Maybe he could ask her a few questions without divulging anything she might find disappointing or stressful. “How do you know what you owe to someone else?”
She paused in the middle of the brush stroke. “Usually a bill comes in the mail that clarifies it.” Amusement danced in her eyes before she returned to brushing the horse.
He grinned. “Not the monetary kind, but you knew that.”
She nodded. “I did.” She moved to the front of the horse and brushed her neck. “Everyone could use an extra set of hands in life. Some feel my time is theirs for the asking, as if I owe my free time to them since I don’t have a husband and children needing me.” She nuzzled Lady Belle, and the horse seemed to be in heaven. “Is that what you mean?”
He’d experienced a good bit of that himself over the years, but he imagined more was asked of single women than men because the work of getting meals on the table and tending to children was nonstop. “Sort of. I agreed to do something to help my brother Dan, and I did so because he really needs the help, and it’s something I enjoy, and I’m good at it. But it’s physically hard on the body. He texted me just now, telling me the date. When I mentioned being injured and needing to be here to help out, his response was…confusing, but I’m not sure why.”
She studied him. “What did he say about your injuries?”
“Nothing, but I owe him the help. I agreed to it, and he’s backed into a corner with no way out unless I help.” How could Chris just up and leave the farm with Roy injured and unable to work?
Her eyes narrowed, reflecting concern. “He said nothing about your being hurt?”
“You’re missing the point, Abi.”
“Nee, I don’t think I am. He dismissed your injuries.”
“Because I gave him my word and he desperately needs me to follow through. We both know the teachings about swear to your own hurt.”
“We do, from the book of Psalms. If we want to dwell in His holy hill, we swear to our own hurt and carry out what we agreed to.”
His gut churned with anxiety. How could he use a scripture as his reason for following through on something that was against the Amish ways?
“But, Chris, life is full of give-and-take. When you and Roy worked out a deal, did he say you’d be working around the clock?”
Chris shook his head.
“So you give more than was asked, and that’s fine with you, but you can’t give less when the need arises?”
“I hadn’t thought of it like that.”
“Is someone sick?”
“Nee. He made some bad decisions, and he’s repentant and getting his life in order. But he owes money and needs my help.”
“You didn’t hesitate to put up a boundary with me when you thought I had an uncontrollable temper, so why is it a problem to put up a boundary with your brother?”
He sighed. “I wouldn’t call what I did with you ‘setting a boundary.’ It was more like being in full retreat mode, which comes naturally to me in dealing with single women.” Why did he feel such a strong desire to tell her the truth no matter how embarrassing?
Her smile warmed his heart. Where was her judgment?
“I’m glad it wasn’t a boundary, or we wouldn’t be here, free to enjoy whatever this is between us.”
He chuckled. “That’s a positive spin on it.” He moved to the other side of Houdini and stroked him with the brush. “Have you been in a bind like this?”
“Sure. I think all nice people are too agreeable at times. But we have to sort out our motivation, because until we understand that part, we’ll just keep giving in.”
“That makes sense. How do you know all that?”
“Our community has an Al-Anon–type group of women who are married to addicts, and since I help at the recovery home, I assist in facilitating meetings, have for seven years. I haven’t been the last few weeks, but as a general rule I go. We read self-help books regularly and talk and cover a lot of this kind of stuff. If a family member is too nice to an addict, it actually supports the addict’s drinking and bad decisions. It’s called enabling. Are you being too agreeable?”
“How would I know?”
“There’s a short list of questions to ask yourself. My favorite is this: Is it hurting your life while helping his?”
That question put so many things in perspective, and he nodded. He knew why he’d gotten backed into this corner. He liked boxing, but that wasn’t the reason for the fix he was in. Dan was constantly in some sort of fix. He seemed to move from one addiction battle to another, and Chris hated what it would do to their parents and to Dan’s wife and children if no one helped him.
“Seems to me that most relationship issues are solved with one thing: setting boundaries. See the problem for what it is, set a boundary, and follow through despite how hard the person tries to break the boundary and how much it hurts to hold fast.”
That was exactly what he’d done with his fiancée, although he hadn’t realized it until now. But this was different. Dan’s wife and children were innocent in this mess, and he didn’t want them to become victims of any kind. “I can’t abandon Dan.”
“What can you do?”
Again her question put a lot in perspective. He could see his trainer as soon as possible to find out if he was able to train safely and fight by mid-March. If his trainer said no, he had to tell Dan no. If the trainer said yes, he still needed to refuse to leave Roy in a bind. Either Dan took a leave of absence at work to take Chris’s place on this farm or Dan found someone who could. “I get it. I know what I need to do and not do, until I can meet my obligation to Dan. Who knew that a man who stood his ground on so many things would have an area where he gave in regardless of the cost.”
She raised her hand. “I knew. I see it regularly. I’ve done it myself. Even good boundary keepers will often have at least one person in their lives that they struggle to say no to.”
“So, Abigail Graber, why are you still single?”
She led Lady Belle to her stall, unfastened the lead line, and closed the stall. “I told you why the morning we met. Men grate on my nerves.”
