by Jo Ann Brown
He glanced at her as he struggled to fight off panic. When her gaze met his, she gave him a half smile and a slight nod before her eyes led his to the twins sitting on either side of her. They were watching him with eager expressions. What could he say that would touch their hearts as well as the adults’?
For a moment, he almost asked God for help but halted himself. Until he was willing to accept the Lord’s plan for him, he shouldn’t ask. Instead, he gathered the sight of Clara and the kinder close. A sense of calm settled over him like a warm blanket on a wintry night. He couldn’t let his grief keep him from helping Melvin’s boys and girls. With that thought to guide him, he started, speaking of kinder and how blessed those were who loved them and were given the sacred duty of raising them to know and love God. Later, when he’d resumed his place with Reuben and Atlee, he couldn’t recall a word of what he’d said, but several women had tears running down their cheeks. A few men were dabbing at their cheeks with white handkerchiefs. He’d spoken from the heart, and he’d touched theirs. Not him. It’d been the word of God coming through him.
Bowing his head, he praised God for using him as a conduit when Isaiah was resisting God’s will. And he thanked the Lord for sending Clara as an inspiration. He couldn’t ignore the fact that her being at the service had helped to shape his words in a way nothing had since his mourning began. Not only her presence, but what he’d observed for the past week while she’d worked to keep the Beachy kinder happy and prevent them from falling into the chasm of grief he knew too well.
The rest of the three-hour-long service passed so quickly he was startled. After singing the closing hymn in the slow unison style of their tradition, he watched the congregation exit, the youngest first. He walked out with the men and smiled at those who smiled in his direction. Nobody would tell him he’d done a gut job. A preacher must never have too much pride.
“Isaiah!”
At the call of his name, Isaiah tensed and turned to face the members of the Mast family, who were closing in on him like a pack of coydogs ready to pounce on a rooster. Curtis Mast, a man shaped like a bull with massive shoulders, led the way.
Isaiah dreaded this part of Sunday. His late wife’s parents didn’t seem to care if they were in the midst of the rest of the Leit when they cornered him. They found a way to remind him that they believed he should be married, and marrying another of their other daughters would be the best solution.
“Gute mariye, Curtis,” he said to Rose’s daed. Looking at her mamm, a slight woman who was as pretty as her four surviving daughters who followed behind them, he added, “Gute mariye, Ida Mae.”
For a moment, when they nodded in his direction, he thought they’d walk right past him without matchmaking, in spite of calling out to him. Instead, they stopped and stared at him. He fought not to squirm under their regard. He wasn’t a kind who’d gotten caught trying to steal a few extra cookies. He was a man suffering the same grief they did.
“An interesting topic for your sermon today,” Curtis said as if they’d already been chatting. It was like Curtis to get to the point. He had opinions, and he shared them. Too readily, some people said, but Isaiah appreciated knowing where he stood with his father-in-law. Except on the remarrying issue!
“Ja,” added his wife, “a man who has no kinder preaching to those of us who do.” Her voice cracked as she added, “And to those who have lost a precious kind.”
“Don’t be silly, Ida Mae,” Rose’s daed added with a narrow-eyed frown at his wife. “Isaiah is gaining a lot of experience. Don’t forget. He’s a temporary daed at the moment.” He gave Isaiah a companionable elbow in the side. “Gut practice for when you have kinder of your own. My girls love kinder, don’t you, girls?”
Orpha twittered a soft laugh. “Ja. Love them.” She edged closer to him. “I can’t wait to have a family. That’s every Amish girl’s dream, ain’t so?”
Isaiah kept his sigh silent. He’d tried everything to persuade Rose’s parents and her sisters that he’d marry again when the time—and the woman—was right. He’d tried agreeing with them to put an end to these conversations, but that made them more persistent about him courting Orpha or one of the other girls. Curtis and Ida Mae didn’t seem to care which he married as long as it was one of their daughters. He’d tried being honest with them, but they’d acted as if they didn’t hear a single word he said.
