Hometown Cinderella: Hometown CinderellaThe Inn at Hope Springs

by Patricia Davids

  “I’m so sorry.” Emma’s breath rose in frosty puffs. Her cheeks glowed rosy pink from the cold, but she made no move to go inside. Sympathy filled her eyes as tears gathered in the corners. He sensed she understood the terrible price he’d paid for his folly.

  Suddenly, he became aware of a connection between them, something he’d never felt before with any woman. How could he have thought she was plain? There was so much beauty and peace in her eyes.

  “Your dat must have been happy to have you home.”

  Sadly, Adam shook his head. “Nee. He’s not convinced that I’ve changed. He thinks I will run back to my good job and easy life if I can’t earn a decent living here.”

  “Will you?” she asked, an odd quality in her tone.

  “I will not go back to my English ways. I won’t lie, I miss some things about that life, but now God is with me every day.”

  “Your dat will see that in time.”

  “I’m not sure. He forgave me for the pain I brought on our family, but he no longer trusts me. I would do almost anything to be worthy of his respect again.”

  Chapter Eleven

  The winter sky held only a hint of pink in the east as Emma pulled open the barn door on Monday morning. Under her arm, she carried a rubber hot-water bottle. Even through her coat she could feel its warmth. It reminded her of the warmth that had enveloped her when Adam shared so much about his life.

  She stood there thinking about him, about his struggle with his faith, and the way he’d chosen to share it with her touched her deeply. She couldn’t stop thinking about him.

  Inside the dark stable, she paused to light a lantern on the workbench beside the door. She held it high to light her way past the black buggy to the single stall beyond it. A soft whinny from Cream welcomed her as the mare did every morning.

  Hanging the lamp from the hook, Emma checked the water tank, happy to see only a skim of ice on the surface. The temperature was still below freezing, but not by much. After doling out the mare’s grain and cleaning the stall, Emma quickly climbed the ladder into the hayloft. It was warmer up where the hay trapped the heat from the horse’s body below. A sudden chorus of mewing erupted from a wooden box covered with a scrap of blanket in the corner.

  “I’m here, little ones, don’t cry.” Emma sat cross-legged on the floor and raised the edge of the blanket. The mewing cries rose in volume.

  She pulled out the cool water bottle and unwrapped it from a length of gray flannel. Laying it aside, she wrapped the warm bottle she carried and tucked it in the box for the four tiny kittens crawling around in search of her and their breakfast.

  “You are so impatient,” Emma crooned as she picked them up, one by one, and settled them in the well of her skirt between her knees. The biggest one, a yellow fellow with long fur, began climbing her coat with his needle-sharp claws.

  Emma swaddled him in another length of flannel and pulled a doll bottle full of the special formula the vet had given her from her pocket. It took several tries before he got hold of the nipple.

  “Look at you. You’ve got more milk on your face than in your tummy.” The others had settled back to sleep in a multicolored ball in her lap.

  To her complete surprise, the kittens seemed to be thriving. Each time she made her way to the loft she expected to discover the worst. The two-hour feedings had stretched to three hours now that they had put on some weight.

  They had been only a day or two old when she found them. The local vet discouraged her from trying to hand-raise a litter of barn cats, but when she insisted he gave her the supplies she needed. Along with instructions, he gave her one piece of advice. He said, “Don’t get attached to them because it will only bring you grief when they die.”

  Grief was nothing new to her. She took the supplies and followed his instructions to the letter. Now the kittens were her special secret. Her barnyard babies.

  Not real babies. Not like the ones she would have had if William had lived, but they had mewed and wiggled and clawed their way into her heart. They were so helpless. They needed her, as she needed them. Even more than she knew.

  A sudden noise made her look toward the ladder. Someone was coming up.

  Chapter Twelve

  Adam’s head appeared in the hayloft opening. Emma’s heart sank. Her secret wasn’t a secret anymore. Now he and everyone else would know how foolish the old maid, Emma Wadler, had become.

  “What are you doing here?” she demanded, masking her embarrassment with annoyance.

  In the light of the single lantern, his hat cast a dark shadow across his eyes. She couldn’t read his expression. After a moment of silence, he said, “Your mamm asked me to help you with chores so we can get going to the auction. Now I see why you’ve been coming up here so often. How many kittens are there?”

  A blush heated Emma’s face and neck but at least he wasn’t laughing at her. “Four.”

  He climbed up to sit beside her. “What a cute bunch. How old are they?”

  “About six days, I think.”

  “How long have you been taking care of them?”

  “Five days.”

  “What happened to their mamm?” He lifted a gray one from her lap and cuddled it close to his chest.

  Her nervousness began to fade. “She was run over on the street in front of the house. I didn’t even know she’d had kittens until I went to the stable later in the day and heard their mewing.”

  The kitten he held began making pitiful cries. “It must have broken your heart to hear them.”

  “It did.”

  Even knowing the odds were slim that they would live, Emma had soon found herself armed with a hot-water bottle, a box with high sides and a kitten-size baby bottle with cat-milk formula and a round-the-clock routine.

