by Beth Wiseman
“While he’s never been formally diagnosed,” Anna Mae continued, adding a little more water to the soapy sink, “Jeremiah and I think he is autistic. Have you heard of that before?”
“Nee.”
“It’s complicated, but basically it’s a developmental disorder. Amos gets confused in social situations and when he has to interact with other people, even one-on-one. He’s forgetful and gets very focused on certain things. He also has some learning problems. But he’s gifted in so many other ways.” She smiled. “You’ll see as you get to know him better.”
Dinah dipped her head, scrubbing the towel over an already-dried plate. She was glad Anna Mae was sharing information about Amos.
“It’s important that we all be patient with him.” Any trace of Anna Mae’s smile disappeared. “He’s been through so much.”
Dinah’s heart squeezed at the break in Anna Mae’s voice. It was clear she loved her brother-in-law. “I u-understand,” Dinah said.
Anna Mae’s smile returned. “Danki. Somehow I knew you would.”
They finished washing the rest of the dishes, and as Dinah put the last plate on the counter, Aenti Judith walked into the kitchen and sat down. Her aunt’s shoulders drooped as she took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes.
Dinah went to her and put her hand on her shoulder. “H-how’s D-David?”
“Sleeping, finally. He’s still on the couch. Tomorrow I’ll have to talk him into moving into the bedroom and staying there for a couple of days. He still thinks he’s going to help Amos with the hay in the morning.” She put her glasses back on, then pushed back a stray lock of brownish-gray hair that had escaped from her kapp. “I’m not finding his stubbornness charming at the moment.”
“Do you want Jeremiah to talk to him again?” Anna Mae asked, joining her at the table.
Aenti Judith shook her head. “I can handle mei husband. Even if he is being ridiculous.” She looked up at Dinah with a weary smile. “Danki again for all you’ve done.”
“I-I’m glad I c-could be here.” She was no longer upset with her mother for forcing her to visit Aenti Judith, even a day early. And now that she was here, the fear and longing for home she’d expected to feel weren’t nearly as bad as she thought they’d be. That didn’t mean she wouldn’t wish to go home soon, especially by the end of her visit. But for now, she felt needed and accepted. That would be enough to get her through the next two weeks.
Chapter Five
Amos liked having Jeremiah help him settle the animals down for the night. His father sometimes helped him, but other times he stayed in the house with Judith. Amos didn’t mind. His father was happy now that he was married, and Amos was happy for him. If Daed wanted to spend more time with his wife than with the animals, Amos understood.
When the chickens were nested, the pigs were fed, and the horses were in their stalls chomping on their nightly feeding of hay, he sat down on a square bale of hay against the back wall of the barn. Almost every evening he would take a little time to sit and look at the walls, trying to decide what to draw next on the few blank spaces left on the oak slats.
He’d been drawing in here for years with his pastels. Some of the drawings were faded. Others were bright and new. Tonight he was too tired to think about drawing, but as always, his gaze landed on the portrait he and Jeremiah had drawn of their mother the day they’d found out she’d died of cancer. She had left them for the Yankee world when Jeremiah was eight and Amos was nine. They hadn’t seen her since. But before her death she had written to them. This drawing was how they remembered her—young, pretty, and smiling. Jeremiah didn’t know how to color very well, and Amos had to help him with that. The finished portrait was Amos’s favorite artwork.
Jeremiah sat down next to Amos. “How are you doing?” he said, clapping his brother on the back.
Amos shrugged. He was tired. A little sad, too, for some reason. Usually he could look at his mother’s picture without feeling sad, but not today.
Jeremiah looked at the portrait. “Missing her?” he asked, his tone gentle.
Amos nodded. It was strange, because he hadn’t seen her in almost twenty years. She had left—or abandoned, as his father and Jeremiah had said—the family, and now she was gone forever. “Ya. I miss her.”
“Me too.”