“Ja,” came a voice from behind him. “And perhaps that’s why Isaiah’s sermon this morning was interesting.” Clara stepped forward and smiled at the whole Mast family. “I’m Clara Ebersol. I don’t think we’ve met.”
He was relieved she’d halted the Masts before they could say something else to twist his arm into proposing to Orpha right on his brother’s lawn. Judge not, and ye shall not be judged: condemn not, and ye shall not be condemned: forgive, and ye shall be forgiven. How many times had he repeated that verse from Luke in his mind to remind himself the Masts were grieving, too?
Then he realized how he’d misjudged the abrupt silence after Clara introduced herself to the family. A silent message he couldn’t read passed between the members of the Mast family, and then six pairs of eyes riveted on Clara. They saw her as an unwanted intruder, competition in their determination to have him marry a Mast girl. He resisted the instinct to step between her and them. Why would they see this as a contest with a proposal from him as the trophy? He was no prize as a husband.
“You are Clara Ebersol?” asked Ida Mae with unconcealed dismay. Turning to her oldest, she said, “You didn’t say she was a redhead.”
Isaiah had no idea why the color of Clara’s hair mattered to Ida Mae. He said nothing while the Masts introduced themselves to Clara with tight smiles. Holding his breath, he waited for what they might say next.
Clara ignored the glowers aimed at her by Orpha and her younger sisters. Instead, she spoke warmly with the Masts, talking about the Beachy twins as if his in-laws had asked about them. When she told a story of the boys’ latest escapade that had left them covered with mud, she laughed without a hint of anything but amusement.
The Masts laughed with her, though it sounded strained in Isaiah’s ears. Maybe he was too sensitive, looking for trouble where none existed. Just because Orpha had been cold to Clara the other morning wasn’t any reason to believe the rest of her family wished anyone ill.
Turning to him, Clara said, “Reuben has been looking for you, Isaiah. I told him I’d deliver the message.” As she motioned him to follow her, she paused and looked at the dumbfounded Masts. “It’s been nice to meet you. I look forward to getting to know you better during my time here.”
Isaiah went with her. His farewell to the Masts wasn’t returned. They looked stunned by Clara’s sunny smile and kindness. He wondered how long ago it’d been since anyone in the district had spoken with warmth and hope to them instead of focusing on their grief.
As others did to him.
Sympathy surged through him. He needed to reconsider how he talked to them next time he encountered them. He would pray for God’s guidance in finding the right words to rebuild the bridge that had collapsed with Rose’s death. It was his duty as their minister and their son-in-law to help them—and himself—to climb out of the deep, dark pit of grief.
He hoped there was a way, other than proposing to one of their daughters, for them to heed him.
* * *
“So that’s the Mast family,” Clara said as she walked with Isaiah around the far side of the house. “Your in-laws.”
“Ja.” He didn’t say anything more.
She started to speak, then thought better of it. Isaiah was stressed enough already. He didn’t need her warnings that Orpha wasn’t the only one who wanted him remarried to a Mast girl. At least two of the other three had given her ill-concealed scowls. Instead, she asked, “How are you?”
His mouth worked, then he spat in c
andid frustration, “Could they be any more obvious?”
She couldn’t keep from smiling. “Don’t you think it’s better the matchmakers are obvious rather than sneaky?”
“Better maybe, but not easier.” He looked at her with a sheepish grin. “I’m sorry, Clara. I know none of this matchmaking was what you expected when you took this job.”
“I didn’t. That’s why I’m extra grateful you were honest with me right from the beginning about the district’s matchmakers.” She grinned. “Though I have to admit I already had a very gut idea of what was on Orpha’s mind when she stopped by the first morning I was here.”
“I wish the Masts would show as much common sense as you do.”
“Did you consider they care about you enough that they want to keep you as a son-in-law and having you marry one of their daughters would be the best way to ensure that?”
