“Your mamm’s looking after the other three, right?”
Barbara nodded.
“And Paul Hilty’s helping in the shop, so that gives you time to rest up and get your strength back.”
“Jah.”
“I don’t mean to lecture, but you should be grateful for all the help.”
Barbara crossed her arms to dispel the sudden chill she felt. A tear seeped out from under her lashes. “I am grateful, but I feel so guilty.”
“Guilty for what?”
“Because I–I’m useless.”
Faith reached over and gripped Barbara’s hand. “How can you say that? The boppli needs you to care for him and be strong.”
“I know if I get plenty of rest and eat right, I’ll regain strength physically. But I’m weak emotionally, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be strong again.” A sob escaped Barbara’s lips, and she clamped her mouth shut to keep from breaking down in front of her friend.
Faith patted Barbara gently on the back. “Go ahead and get it out. Let the cleansing tears come.”
“Why do I feel guilty when I’m sad?” Barbara wailed.
“Maybe because you’re used to being in control of things, and this is something you can’t control.”
Barbara couldn’t deny that she liked to be in charge. Even when she was a girl, she’d tried to tell her sisters what to do. Not that any of them appreciated it or did all she asked, but it had given her a sense of being in control to make plans and try to get them to follow her suggestions. “I wasn’t feeling sad like this before little Davey was born,” she said with a sniff.
“Until now, you didn’t have time to be depressed. Since you’ve been forced to slow down, your feelings are rising to the surface.”
“Jah, maybe so.”
“Did you see the verse that Noah attached to the cake?”
“I didn’t take the time to look at it.”
“The verse reminds us that there is a time for laughter and a time for tears.”
Faith’s comment unleashed the dam. Barbara wept for all she was worth. When her sobs finally tapered to sniffling hiccups, she reached for a tissue from the box on the coffee table and blew her nose. “Sorry for blubbering like that.”
“It’s all right. God knows your pain, and you have every right to cry.”
Barbara’s gaze darted to the Bible, also on the coffee table. “My faith isn’t so strong anymore. Not the way yours seems to be.”
Faith shook her head. “My faith wasn’t always strong. It used to be almost nonexistent. Remember how I was when I came home after living among the English, thinking I wanted to be famous and make lots of money as an entertainer?”
Barbara nodded. But her friend was a different person now, and God had blessed her in many ways. Noah was a wonderful, loving husband, and they had two beautiful, healthy children. Would Faith be as secure in her beliefs if she’d lost the man she loved? It was easy to talk about having faith in God when things were going well.
“I know it’s wrong for me to feel this way, but I’m jealous of you, Faith,” Barbara admitted.
“Why? What have you to be jealous of?”
“Your husband is alive, and everything’s going great in your life.”
Faith stared at the floor. “Noah and I have our share of troubles, too.”
Regret as strong as a Missouri king snake coiled around Barbara’s middle. She’d been wallowing in self-pity, and here was her friend going through problems she didn’t even know about. “What’s wrong, Faith? What kind of problems are you and Noah having?”
Faith smiled, but her soulful blue eyes revealed the depth of her pain. “The doctor gave us some disappointing news at my last appointment. We can’t have any more children.”
Barbara’s heart clenched. She knew how much her friend loved children and had hoped for another baby. “I’m awful sorry, Faith,” she murmured.
“I’ve come to terms with it. At least I have Melinda and Isaiah, and I love them both very much.”
“I know you do.”
“If it were God’s will for us to have more kinner, He would not have closed up my womb.”
Barbara couldn’t believe how matter-of-fact Faith was being. It reminded her of what Bishop John had said on the day of David’s funeral. “Our faith teaches that when our time on earth is over, God will call us home no matter what. We just need to accept His will and move on with life.”
“You’ve come a long way from the rebellious teenager I used to know,” Barbara said. “Your strong faith and positive attitude amaze me.”
