by Emma Miller
“I’m so sorry that you had to—”
“Don’t be sorry for me, Luke,” she interrupted, shaking her head. “We all have trials to live through. They say that God never gives anyone more than they can bear.”
His green eyes filled with compassion. “I’m still sorry.”
“Silas left me a home and four healthy children. Riches beyond counting,” she murmured, turning away from him to take a dish towel from the back of one of the kitchen chairs. “I’m truly blessed.”
Luke was quiet for a moment and then said, “So what do you think?”
“About what?” She turned back to him.
“The floor? Will you be satisfied with the old wood planks?”
“How will you finish them?”
“A high-grade poly. But it still won’t cost much.”
She held up her hand. “Say no more. We can try it. If I don’t like it, I can always cover the floor again.” She lifted a heavy cast-iron kettle from the countertop.
“Let me get that.” Luke took it from her and carried it to the stove. “What’s going with those slippery dumplings?”
“Fried chicken, peas, mashed potatoes and biscuits,” she said, fighting a smile as she washed her hands at the sink. The man did like to eat.
“Mmm, sounds good. You don’t suppose you could spare a bowl of dumplings.”
“Didn’t Sara pack you a lunch?”
He grinned. “She did. But it’s a ham sandwich and an apple. Cold. Hot chicken and slippery dumplings sounds much tastier. Especially on a chilly day like this.”
He was right. It did. Her stomach rumbled at the thought of hot biscuits dripping with butter and chicken fried crispy brown. She loved to eat, too, and she had no doubt that by the time she reached middle age, she’d have lost her girlish figure. Not that she looked much like the slim, wide-eyed girl who’d married Silas King. Four children coming so quickly had added inches to her waist and hips. It was only long hours and hard work that kept her from becoming round.
“So, am I to fast on Sara’s charity, or are you willing to give me just the tiniest cup of dumplings?” Luke began plaintively.
He sounded so much like a little boy that Honor had to chuckle. “All right, all right, you can have dinner with us. But you’d best not waste Sara’s ham sandwich.” Honor began to remove flour and salt from the Hoosier cabinet she’d brought with her to the marriage. The piece had been her great-grandmother’s, and it had been carefully cared for over four generations. The paint was a little faded, but she loved it just the way it was.
“I’ll eat it on the way back to her house,” Luke promised. He tucked several nails into his mouth and finished up the last piece of trim work on the window frame. “I replaced the sash cord so the window will go up and down easier,” he said. “And you won’t have to prop it open with a stick anymore.”
“Danke,” she said. Now, if he could just do something with the ceiling. It was low, which made the room darker than she liked. And crumbles of plaster sometimes fell on them. Once, she’d had to throw away a whole pot of chicken soup when a big chunk dropped into their supper.
The kitchen was one of the worst rooms in the house. Silas had promised that he’d get to it, but he never had. The parlor, he’d remodeled. Partially. Silas had said that he was making it a proper place for the bishop to preach, but he’d never asked the bishop to come. Instead, the room had become Silas’s retreat from the children and from her. He would close the door and huddle in there with a blanket around his shoulders against the chill while he went over his financial records.
“What do you think?” Luke asked her.
Honor blinked. She wasn’t sure what he’d asked her but didn’t want to admit that she’d been woolgathering. “I’m not sure,” she ventured as she measured out three level cups of flour.
“It would save time. And I’d get more work done here because I could work until dark.”
She turned to him, realizing she had no idea what he was talking about. “I’m sorry?”
“If I stayed at the mill instead of driving back and forth to Sara Yoder’s every day. Freeman invited me. He said I was welcome to stay in the farmhouse, but I didn’t want to be a burden on Katie. And they’re not married that long, so I think they should have their privacy. But...there’s a little house for a hired man. Just a single room. The boy who works for him still lives with his parents a mile away, so the place is empty. I offered to rent it from them, but Freeman wouldn’t have it. He says if I help them out a few hours on Saturday morning, when they have the most customers, I can live there for free.”
“It sounds a sensible arrangement, but you won’t be working on my house for long. What would you do then? Wouldn’t you be better situated closer to Dover?”
“The mill will be fine. I don’t know how long it will take to finish your house, but honestly...” He scratched his head. “There’s a lot that needs fixing around here, Honor. Some things, like that windmill, have to be rebuilt. I can’t go on using Sara’s mule. It’s not fair to her.”
“What were you doing for transportation in Kansas?”
“I have horses. A neighbor is keeping them for me until I can find someone reliable to transport them to Delaware. Freeman says I can keep them at his place once they arrive.” He shrugged. “Meanwhile, I can easily walk from the mill to your place.”
“In bad weather?”
“Rain and snow don’t bother me. After Kansas, Delaware weather will be mild.”
“I’ll remind you of that when you’re soaking to the skin and wading through mud puddles.” She shrugged. “Do as you please,” she said, but secretly she thought it was a splendid idea. Who could complain about getting more work out of a hired man? And that’s all Luke was, she told herself firmly. All he could ever be to her.
* * *
“You’re certain you don’t want to ride with us?” Freeman asked. “Plenty of room.” He stood just inside the door of the little house he’d helped Luke to move into the night before.
