Promise Lodge

by Charlotte Hubbard

  “But what if Isaac and Kerry come back?” Deborah protested. “What if they sneak in to set the barn afire, or—or they drive their car through the produce plots? Just to get back at me?”

  “Is that what you’ve been stewing over? ‘The Lord is my light and my salvation! Whom then shall I fear?’” Rosetta shook the green dress again and hung it on a hanger. “The way Kerry tucked his tail and ran, I doubt we’ll be seeing him again—especially because he took off in Isaac’s car. And the bishop’s boy didn’t fare so well, either, did he?”

  Recalling how Isaac had squirmed, bound in curtain fabric with paint and egg on his face, made Deborah smile. “But it’s not fair to the rest of you that their kind of trouble has followed me here. I—”

  “You’re forgetting that Kerry lives in Eulah, jah?” Rosetta quizzed her. “And how long do you figure to keep moving from place to place? You know what they say—you can run but you can’t hide.”

  Deborah sighed and reached for another wet shirt. Once Rosetta became convinced of something, there was no changing her mind.

  “And mark my words,” Rosetta continued with a shake of her head. “Somebody will catch up to Isaac. How can Obadiah deny his son was up to no gut, after having to come all the way out here to fetch him—and after we figured out that Isaac was the one who wrote that letter, imitating his mamm’s handwriting?”

  Deborah picked up more clothespins. “I just thought—”

  “Well, think on this!” Rosetta slung her arm around Deborah’s shoulders, gesturing toward the vast expanse of yard and plowed plots and buildings. “Look at this glorious garden the Lord’s brought us to! Surely God is in this place, and He’s led you here to be with us—to be Noah’s wife, I believe.”

  Deborah’s breath caught as Rosetta held her gaze with eyes as dark and sweet as molasses. Joy shone on her attractive face. Conviction rang in her voice.

  “Adam and Eve went running from the Garden, but we don’t have to, Deborah,” Rosetta continued earnestly. “We’ve done nothing wrong. Not you, not any of us—at least where Obadiah and his son are concerned. Will you please believe that for me?”

  The clothes on the line rippled in the breeze. The sky, dotted with puffy white clouds, was as blue as a morning glory and the lush foliage did resemble a garden, even if some of the underbrush and weeds needed cutting. Out in the center of Rainbow Lake, a fish jumped up and splashed down.

  “It is beautiful here,” Deborah agreed. “And I really like being with you and your sisters and the girls.”

  “So if Noah’s stewing, let him! You’re a young woman of faith, Deborah,” Rosetta insisted, “and you don’t have to be laid low by any man’s attitude. Sometime I hope you’ll adjust that boy’s attitude once and for all, but for now, what’s your plan for happiness? Let’s work it out while we finish with this laundry.”

  There it was again, Rosetta’s refusal to be sucked into a bad mood. Deborah smiled, because the woman who gripped her by both shoulders wouldn’t ease up until they’d concocted a course of action.

  “What if we made a cake roll with what’s left of the ice cream?” Deborah ventured.

  Rosetta’s face lit up. “We’ll all enjoy that! What else?”

  When she noticed another ripple on the water’s surface, Deborah felt herself grinning. “What if we took a picnic supper to the lake? And after we eat, we can have a fishing contest?”

  “Now you’re talking!” Rosetta crowed. “I love to fish but I haven’t had the chance to wet a line since I got to Promise. We can add tonight’s catch to what you and Noah brought in the other night and have enough for a fish fry this weekend.”

  Deborah realized she was grinning back at Rosetta then, happy to have a plan—an evening to anticipate instead of a day to dread because she and Noah weren’t seeing eye to eye.

  No, it’s Noah who’s bent out of shape, and he’s keeping the reason to himself. So what’re you going to do about that?

  “Shoo, now. I’ll hang the rest of these clothes,” Rosetta insisted. “Go ask the fellows to get the fishing gear ready—and the worms dug—for this evening.” She chuckled then, taking the clothespins from Deborah’s hands. “No need to tell them, of course, that we girls will catch more fish than they will.”

