by Emma Miller
“Good coffee,” he remarked. “And that scrapple smells good, too. You always did have a steady hand at the stove.”
She glanced over her shoulder and glared at him. “No doubt Sara already fed you a substantial breakfast. She’s known for her bountiful table.”
Luke shrugged and offered that lethal grin of his. “I could eat a little something, if you’re offering. A man can’t do better than to start the day with a scrapple-and-egg biscuit.”
“With catsup,” Justice added. He carried a large bottle to the table and plopped it down in front of Luke. “I like catsup on my biscuit.”
“That sounds good.” Luke smiled at her son.
“That bottle’s almost empty,” Honor said. She was feeling a little steadier now. Children grounded a person. “Get Mommi another bottle from the pantry.”
Justice darted off to get the catsup. Elijah climbed onto a chair and grabbed a biscuit from the plate on the table.
“Watch it doesn’t burn.” Luke pointed to Honor. “The scrapple.”
She turned away from him and carefully turned the browning meat. “Your shoes are muddy,” she said to Luke. “I’d appreciate it if you’d leave them in the laundry room. I scrubbed this floor once this morning.”
Luke chuckled. “You’ve been busy. It’s still early and you’ve made biscuits and mopped the floor and I don’t know what else.”
“Milked the cow and fed the livestock,” Honor said, “and changed diapers and made beds. And if you don’t take off those boots, I’ll be scrubbing this floor again, too.”
He got up from the table, went out of the room and removed his shoes. “Honor,” he said as he returned in his stocking feet. His voice had lost the teasing note and become serious. “We need to talk. You know we need to talk about what happened, right?”
She shook her head. “Ne, I have nothing to say to you on that matter. It’s long in the past. As for the present, do you want the job of fixing this house? If you do a decent job at a fair wage, I’ll let you.”
“You’ll let me?”
She pressed her lips together. “I didn’t ask you to come here.”
“I couldn’t stay away.” He crossed the room to stand only an arm’s length away from her. “You have to let me explain what happened. Why I did it.”
She whirled around, hot spatula gripped in her hand, barely in control. “Ne,” she murmured. “I don’t. I’ll make use of your carpentry skills for the sake of my children. But there will be nothing more between us. Either you respect that, or you leave now.”
His green eyes darkened with emotion.
Her breath caught in her throat.
“Honor,” he said softly.
“Ne, Luke.” She looked away. “You decide. Either we have a business arrangement or none at all.”
“You know why I came back here.”
His words gently nudged her, touching feelings she’d buried so long ago.
“Luke, I can’t—”
The back door banged open and Tanner came flying in. “Eggs, Mommi. Lots of eggs. I found where the black hen had her nest.”
“Good.” Honor took a breath. “Wash your hands. Greta, put those eggs in the sink. Carefully.” She laid the spatula on the table and clapped her hands. “Breakfast will be ready in two shakes of the lamb’s tail, boys.”
Luke was still standing there. Too close. “We will have that talk,” he said so that only she heard him. “I promise you that.”
A few minutes later, her children around her, eggs fried, breakfast to put on the table, Honor’s foolishness receded and her confidence returned. “Luke, you’re welcome to a breakfast sandwich, the same as the rest of us.” She indicated the chair he had been sitting in before. “Greta, bring Anke’s high chair here.” She waved to the space beside her own seat, trusting her daughter’s sloppy eating habits to keep Luke at a proper distance, letting him see the wall between them. She ushered her family to the table, shushing the children with a glance and bowing her head for silent grace.
Please God, she whispered inwardly. Give me strength to deal with Luke, to move on with my life, to use him for what we need and then send him on his way, gracefully. She opened her eyes to find Luke watching her, and she used the excuse of her children to look away. Her heart raced as her hands performed the familiar tasks of stacking eggs, scrapple and cheese on biscuits and pouring milk for her sons and daughter.
Luke went to the stove for another cup of coffee. “Some for you?” he asked.
She hated to ask any favors of him, but she did want the coffee. She needed more than one cup to get through the morning. Reluctantly, she nodded. “Danke.”
He carried it to the table, added cream and placed the mug carefully in front of her plate. The children and Greta chattered. Anke giggled and cooed and tossed pieces of biscuit and egg onto the floor where the dog and cat vied for the best crumbs.
“I thought I’d start here in the kitchen, if that suits you,” Luke said after finishing off his second egg-and-scrapple sandwich.
“It would suit me best if you weren’t here at all,” she reminded him and then realized how ungrateful she sounded. She needed the work done. The state of the kitchen was hardly fit for her children—for anyone to prepare food or eat in. “I’m sorry,” she said. “That was unkind. Ya, it would be good if you started in here. It certainly needs it.”
So much of what Silas had promised had been left undone. And not for lack of funds, a truth she hadn’t realized until after he had passed and she had taken the family finances into her hands. They were by no means poor, as he’d always led her to believe. Whatever his reasons for making her think that, he’d taken them with him to Heaven. And it would do no good to think ill of him. “Excuse me, Anke needs tidying up. Greta, see to the children.”
