fast.”

  George nodded as if that was his intent—to contradict himself. “A man and a woman can start out as friends, but if you stay there too long, if you don’t act on your feelings, then you can miss an opportunity to grow closer.”

  The sun was setting, splashing a kaleidoscope of colors across the sky. Adrian didn’t understand how sunsets worked any more than he understood women. “I’m not saying I have those kind of feelings for Grace, but hypothetically...”

  “Yes, yes, let’s keep this hypothetical.” George didn’t laugh outright, but he looked as if he wanted to.

  “How would I act on those feelings?”

  “Hypothetically...” George grinned, then pushed on. “You could start by bringing her flowers, maybe help her with a chore or ask her out to dinner.”

  “I can’t afford a dinner in town.”

  “Ice cream, then. Whatever. You’re missing the point. Show her your romantic intentions, because once you fall firmly in the friend category, it’s hard for her to see you differently.”

  “But as I said, we are just friends.”

  “Now. But do you always want to be just friends? Or do you think that you might one day be interested...romantically...in Grace?”

  “I hadn’t thought that far ahead.”

  “Uh-huh. That’s plain enough.”

  If anyone else had said it, Adrian would have been offended, but as they turned and walked back toward his buggy, Adrian realized that George was trying to help. At least he wasn’t laughing at him—not outright. The entire thing was embarrassing enough.

  He climbed up into his buggy and was about to close the door when George stayed it with his hand. “One more thing. In many ways, women want the same thing men do. They want to be appreciated, listened to and valued. They’re different from us in some ways—maybe even in how they relate to the world, but they’re also the same.”

  Adrian resisted the urge to drop his head into his hands. Different but the same? Don’t go too fast, but don’t go too slow? Where did the madness end? And why couldn’t women be as easy to care for as animals?

  Because that was one thing Adrian had realized in the midst of George’s advice. He very much cared about Grace. He wasn’t sure if it was only as a friend or something more, but he knew that when things weren’t right between them, he felt unsettled.

  Now he had some ideas for how to get things back on a solid footing.

  At least he thought he did.

  Chapter Eight

  On Saturday, Grace made up her mind to stop thinking about Adrian. It wasn’t as if she wasn’t busy. She had a child to raise, tour dinners to plan and... And nothing.

  That was it.

  Those two things were the entirety of her life.

  Maybe she’d start a new hobby. She could learn to knit. Unfortunately, she tended to purl when she was supposed to knit and knit when she was supposed to purl. She often lost count and had to frog things out, and when that happened, she might as well start over because she could not thread the stitches back onto the needle.

  She could clean. She’d always been good at that.

  Grace’s schweschder had picked up Nicole for a playdate with her kinder, so Grace had the entire day to herself. She decided to give the kitchen a good solid cleaning. She started with the oven. The brown stuff on the bottom that she had to scrub off somehow reminded her of Adrian’s garden.

  So what if he wanted to organically farm?

  That was his business, not hers.

  In the same way it wasn’t her business if he let his animals wander through his vegetable garden to graze every day.

  And living in a stinky old barn? That was his choice.

  None of it had anything to do with her.

  The calendar in the kitchen declared it was the first of May. Wasn’t May the best month of the year? She should take advantage of the fine weather, but instead, after finishing in the kitchen, she attacked the rest of the house as if it hadn’t been properly cleaned since winter. She and her mother had already done the spring cleaning a month earlier, though that fact didn’t slow her down one bit. She beat rugs, mopped floors, scoured the two bathrooms, even took the stiff outdoor broom to the front porch.

  Fortunately, her mamm was too busy knitting scarves and mittens for the Englisch tourists to notice her frenzied energy, and her dat was busy out in the barn.

  And where was she? Stuck at home, cleaning an already clean house.

  Grace whacked at the cobwebs on the porch.

  The first of May, and she was stuck at home because she had no social life at all.

  Turning the porch rockers over, she knocked dust off the bottom.

  Soon it would be summer, and what did she have to look forward to? More tours. More cooking. More cleaning.

  Her life was an endless cycle of sameness.

  It was at that unfortunate moment of self-pity that Adrian pulled into the driveway, his horse, Socks, tossing his head and his dog, Triangle, sitting up smartly on the front seat.

  Adrian was the last person she needed to see today, especially after their argument the previous afternoon. She almost fled inside, but hadn’t she done that just the day before? She’d run off rather than deal with his stubborn tunnel vision.

  She personally hated it in novels when the main character ran from the room. Grace did read the occasional novel that she borrowed from the library. Some Christian romances her schweschder passed on to her. Georgia was always scouring garage sales for books, which she purchased four for a dollar or a dime a piece. They did come in handy on those nights when Grace was teething and wanted rocking. One couldn’t knit while rocking a baby, but one could certainly read.

  In those stories, when the main character inevitably turned and fled for whatever reason, Grace always wanted to shout “stand your ground!” Perhaps it was time she followed her own advice.