  * * *

  When Queenie woofed and ran toward the lodge, Noah glanced up in time to catch a grin flickering on Deborah’s face as she strode down the lane. She was carrying a plate and a picnic jug—a welcome sight, considering that he and Amos and Roman had spent the morning building the produce stand out in the hot sun. But her expression told him she was up to something. And with the preacher and his brother here, Noah would have no chance to ignore Deborah if she spoke to him—or asked what was bothering him. There was no getting around it: women picked at scabs.

  If Deborah doesn’t tell you to get over your mood, Amos will, he reminded himself. Be nice, even though you wonder if there’s any truth to what Isaac said. . . .

  “Deborah! You’re a sight for sore eyes and parched tongues,” Preacher Amos exclaimed. He rose from the ground, where they’d been bolting the front panel of the produce stand to its sides, reinforcing the corners. “What do you think of our little shack?”

  Deborah’s green eyes lit up as she looked at the structure, setting her plate, the jug, and some plastic glasses on the wooden countertop. “Looks big enough to hold quite a lot of produce,” she remarked. “And I like the way the roof slants down over the front to keep the sun and rain out.”

  “It’ll get plenty warm out here by midsummer,” Roman remarked as he helped himself to a brownie. “Once the word gets around, though, I think Mamm and the girls will run a brisk business.”

  “Because of all the trees here, they’ll be in the shade a lot of the time,” Amos pointed out as he unscrewed the lid of the jug. “We’ve put hooks up in the ceiling to hang a couple of fans, too. I’m going to install solar panels on the roof to run those, as well as a small fridge for keeping the eggs and the more perishable produce cool.”

  “And we’re building a couple of rolling racks for the melons and squash and whatever else the girls might want to display closer to the road,” Roman said. “When they close up for the day, the racks will fit inside the stand.”

  Noah let the others talk as he filled a glass with cold water and drank it down. He tried not to look too obvious about watching Deborah as she went inside the little building. It was built in a U shape, and they had already installed sturdy wooden shelves and pull-out bins around its three sides. She was nodding as she checked out these features.

  “Maybe I could bake bread and goodies and sell them out here, too,” she murmured. “It would be a way to earn my keep.”

  Noah felt a pang, not only because Deborah thought she needed to make money but because it sounded like she intended to stick around for a while. Everyone else would think that was a fine idea—

  And until yesterday, you did, too. What’s your problem?

  Noah cupped his hand and poured water into it so Queenie could lap it up. He couldn’t miss the hint of mischief in Deborah’s grin when she looked up at them again.

  “I came out to ask you fellows to get the rods ready—and the worms dug—for a fishing contest this evening,” she announced. “Rosetta and I thought that would be something fun to do after we have a picnic by the lake.”

  “What’s the prize for catching the most fish?” Roman teased as he grabbed another brownie.

  “Hmm . . . maybe you fellows can come up with ideas—especially since we girls figure to win,” Deborah replied pertly. “And meanwhile, Noah, you’d better tell me what’s chewing on you before our picnic. I won’t spend the evening being ignored.”

  With that, she flashed him a grin and took off toward the lodge.

  “There you have it,” Amos said with a laugh. He glanced at Noah as he reached for a lemon-frosted molasses cookie. “I thought you two were all cozy again.”

  “Jah, they were—until Isaac mad
e some crass comments about what he and Deborah did together on the night of the fire,” Roman remarked. “All his talk was horse hockey, if you ask me.”

  “Well, I didn’t,” Noah retorted before he could stop himself. Didn’t his brother realize what vivid mental pictures Isaac’s descriptions had planted in his mind?

  The preacher’s eyebrows rose. “Do you have any reason to believe what Isaac said about her, Noah? Far as I could tell, he and his dat were both bearing a lot of false witness yesterday, and not owning up to what Isaac’s been doing.”

  Noah could not—would not—admit that Isaac’s words had made him painfully aware of what he’d longed to share with Deborah . . . long kisses and the kind of intimacy he’d looked forward to as her husband. He’d known friends who’d succumbed to sexual temptations before they married, but Noah had kept his desires to himself. It was a matter of honor and respect for Deborah and for their faith. He shook his head, knowing Amos wouldn’t accept that as an answer to his question.

