The Amish Wonders Collection

by Ruth Reid

  She flipped opened the Bible, stopping in the thirteenth chapter of 1 Corinthians, and began to read. “Love is patient, love is kind . . .” Josiah was both. She skipped ahead. “It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Always,” she repeated. “Love never fails.” She aimlessly flipped more pages and resumed reading in Philippians. “Then make my joy complete by being like-minded, having the same love, being one in spirit and of one mind.” All the passages she read brought Josiah to mind. In many ways, she and Josiah were like-minded. They both loved the Lord and wished to serve him above all. The same love . . . Could they really share the same love for each other?

  She’d never experienced such tenderness as when Josiah held her, offering her a safe haven. She closed her eyes, recalling the warmth his arms provided.

  Lindie eased out of the bed and onto the floor where she knelt and folded her hands. Lord, I was so consumed with trying to avoid rejection that I closed my mind to what you had provided. You have given me a kindhearted husband. But I rejected him. Please forgive me. Help me overcome my past so that I can be the wife that you would have me be. After a long moment, she rose with a renewed purpose and proceeded to the door.

  Josiah stirred at the sound of the bedroom door opening. Hannah? He rubbed his eyes when they refused to focus. Looking again, moonlight streaming from the window silhouetted Lindie’s form.

  “Is everything okay?” He pushed back the covers and stood. The cool air reminded him that he’d stripped off his T-shirt earlier and now stood before her dressed only in a pair of long johns.

  Moonlight seemed to follow her as she crossed the room.

  He expanded his lungs to capacity, then released his breath in a rush. His thoughts flitted as he tried to rationalize her standing before him in her nightdress.

  “If you still want to change our arrangement”—her voice quivered—“I want to be your fraa.”

  Unable to pull his eyes away from her fingers working the hooks on her gown, he stammered, “I, ah . . . I—”

  “I’m sorry,” she said, tugging her garment in place. “I shouldn’t have put you on the spot.” She whirled around and bolted toward the door.

  “Don’t go.” Fool. Why did he gawk? Josiah lunged into the hall and stopped her before she could disappear.

  Backed against the wall, she lowered her head and fumbled with the nightdress closures. She squeaked something between panic and frustration. Finally, unable to work the closures with her trembling fingers, she balled up the material in her clenched hands.

  He stepped closer, yet reined in his craving to take her into his arms. “Please give me another chance.”

  She kept her head down.

  “What did you mean when you said you were sorry for putting me on the spot?”

  She shrugged.

  “I admit I’ve never been struck speechless before.” If she had an inkling of how hard his heart was beating, she wouldn’t feel insecure about her decision to come into his room. He lifted her chin and brushed his fingertips over her soft cheek. “I don’t want you to leave.”

  Her eyes searched his for reassurance.

  “I love you.” He leaned closer and kissed her. This time she didn’t push him away.

  The brisk morning temperature woke Lindie before dawn. Had she been sleeping in her bed, she would have burrowed deeper under the blankets to conserve heat. But she wasn’t in her bed—or alone.

  She eased the blanket back, slipped one foot out from under the covers, then, pushing herself up, sat on the edge of the bed. Daylight would spill through the windows at any moment and wake the household. She wanted to keep things discreet, at least for the time being. She scanned the floor.

  Where was her nightdress? If she thought she could slip the top blanket off the bed without waking Josiah, she would wrap herself in it in order to walk across the hall to her room. She reached for the blanket’s corner at the foot of the bed and gave it a tug. Freeing the quilt from between the mattress and footboard, she gingerly pulled it toward her. She hoped she wouldn’t wake Josiah.

  Josiah stirred. Then, rolling up onto one elbow, he stretched his arm around her waist and pulled her toward him. “Where are you going? It isn’t even daybreak,” he said in a husky, dry voice.

  “I didn’t mean to wake you.” Her eyes caught sight of the patch of hair on his chest and heat crawled up her neck. She looked away.

  “Guder mariye.” He scooted closer. “Did you sleep all right?”

  She nodded.

  Josiah lifted the corner of the blanket, kissed her shoulder, then slipped his hand under the covers.

  She sucked in a breath. “Don’t you . . . have barn chores?”

  A sheepish grin spread over his face. “They can wait.”

