A Widow's Hope

by Vannetta Chapman

  She had saved him, in more ways than one.

  He no longer rose each morning wondering what the point was, or went to sleep worried that the days stretched out endlessly in front of him. She’d done more than straighten up his accounting—she’d added hope and optimism to his life.

  That thought was foremost on his mind as the two women began pulling out files and pencils and calculators and highlighters and rulers. He’d never been so happy to walk into the other room and pick up a piece of sandpaper in his life. He did not want to be anywhere near what was going on between those two, but he’d stay close just in case they needed him.

  His fervent prayer was that they wouldn’t.

  “It’s you and me, Blackie.” The cat wound around his legs, purring and leaving a trail of black hair. Arching her back, she stretched, then flopped in a ray of sunlight.

  “Uh-huh. Well, the rest of us have work to do.”

  * * *

  Three days later, the audit was over.

  “We’re not allowed to recommend businesses to help with audits.” Piper stole one last glance at her cell phone, typed something in with a flurry of her thumbs, then dropped it into her purse. She finished putting her pens, highlighters, computer and notepad into her matching designer backpack. Finally she glanced up at Hannah and seemed surprised to find her still there. “I’m sorry, what was I saying?”

  “That you’re not allowed to recommend businesses.”

  “Right. But there is a place on the Goshen Chamber of Commerce website to list your services, and I recommend that you do so. I see a lot of businesses, especially Amish businesses, that could use your organizational skills.”

  Hannah glanced up at Jacob, who was trying to hide a smile.

  “Danki,” she said. She didn’t add that she wouldn’t be listing her services. She had a job with Jacob, and she liked the work. Plus, he needed her. Left to his own devices he’d be stacking up bins of receipts again in no time.

  A small buzz permeated the silence. Piper snatched the phone back out of her bag, typed again, smiled to herself,and dropped it back in before turning her attention to Jacob. “I hope you appreciate her.”

  “Oh, I do.” He glanced at Hannah and wiggled his eyebrows.

  She gave him her most stern look.

  How could he play around with an IRS auditor standing in the office?

  “You’ll receive a letter within ten days stating that the audit has been closed.” She glanced at Hannah, smiled and leveled a piercing gaze at Jacob. “You passed with flying colors, and the refund that you’re owed will be applied to this year’s bill, per your instructions.”

  She headed toward the door, then stopped and turned back toward them. “I want to thank you both for the work you do for children with disabilities. It’s a very good thing, and I’m sure it brings much joy into their lives.”

  And then she was gone.

  Hannah finally let out the breath that it seemed she’d been holding since Monday morning. “I wonder what she does on that phone.”

  “Same as writing a letter—at least that’s what the youngies say.”

  “Who has that many letters to write?”

  “Indeed.”

  “Makes me glad we don’t have them.”

  “Oh? You don’t want an Englisch cell phone?”

  “I do not.” She knew he was teasing and realized she shouldn’t rise to the bait, but she couldn’t help herself. “I’m the one who spent the last few days with Piper Jenkins.”

  “I was hiding in the workshop.”

  “I noticed.”

  “Can you blame me?”

  “The woman couldn’t finish a sentence without checking the screen of her cell phone at least once. Seems a complete waste of time to me.” She sounded old, sounded like one of their elders who insisted that all change was dangerous. She didn’t believe that, but she didn’t know how to explain to Jacob what she was feeling and why.

  So instead she turned her attention to pulling out her work for the day—the receipts Jacob had given her from the previous week. She knew he was still standing there, still watching her and it made her heart beat wildly and her palms sweat. Finally she looked up, met his gaze and tried not to return the smile.

  She pretended to glance back down at her work. She was finding it harder and harder to maintain the distance she had sworn that she would put between her and Jacob. He’d somehow found a way to worm into her heart, slide beneath her defenses and scale the wall she’d built with such determination.

  He reached into his jacket and pulled out an envelope. “This is the missing check you couldn’t find.”

  “Oh.”

  “I wrote it a week ago.”

  “You did?”

  “And I’ve been holding it for the right moment.”

  She glanced up now, and when she looked at Jacob she felt like she was leaping into a giant pool of water. Though she’d been terrified when he’d kissed her, today it seemed like the fear that had permeated her decisions and her emotions since the accident was gone. “Now is the right moment?”

  “It is.”

  She took the envelope and stared down at her name in his familiar handwriting.

  “It’s for me?”

  “Ya, it’s for you, Hannah, because of how much help you’ve been.”

  “But you pay me a salary to be helpful.”

  “You’ve gone above and beyond. Believe me, I know that I couldn’t have passed that audit without you. I’d have needed to hire one of the Englisch accountants, and that would have cost me much more than the amount of the check you’re holding.”

  “Jacob...”

  “Open it.”

  She turned it over, slipped her nail beneath the flap and opened the envelope. When she pulled out the check, when she saw the amount written there, she tried to thrust it back into his hands.

  “I can’t take this.”

