An Amish Flower Farm

by Mindy Steele

  “You know why I don’t go. Please talk about something else.” She sucked in her emotions. This was supposed to be a perfect night. She didn’t want it ruined with a reminder that she was just Belinda, no one’s first choice.

  “I don’t know. That’s why I asked. I don’t understand why you, of all people, don’t go. I know you’re good at athletics. I have seen you play baseball, remember?” he bumped her shoulder with his.

  “I’m not without ability, but I know I’m different from the other maedels. No sense pretending to be something I am not.”

  “I agree, but I don’t think we’re talking about the same thing. Your differences are what are most attractive about you.” She drew in a breath. “Besides, lots of people are shy. They work through it, just as you have. You talk to me all the time.”

  “Attractive? I’m ugly,” she said bluntly. Adam reached out, gripped her hand, and brought her to a stop.

  “You’re crazy.”

  “So, I’m shy, ugly, and crazy. See why I don’t go?” She jerked her hand free and began walking again.

  “Belinda,” he stopped her with a tender hand on her shoulder. She felt the same tremble and surprise as she had when he placed his hand over hers in the honey house. Butterflies. There were so many butterflies darting about in her stomach right now.

  “I don’t think you see yourself clearly.” He relieved her of the flowers in her hands, giving her nothing to hold onto for support. “You’re beautiful, inside and out. You do so much for everyone. And how many people can charm both beast and insect?” He looked serious, sincere. Did he truly not see her flaws? Had they spent so many days together he was immune, like her family?

  She blinked. Did he find her capable of charming him? She blinked again, certain she heard him wrong. “You don’t think me ugly?”

  “Nee.” Adam was stepping into deeper water. He needed to tread lightly. Tobias was right. He wasn’t supposed to mix business with pleasure. Just because he found her beautiful didn’t mean he should risk his harvest to tell her—unless she cried. He had a moral obligation to say anything that might soothe her if tears were present.

  “Look at me, Adam.” She raised her voice and moonlight revealed tears daring an escape. He had to stop this now. He had looked at her; for weeks he had looked at her; for years, even. He wasn’t stupid. Right now, he had to do everything but look at her.

  He started walking again. “I have looked at you, and that little strawberry kiss on your cheek isn’t ugly. It’s all in your head.” Adam did a mental slap to his forehead. “And vanity is a sin, Belinda,” he added, just to put the cherry on top of his current screw-up.

  Belinda opened her mouth, and then quickly closed it again. “I know,” she whispered, and hung her head.

  “I didn’t say that to hurt your feelings. I don’t understand how you could let something so small keep you from enjoying life.” She was hostage to a past that had marred her confidence. How could he convince her that what she saw as a fatal flaw didn’t matter to anyone but her?

  “That’s what I do, isn’t it? Tabitha says such. I just have felt this way so long, I guess...”

  “You let it become who you are,” he quickly added. “You are more than a little girl who got her feelings hurt because of a few harsh words.”

  “But growing up hasn’t changed things. Not really. They still stare at me.”

  “They do,” Adam agreed. “But the birthmark is not why they look at you.”

  The strawberry moon grew overhead. They walked to a clearing and looked up. “Are we friends?”

  Adam paused, letting the words soak through him. “Jah, Belinda, we are.”

  “Good. Now it’s your turn.” She looked to the moon again.

  “My turn at what?”

  “I told you something private, something I don’t speak of outside of my family. It’s your turn. It’s what friends do.” She strolled up higher and found a place to plant her bare feet.

  “That’s not part of our partnership,” he tried to argue, fisting the bouquet a little tighter.

  “It is our friendship.” Her chin tilted upward, challenging him. “Or is your idea of friendship that I show my weakness, my vulnerability, while you get to remain unblemished?”

  She had him stumped and trapped at the same time. Adam couldn’t risk opening up to her, but when those blue eyes danced in moonlight, he couldn’t resist either. She tapped her foot, crossed her arms, awaiting his answer. Rolling his eyes, he let out a deep groan. “Fine.” He sat down and stretched out his legs, knowing she would follow. “What do you want to know?”