  Raising the kitten to face level, he said, “They look healthy. You are a goot mudder, but why not take them into the house?”

  “Mamm is highly allergic to cats.”

  “Oh, no.” He started to laugh.

  “It’s not funny,” she chided, but she felt like laughing, too.

  He quickly grew serious. “Show me what to do and I will help.”

  She looked at him in astonishment. “Do you mean that?”

  “Of course. You can’t be scurrying out here day and night. You have a business to run. I will help during the day.”

  The idea of taking a break sounded wonderful, but could she trust him to do a good job with her babies? She didn’t want all her hard work to be undone by his carelessness.

  Apparently, he read her indecision because he said, “You should watch me the first few times to make sure I’m doing it right.”

  For some reason she did trust him. She demonstrated how to swaddle them inside a piece of cloth, how to get the bottle into their mouths, even how to burp them and clean up after them before returning them to their box. She fed one more so he could observe and then he fed the other two.

  When they were done and the kittens all returned to the box, he said, “We’d better hurry or we will be late for the start of the auction.”

  Spending the day in his company—in public—suddenly became a frightening prospect. She rubbed her hands over her arms. “I don’t think I’m going to go.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Adam saw his plans for the day unraveling before they got started. The picnic basket and thermos of hot chocolate under the front seat of his buggy would stay where they were. “What do you mean you aren’t going?”

  “I have work to do here.”

  “Naomi said she can run the inn while you are gone.”

  “I know she can, but I have the kittens to think of, too.”

  She walked past him and began to descend the ladder. He fol
lowed, feeling their closeness draining away. What had he done wrong? “The Yoder farm isn’t that far. We can come back to feed them and then return to the auction.”

  “It’s silly to make so many trips. I’m staying here. You go on.” She pushed open the barn door and walked out into the crisp morning sunshine.

  “I was only going because Naomi asked me to drive you. I’ll go patch that hole in the dining room wall.”

  Apparently, the connection he’d felt between them went only one way. From him to nowhere. His disappointment was as sharp as the kittens’ claws.

  She spun around. “I forbid you to work today. You are to go to the auction, eat good food, visit with your friends. Your cousins are going, aren’t they?”

  The auction would be one of the biggest social events of the winter. The weather was cold but the sun was shining brightly. Families would come from miles around, English and Amish alike, to support the Yoder family and have the chance to pick up a bargain. Even his father might be there.

  She took a step closer. “You should go.”

  Sucking in a quick breath, he said, “I would like to go, but only if you go with me. Please, Emma.”

  Her eyes softened; he could see her wavering. Before she could reply, her mother came bustling out of the house, a large box in her arms. She made straight for his buggy. He had no choice but to rush over and open the door for her.

  Naomi said, “Danki. You two should get on the road. Emma, I’ve decided I want you to bid on the ice cream maker and on the pressure cooker.”

  She laid the box on the floor of Adam’s buggy and held out her hand. “Here is the money.”

  When Emma didn’t move, Naomi pressed the bills at her and began pulling her toward the buggy. “If you don’t hurry you could miss the household items. Oh, I can’t be out in this cold for long. It makes my bones hurt. I’m so glad you’re going for me, Emma. And thank you for driving her, Adam. I won’t worry about her a bit in your company.”

  Adam climbed in and extended his hand to Emma. For a second, he thought she was going to refuse, but suddenly Naomi began sneezing. Emma sprang into the vehicle and closed the door between them.

  With a hidden smile, Adam slapped the reins against the horse’s rump and sent him trotting down the street.

  Chapter Fourteen

  At a loss for words, Emma could only stare at Adam. Had she misunderstood him? He couldn’t possibly think of this outing as a date. How could a man like Adam be interested in her?

  She jumped like a rabbit when he asked, “What’s in the box?”

  “A quilt and some of my jam. We are donating them to the sale.”

  “Is your jam as good as Grandma Yoder’s? If it is, I’ll have to buy all you have.”

  Lifting out a jar, she held it up for him to see. “I am Grandma Yoder.”

  He turned to look at her in surprise, then burst out laughing. “Well, Grandma, I love your gooseberry jam. Why not use your own name?”

  “A jar of Emma Wadler’s jelly doesn’t sell as well as one with Grandma Yoder on the label. Tourists are funny like that. They want things that look and sound like the Amish names they’re familiar with. Since the recipe is one handed down from my mother’s mother on the Yoder side of the family, I have no qualms about using the name.” She put the sample back in the box.

  “You are a good cook. You should open a café.”

  She looked up sharply. Was he making fun of her? “The inn is enough work.”

  Giving her a sidelong glance, he said, “I have an idea about that. Want to hear it?”

  He seemed serious. She nodded. “Sure.”

  Eagerly turning to face her, he said, “I could cut a door to the outside in the dining room and build some booths along the back wall to give you more seating. You already cook for the guests so why not cook for more? The town is growing. The English like to eat out. It could give you a steady income, especially in the winter. You could call it the Shoofly Pie Café. What do you think?”