He halted and stared at her as if she’d announced a cow had jumped over the moon. She almost laughed at the thought. Spending time with young kinder was leaving her with nursery rhymes on the brain. She pushed the silly thoughts aside. Her question had stunned him, and she wondered why he’d never considered the idea before.
“You have a kindhearted way of looking at people,” Isaiah said as they came around the corner of the house and saw Reuben talking with two men by the clothesline. “Sometimes it’s easier to give into suspicion.”
“Suspicion leads to making me think I’m different from others. That way can lead to hochmut.” She lowered her eyes and shut her lips before she could say more.
Her daed lectured her often on the sin of hochmut, but he was the proudest person she knew. When she was younger, she hadn’t understood his resolve for them to look like the perfect family around other families in their district. Even making a single mistake would reflect poorly on the family and on him. To be jilted by a young man her daed had bragged about marrying his daughter was the worst thing she could have done, in Daed’s estimation.
She was glad when Isaiah excused himself and went to speak with the bishop. As unsettled as thoughts of her daed and of Lonnie made her, she’d be wise to keep silent.
Clara collected the Beachy twins, who were playing with the other youngsters, and made sure they got something to eat after the men had finished with the midday meal. She didn’t have to worry about them being finicky, though she noticed Nettie Mae holding her fork at a strange angle once or twice and examining the food before she popped it into her mouth.
As soon as they were finished, she joined other women in the kitchen washing up. The twins went to play tag with kinder their ages, and Clara kept an eye on them out the kitchen window.
She emerged from the kitchen with the women who’d welcomed her as if they’d known her all their lives to see Isaiah walking toward her. She heard whispers behind her, but she paid them no attention as he asked where the kinder were.
“Over there.” She pointed to where they were running away from a little girl who was It. “Are you ready to head home?”
“Not yet.” He glanced past her at the other women as he added, “Just trying to keep track of them.”
“You don’t need to worry,” said an older woman whose name Clara remembered was Fannie Beiler. “Your Clara has been checking on them every minute.”
Isaiah struggled not to react to Fannie calling her “your Clara.” She wanted to reassure him that Fannie meant nothing by her words. It was just a way of speaking.
“Let me know when you’re ready to leave,” Clara said quickly. “I’ll have the twins ready to go.”
“Danki.” He glanced past her with abrupt puzzlement. “Odd.”
She looked over her shoulder and saw the other women had moved away.
“Not odd. They’re being nice to allow us time to discuss the kinder.”
“Or whatever we might have on our minds.”
Refusing to let him bring up the subject of matchmaking again, because this time she believed he was mistaken, she said, “Fannie Beiler has been very welcoming to me.”
“Fannie is my older brother Ezra’s mother-in-law. She’s not interested in matchmaking, but it seems to be everywhere.”
“Ignore it. If your friends see you bothered by their comments, they’re sure to tease you more.”
“True, especially my brothers.”
Annoyed the subject had once again turned to matchmaking, she wished they could talk of something else. The topic seemed to make her notice how gut-looking Isaiah was, and her mind wandered to wondering about having him take her home in his courting buggy. Just the two of them without the twins tossing question after question from the rear of the family buggy.
“How is Reuben?” she asked, grasping on to the first thought she had of something other than walking out with Isaiah. “He appeared on edge when he asked me to find you.”
“He’s worried about his oldest. Katie Kay has been pushing the limits of our Ordnung for over a year.”
“It isn’t easy to be in a bishop’s family and be held up to be a role model for everyone in two districts. The son of my bishop went out and bought himself a sporty car and parked it right in front of his family’s house for a few months.” She hesitated, then said, “If the Beachy kinder were a bit older, they’d find themselves put into that position, too, because you’re one of the ministers.”
“I’m glad they aren’t older. They have enough to distress them.”
Again Clara hesitated, but she couldn’t keep her concerns silent any longer. “I wish they would act more distressed. They seem to take their parents’ deaths in stride during the day. At night, it’s a whole other thing, because every night one or the other of them has a nightmare. Sometimes more than one. Don’t you think they should be showing more grief?”