Faith gave Barbara a hug. “Your friendship is one of the things that helped me grow. I want you to know that I’m here for you.”
Barbara dabbed at the corners of her eyes. “Danki. I appreciate that. But once I return to work, I’ll be able to make it on my own again.”
“It’s good to have you back in Webster County,” Noah Hertzler said, returning the strip of leather for the bridles he wanted.
Paul placed it on the workbench. “I’m not here for good, you know. Just working at the harness shop until Barbara’s up to taking over again.” He shook his head. “It amazes me that any woman would want to do this kind of work.”
Noah snickered. “I think some of the women in our community are cut from a different cloth than most.”
“How so?”
“Take my wife, for instance. She loves to yodel and tell funny stories.”
Paul nodded. “So I’ve heard.”
“Not the everyday thing you’d expect from an Amish woman, mind you. But that’s what makes Faith so special.” Noah grinned. “Then there’s my stepdaughter, Melinda. That girl takes in every stray critter that comes near our place, and some I think she goes looking for.”
Paul leaned against the workbench and laughed. “Sounds like you’ve got your hands full.”
Noah smiled. “Jah, but in a good way.”
Paul could tell by the gleam in Noah’s eyes that he was a happy man. He had a wife he obviously loved, a stepdaughter whose whims he catered to, a son to carry on his name, and a job that he thoroughly enjoyed. All Paul had was a job in Lancaster County, with little hope of ever owning his own business. He had no wife or children, and he wasn’t getting any younger. He’d turned thirty a few months ago, and most men his age were already married with three or four children living under their roofs.
“Are you enjoying the time with your folks?” Noah asked, pulling Paul’s thought aside.
Paul shrugged. “It’s good to see them, of course, but Pop and I haven’t seen eye to eye since I refused to follow in his footsteps as a farmer. Fact is, we can barely be in the same room without one of us snapping at the other.”
“I know what you mean. My daed has never understood why I’d rather work at the tree farm than slop hogs with him.” Noah folded his arms across his chest. “He’s never understood my interest in baking, either. But I’ve come to realize that some things probably won’t change, so it’s best to try and ignore them.”
“Guess you’re right,” Paul said with a nod. “If I let Pop’s grumbling get to me, I’d be on the next bus bound for Pennsylvania. But I wouldn’t feel right about running out on Barbara when she needs help.”
“I’m glad you’re here for her, because Samuel can’t carry the load alone.” Noah glanced around. “Hey, where is Samuel today?”
“He hired a driver to take him to Springfield for a doctor’s appointment. I’ve been on my own all afternoon, and as you might have noticed when you first came in, the customers have kept me quite busy.”
Noah nodded. “That’s why I waited until the others left to start yakkin’.”
Paul pointed to the stack of papers on the desk. “I work fast, but there’s no way I can keep up with the orders we have right now.”
“If I knew anything about what you’re doing here, I’d offer to help in my spare time, but I’d only be in the way.”
“That’s okay. I’ll be fine. Just need t
o keep my nose to the leather, as my cousin Andy likes to say.”
Noah chuckled and turned toward the door. “Faith went up to the house to visit Barbara. Guess I’d better see if she’s ready to head for Seymour. I’m taking my wife to eat supper at her favorite place—Baldy’s Café.”
“Have fun. I’ll let you know when your bridles are ready.”
“Danki.”
When the door clicked shut behind Noah, Paul turned back to the workbench, wishing he had a wife to take out to supper. “What’s wrong with you, Paul Hilty? Get yourself busy and quit thinking such unlikely thoughts!”
Chapter 7
Where are we going, Papa?” John’s youngest daughter, Mary, asked as they headed down Highway C in their open buggy.
“I’m paying a call on Barbara Zook.”
The ten-year-old’s lower lip jutted out. “But I thought after you picked me and Hannah up from school, we’d go straight home so we could play.”
“Jah, Papa.” Twelve-year-old Hannah spoke up from the backseat. “This morning, you said since this was the last day of school, me and Mary could spend our afternoon playing at the creek.”