“All men, all the time? That’s sort of weird. You don’t look like the kind of woman who is perpetually irked.”
“Denki, I think.” She scrunched her brows, making a face at him. “I don’t know what happens.” She disinfected the lead line and hung it on a nail on the wall before grabbing a fresh one. “I date someone for a few weeks, maybe up to six weeks, and I see what the future would hold with him, and then I’m done. No second chances given, because I’ve seen women who gave second chances and lived to regret it.”
“That must be hard.”
“Nah, not even a little, actually.” She opened another stall and attached the fresh lead line to another horse. “I guess it could be if I didn’t see what I needed to and fell in love first. But I haven’t, and I really enjoy my life as a single woman. So that helps me let go each time, I’m sure.”
“You’ve dated, what, ten guys?”
“Closer to thirty.” She came out of the stall, watching the horse’s right front leg, which the horse seemed to be favoring. She stopped, and the horse followed suit.
“Wow, and not one lasted more than six weeks?”
“Not that I recall.”
“But some had to be good, steady guys.”
“I’m sure they were, but I’m also sure each one would have created unnecessary heavy baggage that I would have had to contend with. Now I’m the one saying change of subject, please.” She moved her hands down one of the horse’s front legs and made it bend at the knee.
Chris put Houdini in his stall, disinfected the lead, and hung it far away from the other leads. They wouldn’t use that one on any other horse. “You mentioned that even good boundary keepers often have someone they struggle to say no to. Is it saf
e to assume that’s Roy for you?”
She pulled a hoof pick from the hidden pocket of her apron. “Ya. Sometimes.” She scraped around the inside of the horseshoe and dug what appeared to be a small rock from its sole. “One time he asked me to quit teaching and work the farm. I love working with horses, but riding and grooming are only part of the job. There’s too much mucking out stalls, carrying hay bales, and hauling feed sacks for me to enjoy it as a full-time job. On top of that, rather than my uncle being my overseer, my brother would be. Uh, no, but thanks.” She continued cleaning the hoof.
“I can see that. So when you give up teaching, it’ll be to do something you love”—he led another horse from its stall—“like cooking over a hot stove in the very confined space of a food truck.”
She laughed and released the horse’s leg. “Yep. And during those few months of tourist season, I’ll make more money than I did working an entire school year, and I’ll have lots of free time that I will not give away unless I want to. It’s my life. But I know I’ll give my uncle a full day of help every week, and I’ll attend the women’s group sessions.”
“Abigail?” A man called.
“Oh.” Abigail’s face lit up. “My uncle.”
“Hallo?” The man came around the corner and strode into the barn.
“Uncle Mervin.” She hurried toward him, and the horse followed. “I’m so glad to see you.”
The man’s eyes took her in. “Are you okay? Is everything all right?” He looked at Chris sideways before he hugged his niece.
Abigail released him. “I’m fine. Rough few days with the horses, but everything is just fine.” She nodded at Chris. “Uncle, this is—”
“Chris Fisher. I know. He’s why I’m here.”
Chris knew the look and the disapproving ring in words.
“Ah, here to meet the newcomer.” Abigail patted the horse’s neck. Her uncle’s demeanor seemed to go over Abigail’s head. “Chris, this is Mervin Stoltzfus, my uncle and the bishop.”
Chris held out his hand. “Nice to meet you.”
Mervin didn’t shake his hand.
“Uncle.” Abigail looked from Chris’s hand to her uncle, and her expression changed. When an Amish minister refused to shake an Amish man’s hand, it said everything most people needed to know. “What’s the problem?” Abigail tugged at the lead, making the horse back up so the three of them could see each other.
“Chris isn’t just here as a hired hand. Do you know anything about him? I heard about the new string and the possible EHV-1, but that is no reason for you to be way off out here with a man you don’t know.”
Abigail tilted her head. “It sounds as if you have news that’s worrying you.” Her smile was genuine. “But you know me and trust me, and I trust Chris.”
“I got a call from one of his preachers, ya. He was forced to leave his community. His Mamm put his clothes in paper bags and sent them with his Daed, unwilling to allow him back in the house, and then he came here.”
Abigail’s beautiful brown eyes lingered on Chris. “I trust him.”
“Abi, are you hearing me?” Mervin’s concern seemed genuine. “A man who left home under those circumstances can’t be trusted to work beside you like this.”
Abigail’s eyes met Chris’s, and she seemed less confident in him already. “He’s needed here.”
“Then you return to the classroom and teaching and let Roy work beside him.”
“Roy’s hurt,” she said. “The horses can’t be in contact with each other. They need settling, grooming, and exercising, and some need shoeing. I can’t tend to them without Chris’s help.”
The bishop raised an eyebrow. “Your brother’s hurt? Why is this the first I’m hearing of it?”
“Happened yesterday.” She looked at the ground for a moment. “Badly broken arm.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. A new string of horses can be risky business.”
