They set their boxes on the kitchen table. Jolene opened a drawer and fumbled around, trying to locate the matches in the dark. This was their assigned spot, and she’d put them in this drawer before leaving last night. Where were they?
Hmm. Giving up, she moved to the drawer where Lester tossed the occasional loose, unused match. Soon she felt the thin, rough edges of one. That would get her started. She continued searching the drawer until she touched the smooth, waxy roundness of a candle. After using the lone match to light the gas stove, she held the wick to the flame. Once the candle was lit, she used it to light several kerosene lanterns.
She and Hope moved around as quietly as possible while setting the table, brewing the coffee, frying bacon, and making pastries and blueberry biscuits. Pancakes needed to come hot off the griddle, and since no one was up yet, they decided to make biscuits. Those could be eaten cold and still be good.
While cracking a dozen eggs into a bowl, she looked out an open window. Dark had given way to the gray light of day. Fog rolled across the lower valley, and the sounds of nature—birds, horses, and cows—grew louder as the dawn grew brighter.
Hope came up behind her, placed her hands on Jolene’s shoulders, and rubbed them. “You have to be a little weary this morning. Naomi and I left hours before you did last night.”
Naomi had a husband to prepare supper for. Jolene couldn’t allow Lester or the needs of feral horses to come ahead of that. And Hope was worn-out by the time they had fed dinner to sixteen people. Growing bodies of teens needed more rest than adult bodies, so Jolene had asked Naomi to drop off Hope at home.
“Today will be a lot easier than yesterday as far as meals go.” She cracked the last of the eggs and began beating them with a whisk. “I’m glad of that. Still, you’ll be busy. Your main task is to stick with Tobias.”
“Ah, I’m the baby-sitter, but he’s not to know it. I can do that.”
“Exactly.” Although Hope was the youngest, she seemed to be a natural mother hen. “You’ll also need to help keep the kitchen clean and laundry done.” Jolene glanced at the clock and went to the oven to check the puff pastries. The biscuits needed more time, but the pastries were done.
Hope moved to the island across from her and sat on it. “Did you reach Van?”
She shook her head. “I left a message. He and his family are out of town.” Jolene set the baking sheet on the oven. “Naomi needs to take these to the bakeshop as soon as she arrives, so we have to fill these with cream as soon as they’re cool.”
“Does it bother you?”
Jolene moved the pastries to a cooling rack. “What? Baking pastries every morning?”
“Van.”
Jolene turned, studying her sister. Hope had been only four when Jolene and Van broke up. Did she have any memories of that time or just broken pieces of understanding from what others had told her?
Loud, quick thuds came from the stairs that led to the kitchen, and something rattled like a child’s toy.
Tobias bounded into the room, shaking the missing box of matches. “Something smells good!”
“There is much to choose from,”—Jolene gestured across the island and counters loaded with baked goods—“and if it’s okay with your Daed, you’re welcome to pick whatever suits you, but there is a price to pay.”
Tobias moved closer to the counters, looking over the various pastries. “If it costs money, my Daed will pay it. He’s always got lots of cash in his billfold.”
Andy eased into the room from the same back stairway. He favored his left knee, and his movements were stiff, probably from days of minor injuries, but he was clean-shaven, and he didn’t seem as weary today. He looked as interested in the percolator of coffee on the stove as his son was in the pastries. “He’s right.” Andy got his billfold from his pants pocket. “I have lots of cash.” He pulled out all the money—four one-dollar bills.
“You do.” Hope laughed. “That looks like what I have in my savings account.”
Tobias’s face went blank. “It’s not enough?”
“Sorry.” Jolene shook her head. “The cost is one missing box of matches.”
Tobias thrust them toward her. “It’s Daed’s fault.”
Jolene took the matches, choking back laughter. When she glanced at Andy, he was looking at the floor, shaking his head. His facial features, sandy-brown hair and beard, and his thin, muscular build made him really attractive. But the idea caught her by surprise. When was the last time she’d thought that about a man?