The small log structure stood in the shadow of the mill within the sound of the millrace and shaded by willows in summer and spring. Wood-floored and low-ceilinged, the single room contained a bed, a braided rug on the floor, a table and two chairs, a propane stove and a built-in cupboard. It was sparse but spotless with a cheery red-and-white quilt and plain white curtains at the two narrow windows. Hand-carved pegs held his coat, water-damaged hat and spare shirt. It was a solid place for a man who needed a roof over his head close to a certain woman’s house and one that Luke hoped he wouldn’t have need of for long.
Luke shook his head. “Ne, you and your family go on. I’ll be fine. I want to shine my boots and shave. I’ll catch a ride with Honor and the children.”
Freeman nodded. “I can understand how you’d rather go with them.” He grinned and glanced around the cabin. “I hope you’ll be comfortable here. Anything you want, you know you’re welcome to come up to the house. And we expect you to eat with us whenever the widow doesn’t feed you.”
He chuckled. “Sara Yoder thinks highly of you. And it’s not always easy to make an impression on our matchmaker. Well—” he slapped the doorjamb “—see you there. Sara’s Epiphany suppers are talked about all year. Every woman that comes brings her special dish, and we make up for the morning’s fasting by stuffing ourselves like Thanksgiving turkeys.”
“I can’t wait.” Luke remembered Honor saying something about the sweet potato pies she was planning on making the previous night, after he left and the children went to bed. “And thanks again for your hospitality,” he said to Freeman.
The miller tugged on his hat and went out, and Luke hunted up the shoe polish and cleaning cloth he’d seen on the shelf in the miniscule bathroom. He’d lost all his good clothes in the bus accident and hadn’t had the time to replace them. Until he bought a new wardrobe, he’d have
to make do with the borrowed shirts and trousers that didn’t quite fit. Not that he wasn’t grateful to Sara and Hiram and Freeman for their kindness, but it was hard for him to be on the receiving end of charity when he’d been accustomed to being the one giving a helping hand to those who needed it.
Luke waited until he heard Freeman’s buggy roll out of the mill yard before donning his coat and hat. He hoped he hadn’t waited too long and missed Honor. But he was counting on the children to keep her from leaving early. He hadn’t exactly made arrangements to ride with her, and it would be a long walk to Sara’s if things didn’t work out. Or if Honor said no. Which he wasn’t even going to consider.
The wind was rising as he strode away from the cabin and past the mill. There would be no customers today. The “closed, come again” sign hung at the entrance to the drive. Across the way and down, at the dirt pull off, he saw a blue pickup parked, and beyond it, at the pond’s edge, a man and a small boy. It was too cold for fishing but they stood close together, tossing pebbles into the water and laughing about something.
A father and his son, Luke thought. A pang of regret knifed through him. If he’d not made the decision he had, Honor’s children might have been his own. He could have been the man standing with his son beside the millpond, laughing with him, lifting him high in the air. So many years lost...so many possibilities that could never be. He swallowed hard as a lump formed in his throat.
For an instant, he could picture Honor’s beautiful face the day before he’d ruined everything. She’d been radiant, joy in her movement, her features. And he’d crushed her happiness, turning her shining day to one of tearful sorrow. God forgive him, the fault was his. But...
He sighed deeply. If he were given the chance to relive that day, would he do any different? He’d never know, because that wasn’t a possibility. All he had was hope that he could make a new beginning here and now.
Luke walked out onto the main road and headed toward Seven Poplars, hoping to he hadn’t missed her buggy. As he walked, he wondered why Silas King had ever picked a farm this far away from Dover.
The nearest Amish school was a distance away. Tanner hadn’t started school yet, although he was old enough, but when he did, it would be quite the walk for a first grader. Unless Honor planned on driving him at least part of the way, though that would mean leaving the other children in Greta’s care or hauling them all back and forth every day.
It didn’t make a lot of sense, but the boy had to attend school eventually. The Amish here had won the right to keep their children in their own schools from kindergarten through the eighth grade. And every child had to attend, so Tanner would have to start soon or someone from the state would be paying a call on Honor.
He’d ask her what she planned to do. But he’d have to do so in a way that didn’t seem to be critical of her parenting. Honor was touchy over her children. Not that she wasn’t a good mother. It was clear to him that her world revolved around them. But he had to agree with the warnings he’d gotten about them so far—the children were a little wild. And he couldn’t help noticing that the consequences she promised for bad behavior never seemed to materialize.
Luke stopped and looked behind him. Still no sign of Honor. The fear that she had already passed this spot nagged at him. Wouldn’t he look foolish, turning down Freeman’s offer of a ride and then having to walk all those miles?
He was truly starving. He’d had no breakfast today. Not even coffee. Nothing more than a pint of cold water from a Mason jar. Freeman was probably halfway to Sara’s by now. Maybe even pulling into the yard. Luke could imagine filling his plate with ham, turkey, roast beef and all the sides. He’d save room for a slice or two of Honor’s sweet potato pie.
