by Amy Lillard
“Of course it’s charity. I came to help.”
“Take it back.”
She shook her head. “But you shall freely open your hand to him, and shall generously lend him sufficient for his need in whatever he lacks.”
He took a step back.
“You’re not the only one who can quote the Bible.” She smirked, but the action was gone almost immediately. She had planned this. But why?
“Peter, why don’t you take your things into my room? Go ahead and get ready for bed. It’s almost time.”
The boy nodded and slipped from his chair, picking up his things before taking them out of the kitchen.
“Why your room?”
He propped his hands on his hips. “Surely you remember that this is a two-room cabin.”
She nodded.
He pointed toward the floor, then the door that led to the only bedroom.
“One. Two.”
“One bedroom,” she mused.
“I was having Peter sleep in here on a cot, but every night he gets up, sneaks into my room, climbs into bed with me, then goes back to sleep.” Why was he telling her all this? “I moved his cot in there so he could sleep close. Now he starts out on the cot, but by morning he’s right next to me.” He gave her a cautious smile.
“Is he afraid?”
Jamie shrugged. “I suppose so. Or maybe he feels out of sorts. He lost his family and all. I moved us down here to get away from all the meaningful people who just seemed to make everything worse instead of better.”
“You thought a new environment would give him a new outlook.”
“Something like that.” Lord, she was smart. He had never met anyone quite as smart as Leah Gingerich. From years of living in the Englisch world, no doubt.
But when she looked at Peter with sweet understanding, he could forget that she was Mennonite. At least for a time.
“Well, I guess I should be going.” She eased toward the door.
“Take your box.” He moved to fetch it from the table. He and Peter were getting along just fine. He had made up his mind when he took Peter from his grandparents that he wouldn’t turn to others for help. If he was going to do this—raise Peter by himself—then he was going to do it.
Besides, if everything worked out like he planned, he would find himself a wife and get special permission to get married out of season, and the three of them would live happily ever after. Oh, and somewhere in there, Peter would start to talk again and the world would be returned to normal. At least that was his prayer and had been every night since the accident.
She shook her head. “You are the most stubborn man I have ever met.”
He shrugged. He had been called worse. And he didn’t care what Leah Gingerich thought. This wasn’t her life.
“I’m sure you want what’s best for Peter. But allowing him to walk around in clothes that are obviously not his . . .”
“His clothes were burned in the fire.” His throat grew tight.
She nodded. “And the ones he has now are ill-fitting. Have him try on what I brought. Let him have some ownership of his things once again.”
Did she somehow know that Peter’s clothes were castoffs from his young uncles? It was what they had, and Jamie was grateful. Peter was grateful. “Worldly possessions are of no importance.”
“Says the man who lives in a shack.”
“From the woman who lives over her work.”
“Touché.”
He frowned. He had no idea what that meant, and there was no way he was asking her to explain. She was too intelligent by far, and he wouldn’t show his ignorance for her enjoyment.
“Have him try on the clothes. If they don’t fit, you can give them to Mamm. I’ll pick them up next time I visit. But if they do, then you keep them for him to wear.”
He opened his mouth to protest, but she shook her head. “It’s just clothes. Fabric and thread. Stop making such a big deal out of it.” Then with a smile that contained tones he didn’t quite understand, she turned on her heel and headed out the door.
* * *
Leah resisted the urge to lean back against the door of the cabin and suck in a deep breath. There was so much about this situation she didn’t understand. Why was he being so stubborn about accepting help from her, and why was she so adamant about giving it?
He had made it perfectly clear that he didn’t want anything to do with her or the things she offered. She was not calling it “charity.” Somehow that had gotten a bad connotation.
With a sigh, she made her way down the porch steps and got into her car. Thankfully, Jamie didn’t follow after her. He didn’t toss the box of goods she had brought out into the yard. That had to be a good sign, right?
She cranked the car and headed farther down the lane, to her parents’ house. The lights were still on, though she knew everyone would be in bed soon. Still, she couldn’t come all the way out without at least stopping by for a minute.