  “Why didn’t you tell me about Susanne, in the beginning? You made me think...”

  “I didn’t want you to get the wrong idea.” He answered too quickly. “I needed help. I didn’t want you to think I was trying to get to know you, you know, like that.” Honesty was not always the best method between friends.

  “Like a potential girlfriend,” she quipped. “You think me desperate, that I’d hound you if I knew you were single? You’re not the first man to knock on my door.” Her sharp words slapped him.

  “Everyone else was getting the wrong idea about us, our partnership. I didn’t want you to, as well.” He flinched. “Wait. Who’s been knocking on your door?”

  “That’s none of your business. And I’m not some silly maedel needing attention from a grumpy man who doesn’t even know how to talk without growling.” She got to her feet again.

  “Nee, starved for attention, you are not,” he agreed, and hurried to his feet. “I mean that as a compliment, Bee. You are nothing like the others, and that’s a good thing. If circumstances were different...” His words brought her to a halt.

  “We would still be strangers,” she finished. She clearly saw him as nothing more than the grump next door. At least that’s what he thought until he noticed the slight tremble in her hands. Something she did when she tried being firm and bold, for neither came to her naturally.

  “I’m glad we aren’t.” Adam offered an extended hand. “I’m glad we needed each other and became friends as a result.”

  Belinda couldn’t stop staring at him, hand out, waiting. His brow lifted, encouraging her to trust him.

  “Let’s go home before it gets too dark,” Belinda said, accepting his hand and his offer to walk her home. He told himself that he was grateful for her friendship—that he had to be, since it was all he could ever ask of her.

  They walked in silence, neither letting go of the other’s hand. Home lights burned in the distance, a coyote called out and was joined by friends. But she didn’t look afraid. He wondered if that meant she felt safe with him guiding her home.

  When they reached her porch, Belinda turned to look up at him. Adam let her hand go, tucking his safely inside his pocket.

  “You confuse and surprise me both,” she announced.

  “You’ve surprised me plenty,” he said, eyes holding hers. “I wish things could be different.” He cleared his throat. “Susanne was right.” He had nothing to offer her, nothing to offer any woman. So why did this woman make him want to drop to his knees and hand her his heart? He fought the urge back.

  “What maedel wants a bee farmer?” He shrugged.

  Belinda thought about that for a moment, then smiled. “One who doesn’t want a farmer who smells like he mucked stalls all day,” she quipped playfully. Adam laughed. She reached out. “My flowers,” she said, “before you squash the stems, please. I like to put them on the table for Mammi to see first thing in the morn.”

  Adam handed over the mix of wild and tame blooms, his gaze narrowing on her. “Not a one limp or bruised,” he assured. “It might surprise you, considering my behavior of late, but I do know how to handle delicate things.” They held each other’s gaze for longer than what seemed proper for friends who had declared no romantic interest.


  “She was wrong, you know. She chose a lesser man.” His shoulders lifted and his gaze grew more intense. Sun and moon both played with the shadows. “And what kind of man would want to marry a maedel like that?” A cautious smile flitted across her face, taunting him. She seemed to be getting a hang of this flirting thing.

  “Not me.” He returned her smile. “Gut nacht, Belinda Graber, and danki for letting me walk you home again.” He tipped his imaginary hat before strolling off into the night. There was no mistaking what was growing between them.

  His father’s favorite saying came to mind. Life was sweeter when you smiled.

  Chapter Twenty

  After delivering flowers, Adam had a half hour to waste before work. He stared at all the paint tubes splayed out on the shelf in the local hardware store and brushed a hand over the sunflower yellow, such a powerful likeness to the ones growing in her garden—such a reminder of the drawings now decorating his hives.

  It wasn’t that his hives looked better with drawings, though they did, or that Belinda had another secret talent he’d never known about, it was that she gifted him a little joy in his life when joy seemed so far away. How had she not known it would put a smile on his face? She had given him a reason to smile, and he had the urge to do something in return.