She lifted a squirming Anke out of her high chair and carried her out of the kitchen and upstairs to the bathroom. There, she placed the toddler on a clean towel and proceeded to wash her face and hands, and wipe most of the egg and biscuit from her infant’s gown. “It’s going to be a new start for us, isn’t it, baby?” she said to the child. “We’ll make our house all sound and tidy and the matchmaker will find you a new daddi. Won’t you like that?”
Anke needed a father, and the boys certainly needed one. That was what she had told Sara when she’d sat down in her office over a month ago to discuss an appropriate match. They needed a father with a steady but kind hand. Honor spoiled her children. Everyone said so. And she knew she did, but that was because Silas hadn’t...
She bit off that line of thought. She wouldn’t allow herself to wallow in self-pity. She had her faith, her children and her future to think of. She summoned a smile for Anke, tickled her soft belly and thrilled to the sound of baby laughter. She’d dealt with problems before, surely some greater than having Luke Weaver in her house. She’d find a way to manage him.
“After all,” she said to her daughter, “how long can he be here? A few days? A few weeks? And then...” She lifted Anke in the air and nuzzled her midsection so that the baby giggled again. “And then we’re done with him.”
* * *
Freeman Kemp swung the bag of chicken feed into the back of Sara’s wagon. “It’s good of you to take this to Honor. Saves her a trip. And I’m glad you’re going to do repairs on the house. That farm was in bad shape when Silas bought it, and I don’t think he made many improvements before he took sick.”
“It has to be difficult for a young widow with the children, just trying to get to the daily chores,” Luke replied. “I can’t imagine trying to get to bigger projects.” He’d liked Freeman the moment he met him. Met him again. They had known each other as teenagers. Not well, but they’d once played on the same softball team.
“Our church community is getting so big that it’s time we split off,” Freeman said. “And it’s natural that those of u
s farther out should form the new church. We’re all hoping Honor will find a husband willing to settle here. You know how it goes. One young Amish family settles in an area and others usually follow.”
Freeman tugged the brim of his hat down to shade his eyes from the glare of the setting sun. “You know,” he said slowly. “Honor’s mourning time is over. And you’re a single man. Maybe you ought to think about courting her. ’Course you’d need a new hat.” He offered a half smile. “She’d make someone a good wife. Honor’s a sensible woman. Smart. Capable. And she speaks her mind.”
“That she does.” Luke grinned. Some men didn’t like a woman who didn’t hold back with their opinions, but he didn’t have a problem with it. In fact, he wanted a wife who could be his partner. And it was a partner’s duty sometimes to present the opposite side of an argument. “Honor and I knew each other from childhood.”
Freeman shrugged. “Sometimes that’s best. No secrets between you, then.” He hesitated, as if sizing Luke up. Then he went on. “I’ll be honest with you. I didn’t care all that much for Silas. He was moody. Always seemed an odd match to me, him being older and on the serious side. But who am I to say? My family had given me up for a lifelong bachelor until my wife, Katie, came along and set me straight. Why don’t you join us for church next month when we have service here at our place? We always appreciate a new face.”
“I’d like that,” Luke said. “I’ve promised Sara I’ll attend Seven Poplars so long as I’m staying with her, though.”
“That’s no problem, then,” Freeman answered. “We hold ours on a different schedule.” He thought for a moment. “Long trip every day. And I see you have Sara’s rig.” He pointed to the wagon. “If you think you’d like to be closer, we’ve got a spare room you’re welcome to. I’d have to check with my wife, but I’m sure it would be okay with her.”
Luke met Freeman’s gaze. “I might just take you up on that. Once...I get an idea of how long I’m going to be working for Honor.” Once I get an idea if she’s going to kick me off her property, he thought.
“Well, we can talk about it. I’m sure I’ll see you at Sara’s Epiphany party Saturday. Nobody wants to miss that.” He offered Luke his hand. “Glad you’re back. It’s good to meet you again.”
“And you,” Luke said.
“Just a word to the wise,” Freeman said as he opened the gate that led onto the hardtop road.
“Ya?”
“Honor’s children can be a handful.” He pointed at him. “Don’t turn your back on them.”
“Oh, I’ve already seen evidence of it. But boys can be mischievous. And those three are still little.”
Freeman laughed. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Chapter Four
Honor glanced out the window to where her three red-cheeked boys were playing in the snow. Justice had climbed up on the gate, and Tanner was pushing it open and shut while Elijah threw snowballs at them both.
At least, she guessed he was attempting to throw snowballs. His aim was good, but he hadn’t quite mastered the art of forming fresh snow into a ball. It was probably for the best, she thought, because no one was crying yet. Even Greta, who was in the barnyard, tossing shelled corn to the chickens and ducks, seemed to be having a good time.
Honor was glad. It wasn’t often that she saw Greta enjoying herself. The girl had been so homesick when she first arrived that Honor had seriously considered sending her home. However, Silas’s sister had made it clear that she had a lot of mouths to feed and the wages Honor paid Greta were a blessing to the family. There were nine children still at home, and the father was disabled, his only income coming from what he earned fixing clocks. And as inexperienced as Greta seemed to be with most chores, she was better than no help at all for Honor.