  Without a lantern lit last night, she hadn’t noticed the purple discoloration on his chest. “How did you get those bruises?”

  “From you when I found you in the woods.”

  “Nay. Bruises don’t last that long.” She touched his skin gingerly. “Do they hurt?”

  “Nay.” He kissed her forehead.

  Her hand moved over his chest, touching a red blotchy area. “What about this rash?”

  “I’ve been working a lot with cedar boughs.” Josiah pulled away from her. “You’re right. I have some chores to do in the barn.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  More snow had fallen in Cedar Ridge over the past week than Ohio had seen all of last winter. The weather was normal for mid-January, according to Josiah, but Lindie couldn’t get over how bone-chillingly cold it was in northern Michigan. She rose from the desk, having caught up on the bookkeeping for the recent shipment of pallets.

  Hannah had waited patiently so they could paint together. But Lindie signed that first they needed to take some letters out to the mailbox. They had been stuck inside for so many days it would do them both good to get some fresh air.

  Wading through the heavy drifts, Lindie wondered if they should be out in this cold at all, but Hannah jumped into the deepest snowbank and laughed out loud. Then she dropped to her knees and logrolled down the hilly yard. She reached the mailbox before Lindie and waited for her to put the letters inside. Hannah pulled up the red flag, then they went back inside.

  Hannah started painting immediately. Lindie took longer to decide on a scene, but she managed to paint the sky and a wispy cloud before it was time to make lunch. Lindie dipped the brush in a small jar of turpentine, then cleaned it with a rag. Usually the two of them stopped painting at the same time to prepare the noon meal together. But today Hannah was so captivated, Lindie didn’t interrupt her.

  Lindie was still trying to shake the cold off from walking out to the mailbox. Though she didn’t mind the bad weather, especially now that the last pallet order was shipped, because Josiah spent more time in the house. Since their night together, they had formed a tight bond. Her face flushed like a new bride. No wonder the women talked about cabin fever and the number of babies born at the end of summer.

  Lindie selected a quart of canned chicken broth from the pantry, emptied it into a pot on the stove, then diced some carrots and celery. As the soup simmered, she leaned against the window casing and watched Josiah chop wood. White puffs of breath escaped his mouth as he swung the axe and split the chunk of wood in half. He tossed the pieces aside, placed another log on the block, and repeated the process.

  Lindie’s heart fluttered when he looked toward the window and smiled. She couldn’t help but believe that fifty years from now his smile would still captivate her.

  He loaded the wood in his arms and traipsed across the yard to the house. She rushed to open the door. A blast of cold air entered with him.

  “Denki.” He crossed the sitting room and dumped the pile into the woodbox. He swept the bark from his hands, then shook out of his coat and slung it over the back of a chair in the sitting room.

  “Is that wet?”

  He nodded. His teeth chattered and he tucked his h
ands under his armpits. “It’s colder than yesterday.”

  “So I see.” She touched his beard where ice had formed in spots. “Why don’t you sit down and I’ll make you a hot cup of kaffi.”

  He winked and pulled Lindie into his arms. “Is Hannah painting in her room?”

  “Nay, she’s sitting at the kitchen table.” She touched his cheek. “You are kalt.”

  He brushed the back side of his icy hand against her cheek and kissed her, sending a shiver straight through her.

  “Are you trying to get me kalt?”

  He smiled. “Maybe.”

  With the blizzard conditions driving him indoors the past several days, they had snuck kisses and done their best to keep their charged emotions hidden.

  “I have soup on the stove,” she said.

  He frowned.

  “And I for one am hungry.” She knew that would divert his attention.

  “Let’s eat, then.” He smiled and gave her shoulder a squeeze, then gently nudged her toward the kitchen.

  Once she filled the bowls with vegetable soup and placed them on the table, she offered to make sandwiches. Josiah and Hannah both turned them down. They seemed to be in a rush to finish their lunches. Lindie assumed Hannah was eager to paint more, and Josiah had something else on his mind.

  Lindie breathed softly as she lay cuddled in Josiah’s arms. Over the last several days, they’d fallen into a familiar routine. He coiled his finger around a lock of her red curls and studied the tiny freckles that dotted her nose. She was beautiful. When he thought about the trauma she’d gone through and how she carried the burden alone, it angered him deeply. She had suffered so much. He recalled how she had trembled in his arms even after he reassured her of his love.