The sound of a cane against a floor echoed, and Tobias’s eyes got big. “I hear Uncle Lester coming down the steps.”
“He’s using the main staircase.” Jolene knew, because unlike the back stairs that entered the kitchen, the main staircase had wide treads and a really strong banister.
Tobias held up one finger. “I’ll be right back.”
He took off, and Jolene caught Hope’s eye. “From a child’s or teen’s perspective, parents have unlimited money. We are expected to pay for everything, and whatever can be blamed on us will be.” She put the matches in their drawer and got a mug from the cupboard.
Hope gave a nod toward Andy. “Did it hurt when your son threw you under the wagon?”
Andy seemed a little amused and perhaps a little unsure of their crassness. But maybe that was just his way—a sort of quiet thoughtfulness.
“Sorry if we’re too vocal.” Jolene poured coffee into the mug. They had cups and coffee on the kitchen table, but he was here and clearly interested in coffee. She set it on the island in front of him. “In our household we’re very outspoken against childlike behavior—even when the behavior is coming from the oldest adult in the room.”
Andy picked up his mug. “Levi says I should vent more.”
Jolene lit a fire under the awaiting skillet. Once hot, it would take only a few minutes to cook the eggs she’d already whisked. She then put the biscuits on a plate. “I think it’s a good idea to let out your pent-up thoughts and feelings”—she set the plate on the island—“just as soon as you return home.”
Hope giggled and hopped off the counter. “If you need an honest opinion, ask my sister. For every year she ages, she becomes a decade-worth of opinionated.”
Jolene winked at Hope. “That I do.” She shooed her. “Now get the biscuits, bacon, fruit, and cheese on the table, please.”
Hope disappeared into the dining room. Jolene poured the eggs into the skillet, making it sizzle.
“Denki for all of this.” Andy held up his mug and motioned toward the breakfast items.
“You’re quite welcome, although Naomi will take most of the pastries to the bakeshop when she arrives.” She turned off the oven and stirred the eggs with a wooden spoon. “Do you mind if Tobias chooses which pastry he wants?”
“Not at all. I remember being his age, and you’re reminding me of my grandmother. Her breakfasts looked and smelled delicious like this. I’m glad he’ll have this memory.”
Jolene continued to stir the eggs, but she raised one eyebrow at Andy. “I remind you of your Mammi?”
His blue eyes grew large. “Not that you actually look anything like her.”
In an effort not to come across as flirting, she resisted teasing him. “Perhaps you should join Uncle Lester before you have shoe for breakfast while the rest of us eat a feast.”
“Good thinking,” he said as he left.
When the eggs were almost done, she turned off the fire and covered the skillet with a plate. While Hope finished getting the needed items on the table, Jolene prepared a platter of pastries for Tobias to choose from. “Tobias,” she called.
He ran back into the room.
“If you want a filling added to the cream horns, you have three choices. You can have vanilla,”—she lifted the appropriate pastry bag that held the filling—“custard, or chocolate.”
“I’m supposed to choose just one?”
She laughed. “If you like all three flavors, I could make one wi
th a hefty glob of each. My mama used to do that for me when I was about your age, and I’ve done it for my siblings when they asked.”
“I like that plan. Your mama must’ve been nice. Sadie’s nice like that.”
Just Sadie? What about his Mamm? It seemed odd that after nearly twenty-four hours of knowing the Fishers, not one of them had mentioned Tobias’s mom. Jolene put the tip of the pastry bag into the flaky, golden-brown cream horn. “Sadie is your uncle Levi’s wife, right?”
“Yep. I like her. They ain’t been married long, but before her, my Mammi used to cook for us some, not breakfast though. Mostly casseroles for dinner, and she only made cakes and puddings for desserts.”
His grandmother did the cooking before Sadie? Was Andy a widower? It would make several things add up, like Andy’s desire to keep Tobias with him this summer and Andy’s need for a sitter. She’d assumed his wife was at home with a brood of children, perhaps too far along in pregnancy to travel. Jolene’s Daed and lots of others she knew tended to keep their sons close to them during the summer months—for bonding or apprenticeship reasons and for occupying high-energy boys when the Mamm was busy with younger ones.