  “Of course you can.”

  “It’s too much.”

  “Nein. It’s the right amount, and it was the right amount whether we passed the audit or not.” He walked around, took the envelope and check from her, and set them on the desk. Then he reached for her hands. “I know you’ve been taking work home, working longer hours than you’ve been reporting.”

  “I wanted to be ready.” She tried to still the trembling in her arms and resist the urge to look up into his eyes. She knew if she did, if she allowed herself to see the goodness and kindness there, that there would be no turning back.

  Jacob’s voice was soft, and he rubbed his thumbs over the backs of her hands. “And I appreciate that. The amount of the check, even with what I’ve been paying you, it’s nowhere near what the accountant in town was going to charge me.”

  “But—”

  “I want you to have it, Hannah. I want you to use it to help your father.”

  And those were the magic words that convinced her to pull her hands away from his, pick up the check and tuck it into her purse.

  Her heart was hammering, and she was trying to remember what she was about to do before he’d offered her the envelope.

  Jacob walked back to the door and had stepped into the main room, but he pivoted back toward her, still smiling. “I forgot to tell you that your dat called. He’s going to be later than he thought and asked if I could take you home.”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “It’s a long way to walk.”

  He laughed and she realized what a handsome man Jacob was. She’d not really thought about it. Oh, she’d spent many hours thinking about how she felt around him, but not about his appearance. She understood as she studied him with the afternoon sun slanting across the floor that when she looked at Jacob she didn’t see his scars anymore. They weren’t who he was, they were simply a reminder of something that had happene
d to him and of how precious life really was.

  “I need to go by the Troyer home. It’s on the way to your place. Do you mind?”

  “Nein.”

  “Leave in an hour?”

  “Ya. An hour will be fine.” She couldn’t look at him any longer, couldn’t meet those eyes that made her feel like she was falling. Instead she stared down at the receipts in her hand until she heard him walk away.

  Then she collapsed into her chair and covered her face with her hands.

  The audit was over.

  They’d passed.

  And hopefully she’d made enough money to help save her father’s farm.

  Chapter Twelve

  Jacob tried to focus on the bedside table he was working on finishing. It was a simple piece made from walnut wood, and he should have been done with it already. He opened the drawer, confirming that it slid smoothly along the grooves. Then he stood it up on his workbench and began cleaning it one final time. Some furniture makers used fancy cleansers, but Jacob preferred doing things the old way—a little dish soap in warm water worked fine.

  Using a soft cloth, he went over the table’s surface three times. He wanted to remove all dust particles before putting on the final coat. Thirty minutes passed, and he found he was still cleaning the piece. In fact, he’d been rubbing the cloth over the same side for several minutes.

  Once he was sure it was completely dry, he would apply a final coat of beeswax on the piece, but what was he to do with the next twenty minutes while Hannah finished up in the office? The memory of how she’d smiled at him, of the look of gratitude on her face when she’d accepted the check, made his thoughts scurry in a dozen directions—directions his thoughts had no business going.

  Because it wasn’t possible that Hannah King was interested in him romantically.

  But what if she was?

  She hadn’t exactly run away when he’d kissed her at his brother’s. Okay, she had run away, but maybe because she was embarrassed or confused. It didn’t necessarily mean she didn’t like it.

  He dropped the rag in disgust and walked outside.

  Maybe fresh air would help to clear his head.

  But the problem wasn’t the stuffiness in the workshop or the table he’d been working on. The problem was admitting what he felt for Hannah.

  He walked across to the garden, wandered down the path and stopped at a bench. Sitting down, he glanced around him, then hopped right back up. He needed to keep moving. He needed to settle the restless feeling that made his heart gallop like Bo running across a field. That was normal behavior for a horse, but he was a man and he should have better control of his thoughts and his feelings.

  A butterfly landed on a white aster bush in full bloom and then a red bird hopped onto the path in front of him. He stood there, frozen, watching it. Red birds were his mother’s favorite bird. Her voice came back to him in that moment—gentle, full of wisdom, full of love.

  A cardinal can be a special sign from your loved one in heaven.

  When he closed his eyes he saw both his mother and father sitting on the front porch, talking and shelling peas between them, when the cardinal alighted on the porch rail. He had walked up and laughed at them, told them they looked like two old folks sitting around rocking and gossiping. His father had smiled knowingly, but his mother had pointed out the red bird.

  Jacob missed them more than he would have thought possible, even after all these years. They’d been good people and what had happened to them, it didn’t make any sense to him.

  It wasn’t that he doubted Gotte’s wille for their lives; it was only that he didn’t understand why it had to cause such pain...why their lives had to be complete at that moment, why they couldn’t have stayed and grown old together and met all of their grandchildren.

  Walking on through the garden, he circled back toward the workshop and saw the silhouette of Hannah working in the office. What would his mother think of her? Of Matthew? He knew the answer to both questions, and the knowledge of that caused him to laugh out loud. He’d turned twenty when his mother had begun to tease him about settling down and marrying.