Having heard her car, Hannah came out onto the front porch to greet her. “Where’s Brandon?” she asked.
“Nice to see you too, sister dear.”
Hannah laughed. “Jah, all that. Now where’s my son?”
“Studying.” Leah used air quotes around the word.
“That bad, is it?”
Leah shook her head. “He’s a great kid.” As she said the words, Peter Stoltzfus’s sweet face came into view.
“When he sets his mind to it. Seriously, he hasn’t been giving you any trouble, has he?”
Leah skipped up the porch steps and gave her sister a quick squeeze. “He’s fine. And a big help.” Brandon had gone through a rough patch after his father died. But once he saw the family he could have, he settled down a bit. “I couldn’t ask for a better flatmate.”
“Have you been watching the BBC again?”
Leah placed one finger over her lips. “That’s our little secret.”
“Come sit with me.” Hannah looped her arm through Leah’s and led her over to the porch swing.
“It’s almost dark,” Leah said unnecessarily. And when it got dark in Mississippi Amish country, it got dark. A person couldn’t see their hand in front of their face.
“Mamm’s got the lamp on in the window. And I’ve got a flashlight.”
As if on cue, Eunice Gingerich opened the front door. “Leah, is that you?” she asked through the screen door.
“Yes, Mamm.”
“Everything okay?”
“Of course. I was . . .” Did she really want to tell her mother that she was down visiting with Jamie Stoltzfus? No, she decided. She didn’t. But there was no way out of it. “I found some clothes I thought Peter might be able to wear, so I brought them out for him.”
Mamm shook her head. “He’s a stubborn one.”
“Peter?” Hannah asked.
“That Jamie,” Mamm said. “We like to never got him to accept the house.”
“What do you mean?” Something in her mother’s words seemed contradictory.
“The cabin. The bishop came to your father and asked him if he could help Jamie and Peter. Jim offered to let them stay with his family. David too, but he wouldn’t hear of it.”
“How’d you get him to take the cabin?”
Mamm pressed her lips together and shook her head. “Your father. I don’t know what he said to him. But he convinced Jamie to move in.”
Which explained why Jamie came to fix her racks that morning. He was staying on her parents’ property for free. Not that they were keeping tabs—but she would bet Jamie was.
“Wait,” she said as her mother’s words fully sank in. “He’s staying with you for free?”
Hannah gave her a strange look. Then Leah realized how her words actually sounded. “I mean . . . Never mind.” She wouldn’t be able to explain it even if she had all night. And she didn’t.
“Is something wrong?” Mamm asked. Concern tainted her normally cheerful tone.
“Everything’s fine.” She stood. “But
I need to be getting back to town.”
Hannah stood as well. “Why don’t you come back out tomorrow after work.” She shook her head. “No, not tomorrow. I’m going over to Aaron’s. How about the next day? You can come out, and we can have a better chance to visit.”
Leah nodded and hugged her sister. “I would like that.” But she knew there was more to the invitation than met the eye. Twins had a special bond. People could call it whatever they wanted, but it remained the same. Hannah knew that Leah had something on her mind, and her nosy twin wanted to know what it was.
* * *
“Danki for the invitation,” Jamie said, nudging Peter forward.
Aaron stepped to one side to allow Jamie and Peter to enter.
“We’re glad you’re here,” Hannah Gingerich said.
When Aaron had invited Jamie and Peter to supper, Jamie had naturally thought that it would be the three of them. A boy’s night, so to speak. He had briefly wondered if Aaron could cook, then decided his efforts couldn’t be any worse than Jamie’s own. He hadn’t expected Leah’s sister, Hannah, to be there.
He had heard through the grapevine that Hannah and Aaron had been a couple a while back during their runaround years. But instead of joining the church, dating, and then getting married as was the usual custom, Hannah had taken off for the Englisch world, leaving a brokenhearted Aaron behind, if Jamie was getting the story right. He had heard a lot of stories since moving here. So many that it was hard to keep all of them in order.