  Instead of getting out of the buggy, Adrian pulled it around in the circle, stopping so that he could hang his arm and head out the window and speak to her. “I was just headed to town.”

  “Okay.” She aimed for nonchalant but wasn’t sure she was pulling it off. Must be nice to be able to gallivant off to town whenever one felt the urge.

  “I wondered if you needed anything.”

  That was considerate of him to ask. If there was one thing that Adrian was gut at, it was thinking of others.

  “Or maybe you’d like to come along?”

  She glanced down at her dirty clothes.

  As if he could read her mind, Adrian added, “Triangle and I aren’t in any hurry.”

  She needed to change, and she did want to go to town. Suddenly she could think of nothing she’d rather do than get off this farm for an hour. Now wasn’t the time to be too proud to accept an invitation.

  “Give me ten minutes.” She dashed into the house, splashed some water on her face, tidied up her hair, repinned her kapp, changed into one of her three weekday dresses, then took it off and put on her Sunday dress, then took it off and put back on her weekday dress. The sunglasses at least made her look as if she were heading somewhere special. She snagged her purse and hurried to the kitchen to tell her mamm where she was going, but her mamm wasn’t there.

  Then she heard voices and looked outside to see her mamm petting Triangle.

  “It really is amazing that he gets around so well.”

  “The vet said he was born this way, so I suppose it’s all he’s ever known.”

  Who else but Adrian would adopt a three-legged dog?


  Five minutes later, they were headed down the lane and Grace’s mood had lightened considerably.

  “Why are you headed to town?”

  He didn’t answer right away. Finally, he turned to her and grinned. “No real reason. Guess I need some time away from my place.”

  “I can relate to that.”

  “Funny how you can love your home and still need time away.”

  “Exactly. I woke with so much excess energy that I was cleaning the bottom of rocking chairs.”

  “Wow.”

  “I know.”

  The sun was shining, the day was pleasantly warm, and Triangle now sat on the seat in between them, watching through the front window with a smile on his face.

  “Anywhere in particular you’d like to go?”

  Suddenly Grace realized that she did want to go somewhere in particular. She wanted to stop by the fabric store and purchase material for a new dress for Nicole. She wanted to check in at the dry goods store to see if they had the yarn her mamm had ordered. She wanted to go by the library. She blurted all that out to Adrian in one long, rambling sentence.

  “All gut ideas.” Adrian smiled at her, then allowed Socks to accelerate into a nice trot.

  Why had she mentioned the library? She didn’t really need to look at one of their cookbooks. She had a dozen gut cookbooks at home that she’d been using for years. She’d like to browse through something new, though—not that recipes changed much. Still, it felt as if her cooking was in a rut, rather like her life. She suddenly—desperately—needed to cook something different for their tour group. As for Adrian, he probably wanted to check out more books on organic farming, but that didn’t bother Grace as much as it might have the night before.

  Because she was going to town on a beautiful spring Saturday.

  She was free of all obligations for at least the next three hours.

  And she was with a friend.

  For now, all that was enough.

  They spent the next couple of hours enjoying the day. Only once did Adrian throw out a crazy quote he’d read recently—this one by William Wordsworth. “The flower that smells the sweetest is shy and lowly.”

  “You have some strange reading material, Adrian.”

  “Ya? I guess I do.” He glanced at her sheepishly.

  Somewhere along the way, Grace was able to forget that she was a single mamm who didn’t know what she was doing with her life.

  When they were at the library, she used the computer to print off half a dozen recipes. Adrian sat beside her, looking up best habitat improvements for a camel.

  As they stood in line to pay for the copies she’d made, Adrian nodded toward a shelf of books with a sign that read For Sale—Donations Accepted.

  “I guess I could look for my schweschder.” In the end she chose three books—a picture book for Nicole, a historical romance with a picture of a castle on the front for Georgia and a murder mystery with a drawing of an Amish B&B on the cover for herself.

  “Murder mystery? Should I be worried?”

  She decided that she liked this more easygoing Adrian. As she thumbed through her purse for money to put in the donation jar, she saw that he’d tucked a slim volume under his arm. When he slipped his dollar in the jar, his hand touched hers, and Grace’s heart set off into a gallop.

  Then he smiled that goofy grin, and she relaxed.

  He was a gut friend and a nice neighbor. That was all. Nothing more.

  He went next door to the hardware store while she purchased material in the fabric shop. She bought a little extra, deciding that she could make a matching dress and apron for Nicole’s baby doll. She glanced at fabric for herself, too, but she truly didn’t need a new dress. That could wait. Maybe after a few more weeks of tours.

  And there it was again.

  The tours. She had extra money in her pocketbook because of the tours, because of Adrian.

  When he stopped in front of the local ice cream shop, she insisted on paying.