“You can do that when we get home from Barbara’s.”
Mary nudged his shoulder. “But why do we have to go?”
“To see how she’s getting along, that’s why.”
“Getting along with what?”
John gritted his teeth in frustration. “Why must you ask so many questions?”
She leaned away from him. “I—I just wanna know why we have to go over to Barbara’s.”
“She had a boppli not long ago. Don’t you want to see how the little fellow’s doing?”
“I’d rather play in the creek,” Hannah said.
“If you don’t stop complaining, you won’t be playing at all today. Instead, when we get home, I’ll find some work for you to do.”
John glanced over his shoulder and noticed that both girls sat with their arms folded and their mouths clamped shut. Maybe now he could spend the rest of the ride in peace.
When Barbara stepped onto the back porch, prepared to air out the quilt from her bed, she spotted John Frey’s buggy pulling into the yard. His two youngest daughters were with him. John pulled up to the hitching rail close to the house.
“Wie geht’s?” he called as he and the girls climbed down from the buggy.
“I’m doing all right. What brings you out our way?”
He and the girls joined Barbara on the porch. “We’re calling on a few folks today, so I decided to stop and check on you.” He tipped his straw hat and grinned at her in a most disconcerting way. “How are things in the harness shop?”
“Paul Hilty’s helping out. As far as I know, everything’s going okay.”
“Will he be staying long?”
Her fingers curled around the edges of the quilt she held. “Just until I feel up to working again.”
“That’s good.” The bishop squinted against the sun while offering Barbara another lopsided smile.
Barbara draped the quilt over the porch rail. An uncomfortable feeling settled over her. She didn’t like the way John Frey was looking at her. The man was a widower nearly fifteen years her senior with four daughters to raise, and two of them were teenagers. When Jacob Martin had passed on a year and a half ago, John had taken over as the bishop for their district. Then six months ago, John’s wife, Peggy, had died of cancer, leaving him to raise their girls on his own. Barbara hoped John didn’t plan on her being his new wife. She had no desire to marry again. Besides, she couldn’t imagine having to deal with four more children. She had her hands full taking care of her boys.
“You’re looking a mite peaked,” the bishop said. “If you’re needing some help with the boppli, I could send one of the girls over. Betty has a job, but I’m sure either Hannah or Nadine could come.” He nudged Hannah’s arm. “Isn’t that right, daughter?”
Her head bobbed up and down. “Sure, Papa. I’ll do whatever you say.”
“I appreciate the offer,” Barbara said, “but my mamm’s been helping with the three older boys, and I’m managing okay with the boppli.”
“Looks like you could use some help outside.” John glanced around the yard. “I’ll mention it to Margaret Hilty the next time I see her. I’m sure she and some of the other ladies would be glad to give you a hand.”
Barbara couldn’t argue with the fact that her yard looked a mess. Since David had died and her responsibilities had increased, the lawn and flower beds had been dreadfully neglected. Dad wasn’t able to keep up with yard work and help in the harness shop, too, so the lawn only got cut when he felt up to it and had the time. Mom had a weak back, which meant Barbara couldn’t count on her help with yard work, either.
“I must admit, it is difficult to keep up with everything around here,” she mumbled, feeling a knot form in her stomach. “If some of the ladies want to help, I’d appreciate it.”
“I’ll see that it’s done real soon.” John leaned against the railing opposite the quilt, apparently in no hurry to leave. “I was wondering if you and your boys would like to go on a picnic with me and the girls Saturday afternoon.”
The knot in Barbara’s stomach tightened, and she gritted her teeth as she concentrated on the patterns of light dappling the porch floor. “I. . .uh. . .appreciate the offer, but I don’t think the boppli’s ready for that kind of outing.”
“Couldn’t you leave him with your mamm?”
Barbara’s face grew warm. She could hardly remind the bishop that she had to stay close to Davey because she was nursing.
