The Middlefield Family Collection

by Kathleen Fuller

  He took a bite of the pastry. “Stale. I like Leona’s better.” He dropped it back in the bag. Craned his neck, looking around the shop. “Don’t you think cleaning this place could wait? It’s kinda nice the way it is right now. Feels like your grossvadder is close by. He always left the place a mess, if I’m remembering right.”

  “You are.” Emma couldn’t believe it. Finally, someone who understood why she didn’t want to change the workshop. Then again, Adam usually was the only one who did understand her. But it didn’t matter anymore. “It won’t be like this for long,” she said, not meaning to voice the thought aloud.

  “Why?”

  A knock sounded on the door. Emma turned. A man stood in the doorway, his smile revealing his chipped tooth. Mark.

  “Hope I’m not intruding.” He crossed the threshold, not waiting to be invited, and held out his hand to Adam. “Mark King. Peter’s cousin.”

  Adam returned the greeting. “Adam Otto. Emma’s neighbor.”

  Neighbor. Not friend. Definitely not boyfriend. He wasn’t even really her neighbor anymore. She looked from Adam to Mark. “If you’re looking for Peter, he’s not here.”

  “I know. That’s why I’m here. I came to see how you were doing.” Mark moved a step closer to her. “Peter said you were upset.”

  So now Peter was telling everyone what happened. The betrayal deepened. “I’m fine. We had a misunderstanding.”

  “Sounded like more than just a misunderstanding.” Mark looked around the workshop. “This used to be your grossvadder’s?”

  “Ya. You really didn’t have to come by. I’m doing okay. I’m sorry Peter was upset—”

  “Oh, he wasn’t just upset. He was angry.”

  Emma blanched. “He was?”

  Mark nodded. “Said something about how you weren’t ready to face reality. And about some tools? That if you would sell them it would help all of you out financially?” He shrugged. “But I didn’t hear everything. The conversation wasn’t mei business.”

  “Nee. It wasn’t.”

  Emma turned at the sound of Adam’s voice.

  Mark’s brow lifted. “Oh. I’m sorry. Is it your business, then?”

  Adam didn’t respond. But Emma saw his jaw clench—a sure sign that he was upset. What did he have to be mad about? This wasn’t Adam’s business either. At least Mark was familye. Adam was . . . nothing.

  “I’m an old freind of Emma’s,” he finally said. “If she’s upset about something, I do consider it my business.”

  Mark scrutinized Adam’s face. “Is that your truck in the driveway next door?”

  Adam nodded.

  “Nice. I noticed the plate is from Michigan.”

  “It is.”

  “And I suppose your fraa doesn’t mind your deep concern for Emma? Or is she on her way over too? It doesn’t look very gut for a married mann to be alone with a woman who isn’t his wife.”

  “I’m not married,” he said through gritted teeth.

  “Ah. I just thought with the beard . . .” Mark rubbed his clean-shaven chin. “Then again, you have a mustache. And a truck. You’re not Amish, are you?”

  “I don’t see what that has to do with any—”

  “Seeing that you’re not Amish, and not familye . . .” Mark shrugged and looked at Emma. “We should probably talk about this privately.”

  Emma’s head spun. She couldn’t tell if Mark was digging at Adam or just pointing out a fact.

  Adam’s gaze bored into Mark. “You’re Peter’s cousin? Funny, I don’t remember him mentioning you before.”

  “From what I understand, you haven’t been around here for a while.”

  Emma frowned. What did Mark know about Adam? Maybe Clara had gossiped about him to Mark. She’d never liked Adam much since he left the community.

  Adam closed the distance between them. “What exactly are you doing here?”

  Mark stepped back, his eyes wide, innocent. “I told you. I’m checking on Emma.”

  “As you can see, she’s fine.”

  “Because you’re here?”

  “Ya.” Adam lifted his chin. “Your concern is noted, but not needed.”

  Mark held up his hands. “No reason to get upset.” He looked at Emma. Compassion filled his eyes. “You’ve been through a lot lately, Emma. I wanted you to know, if you need anything, I’m here.” He glanced at Adam. “I’m planning to stay in Middlefield for a while. I won’t be going anywhere anytime soon.”