Abigail’s eyes moved to Chris’s, and he could see her guilt as plain as day. She hadn’t lied, but she wasn’t correcting her uncle either. In Chris’s few days of knowing her—actually in his first few minutes—he realized she was most comfortable with complete honesty even if it was brutal. What was he comfortable with?
Mervin smoothed the horse’s mane. “So when will you return to the classroom?”
“Another week, maybe two, but since Sarah hopes to win that teaching spot when I quit, she’s loving being my substitute. She’s hoping to impress you, and the experience is good for her.”
“Gut.” The bishop nodded. “Look, with Roy injured that badly, I’m sure he needs his wife by his side to help him right now, so you tell her that both of them and the children are given permission to miss church this Sunday.” He stepped forward, getting closer to Chris. “I’ve never known my niece to trust an unworthy man, so that gives you some grace, but I’m going to keep an eye on you, and if you’re staying in my district, I expect you to be in church…clean shaven.”
“Fair enough.” Chris stroked the horse.
The bishop pointed at Abigail. “You watch your back.”
She smiled and hugged him. “I love you too.”
As the bishop walked out, Chris’s heart was racing. What should he tell Abigail? He didn’t want to ruin any chance he had of their dating.
“Are we talking about this?” Abigail seemed ready to either stay or walk the horse and drop the matter, probably not for forever but for now.
He should shake his head and let the subject drop, at least until after the pleasure of a date night or two. “I…I fight, and I’m good at it.”
“Fight? Like you get into brawls, similar to yesterday?” The disbelief on her face said more than he wanted to hear.
“I’ve done that, too, but, no, I’m talking about planned fights. And I practice at a boxing gym with a trainer.”
She seemed frozen, and he wasn’t sure she was breathing. Organized sports were forbidden for the Amish. Martial arts were taboo. And violence of any kind, especially premeditated or for profit, was unthinkable.
Finally she drew a breath and rubbed the horse’s neck. “That makes a lot of things add up, doesn’t it?” Everything about her—her facial expression, her eyes, her body language—indicated disappointment. “I’m glad you know how to fight. Grateful that yesterday you had the skill to take on two men at once and get all three of us out of there. I can’t condemn what you do when something that good came from it.”
Her gratitude was clear. Unfortunately he expected the word but was coming soon, and he felt that nothing between them would be the same once she finished her thoughts.
“Abi.” He crooked his fingers and put them under her chin, hoping for a kiss. She leaned in and he lowered his lips to hers. Her kiss was tender and sweet, unlike any other. She tasted of spicy Red Hots candy.
Step back!
It was several long moments before he pulled back. “But?” He didn’t want to know. Still, it was the respectful thing to do: ignore what he wanted and listen to what she needed to say.
She put her hands on his face and drew him to her, kissing him again. He put his arms around her. It seemed they both wanted more time before she had to tell him the rest of her thoughts.
She slipped from his arms and lightly touched his lips, saying nothing for several moments. She lowered her hand. “When you said there were things that could come between us, I thought you meant things that were behind you. I don’t know how I feel about this. You seem to be fine with going against our ways.”
“I’m not always sure how I feel about it either. But my brother is drowning in gambling debt. It’s serious debt with serious consequences. He’s in a program and hasn’t placed a bet in six months, but with one fight I should be able to get rid of the debt.” Was that all he’d tell her? “But there is a part of me that loves boxing.”
/> “One fight should be enough?”
“One fight would’ve taken care of all the debt if the match hadn’t been interrupted. I don’t know how well this next one will be promoted. It’s possible it’ll take two or three more fights.”
“I can see why your Mamm was unwilling for you to return home for your clothes.”
“I’ve got to do this for Dan.”
“Just for Dan?”
She had him dead to rights. He was wavering all over the place. He wasn’t doing this only for Dan. “Look, Abi, it’s very clear that I have to give up boxing and fairly soon, but I can’t right now.”
She said nothing as she bridled the horse, apparently planning to ride it at least briefly for its exercise, which made sense because it hadn’t had a cold and had no signs of EHV-1.
But was her intention to end the conversation without closure and get away from him?
“Abigail, say something.”
She grabbed the horse’s mane, and with a slight jump she easily pulled herself onto its bare back and straddled it. “Over the years, I’ve seen a lot of men decide to go their own way rather than the Amish way.” She shifted her weight, settling in to ride bareback. “It does something inside them. Their hearts seem to wander to places they never fully come back from, even when they choose to stay. Many return, deciding to follow the Amish ways, but often for the wrong reasons: for a woman they loved or parents they can’t continue to hurt by living out the dream. But whatever their reason for staying, their love of life is only half there. The other half is deadweight, stuck in a world they never really left behind, and their wives are the ones who have to help carry that load.”
Was she right? Would following through with this one fight for Dan change who he was? The desire to box had taken hold of him through one decision to set aside the Amish ways and punch a man, sending adrenaline and the thrill of a rush through him.
“Chris.”
He pulled from his thoughts and looked up at her.
The horse pranced, but Abigail’s eyes stayed fixed on his. “I don’t want to be one of those women, one who helps drag her man’s deadweight from another world.”
The Englisch Daughter Page 12