  “Deborah’s a beautiful, capable young woman,” Amos continued matter-of-factly. “And if you love her, Noah, marriage would cure what’s ailing you—and it would protect her from Isaac, as well,” he pointed out. “As long as she’s at loose ends, any fellow can cast a line. Somebody else’s bait might start looking pretty gut if you’re always pouting.”

  Noah’s eyes widened. But he didn’t challenge the preacher’s insinuation that he’d been behaving like a kid—or that he’d wanted Deborah in a physical way. “I guess I’ve never considered the protection angle,” he admitted.

  “If you love her, you’d better tell her, son. Before somebody else does.” Amos took up his screwdriver again, crouching to finish the produce stand’s corner.

  “Jah, you never know what sort of guys might come to live at Promise Lodge—or might already live around here,” Roman said as he grabbed his hammer. “If they spot Deborah working at the roadside stand, they’ll want to take her home right along with her brownies.”

  Noah blinked. Not long ago Roman had been touting the merits of the marriageable girls who were moving here, saying he should let Deborah go. His brother’s remark struck Noah as way off base—but was it? Noah hadn’t thought about Deborah paying attention to anyone else, because even after she’d broken their engagement, he’d still considered her his girl. He hadn’t wanted to date anyone else, so he’d assumed Deborah wouldn’t look around, either.

  And that’s not so smart, is it?

  Noah positioned the ladder and began putting shingles on the produce stand’s roof. It was all well and good for Amos and Roman to tell him he should latch on to Deborah sooner rather than later, but such ideas didn’t provide him a paying job, did they? It would be easier if he could nail down his future as quickly as he was attaching shingles with his pneumatic staple gun. Maybe he should post notices on the bulletin boards in the Forest Grove stores, and run ads in the local papers. People couldn’t hire him if they didn’t know about his welding skills....

  Above the loud hum of his air compressor, Noah heard a vehicle approaching. Queenie barked when the truck stopped at the roadside, but he remained focused on finishing the produce stand’s roof. A door slammed behind him.

  “And how’re you fellows on this fine day?” a familiar voice called out. “Looks like Mattie and the girls will soon be in the produce business.”

  “Jah, we need to keep them busy or they have too much time to think up more work for us,” Amos joked. “How are you, Truman?”

  “Fine and dandy. If my memory serves me right, you’ve got a guy here who’s handy with a welding torch.”

  Noah shot the last two staples into a sheet of shingles before he looked down to see Truman grinning at him. “That would be me,” he said. “What’s on your mind? Got some repairs at your place?”

  “No, it’s a landscaping job at a new senior living center south of here.” He removed his straw hat to wipe his forehead on his rolled-up shirtsleeve. “They’ve hired my crew to design the raised flower beds around the grounds. When the director mentioned they’d like some ornamental metal trellises and gates, I thought of you.”

  Noah’s breath caught. “I’d have to get a forge up and running—”

  “Promise Lodge will soon be needing a forge anyway, to keep our horses shod and our buggies in gut repair,” Preacher Amos pointed out.

  “—but jah, I’ve done a fair amount of ornamental metalwork.” Noah grinned as his spirits rose. “It’s a lot more fun than welding pipe joints and sheet metal, too.”

  “Can you start next week?”

  “Well, jah!” Noah’s head began to spin. Here was an opportunity exactly like he’d been hoping for! “We’d need to get dimensions, and order the supplies and—”

  “I’m going onsite Monday to make out the order for our bushes and perennials,” Truman said. “If you come along, you can talk to the managers about what they have in mind. We’ll shoot them a bid when you’ve got an idea of what your materials will run—and I’ll cover the cost of your equipment and supplies as part of the overall job. How’s that sound?”

  Noah’s jaw dropped. “Well, it doesn’t get any better than that,” he exclaimed. He came down the ladder and stuck out his hand. “You have no idea how much I appreciate this, Truman.”

  Their neighbor gripped Noah’s hand firmly and pumped it. “I think I do,” he replied. “I was your age once, just starting out. I’d rather hire an Amish fellow than somebody English any day. I know the job’ll get done right.”