“We each show grief in a unique way.”
“Don’t try to placate me with platitudes, Isaiah. I’m not saying this to you because you’re their minister. I’m saying this to you because you’re the only daed they have. Doesn’t it bother you, too?”
“It does, but I can’t bring myself to do anything that would make them more unhappy.”
Clara gave him a sad smile and reached out to pat his arm. The moment her fingers brushed the skin below his shirtsleeve, a flurry of sensation sped through her like a fiery storm wind. His gaze darted toward her, and she saw his astonishment as well. Astonishment and more, as deeper, stronger emotions burned in the depths of his eyes. She should move her fingers, but they seemed soldered to his arm by the strength of the feelings she couldn’t name because they changed like a kaleidoscope being twirled at top speed.
Did he murmur her name? She couldn’t tell because her heart was setting off explosion after explosion inside her. When his fingers slid atop hers, the warmth of his skin above her hand and below was more wunderbaar than anything she’d experienced before. But how could that be?
She’d had her hand held before. She’d been kissed before, but nothing had overwhelmed her like this. When Lonnie—
The thought of her ex-fiancé’s name broke the hold Isaiah had over her. It was as if she’d stepped from a heated kitchen into a predawn winter freeze. With a shiver, she yanked her hand away. She had let her emotions run away with her.
Again.
She was making foolish decisions.
Again.
Before Clara could come up with an excuse that would allow her to walk away without insulting him, she heard, “Isaiah! Clara! Komm and sit with us!”
She looked across the yard to where two people sat on a bench facing Wanda Stoltzfus, who was rocking on the front porch. The man, though his hair was a few shades darker, looked enough like Isaiah that she guessed the two men must be related. Beside him sat a pretty blonde. His arm was stretched across the back of the bench behind her in a rare suggestion of intimacy among the plain folk.
Was she his wife? No courting couple would be that obvious about the affection between them.
Her conjecture was confirmed when Isaiah introduced the two as his older brother Ezra and Ezra’s wife, Leah. As she greeted them, she was relieved nobody mentioned her and Isaiah standing together.
Isaiah brought two lawn chairs onto the porch so they could sit and chat. He gave her a glance she guessed was intended to tell her something. He was wasting his time. She was so discombobulated she had to focus on acting normal.
Within a few minutes, the uneasiness ebbed, and Clara was drawn into a conversation with Isaiah’s sister-in-law. Clara enjoyed Leah’s enthusiastic discussion of the best fabrics for quilting. Clara wasn’t surprised to hear Leah’s quilts were prized by Englisch tourists who stopped at the family’s grocery store. Wanda told her that they sold as soon as they were placed on display.
Clara looked again and again at the twins to make sure they were all right, and she listened to the conversations swirling around her as the Stoltzfus family talked about their plans for the upcoming week. It was as she’d imagined a loving family would be.
Too bad she’d be in Paradise Springs for only a month or so. Once the twins’ grandparents or aenti came to collect them, she would have to return home. A sigh of regret surged through her because, though she could take with her wunderbaar memories of the Stoltzfus family and the Beachy twins, she had to wonder if knowing how families could be would make it more difficult to live with her exacting daed.
Chapter Seven
Clara draped the wet dish towel over the rack connected to the cabinet. She adjusted the arm so any drips fell into the sink. While she listened to water go down the drain, she gazed out the window over the sink and smiled. It felt gut to smile as she’d been up most of the night with the twins as one after another was caught in the throes of a nightmare. They couldn’t tell her what scared them, but she suspected the bad dreams were caused by the grief they refused to speak about during the day. Every night, one or more of them woke her and each other with shrieks of terror. It had become a ritual in the morning for Isaiah to ask who had managed to sleep through the night. He’d offered to trade off with her and tend to them at night, but she reminded him that he’d hired her because he couldn’t be with the twins night and day.