  It was a struggle to decide between buying paint for Belinda to capture her flower drawings in fullness, and walking out, putting the whole crazy idea out of his mind. Madness won. He wouldn’t overdo it, he decided, even though part of him wanted to buy every tube of paint in sight. But that would look desperate and might give her the wrong idea. So he selected colorful hues he thought might please her, along with a few brushes of different sizes, and made his way to the counter. Once he paid, he stepped outside into the cloudy day and looked up. “It’s just a thank you,” he mentally said. One purchase didn’t mean he would concede, open his heart to the idea of love or romance. All they had was friendship. And friends should find reasons to make the other smile, he reasoned.

  He crossed the street to where his buggy was parked. Belinda wasn’t the kind of maedel who required constant attention; in fact, she preferred the opposite, but she had a way of wearing a stubborn man down. That’s all it was. She had wormed her way into his world and they had become friends. Partners and friends.

  “Adam,” he heard from behind him. He closed his eyes and cringed, safely out of sight where she couldn’t see it. The voice made the hairs on his arms stand to attention. Slowly he turned. Barely a newlywed, and she looked no different than she had on her porch months ago when she told him he wasn’t worthy of her.

  “How are you?” Susanne forced a weak smile. In a soft lavender dress and with her sorrowful blue eyes, Adam wondered just what he’d ever found appealing in her.

  “I’m fine.” And looking at her, he realized he was. “Congratulations.”

  “You weren’t there,” Susanne muttered.

  “Nee.” He owed her no explanation for his absence. Who cared what she thought? Adam only cared what one woman thought. Where did that come from?

  “I’m sorry,” Susanne said, lowering her gaze. Adam saw the regret, noted the sag of her shoulders. It was a new look for her. And with that, at last, he was no longer angry. Adam pitied her. She wanted a life of ease, of romantic notions and everyday bliss. Maybe she’d found that with Jerimiah. Probably not. Some people were never satisfied with what Gott gave them. Standing here with her now, he knew. Adam was not going to let one gift, not one moment, pass by without grabbing it.

  “Don’t be. Be happy, Susanne. I know I will.” He walked away, paints in hand, a new hope in his heart.

  Humidity had declared war on Havenlee, and Belinda felt every inch of herself soaked, clean through her thin chore dress. After finishing another hive and picking beans most of the day, she went to the greenhouse to get some more work done. Tabitha had been selling twice as many hanging baskets as usual. Any spare minutes to be found were needed here, readying extra baskets for tomorrow.

  She gingerly traced the geraniums with her fingertips. She loved geraniums, the soft petals and hardiness making them an ironic mixture. Tomorrow three hundred chrysanthemum seedlings would arrive and would need to be potted quickly. It was knee-aching and backbreaking work, but necessary.

  Don’t worry about tomorrow. Baskets first, she mentally whispered, and continued working. She had made baskets with million bells, allium, and verbena. Tropical sunrise was Mamm’s favorite: five petals streaked with blushing pinks and sunflower yellow. But who could forget the daisy, all simple and perfect? Whether in field or greenhouse, old seed or new stock, their beauty lasted and endured summer heat and storms. She brushed her finger over a red Shasta daisy, and smiled. Stability lay in the traditional, familiar—and yet, this newer plant represented how, with a little altering, something already strong could be improved. Her thoughts drifted to Adam again. She’d cherished her quiet routine for so long, and yet... Could she ever be more, worthy of more? Worthy of him?

  She began humming, woolgathering about a man who made her see more color, made her itchy for new views. Memories of his hand in hers contrasted with the look on his face when he confessed he had no intentions of marrying. Did she dare challenge his plans? Could he find happiness with her, looking beyond the mark on her face? Faith had taught her looks didn’t matter, but Belinda had spent too many years absolutely certain of the opposite. So she tamped down fanciful hopes; she should learn to appreciate the few rare moments of happiness that being around him gave her. She allowed herself to save each and every one, for rainy days and lonely afternoons in the future.