But considering that Hannah was here at Aaron’s, acting like a wife for all intents and purposes, then he supposed there was some validity to the tale. Plus, it would explain how Hannah came to have an Englisch son who lived with Leah. Well, sort of.
“Everybody, come eat,” Hannah called from the kitchen door.
Jamie, Peter, and Aaron met at the table with another boy and two young girls: Andy, Laura Kate, and Essie.
“I love fried chicken,” Essie said after prayer.
“Take one piece,” Aaron instructed.
Hannah smiled at Jamie. “She likes to take a lot in case she’s hungry later.”
Jamie smiled. Essie was as cute as she could be, lively and vivacious. He had a feeling she stayed in trouble more than she stayed out of it, and suddenly he was reminded of Leah—not that the child physically resembled her. But they both had that same spunky manner, sparkling eyes, and mischievous smile.
Essie accidentally stuck her fingers in her mashed potatoes, then licked them off.
“Use your napkin,” Aaron instructed. He barely glanced her way as he said the words. Jamie had the feeling this was a nightly occurrence at the Zook house.
He looked over to Peter, who was as stiff and serious as Andy Zook as he silently ate his meal. Andy seemed like a good kid, polite with manners to spare. He ate his meal, didn’t pester his sisters, and generally kept his eyes on his plate. Just like Peter. Except Peter was six and should be acting more like Essie. Not like at-least-twelve-year-old Andy.
Jamie dipped his head over his plate, closed his eyes, and said a little prayer for Peter. The boy was missing out on some of the best years of his life. The thought was heartbreaking. Wasn’t it enough that he had lost his parents and his only sibling?
“Can I have another piece of chicken now?” Essie asked.
“If you eat it all tonight, you won’t have any to take to school tomorrow,” Laura Kate explained. The eldest Zook daughter was almost as serious as her brother, but not quite.
Essie tilted her head to one side as if contemplating the very difficult puzzle of eating her favorite chicken now or later. “Tomorrow, I guess,” she said with a small pout. “But when I’m bigger, Hannah’s going to teach me how to make it all by myself and I’m gonna have fried chicken every day.”
“You’ll sure enough be bigger then,” Andy mumbled.
“What does that mean?” Essie asked. “Dat, what does Andy mean?”
“He means that it’s not healthy to eat fried chicken every day. You have to eat other things as well.”
“Like meatloaf and pork chops.”
Hannah nodded with a smile. “And green beans and cabbage and—”
“Carrots?” Essie asked. “I like those.”
“And carrots,” Hannah agreed. “Now finish up so you can have pie before you help Andy do the dishes.”
Essie scraped her plate clean, then nodded. “I’m done. I want to save my chicken for tomorrow.”
Jamie finished his own meal and glanced over to Peter, who had done the same. He had no complaints when it came to the boy eating. He supposed that was good. Peter might not be talking, but he was eating and sleeping—if he counted the hours after Peter crawled in bed with him—and Jamie had to consider those good signs. There were a lot worse things than not speaking. He just wished he could convince Sally’s parents of that.
After the accident, Jamie had heard of children similarly traumatized who stopped eating and nearly starved to death before they got help. Thank the good Lord, he didn’t have to worry about that. And he had faith. Faith that when Peter’s insides healed as well as his outsides, then he would talk again. The doctors assured him that there was nothing wrong with Peter’s vocal cords or anything else that controlled speech. It was just a matter of time.
“Let’s take our pie and coffee into the living room, where we can talk,” Hannah suggested.
“Good idea,” Aaron agreed. “Essie, will you take Peter outside and show him how we feed the goats?”
“Jah, Dat.”
“But she’s supposed to help me with the dishes,” Andy grumbled.
“Laura Kate can help you,” Aaron said.
“Da-at,” Laura Kate protested. “It’s not my turn.”
“It’ll be your turn tonight, and the two of you can switch tomorrow.”
Laura Kate didn’t seem overly happy about the idea, but she nodded and followed her brother into the kitchen.
Hannah also rose. “I’ll get the dessert and meet you two in the living room.” She followed the children into the kitchen.