He and Jeremiah didn’t say anything else. It wasn’t long before Amos started to think about Dinah. He had to try very hard not to stare at her during the meal because she was so pretty and nice. When she caught him, he thought she’d be mad. But she wasn’t and that made him glad. He was never sure how people would react to him.
“So what do you think of Dinah?” Jeremiah asked.
Amos felt his cheeks get hot. He wasn’t surprised his brother knew what he was thinking. Jeremiah was very smart. “She’s pretty.” His voice sounded weird and low.
“You think all women are pretty, Amos.”
“Because they are.” Old or young, thin or fat, it didn’t matter. “Dinah is different. Not different like me. She’s gut different.”
Jeremiah opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Then he closed his mouth and stood. “Anna Mae and I should be getting home. She’s working a double tomorrow.”
Amos didn’t know what that meant, but he nodded as if he did. He stood up next to his brother. “Okay.”
“I’ll check on Daed before I leave.” Jeremiah looked up at him. “He’s going to be fine, Amos, thanks to yer quick thinking.”
“Dinah Keim helped.”
Jeremiah smiled. “Ya, she did.”
“And she said she would keep helping.”
“I know. Don’t make her work too hard, Amos.”
“I won’t.”
“I’ll stop by tomorrow and check on Daed again.” Jeremiah paused. “If you need anything, you let me know.”
“Okay.” But Amos knew he would be all right. Daed would be better soon. Dinah was here to help. And Judith too. God was taking care of all of them, like he always did.
“Gute nacht, Amos.”
“Gute nacht.”
After Jeremiah left, Amos sat back down on the hay bale. He stared at his drawings again. Then he closed his eyes and prayed, thanking God that Daed was okay and that Dinah had helped save him. Then he stopped thinking in words. Words were hard for him sometimes. It was better to let his heart speak. He knew God was listening.
Dinah sat at the edge of the bed in Jeremiah’s old room. It was a simple space, similar to her brothers’ bedrooms when they lived at home. They never had the luxury of their own rooms like Amos and Jeremiah had. Her family lived in a small house and had to share everything, including sleeping quarters. She was the only one who had her own room, and it was little more than a closet. But it was hers.
She glanced at the bedroom door. How was she going to sleep tonight when she knew Amos was a few feet down the hall? Earlier she had read a few pages of the poetry notebook she’d brought with her. She’d been copying poems since she was a teenager and had written some of her own. She didn’t know why she was so drawn to poetry. Perhaps it was the lyrical smoothness of the words that contrasted to her own halting speech. Poems also gave her peace, but tonight she couldn’t concentrate. For some reason she was excited to be working with Amos tomorrow.
Heavy footsteps sounded out in the hall, and she assumed Amos was heading to his bedroom for the night. She waited until everything was quiet and then stood. She took off her kapp and brushed out her hair, then realized she needed to use the bathroom before she went to bed. She should put on a kerchief before leaving the room. But she was only going down the hall. No one would see her. Dinah opened the door and looked out into the hallway. When she saw it was empty, she started for the bathroom.
As she stepped on the cold floor of the bathroom, a door opened behind her. She whirled around and saw Amos standing in the doorway of his room.
“I-I’m sorry,” he said.
This time he was stuttering instead of her. He was also staring
at her again, like he had during supper. “I w-was just going to, uh, brush mei teeth,” she said. “You don’t have to a-apologize.”
His gaze didn’t move from her long hair. It was if he’d never seen a woman’s hair before. Realization dawned. He probably hadn’t. She knew about David’s first wife, how she’d left the family when the boys were young, and that she’d died of cancer several years ago. Of course Aenti Judith would never be seen outside her bedroom without her hair bound up. Dinah regretted not taking the time to put her kerchief on. It wasn’t proper for Amos to see her without a head covering. Yet she couldn’t make herself move. His unabashed curiosity kept her feet planted in place.
Truth be told, she couldn’t stop looking at him, either. He wore the same light green shirt he had on earlier, again untucked, and his broadfall pants were covered in pale brown dust and a smattering of straw. Just before his gaze dropped to his bare feet, she saw a flash of uncertainty in his eyes that tugged at her, as if he’d been caught stealing candy from the candy dish. She didn’t want him to take responsibility for something that was her fault.