  It took everything in Adam’s power not to lose his temper. Was Emma really buying this? From the soft look on her face, she was.

  “Here.” Mark turned from Adam and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. “You have a little dust on your face.” He touched Emma’s cheek with the corner of the cloth. “Right here.”

  Emma’s face flushed a bright red. So did Adam’s, but not for the same reason. She took the cloth, rubbed it on her face for a second, and started to hand it back.

  “Nee. Keep it.” He smiled.

  Adam wanted to wipe that smile right off his face. Anger bubbled inside him. This guy was a fake and a phony. There was a dead emptiness in his eyes that all his charm and false concern couldn’t hide. Why didn’t Emma see it?

  “Danki,” Emma said in a soft voice.

  For some strange reason, the quality of the tone affected him. Seeing her with Mark. Hearing her voice—low, almost sultry. A tight knot coiled in his gut.

  Mark took several steps toward Emma. They were close to each other now.

  Too close. Adam couldn’t stand it anymore. “I think you should leave.”

  Fake surprise registered on Mark’s face. “Did I do something wrong?” He looked at Emma. “I didn’t offend you, did I?”

  She shook her head. “Nee. I appreciate the concern.” She glanced down at the ground. “It’s nice to know someone cares.”

  Adam did a double take. She didn’t think he cared?

  “I do,” Mark said. “And I meant what I told you. Let me know if you need anything.” A ghost of a smirk appeared on his face. “Adam. Nice to meet you.” He turned and left without waiting for Adam’s response.

  Not that Adam would have given him one. “I don’t believe that guy.”

  Emma turned toward Adam. There was a round circle of white on her plump cheek where she had used Mark’s handkerchief. “What?” she asked.

  He pointed in the direction of the door. “Can’t you see what he’s doing?”

  “Ya, I can. He’s being nice to me.” She held up his handkerchief. “He gave me a handkerchief to wipe the dirt off mei face, instead of making fun of me.”

  “I wasn’t making fun. I thought you looked—”

  “I don’t want to know.” She turned her back to him. “Just geh, Adam. Please.”

  He hadn’t been able to say anything right around her since he’d come back to Middlefield. But before Mark showed up, they almost had a normal conversation. “Emma, if I hurt your feelings, I didn’t mean to.”

  “You never do.” Her voice sounded stuck in her throat. She picked up the broom and started sweeping again. “I’ve got work to do.”

  “Can I at least check on Dill?”

  She didn’t look at him. “Ya.”

  He moved past her. When he reached the door, she said, “Her appetite was a little off this morning.”

  “I’ll let you know if there’s a problem.”

  She went back to sweeping.

  Adam stalked outside, grasping for calm. He saw Mark climbing into the buggy. Good. Emma needed that guy around like Dill needed another lame leg. Adam headed for the backyard to check on the horse.

  “Adam.”

  He stopped at Mark’s voice. As tempted as he was to ignore the man, he couldn’t stop himself from turning around. “What?”

  “Sorry to upset you in there.” Mark took a step forward and held out his hand. “No hard feelings?”

  Adam looked at him. A straw hat, a light blue shirt with a navy blue jacket over it.
A bowl-shaped Amish haircut. Broadfall pants and boots.

  Everything about his appearance was Amish. Yet Adam sensed deceit in him. Deep, like an underground stream of poisoned water. And hidden behind a pious Amish life.

  Or maybe Adam had spent too much time watching crime shows in his apartment in Michigan. Still, he didn’t like the guy.

  Adam shook his hand anyway, resisting the urge to wipe his palm on his pants after touching Mark’s clammy skin. “Nee.” He maintained an even tone. “We’re gut.”

  “Then I hope you don’t mind if I ask you a question. Kind of a personal one.”

  Adam crossed his arms. “Geh ahead.”

  “You and Emma . . . anything going on between you two?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You know.” Mark glanced away. Kicked at a pebble on the ground. Looked at Adam again. “Are you together?”