  She got to her feet, knees sore from being on them so long, and lifted the last basket by its plastic hook. She held it high, aiming for the pipe overhead that Daed used to store the baskets to keep from overcrowding the floors, but the dip in the matted floor made it impossible for her to reach the one empty spot left. Stretching as far as her body would allow achieved nothing. The pipe was still too far out of reach. Like life, she mentally grumbled.

  Suddenly a strong hand wrapped around steadied her back, while another lifted the basket from her fingers and secured it to the pipe. Belinda gasped, nearly letting out a cry, but the strong whiff of sawdust, man, and summer heat quieted her. She closed her eyes, inhaled. His scent was distinct, familiar, and slightly intoxicating.

  “You’re shorter than you look.” Adam’s deep voice so close to her sent a shiver up her spine. Belinda turned sharply but he didn’t step back, only let his hand drop from holding her steady. For a moment Adam just stared down at her with those pale—currently green—eyes lacking something she couldn’t put a finger on. He looked tired, ever so, just as he always did these days. The barometer inside the greenhouse rose a few degrees. She took a step back.

  “And you’re as tall as you look,” she said, brushing her apron free of potting soil.

  “Comes in handy.” He looked around the greenhouse. “I’ve never been in here before,” he said. “How is your dawdi today?” She liked how he often asked about her grandfather even though he had never met him. It was sweet.

  “Mamm called this morning, said he felt up to attending church Sunday. And I can’t believe you have lived so close by all your life and never been here. You should get out more,” she teased, recalling his comments about May’s orchard. “Are you just getting home?” She moved toward the open doors.

  “Jah,” he followed. “We finished pouring a foundation for a house this evening. Tobias and Caleb were both absent today so I had to pick up the slack at the mill.”

  “You should rest more.”

  Adam rubbed his neck, the stiffness hard work had pressed on him. “I feel old,” he confessed.

  “You’re looking it too,” she smiled over one shoulder. “It’s been a long hot day for everyone and I know just what you need. Come.”

  Fireflies lit up the evening as a threat
of rain hung heavy in the humid air. Adam sipped his lavender lemonade as Tabitha and Ivan, seated nearby, tossed snarky comments back and forth. Had Belinda ever sat with a man on the porch before? He thought not, by the warmth building on her cheeks. He knew he should stop staring, so he focused on the others.

  Mica was sprawled out in a chair that didn’t look sturdy enough for a man that size. Katie Jo, Ivan’s little sister, lay on the wooden porch floor, flipping through a book. And Adam was indulging in Belinda’s special lemonade, his second glass already, and chatting with friends. For a moment, life was giving him a glimpse of just what he would be missing if he held firm to his stubbornness about living his life alone.

  “I have kichlin I made this morning,” Belinda announced, and went inside. When had she found the time to make cookies? Adam sure hoped they were her honey cookies, having developed a fondness for them. She had a gift for anything to do with honey. As for his bees...four more hives and their time was over. Maybe he would ask for her help in August, the next harvest. When she returned, she offered the plate to him first, and he wasn’t shy about taking one.

  “I heard you’re about done over there. Do you intend to keep selling flowers for Belinda?” Tabitha never shirked a chance to speak her mind, say what others wouldn’t.

  “I do. We made a deal and I intend on keeping it.” He sat up straight. “I was hoping she would help come late August too.” Adam looked straight at Mica, knowing he was the one who would have a say in the absence of their father. “Daed is doing great, but he won’t be working that soon. It’s a smaller harvest, less honey is taken so the bees have plenty for winter, but help would be welcomed.”

  “Atlee must be miserable. I would be, limited to a chair,” Ivan said.

  “You would not. Having a fraa waiting on you hand and foot, you would be in bliss,” Tabitha smarted off, earning a few laughs. “If you can find one to put up with ya, that is.” It was no secret Ivan had dated four local maedels in the last two years, and none had held his interest for long.