  A plump wife and a big barn never did any man harm.

  An industrious wife is the best savings account.

  Marriage may be made in heaven, but man is responsible for the upkeep.

  They had never doubted that he would one day marry, that having a family was the life Gotte had chosen for him just as it was for his brother.

  Yes, his mother would like Hannah and Matthew.

  She would approve of the feelings that Jacob was struggling with.

  Both his mother and his father would want him to continue on with his life, and in that moment he knew that it was all right for him to want a family, to want Hannah and Matthew. It was all right for him to move on from mourning his parents, and to finally let go of the guilt that he carried. He might not understand the path his life had taken, the scars and battles and fears that had consumed the last few years, but he understood where he was at this moment.

  And he understood that it was time to step out in faith.

  * * *

  Hannah was quiet as they made their way down the road. She knew she should make conversation, but she didn’t know what to say, and her mind kept going back to the bonus check.

  Had she thanked him properly?

  Should she try to do so now?

  But Jacob was talking about the weather and seeing a red bird, and the school auction and picnic coming up on Saturday.

  “Well?” he asked.

  “Well, what?”

  “Your thoughts were drifting.”

  “Ya, I suppose they were.”

  “I was asking if I could take you to the picnic...you and Matthew.”

  There were a dozen reasons she should say no, but she heard herself say, “Ya, Jacob. That would be nice.”

  He looked as surprised as she felt.

  Grinning he resettled his hat on his head. “Gut. I’ll be by at eleven on Saturday.”

  Had she just agreed to go on a date with Jacob? What would she wear? What was she thinking? Was it a date if Matthew was going along? How would she explain to her son that they were just friends? How was she ever going to make it through the workday tomorrow without dying of embarrassment each time he walked into the office?

  She couldn’t date her boss!

  He directed the mare to turn down a lane, toward a house that Hannah had never been to before. It was technically in Jacob’s district, and it was newer so it hadn’t been there when they were children, when the two districts were one.

  “Judith and Tom moved here a few years ago. Their daughter’s name is Rachel.”

  “She’s the little girl with cerebral palsy?”

  “Right. She’s eight, loves to read and is fascinated with any story about princesses.”

  They found Judith Troyer in the garden behind the house, pulling the last of the produce from her garden. She wore a drab gray dress and a black apron. Her hair was pulled back so tightly that it puckered the skin at the edge of her kapp.

  Jacob introduced her to Hannah and then said, “The giggle mirror arrived. I was hoping I could install it, if you don’t mind.”

  “Of course I don’t mind. Danki for bringing it over.”

  Which was when Hannah noticed the small figure in a wheelchair sitting in what looked like a castle’s turret, though it was actually only a couple of feet off the ground. Hannah longed to go and look at the playhouse, to see what Jacob had done, but she felt rude leaving Judith, who had returned to harvesting the few remaining carrots, snap peas and tomatoes.

  “May I help?”

  Judith looked her up and down and finally shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

  The house wasn’t poor exactly. Hannah picked up a basket from the gardening supplies and mo
ved up and down the rows of vegetables. She kept glancing at the single-story home, the garden, the yard. She tried to put her finger on what was missing.

  She pulled off a large bell pepper, a lovely deep red with a rich green stem, and glanced back at the house. That was it. There was no color. No flowers in pots or beds or the garden.

  Everything was utilitarian.

  No toys scattered around the yard. In fact, the only color came from the playhouse. Jacob had somehow found pink and purple roof tiles which he’d fastened to the top of the turret along with a small flag that waved and crackled in the slight breeze.

  “Jacob told me about your son,” Judith said.

  “Oh. Matthew. Ya, Jacob built him a playhouse too. It’s how we met—how we met again. We attended school together many years ago, but now my family lives in the next district.”

  “If you ask me, the playhouses are foolishness.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “A waste of Englisch money. I would have told the foundation no, but Tom...” She waved a hand toward the barn. “Tom thinks it will help her, as if a playhouse could do such a thing.”

  “I’m sorry...about Rachel’s condition.”

  “Not your fault.” Judith dropped to her knees and began digging up potatoes. Each time she’d find one, she’d shake it vigorously, as if the dirt clinging to its roots offended her, and then place it in her basket with a tsk of disapproval.

  “Matthew has enjoyed his playhouse. He can spend hours out there, pretending and reading and enjoying the sunshine.” She hadn’t realized what a blessing the playhouse was until that moment, until she felt a need to defend it to this woman.

  “And what good does that do?”

  “Pretending?”

  “That and playing...”

  “Surely children need to play.”

  “Acting as if all is well when it isn’t and it never will be again.”

  “So our children shouldn’t enjoy life? Because their futures are...” She almost said bleak, but she didn’t believe that. She thought of Matthew’s smile, his quick wit, his loving personality. She thought of his legs, withered and useless. Like Jacob’s scars, they weren’t who he was; they were only representative of what he had been through.