Unable to stop herself, she went to him. This is wrong. This is so wrong. A woman’s hair was for her husband’s eyes only. She knew that. From the way he kept his eyes from her, she could tell he somehow knew it too. Still, that didn’t stop her from taking his hand and placing it on the thick lock of hair covering her shoulder. At the confused doubt in his eyes when he looked up, she said, “It’s okay, Amos.”
His gaze moved back to her hair, his fingers barely brushing against the strands as he moved his hand downward, stopping above her elbow. “Beautiful,” he whispered, sounding like a man and not a confused boy. Then he pulled his hand away. “Danki,” he said, as if he understood what she had done and why. He gave her a small smile and went back to his room.
She stood in the hallway for a moment, looking at his closed bedroom door. He was so sweet. So gentle. She’d never met a man like Amos Mullet. He was one of a kind.
“W-wow. That’s a l-lot of hay.” Dinah surveyed the field in front of her and Amos. She’d been up since before the sunrise, and after breakfast she and Amos had headed for the field, leaving her aunt to reassure David that Dinah and Amos could take care of the work themselves. Dinah was starting to see what everyone meant by David’s stubbornness. Although he was limping and in pain, he still tried to get out the door until Aenti Judith had raised her voice, something she rarely did. That had gotten David’s attention, and he’d started back to his bedroom, muttering to himself that he didn’t need to be coddled like a child.
“Then stop acting like one,” Aenti Judith had said as she followed him out of the kitchen.
Dinah couldn’t help but chuckle. David couldn’t be more different from Aenti Judith’s first husband, Samuel. Dinah had always thought they were a good match. But she could see David and Aenti Judith were too.
She glanced at Amos. He was also smiling. “I-is it t-time t-to s-start—”
But before she could finish, he opened the back door and left.
She stood there for a moment, expecting to feel dismissed by his abruptness. Or at least a little put out. She felt neither, knowing he wasn’t being rude on purpose. And he had answered her question. Clearly he was ready to start working.
Now she could see why. “We have a big field,” he said.
Dinah stared at it again. It wasn’t wide, but it was long. Very long. Before her stretched acres of hay grass. Amos had overestimated how much work he had accomplished yesterday. She was starting to understand David’s concern. But she was also determined to get as much work done as she could.
She looked up at Amos. “W-we better get started, y-ya? Y-you’ll have to show m-me what t-to d-do.”
His brow lifted. “Like a teacher?”
“Exactly like a t-teacher.”
“I’ve never been a teacher before.” A small smile curled his lips, and he seemed pleased with the comparison. “First I have to hitch up Penny and Nickel.”
Dinah waited while he brought the horses from the barn. He quickly hitched them to the hay mower, then turned to Dinah. “They are gut workers.”
“They look like fine h-horses.”
“I like to give them treats.” He stroked one horse’s long nose. “They like treats.” He picked up a long rake that was lying on the ground. “I forgot to put this up last night.” He frowned and handed the rake to Dinah.
She studied the rake in her hand. It was taller than she was. “What do I d-do?”
“Use the rake. Like this.” He took the tool from her and started to untangle a pile of hay. “Spread the hay.” He spread out the hay in a flat row the width of the field. When he was finished, he was at the opposite side of the field. He brought the rake back and handed it to her. “Yer turn.”
She took the rake and started to stab at the next hay pile.
“That’s not right.”
His words stopped her, but his voice was calm and kind. He definitely liked to get to the point.
“I used to do it like that. Daed said it was the wrong way. He said . . .” Amos frowned, his eyes moving the way they did when he was thinking. “He said to be gentle. Ya, be gentle.”
To her surprise he moved behind her, put his hands over hers, and showed her how.