As if by divine intervention, the little guy started to fuss. “I’ve got to go inside now. The boppli’s crying.” She turned toward the door. “It was kind of you to drop by.”
“What about the picnic?”
When Barbara glanced over her shoulder, the scrutiny she saw on the bishop’s face made her feel even more uncomfortable. She forced her lips into what she hoped was a polite smile. “I appreciate the offer, but it’s really not possible. Good day, Bishop John.” She nodded at the girls. “It was nice seeing you, Mary and Hannah.”
They nodded in return.
Barbara hurried into the house and lifted the baby from the cradle she kept for him in the living room. “The bishop probably thought I was rude, but I couldn’t let you keep crying,” she murmured against the infant’s downy, dark head. “Besides, I’m not about to give that man any hope of my becoming his wife.”
As Alice stepped away from the kitchen window, where she’d been watching Barbara talk to John Frey, she sighed. The bishop seemed to be coming around a lot lately, and Alice was pretty sure he had more on his mind than checking on Barbara’s physical status. She had a hunch the bishop had set his cap for Barbara— probably because he needed a mother for his girls. She couldn’t fault him for that, but she didn’t think her daughter should be that wife. Barbara had enough on her shoulders, trying to raise four boys and run the harness shop. If she took on the responsibility of John’s girls, too, she would never get any rest.
Alice took a seat at the table. She really hoped that Barbara and Paul might get together. According to Samuel, Paul was a hard worker and knew a lot about repairing harnesses and saddles. And the boys, except for Aaron, seemed quite smitten with the man. Truth be told, Alice thought Barbara could develop an interest in Paul, too, if she’d give the man half a chance.
God knows what my daughter needs better than anyone else, she thought as she closed her eyes and offered up a heartfelt prayer. Heavenly Father, if it’s Your will for Barbara to marry again, then let it be at the right time to the right man.
“This isn’t the way to our house,” Hannah said as John directed their horse and buggy farther down Highway C.
“I know. I’m making a call on Margaret Hilty, and then we’ll go home,” he replied.
“But I thought you were just gonna make the one call on Barbara Zook.” Hannah leaned over the front seat and grunted. “Now we�
��ll get home even later and probably won’t have time to do any wading.”
“If you don’t get to the creek today, you can go tomorrow.” John gripped the reins tightly as a car zipped past, tooting its horn. “Sure wish the Englishers wouldn’t drive so fast on this narrow road,” he muttered. “No wonder there have been so many accidents along here.”
“I’m hungry,” Mary complained. “I was hoping Barbara might give us something to eat, but she didn’t offer a thing.”
“And we never got to see the boppli, either,” Hannah complained.
“Barbara’s tired, and she’s probably not feeling up to baking,” John said. “Maybe she needs a couple of girls to help her.”
“You volunteered me or Nadine,” Hannah reminded him. “But Barbara said she was getting along fine.”
He nodded. “That’s true, but I don’t think Barbara knows what she needs right now.”
Mary nudged his shoulder. “What do you mean, Papa?”
He glanced back at her and smiled. “I believe she could use some girls of her own.”
Mary’s eyebrows furrowed. “But she’s gotta have a husband for that, doesn’t she?”
“Jah, and I’ve been thinking. . . .” John’s voice trailed off. Should he tell the girls that he was hoping to give them a mother and him a wife, and that he hoped that wife and mother would be Barbara Zook? Better wait awhile, he decided. In the meantime, I’ll keep visiting Barbara and trying to gain her approval.
“What are you thinking, Papa?” Hannah asked.
“Nothing important.”
John pulled into Margaret Hilty’s place a short time later.
“Can we wait in the buggy?” Hannah asked when John came around to help them down.
He shook his head. “I think it would be better if you came up to the house with me.”
“How come, Papa?” Mary wanted to know.
“Because it wouldn’t be proper for me to call on a recently widowed woman alone.”
On Her Own Page 6