“Come on, Peter,” Essie said, climbing down from her chair. “Let’s go feed the goats.”
Jamie took a step toward them as Essie grabbed Peter’s elbow and started for the back door. But Aaron stopped him with one hand on his arm.
“They’ll be fine.”
Jamie tried to expel the tension from his shoulders. “Jah.”
“Come on.” Aaron led him from the dining area into the living room.
Jamie cast one look back at Essie and Peter, then allowed Aaron to lead him away. They would be fine. He knew it. Essie didn’t seem to mind that Peter hadn’t said one word since they arrived. She held his arm and chatted nonstop as she led him out the back door.
Peter seemed to enjoy being around Essie as well. Maybe Leah was right, and he should put Peter in school. If their teacher was a good one, then perhaps she could bring Peter out of his shell.
He couldn’t believe he was even thinking it, but Leah Gingerich might be right. Huh.
“Here we go.” Hannah breezed into the room carrying a tray with three cups of coffee. Behind her, Laura Kate, looking very pleased with herself, carried a tray with three saucers of chocolate pie.
Once everyone had their dessert, Laura Kate took both trays back into the kitchen.
“She’s a cute one,” Jamie said. Strange, but before he became a single dad, he had never really thought about children and whether or not they were cute, or sullen, or even spunky. Now he seemed to be looking at other people’s children and wondering if he was on the right track or if he was so far off, Peter would never recover.
“She’s something,” Aaron said with a laugh.
Jamie took a bite of his pie, using his full mouth as an excuse not to reply. He seemed to remember that Aaron hadn’t been a widower for more than a year, and his children seemed to have adjusted just fine. Andy might be a little sullen, and Laura Kate might be a little too serious, but th
ey were talking. Was he doing something wrong? Maybe they all helped one another.
“Our buddy bunch is meeting on Saturday. Would you like to come?” Hannah asked. “It’ll give you a chance to meet a few people.”
“Jah. That would be good.” Except that buddy bunch groups were formed when the members were in their teens. Jamie could meet a lot of new people, or merely be on the outside of a close-knit clique.
“Peter can stay here with the kids,” Aaron offered.
Jamie shifted uneasily in his seat. “Jah.” Or maybe he could find a sitter. Maybe Eunice would watch Peter again. He hated to leave the boy behind, but he needed to get out and meet people. Maybe even a woman.
Perhaps that was what Peter needed. A mother.
“Will Leah be there?” Now, why had he asked that? She wasn’t even Amish any longer. Of course she wouldn’t be there. Except they seemed to accept the fact that she wasn’t Amish and still welcomed her into their homes and lives.
“No,” Hannah said slowly, looking to Aaron as if he knew something she didn’t. “But Gracie might be. She joined the youth group after we did, and sometimes she comes. It just depends if anyone needs her.” Hannah settled a little in her seat and gave an affirming nod.
Of course. Gracie was quite a bit younger than Hannah and Leah. It only made sense that she had joined the group later, when she herself had turned sixteen. And with the groups in Pontotoc being so much smaller than the ones in Ethridge, it only stood to reason that older members—members who had already joined the church—didn’t recognize the dividing lines of the buddy bunch groups.
“Yes, Gracie.”
Jamie didn’t like the gleam in her eyes; he had seen it before. It had matchmaker written all over it. But that was okay. If he was looking for a mother for Peter . . .
The more the idea knocked around in his head, the more comfortable he got with it.
“Gracie’s a sweet girl, wouldn’t you say?” Hannah asked.
“Of course he would say that,” Aaron interrupted. “Everyone says that.”
“Well, that’s because it’s true. She’s always willing to help. And she’s a fantastic cook.”
And she was pretty enough, he supposed. He hadn’t really thought about a woman since Deborah. Beautiful Deborah. But Gracie Glick was about as different from Deborah as black was from white. Gracie was blond-haired and fair-skinned, with big blue eyes. Deborah was darker, with hair the color of fine chocolate and eyes like violets. She was more like Leah.