  Of course the answer was no. But memories from two years ago came flooding back, driving a stake of pain in his heart. He tried not to think about the day he left, how badly it had ended for him and Emma. He thought time would have healed at least part of that wound, but it hadn’t. No, he and Emma weren’t together. They never would be.

  But he didn’t want Mark anywhere near her.

  “We’re close.” A partial truth, but more of a lie. He wasn’t sorry to tell it.

  Mark’s gaze narrowed. “How close?”

  “Close enough that you don’t have to be concerned about her. I’m watching out for her.”

  The man grinned. He was always grinning. Or smirking. “I understand. Then she’s a lucky maedel, to have someone care about her that much.” He stepped into the buggy and gathered the reins, then poked his head out the window. “One more thing.”

  Would this guy leave already? “What?”

  “You’re a liar. And a bad one.” Mark’s smile widened, like a hunter who knew he had his prey cornered. “I’ll see you around. Emma too. You can count on it.” He tapped the reins against the horse’s flank and drove away.

  CHAPTER 15

  “I haven’t seen much of you this morning.” Grossmammi put a plate in front of Emma. “I was waiting for you to bring in the eggs.”

  “I forgot about the eggs.” She had put Dill back in her stall and checked the animals’ food and water, but collecting the eggs completely slipped her mind, which was already full of thoughts of Adam, Mark, and the workshop. She pushed away from the table. “I’ll geh get them right now.”

  The old woman waved her hand. “Sit. Eat your lunch. The eggs can wait. We have plenty in the cooler anyway.” She lowered herself into the chair across from Emma. “Shall we pray?”

  They bowed in silent prayer. When Emma looked up, her grandmother wasn’t eating. Alarm went through her. “Where’s your lunch?”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nix.” Grossmammi shook her head. “I had a big breakfast this morning.”

  Emma doubted that. She’d never seen her grandmother eat a large meal. “You would tell me if something was wrong, ya?”

  “Of course I would. Now you eat. You have to be hungry after all the work you’ve been doing.”

  She picked up the tuna salad sandwich, made with the last slices of bread. She should have baked three loaves this morning. Guilt overwhelmed her. “I haven’t been doing that much.”

  “The dirt on your face says otherwise.”

  Emma touched her cheek. She thought she’d washed all the grime from her hands and face before lunch. “I was checking on Dill. Giving the dogs some attention.” She took a bite of the sandwich, surprised that she was hungry after her discussion with Adam. “Sweeping out the workshop.”

  “Oh? So you’ve decided to help Clara with her fabric business?”

  She swallowed. “They’re not giving me much choice.” Irritation rose as she thought of Peter taking the tools off the wall. “Peter came over this morning. He wants to sell Grossvadder’s tools. I told him nee.”

  “Because?”

  “Because he doesn’t have a right to.” She dropped her sandwich. “He and Clara aren’t even giving me a chance to think about this. Then Mark stopped by—”

  “Wait. Who’s Mark?”

  “Peter’s cousin. From Kentucky. He’s staying with them.” She told her grandmother what Mark had said about Peter being angry.

  “Strange. That doesn’t sound like Peter. He wouldn’t discuss personal business like this with a stranger.”

  “Mark’s not a stranger.”

  “He is in this situation. Plus, why would Peter be mad that you didn’t want to sell the tools today? What is he in such a hurry for?”

  “I don’t know.” Emma shoved the plate away, her appetite gone. “Maybe you should talk to him and Clara. Convince them not to do anything yet.”

  “I thought you were going to talk to Clara.”

  “Why bother?” Emma crossed her arms. “She didn’t even tell me Peter was coming over. Plus, I can’t change her mind. Mark said something about financial problems.”

  Grossmammi lifted a graying brow. “With her and Peter?”

  “I guess. Or maybe they were talking about us.”

  “I know Peter’s been out of work for a while.” Her grandmother’s forehead wrinkles deepened. “So have a lot of men in the community. These are hard times for everyone.”

  “Not everyone.” Adam seemed to be doing just fine.

  “When did Mark leave?”

  “About an hour ago. Right before Adam.”

  “Adam was over too?”