“Have you got time to help me for a couple of minutes?” Luke asked, interrupting Honor’s thoughts. “This would go faster if you could hold that end of the board.”
She glanced at him standing at a window, a freshly cut board in his hand. She tried not to smile. She still didn’t want him here, but she was astonished at the amount of work he’d gotten done in only three days. And it was amazing how easily he seemed to be easing into the household. The children were already trailing after him as if they had known him their whole lives. That rankled most of all. “Of course,” she said as she put Anke in her play yard.
Honor wondered why she hadn’t found someone to do this carpentry work sooner. But she knew why. It was her own fear of spending all her savings, leaving nothing to live on, as Silas had warned she would. Silas had made all the financial decisions in their marriage. He’d even given her an allowance for groceries and household items. And now that she was free to make her own decisions, it had taken some time begin to trust her own judgment.
“Just hold this end,” Luke instructed, indicating a length of wood. “The kitchen will feel a lot snugger once these leaks around the window are patched. Just some decent framing and some caulk is all you needed here.”
It already felt a lot warmer. The first thing that Luke did every morning when he arrived was to chop wood and fill the wood box. She could cut wood, and she was capable of carrying it. But it was hard work. Luke made it seem easy. Of course, she had propane heat to fall back on, but firewood from her own property was free.
Honor grabbed her end of the board and held it in place.
“Something smells wonderful,” he said between the strikes of his hammer. The nails went in true and straight. “Downright delicious,” he persisted.
She sighed. “I’m making a rice pudding. I put it in the oven while you were rehanging the gate.”
He glanced out the window to where all three of the children were now swinging on the gate. “It looks like those hinges are getting a thorough quality-control inspection.”
Honor laughed. “That’s a nice way of putting it. Most people aren’t quite so charitable.”
“They ought to be. They’re fine youngsters.”
“Danke.” She thought so, even if they were full of mischief. But that was natural, wasn’t it? Boys were mischief makers. It was their nature.
Luke pushed another piece of trim into her hands. “Line the bottom of that up with the horizontal board.”
“Like this?”
“Just a little higher. There. That’s perfect.” He quickly drove several finishing nails into place. “A little paint and this window will give you another ten years of service.”
“I can do the painting,” she offered. “At least in here.” She wanted the trim and ceiling white. The walls were a pale green, lighter than celery. She liked green, and the white trim would set it off and make the room look fresh.
“You’re welcome to it, if you can find the time. Painting isn’t one of my favorite tasks. I can do it if I have to, but I’m happier with the woodworking.” He motioned to the corner of the room where he’d pulled up a section of cracked and worn linoleum. “The original floor is under here. White pine, I think. Wide boards. If we took up all the linoleum and refinished the floor, it would be a lot cheaper than putting down another floor covering.” He met her gaze. “What do you think?”
She considered. “A saving when there was so much money to go out would be a blessing, but...” She frowned, trying to think how to word her thought delicately, then just said what was on her mind. “You think the children will ruin it?”
“I suppose it’s possible,” he said with a twinkle in his eyes. “But more than one family of children has lived in this kitchen over the last two hundred years, so I doubt it. The hardwood would come up beautiful.”
“And plain?”
“As plain as pine.” He chuckled and she found herself smiling with him. “Plain enough to suit a bishop.”
“And we want to do that, don’t we?” she replied.
Staying within the community rules was a necessary
part of Amish life, one that she’d never felt restricted her. Rather, it made her feel safe. The elders of the church, the preachers and the bishop, told the congregation what God expected of them. All she had to do was follow their teaching, and someday, when she passed out of this earthly existence, she would be welcomed into Heaven. It was a comforting certainty, one that she had dedicated her life to living.
Anke pulled herself to her feet and tossed a rag doll out of her play yard onto the floor. Luke scooped it up and handed it back to her. She promptly threw it a second time, giggling when he retrieved it yet again.
“It’s a game,” Honor said. “She’d keep it up all day if you’d let her.” She wiped her hands on her apron. “Look at the time. I’d best get the dumplings rolled for dinner.”
Luke handed the doll to Anke again, then tickled her belly through the mesh side of the play yard. The baby giggled. “She was born after her father passed, wasn’t she?” he mused.
Honor nodded. “She was.”
“It must have been terribly difficult for you, not having him with you. And after, when Anke was an infant.”
Honor thought carefully before she responded. She wasn’t going to lie to make her late husband out to be someone he wasn’t, but she wouldn’t disrespect him, either. “Silas was a good man, but he believed that small children were the responsibility of the mother. He said he would take them in hand when they were older.”
How old, she wasn’t certain. Tanner hadn’t been old enough to command his father’s attention beyond Silas’s insistence that their little boy hold his tongue at the table, in church and whenever adults were present. As for Justice and Elijah, she couldn’t recall Silas ever holding one of them in his arms or taking them on his lap. Not to read to them. Certainly not to snuggle with them. Looking back, she could see that her decision to marry Silas had been impulsive, she’d agreed without really thinking through her options. If she was honest with herself, the truth was, she married Silas because he was the first man to ask. After Luke.