But as the new possibility dawned on her, the hair on her arms and neck stood on end, and her heart rate increased as her curiosity rose. Her internal reaction surprised her. She’d had several widower suitors over the last ten years, mostly older men who were willing to help her raise her siblings if she would marry them and help raise their children. One man came from Indiana to get to know her, in hopes of finding a wife. But after spending a little time with each one, she had zero interest in being courted by them, let alone marrying them.
Jolene put down the bag of vanilla filling and picked up the one filled with chocolate. “Cakes and puddings are good too.”
“Ya. Mammi doesn’t cook much for us anymore. Does your mama ever cook for you?”
“No.” Jolene held the tip of the pastry bag out to Tobias, and without needing instructions he put his index finger directly under it. She squirted some onto his finger. “She’s gone.”
He licked his finger. “My Mamm’s gone too.”
Jolene’s heart quickened its pace. Her interest in Andy, however fragile, wasn’t at all like her, and it seemed really inappropriate. His heart could be broken, and here she was mentally eyeing the man and thinking of only herself. She hated when widowers did that to her—disregarded her heart as if she were no more than a workhorse or milk cow on an auctioning block.
Lester came to the kitchen door with a mug of coffee in hand. “It looks as if we’re ready to eat, right?”
“Oh.” Jolene would prefer a few more answers from Tobias first, but she knew Lester well. His polite question was actually a gentle command, and he gave only one gentle command before he started barking orders. “Ya.” She squirted the custard into the pastry and gave it to Tobias. “Take that to your plate.” She hurriedly filled a few more pastries.
Lester strode over and grabbed one. He popped the whole thing in his mouth and mumbled something—perhaps “that’s amazing.”
She dumped the skillet of scrambled eggs into a huge bowl. “Lester, is Andy a widower?”
He nodded and mumbled a couple of words that ended with widower—maybe trace widower. Her Mamm had used that term, but Jolene hadn’t heard it since then. It meant Andy had a deep mark from the loss. Lester licked his fingers and took a few drinks of his coffee. “A very sad and difficult situation for Andy, but Tobias was a toddler, so he has no recollection of her at all. Kumm. Let’s eat.”
Jolene entered the dining room, carrying a platter of pastries and a bowl of eggs, but she hadn’t felt this self-conscious since the day she had to attend Van’s wedding. With everything on the table—breads, meats, eggs, cheese, and fruit—she and Hope took a seat, and all of them bowed their heads during the silent prayer.
While heads were bowed, Jolene did something she hadn’t done in a decade. She opened her eyes to catch a glimpse of the man across from her. There was something compelling about him—something she’d noticed since they met. It wasn’t just his looks. He seemed to have a gentle, strong demeanor.
She closed her eyes, embarrassed by her thoughts. He could be seeing someone. Or maybe he would never be interested in her. Or perhaps he didn’t intend to marry again.
Actually, she knew almost nothing about him, but for the first time in her life, she liked the idea of getting to know a widower.
7
Andy took the last bite of cantaloupe and perched his fork and knife on the edge of his plate. The food was great, but what he really wanted was to know if Jolene had reached the traveling blacksmith. He’d hoped she would volunteer the information since it was clear she hadn’t wanted to call him. He’d rather not have to ask if she’d followed through. Seems as if she had, she would’ve said so.
Still, he had to admit that this meal was like a Thanksgiving feast, only for breakfast. He’d eaten his eggs, meat, and fruit, so he picked up a cream-filled pastry and alternated between it and his coffee. Delicious. Too much so. Surely the Keim girls wouldn’t cook all summer the way they had yesterday and today. If so, he’d have to ration himself. Sadie was a good cook, and she fixed a lot better meals than he or Levi. But her goals were more like his and Levi’s: make it healthy, get it done, and move on with the day.
Uncle Lester pushed his plate back. “So what’s the first thing to do today?”