  Surprised, Emma mulled it over. What he said made sense. Finally she nodded. “It is a good idea. I will think on it, but you may be sorry you suggested it.”

  “Why?”

  “Because then you’ll have to pay for the cinnamon rolls you eat in the mornings.”

  He grinned broadly and clicked his tongue to get the horse moving faster. Looking at Emma, he said, “Your mother called you a treasure and she was right. I’m glad you decided to come with me today.”

  Emma discovered that she was glad, too. A tiny spark of happiness flickered in the gloom that had become her life. Settling back against the buggy seat, she breathed in the cold morning air, feeling more alive than she’d felt in years.

  After a few minutes of silence, he said, “Tell me about yourself, Emma.”

  “I’m boring.”

  “No, you aren’t.”

  “If I tell you my life story you will fall asleep and the horse will run off the road.”

  “Seriously, how did you come to own the Wadler Inn?”

  That she could talk about. “A cousin of my father first bought the place fifty-five years ago. He never joined the Amish church. I started working for him when I was fifteen. He treated me like the daughter he never had. When he passed away suddenly, I decided to buy the inn and run it myself.”

  “Did you ever think about marrying?” Adam asked softly.

  She stared at her hands as her oldest heartache returned. “Sure, but it didn’t work out that way for me. The man I planned to marry died.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It was Gotte wille.”

  “If the right man came along, you could still marry. It’s not too late.”

  She glanced at his handsome profile against the blue sky. Did she dare believe him?

  Chapter Fifteen

  Adam turned the buggy into the Yoders’ lane. They’d arrived in plenty of time to bid on the items Naomi wanted. Since the quilts wouldn’t be auctioned off until after lunch, they were free to wander the grounds and seek out other bargains.

  Within an hour, Emma got the ice cream maker, but the pressure cooker went for more than she was willing to pay. He bought her a hot pretzel at midmorning as they watched the horses being sold, and was rewarded with a genuine smile. Why had he ever thought she was plain?

  Everywhere around them were the sounds of voices raised in greeting and laughter. He and Emma both ran into relatives and friends. What he had at first assumed was standoffishness on her part proved to be shyness. It seemed Emma had many layers. He wanted to explore them all.

  “Having a good time?” he asked as she retreated from a group of her mother’s friends.

  “I am,” she admitted with a touch of surprise and that tiny smile that so intrigued him.

  “I am, too.” He stood close beside her, not touching her, but wishing he could hold her hand or caress her cheek.

  She said, “If you want to stay, I can go home alone and take care of the kittens. They are my responsibility and I’m sure they’re getting hungry.”

  “I said I would help and I meant it.” They rounded the corner of the toolshed on the way to the buggy and came face-to-face with his father.

  It took a second for Adam to find his voice. When he did, he nodded. “Guder mariye, Papa.”

  He looked for any sign of softening in his father’s eyes and thought he detected it when his father’s gaze lit on Emma. They were saved from the awkward silence by the arrival of three of Adam’s cousins. David, Lydia and Susan all carried plates with hot pretzels on them.

  After greeting everyone, Adam said, “I’m sorry but I must go. I have promised to take Emma home, but we will be back later. Perhaps we can meet up then?”

  His cousins exc
hanged pointed glances, but it was David who replied, “Sure. We’ll be here all afternoon. The cattle aren’t going on sale until three o’clock.”

  “Great. We’ll see you there.” As Adam walked away, he thought he heard the girls snicker behind him, but when he glanced back, they had turned away.

  Emma was quieter than usual on the ride back to town. As he pulled up in front of her house, she turned to face him. “I’m sorry to be a wet blanket, but I don’t think I’ll go back with you.”

  Instantly concerned, he asked, “Are you ill?”

  “Just a headache. Anyway, you will have more fun without me.”

  He tried not to let his disappointment show. “I won’t, but I will feed the kittens for you while you go lie down.”

  She stepped out of the buggy. “That’s not necessary. I like the quiet time with them.”

  “As you wish,” he answered.

  Turning away, she paused and looked over her shoulder. “I had a very nice morning.”

  “Me, too.” He waited, but she didn’t return his smile. As she walked away he felt he’d somehow landed back at square one.

  Chapter Sixteen

  After taking care of the kittens, Emma entered the house with lagging steps. Inside, she was surprised to see her mother sitting in the rocker by the stove. She held her Bible in her hands.

  Looking over her glasses, Naomi said, “You are home early. Where is Adam?”

  “He’s gone back to the auction. I was feeling tired.”

  And like a fifth wheel among his family and friends. She didn’t know how to fit in.

  “I imagine you are tired, what with getting up every two hours through the night to feed those poor motherless cats.”

  Emma’s jaw dropped. “Who told you?”

  “I may snore, but I’m still a light sleeper. When a daughter starts sneaking out of the house at night, a parent wants to know what is going on. I could see you didn’t want to tell me about them so I didn’t say anything.”