The sound of something coming behind him made him stop his daydreaming and look over his shoulder. But it wasn’t a horse and buggy, just a car. The driver waved and drove on past. Luke glanced at the sky. What time was it? Well past noon. Why hadn’t he left Freeman’s place sooner? All he could think about was spending the day with Honor, and now it seemed he’d—
His heart leaped at another sound. There was a buggy coming. Grinning, he turned back toward Sara’s house and started walking, taking long strides. He hadn’t missed her. Things were working out exactly as he planned. There was no way she could pass him by without stopping to give him a ride. Not on Epiphany.
He started whistling a tune. He could hear the sound of horse’s hooves on the blacktop. He didn’t look back, just kept walking until the horse pulled alongside him. Then he turned, feigned surprise and waved at Honor and the children.
The children shouted, “Luke! Luke! Happy Epiphany!”
He grinned. “Happy Epiphany!” And then his smile faded as Honor smiled and waved and kept driving. The buggy rolled past him and on, down the road with the laughing children peering out the back and waving, leaving him behind.
Chapter Five
Honor waved at Luke and smiled back. Then she drove right by him without reining in the horse one bit. The nerve of the man. He’d wheedled his way into her house, forced her to hire him to make the repairs and now was manipulating her, so that she’d have to bring him to Sara’s Epiphany supper.
He’d probably planned this whole thing; he’d probably been waiting there on the road for her since dawn. But she wasn’t going to give him a ride. Why should she? Arriving together would give everyone in the community the idea that they were seeing each other. And that was definitely, positively, absolutely not happening.
“Mommi!” Tanner yelled. “That was Luke. You have to stop for him.”
“Luke! Luke!” Justice had the back window partially open and was waving frantically.
Anke began to fuss. And she’d almost been asleep in Greta’s arms before the boys had started such a racket.
“You should stop for him,” Greta said.
Honor turned to look at Greta and guilt settled over her shoulders. What was wrong with her? She wouldn’t leave any Amish person walking when she could offer a ride, especially when she knew Luke was going to the same destination she was.
Before she realized what she was doing, she pulled back on the leathers. “Whoa, whoa.”
The children in the back of the buggy cheered and Greta uttered a small sound that might have been astonishment. Honor leaned out. “Well, what are you waiting for?” she called. “Hurry up. Get in. We’re late as it is.”
“What shall I do?” Greta whispered to Honor. “Should I get in the back?” The cheering behind them had become a chant of Luke’s name. All three boys were bouncing up and down and waving their arms.
“Quiet, all of you,” Honor warned. “Ne, you will not get in the back, Greta. Just slide over toward me. There’s plenty of room for him. You don’t take up as much room as a small rabbit.” Honor made her face stern and stared straight ahead at the horse.
Luke got up into the buggy, taking the place beside Greta on the bench seat. “Danke,” he said with a grin. “I thought you were going to leave me to walk to Sara’s.”
“I considered it,” Honor admitted, not looking at him. She clicked to the horse. “Walk on,” she commanded. She was gripping the reins tighter than she needed to. Her palms were damp where the leathers lay against them.
“I can drive, if you like,” Luke said.
“And why would I let you do that?” she asked. Then she felt a little silly. She had no proof that he’d deliberately trapped her into driving him. Maybe he’d missed Freeman. Or maybe the miller’s plans had changed.
Anke was still fussing, and now she was trying to climb out of Greta’s arms into Honor’s.
“Suit yourself,” Luke said, still maintaining that good-natured air that made her wish she belonged to a less peaceful people, because a tiny, unpleasant part of her wanted to give him a sharp kick in the shins.
Anke’s griping became a wail. Greta struggled to hold
on to the baby.
“You’re right,” Honor said, giving up and passing Luke the reins. “You should be driving.” She held out her arms for her daughter and Greta gratefully passed her over. Honor reached into her coat pocket and found a pacifier. She popped it into the baby’s mouth, and soon the tempest passed.
Greta shrank down so that she left a space between herself and Luke. She sniffed and wiped at her nose. Honor found a handkerchief in her other coat pocket and passed it to the girl. Luke drove in silence, his hands gentle on the reins. In the back, the boys grew silent.
Honor wondered at her own show of bad temper. How could she have done such a spiteful thing? What kind of example was that for a mother? “I’m sorry,” she said softly to Luke. “I thought you’d deliberately waited for me on the road and...”
“You always did jump to conclusions,” Luke said. “You should wait and find out, before you fly off the handle. Simon Beechy lives a ways down on this road. I met Simon at the mill the other day and he told me I was welcome to ride with him to Sara’s.” Luke looked at her with an amused expression. “Maybe I was taking him up on that offer.”
She hesitated, looking him in the eyes. “And were you?” she asked. “Because it will be no trouble to let you out at Simon’s.”
“Ne, danke,” he answered solemnly, looking straight ahead again. “I think I’d rather ride with you and the children.”
Anke gurgled and began to clap her hands together. Greta didn’t make a sound. Honor glanced at her to make sure she was still breathing. The girl was very pale, but her round eyes were large in her face. She seemed scared to death to be sitting so close to Luke. Honor felt sorry for her. Greta really would need to toughen up.