Andy wiped powdered sugar off his lips. “Calm a few of the horses enough that they’ll let us bathe them. Most are matted with mud and manure. No matter what task we undertake, I’d prefer that you and Tobias stay away from the barn and corral at least until the horses settle.”
Lester nodded. “I broke my hip messing with a high-strung horse a few years back, and I can’t afford to do that again. But Jo will be here to help.”
Andy nodded. That was good news. When he’d called to ask his uncle about using his facilities, Lester was on board. He’d assured Andy he could get him some skilled help, so apparently Joe was that help. But what time would Joe arrive?
“Daed said they’ll likely break free and bolt.” Tobias ran his finger across his empty plate, scooping up some spilled filling. “They’ll need shoeing too.”
Uncle Lester frowned at Andy. “You’re bringing in a smithy, right?”
“I haven’t made plans for that, no.”
“You need to. I was sure you knew some other smithy than Van Beiler … since you work with horses.”
So Lester wasn’t a fan of Beiler’s either. What had the man done? Andy tucked his napkin next to his plate. “You want me to try to bring one here from Apple Ridge?”
Jolene shook her head. “No, he doesn’t.”
“Yes, I do.” Lester propped one leg on the other. “I won’t pay money to support any man who has no business living in Winter Valley.”
Andy knew Lester could be as difficult as the day was long once he was set against someone. He was known in the family for being that way. Thankfully, his great-uncle didn’t have anything against him.
So what did he do when his horses needed to be shod? Whatever it was, it must not be a current option.
Jolene intertwined her fingers and leaned in. “Lester, I appreciate your sentiments, but Van is a good man. I keep telling you that.” She angled her head, her eyes narrowing at the elderly man. “And Andy needs his help. End of discussion, please.”
Uncle Lester tossed his napkin onto the plate. “A good man,” he mumbled.
“Ya.” Jolene nodded. “He is. Do you want us to argue about it in front of my little sister, Andy’s son, and a man who’s nearly a stranger to me?”
Lester grimaced. “Sorry. I didn’t think about that.” He pushed back from the table and grabbed his cane. “Unless I can round up some volunteers, you’ll have to make do with Van’s and Jo’s help.”
“Actually,”—Jolene shrugged—“Van is currently out of town. I left a message at the shop for him to call me. We hav
en’t spoken more than a passing hello in years, but I’m assuming if he gets the message, he’ll return the call.”
“Of course he will.” Hope stood and began gathering plates. “Whenever I see him around town, he’s quick to do anything he can to help out us Keims. My horse threw a shoe a year ago, and I walked him to Smithy Beiler’s place. The fires were cold, and Van was locking up. But he unlocked the place, fired up the furnace, and put all new shoes on my horse. We talked about gardening and my family and stuff the whole time.”
Lester didn’t look impressed, but when he opened his mouth, Jolene arched an eyebrow at him, a clear warning that Hope didn’t see.
Andy thought it best to change the subject. “So what time can I expect this Joe fellow to get here?”
Jolene raised her hand. “Present.”
“You?” Andy jolted, knocking the flatware off his plate and onto the floor. “I … I’m sorry, Jolene.” He turned to Lester. “But that won’t do.”
Jolene and Hope gathered several items and went into the kitchen.
Lester scratched a scraggly eyebrow with one shaky, weathered hand. “Jo is the available help, and it’ll have to do. You’ve given your word to the Humane Society.”
“And when we talked last week, you said there would be skilled men to help. This change means we don’t have the needed manpower.”
“You have womanpower. Make it work.”
“I know you like and believe in Jolene. That’s obvious. But we’re talking feral horses. I need someone with experience, someone who can watch my back as much as I’m watching his—emphasis on the word his. Horses are stout, massive creatures, Lester. You know that. One unexpected kick, especially to the head, and she could be seriously injured.” He picked up his flatware and put it on his plate. “I mean no disrespect, Uncle Lester, but what are you thinking?”
A Love Undone Page 6