  Adrian chose peanut butter Oreo, and she picked blueberry cheesecake. They carried their cups of ice cream over to one of the picnic tables and sat beside each other. Triangle flopped down in the dirt, his eyes closed, though he cast a glance at them occasionally as if to say “a dog can hope.”

  She looked over at Adrian, then focused on her ice cream. The sun was warm on her face, and the ice cream was sweet with a splash of tartness. It tasted rich and creamy and good on her tongue. “Danki.”

  “For what?”

  “Stopping by my house, asking me to come along, being pleasant company... Take your pick.”

  “I’m pleasant company?”

  “Don’t make a thing out of it.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it.” But the smile on his face told her that he was inordinately pleased with the compliment.

  She savored another bite, then said, “We get along pretty well as long as we don’t talk about anything important.”

  “So that’s the secret.” Adrian paused, a spoonful of ice cream nearly at his mouth and a twinkle in his eyes. “I was wondering.”

  “It’s true.”

  “Ya, I suppose.” He shrugged, then bumped his shoulder against hers.

  Grace popped another spoonful in her mouth. “We’re both opinionated people is the problem.”

  “I’m not opinionated. I’m right.”

  “Lord, grant me patience.”

  Adrian laughed, then Grace laughed, and Triangle opened both eyes as if his treat might soon be a real possibility.

  “You’re a different kind of guy, Adrian.”

  “Uh-oh. That doesn’t sound so great. Let’s go back to my being pleasant company.”

  “No, seriously. You are different. You think differently. You view life...differently.”

  “Is that bad?”

  “Nein, but it will take a patient woman to marry you.”

  “Know anyone who fits that description?”

  Grace scrunched her eyes as if trying to remember who might be patient enough to take on such a project. “I’m coming up blank. Maybe you haven’t met her yet.”

  “And maybe I have. Sometimes we have to look at someone we already know in a different light.”

  “I still can’t believe my dat said that to you.”

  “So you disagree?”

  “Nein. I don’t disagree. It’s just... Well, I’m not in a place in my life to be thinking about such things.” She’d reached the bottom of her cup but had left a few drops for the dog. “Is it all right to give it to him?”

  “Milk has sugar, and dogs can’t process sugar.” He reached into his pocket and retrieved a dog biscuit, then put it into Grace’s hand. “Give him this instead.”

  “You carry dog treats in your pocket?”

  “Guilty as charged.”

  “No wonder he’s so devoted to you.”

  Triangle sat up pretty as could be and cocked his head, waiting for Grace to offer the treat in the palm of her hand. Grace had always thought of dogs as farm animals, good for warning off intruders. Now that she thought about it, Triangle could do both of those things. Triangle hadn’t let his disability hinder him.

  When she offered him the treat, he politely took it from her, then lay back down and happily devoured it.

  They finished their ice creams and tossed the cups in the trash can. Grace realized she wasn’t ready for the afternoon to end. She was surprised to find she enjoyed Adrian’s company so much—when he wasn’t lecturing her about organic farming.

  It occurred to her then that Adrian knew things. He had an inquisitive mind, and that wasn’t necessarily bad. But when you lived alone, who did you share your ideas and thoughts with? She struggled with that herself. She didn’t live alone, but often she felt her parents wouldn’t be interested in what she had to say. Their wo
rlds were very different.

  Did they care that she’d noticed a small wrinkle near her right eye?

  Or that it was two years ago during the first week of May that she’d met Nicole’s father?

  Or that Nicole had put her chubby little hands on Grace’s face and patted her, then said mine? Okay, her mamm and dat would both be interested in that one.

  The point was that Adrian had fewer people to talk to than she did—unless you counted Triangle or Kendrick or Dolly. That had to be lonely. Sometimes, when he came across as bossy or arrogant, maybe he was just eager to share an idea.

  She thought of his admonition about not giving milk to dogs and smiled to herself.

  “Care to share?”

  “Share?”

  “What you’re smiling about.”

  “Oh...that.” She shook her head, thinking there was no way she was going to share what she’d been mulling over. But then it occurred to her that she might as well. What did she have to lose? And it felt good to talk about things, even wayward thoughts that popped out of nowhere.

  Perhaps that was what friendship was—the freedom to say what was on your mind. Grace knew that she could use a friend at this point in her life.

  The question was whether she dared to open herself up to the man sitting beside her, whether she was willing to take that leap, whether she could risk her heart—because even friendships had the power to hurt and wound.

  Her relationship with Kolby had started out as a friendship but then quickly morphed into something else. It had all happened so fast it had made her head spin. She could see that now. She’d never felt so abandoned or alone or unworthy as when she’d realized he’d left town without even a goodbye. He’d left, and she didn’t even know where he’d gone. He’d left, and she’d been pregnant with his child.

  Kolby had hurt her in ways that might take years to heal.

  But it had already been two years. Maybe it was time that she moved past what had happened. Maybe it was time she took a risk and allowed herself to be a friend to someone else. It was frightening, but then being alone wasn’t working out so well, either.