  “Ya. He brought coffee. And a Danish.” The sharp pain in Emma’s shoulders eased as she thought of the memory they’d talked about. When they both fell in the puddle, they’d been covered in mud from head to toe. She’d even gotten some in her mouth, she’d laughed so much. Both of their mothers were furious with them, and they were grounded from seeing each other for a week. But it had been worth it.

  “You’re smiling a little bit.”

  “I am?”

  “Ya. You two are on better terms now?”

  She shook her head, the pleasant memories and emotions they evoked disappearing. “No. That’s not possible.” She held up her hand. “And I know what you’re going to say next. ‘With God, everything is possible.’ Not this time.”

  Grossmammi tapped her crooked finger on the table. “Maybe you should let me say what’s on my mind before you jump to conclusions.”

  Emma nodded. Kept quiet.

  “I was going to ask if Adam said how long he’s staying in Middlefield.”

  “He didn’t. I’m sure it won’t be much longer. He can’t stand being here.”

  “That’s not completely true. Only during his rumspringa did he start thinking about leaving.”

  Which coincided with escalating arguments with his father. But her grandmother didn’t know everything. She didn’t know how trapped Adam had felt, not just by his parents and the faith. He’d been trapped by her too. He had said as much the night he left.

  She jumped up, picked up her plate, and took it to the counter. “I’ll get started on the bread dough.”

  “All right.” Grossmammi slowly rose from her chair. “I think I’ll geh upstairs and take a nap. Maybe do a little praying.” She looked at her granddaughter. “From what I’m hearing, sounds like we all need it.”

  “Did you talk to her? Convince her to let us get started?” Clara pulled out one of the kitchen chairs as Mark walked into the room. He sat down, took off his hat, and laid it on the table.

  “Where’s Peter? The kinner?” he asked.

  “Magdalena is napping. Peter took the buwe outside after lunch.” Instead of looking for a job, he was playing with his kids.

  The mean-spirited thought brought with it a stab of guilt. Peter was an excellent parent. She couldn’t begrudge him that. He was always teaching the children or showing them something new. All the things a father was supposed to do.

  Yet it would
ease her mind if he would spend more time finding work and less time playing with the boys. There would be plenty of time for that. They had to get this fabric shop off the ground. Emma stood in the way. And now Peter wasn’t helping. Ridiculous.

  Mark leaned forward, lowering his voice. “I did talk to Emma. I think she’ll come around soon. I’ll talk to her again about it tomorrow.”

  Clara breathed out. She was so thankful to have an ally in Mark. “Did she agree to sell the tools?”

  “Not yet. But when I got to the haus she was cleaning out the workshop. A gut start, ya?”

  “Maybe. A better start would be to sell the tools. It might be preferable if she stayed away from the workshop for a while. Peter can clean it out.”

  “I can help as well.” His usual smile disappeared. “We may have another problem, though.”

  “What?”

  “Adam Otto.”

  “He won’t get in the way.”

  “I don’t know about that.” His voice grew doubtful. “He warned me to stay away from her. He looked angry. Almost to the point of fighting me.”

  “Did he now?” Clara stood and put her hands on the waistband of her light green dress. “You don’t have to worry about Adam. He’s always had a problem with his temper. But I’ve never known him to act on it. Besides, I’m sure he won’t be staying in Middlefield for long.”

  “Why is he here?” Mark rose and stood near her. Too near for comfort. “Obviously he’s not Amish anymore. He seemed to hold . . . contempt . . . for our ways.”

  Clara nodded. “Ya, he does. And I don’t know why he came back. When he left he burned more than one bridge with his familye and freinds.”

  “Does that include Emma?”

  She paced the width of the table, then halted and turned to him. “He’s the one who broke her heart.”

  “He was with her when I walked into the workshop.” Mark crossed his arms over his chest. “Maybe she’s forgiven him.”

  “She’s a fool if she has.” Clara faced him. “Don’t let Adam keep you from Emma, Mark. She’s much better off with someone like you. Someone Amish. Who puts familye first. Adam only thinks about Adam. No one else.”