Chapter Six
Dinah’s skin tingled at the touch of Amos’s hands over hers. She tried to focus on their movements and what he was showing her. Spreading hay was a simple task, and all he’d had to do was tell her to spread it with less force and she would have understood. But she liked his way of showing her a lot better.
“See?” He spoke above her ear. The top of her head reached just below his chin, and he was bending over slightly. The sweet scent of hay, the warmth of the morning sun, the cows lowing from a field far away, and the birds singing their lovely songs . . . all while Amos almost had her in an embrace as they spread the hay. She couldn’t think of a better place to be.
“Try it by yourself.” He released her hands and moved away.
She couldn’t help being disappointed when he stepped away, and a stab of guilt passed through her. She remembered what Anna Mae had said about Amos having difficulty with social situations. He probably didn’t think there was anything unusual being this close to her. Yet she was sure his father wouldn’t appreciate seeing them together like this. He might even think Dinah was taking advantage of him, or that Amos was doing something wrong. Which he wasn’t, of course. For Amos, everything was innocent. She’d have to remember that and keep her own thoughts from making something as mundane as raking hay into a romantic moment.
A few moments later she was spreading hay with ease. When she finished the row, Amos jogged toward her. “Gut job,” he said, grinning.
“You’re a gut t-teacher.” Dinah beamed at him, enjoying the way his smile widened at her compliment.
“I am?”
“Definitely.”
His chest puffed out a bit and she hid a chuckle. She’d never had so much fun complimenting someone before.
“Okay. You finish the piles. I’ll cut the hay. Then we can have lunch. I’m getting hungry.”
Breakfast had been less than an hour ago. And it had been a big one too. Before David and Amos had woken up, Dinah and Aenti Judith made a huge spread—pancakes, bacon, sausage, eggs, bread, butter, jam, and even banana muffins. Dinah had been stuffed by the time she was finished cleaning her plate, but Amos had filled his plate again. “We just ate.”
“I know,” he said with complete seriousness. Then he turned and went back to the hay mower.
She smiled and shook her head. Before long the whirl of the mower drowned out the birds and cows. As she usually did when she tackled a task, she focused her concentration. By the time the sun was straight above her in the sky she was thirsty and sweating, and she had raked several rows of cut hay. Although there was much more work to be done, she was satisfied with her progress.
The hay mower stopped and she turne
d to see Amos unhitch the team. He led them toward her, then looked at the work she’d accomplished. “You did a lot,” he said. “Daed will be glad.”
She glanced away, but his plain-spoken compliment had warmed her more than the bright sun. “Are you r-ready for lunch?” she asked, even though she knew he was.
He rubbed his flat stomach. “Ya. I have to put Penny and Nickel to pasture. Will you wait for me?”
Did he really think she would walk into his house without him? That she even wanted to? She nodded. “Of course I will, Amos.”
After he took care of Penny and Nickel, she and Amos walked together into the house, both of them covered in perspiration from the exertion and the heat of the day. As Amos put his hat on a peg near the back door, Dinah heard his stomach growl. “You are h-hungry,” she whispered to him.
“Ya. I’m always hungry.”
“I made plenty for lunch, Amos,” Aenti Judith said as she set down a plate of deviled eggs among the rest of the food. Dinah and Amos took turns washing their hands at the sink. Dinah was about to sit down when David arrived, limping.
“I told you I would bring you yer lunch,” Aenti Judith admonished.
“I can eat here.” He scowled as he took his seat at the head of the table. Dinah was struck by the resemblance between him and Amos. David’s hair was streaked with silver and his beard, which was short and looked like it was still growing in, was completely gray. He was lean like Jeremiah, but Amos had his facial features—the square jaw and slightly sloped nose. She imagined that when David was younger he’d been as handsome as his sons. Right now he looked grouchy and intimidating.
But her aunt didn’t back down. “Scowl at me all you want, David Mullet, but I’m going to make sure you heal properly.”
He looked at her, still frowning, but there was a softness in his eyes. Love. He loved her aunt, and from the way she gazed at him, that love was returned just as deeply.