  “You’ll not find anyone more conscientious or capable than Noah,” Preacher Amos agreed. “We’ve been trying to convince him that the doors of opportunity would soon swing open, and you’ve just answered our prayers in a big way.”

  “Well, now.” Truman met their gazes with earnest hazel eyes. “It’s been a while since anybody told me that. I knew you folks would make gut neighbors!”

  Noah’s mind was still reeling with his good fortune, but he had a sudden inspiration. “How’d you like to join us for a picnic supper tonight? Followed by a fishing contest?”

  “Jah, Deborah tells us it’s girls against the boys, and we could use another guy on our team,” Roman said. “You can keep your catch—”

  “Or you can come back when we fry up what we’ve been accumulating,” Amos joined in. “Bring your mother. We’d love to meet her.”

  Truman slapped his hat against his thigh. “Now that’s an offer I can’t refuse—more fun than I’ve had in a long while. Mamm’s none too steady on rugged ground, so she won’t come this evening, but I’ll be there!”

  After Truman’s big truck had rumbled down the county road, leaving a dust cloud in its wake, Noah was still agog. “What do you think of that? It was like Truman could read my mind—knew what I was concerned about when he pulled up.”

  “You were in the right place at the right time with the right skills,” Amos replied as he began picking up the tools. “Gut opportunities don’t happen by accident. They’re a sure sign that God’s got His eye on us and brings us exactly what we need—wouldn’t you say?”

  Although he’d never been one to talk a lot about matters of faith, Noah couldn’t deny that Amos was on to something. “Jah, and I’d say He was watching out for us when He told you to come to Promise Lodge with us, too.” He glanced up at the roof of the produce stand. “It’ll take me about five minutes to finish the shingling, and then I’ll tell the cooks we’ve got company joining us for supper. I’m guessing Rosetta will see that the food’s a little fancier than usual, if you get my meaning.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Deborah paused with her hands on the warm chocolate sheet cake she’d just rolled up in a towel. Through the kitchen window she saw Noah hurrying up the lane, his arms loaded with tools and Queenie circling him exuberantly. Something wonderful must have happened! His step had a bounce to it. His face glowed in the summer sunshine as he gazed toward the lodge, bursting with news he couldn’t wait to tell.


  Her heartbeat sped up. Denki, Lord, for whatever You’ve brought to this man. He hasn’t looked this happy since before I broke up with him.

  “Deborah!” he called out as his footsteps thundered on the porch steps. “Deborah, I got a job!”

  From over by the sink, Rosetta cheered while Mattie, Christine, and her two girls grabbed each other’s hands. Deborah hurried through the dining room, wiping her sugar-dusted palms on her apron. She heard Noah’s tools land in one of the wicker porch chairs, and then he rushed inside, letting the screen door bang behind him. Before she knew what was happening, Noah lifted her up and swung her around in the center of the lobby until her laughter rang happily against the high, beamed ceiling.

  “I can’t believe it! Truman stopped by just now, and he’s got a job lined up for his crew,” Noah crowed, “and he wants me to make the trellises and gates! I’m going with him on Monday to speak with the managers!”

  Deborah squealed as her arms flew around his neck. “What a fine surprise! See there? I knew you’d find work—”

  “And Rosetta?” Noah called toward the kitchen. “Wickey’s coming to our picnic tonight. Thought you’d want to know.”

  Deborah felt the color rising in her cheeks. Noah set her carefully on the floor and kept his hands at her waist. His brown eyes had the shine of hot coffee, and his gaze made her feel as if she’d gulped two or three cups of it—all jittery and breathless.

  He licked his lips, looking nervous. “I’m sorry I’ve been snippy,” he murmured, “but I had no idea—”

  “It’s okay, Noah. You’ve had a lot on your mind.”

  “—how I was going to make a living or—” His face tightened. “And I’m sorry Isaac’s stupid lies made me doubt you, when I know you’re not the kind of girl to go along with his um, ideas,” Noah continued in a rush. “It’s me that needs to be forgiven now—again. Heh, always.”