  Lindie opened her eyes and smiled. “How long did I sleep?”

  He kissed her forehead. “An hour or so.”

  “And how long were you planning to let me continue?”

  “I wouldn’t have let you miss your doctor’s appointment tomorrow.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Maybe it’ll keep snowing.”

  “Maybe.” But he wouldn’t let snow stop them from keeping her appointment. Even though he wasn’t looking forward to having his lab work repeated.

  She glided her hand over his rashy area, making it difficult for him to think. He closed his eyes as the skin under her hand developed goose bumps.

  Her hand stopped near his armpit and her fingertips circled the area. “Did you know you had a lump here?”

  “Where?” He touched the raised area where she indicated.

  “Does it hurt?”

  “Nay.”

  “Have you always had that?”

  He pushed himself up and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

  “Josiah?” She sat up behind him and placed her hand on his shoulder.

  “It comes and goes.” He didn’t want to explain the circumstances surrounding the lump. The last time his lymph nodes swelled, he underwent several months of chemo. He rubbed his beard.

  “Is this something serious?”

  Before he could form his answer, the bell over the door sounded. He pushed off the bed. “I have to check on Hannah.”

  Lindie was fastening her dress with pins when he rushed out of the room. He sped through the house, searched each room, but didn’t find Hannah. He jammed his feet into his boots, grabbed his coat off the hook, and darted outside.

  The strong winds decreased visibility to a few feet. He pulled his collar up higher on his neck and plowed a path through the crunching snow to the barn. A quick check of the calf pen and the horse stalls was futile. Hannah wasn’t in the barn. But neither was Moose. The old gelding’s stall was empty.

  He pushed the barn door open, lowered his head, and trudged into the wind. Hannah lacked the skills necessary to find her way in these whiteout conditions. She also had no concept of time. It would be dark soon, and the temperature would plummet.

  He spotted Lindie coming down the porch steps. “Go back inside.”

  “I want to help.”

  “Not this time. Wait for us in the house.” He couldn’t risk having her exposed to the subzero temperature. Mid-January wasn’t the time of year to be outdoors for an extended period. Moreover, she would slow him down.

  Lindie cringed, but she turned and went inside.

  He followed what he hoped was a set of fresh tracks. With the snow blowing, he couldn’t be certain they were tracks at all. His pant legs were covered in snow and his legs felt numb. He paused for a moment and pulled in a sharp breath. The crisp air cut into his lungs, leaving him winded and lightheaded. He continued his search, not stopping until the tracks vanished.

  He scanned the field. Nothing. Had he not noticed Moose missing from his stall, he would have assumed Hannah had fled to the woods again. The horse wouldn’t make it under the low-reaching limbs. Even so, he didn’t expect Hannah would have considered the horse’s size. Josiah trudged on. By the time he reached the fence at the back of the pasture, he spotted them. Moose was lying on his side with Hannah clinging to the horse’s neck.

  Josiah bent to his knees beside Hannah and searched her for injury. “Were you riding Moose?”

  She shook her head, then peeled off her mittens to sign. “He got loose. I followed him to bring him back.”

  He quickly examined Moose. No signs of distress. The old horse closed his eyes when Josiah stroked his neck. Over the years he’d owned plenty of animals that instinctively wandered off when it came time to die. At twenty-two, Moose likely was doing the same. Josiah’s heart ached for Hannah.

  “Go back to the house,” he instructed.

  Hannah looked at Moose, then back to him. She flung herself on Moose. Her body racked with sobs.

  God, I need wisdom. His face had gone numb from the howling wind. He had to act quickly. He tapped Hannah’s shoulder, but she ignored him and closed her eyes. Josiah pried her away from the horse’s neck and lifted her into his arms. Leaving Moose was hard, but he couldn’t let his daughter get frostbitten. Once she was inside where it was warm, he would come back. He expected Hannah to rebel when he carried her away from the horse, but she laid her head on his shoulder instead.

  He reached the house, breathless and weary. Thankfully, Lindie was there to open the door.

  Lindie helped Hannah out of her cape, then draped a blanket over her shoulders and walked her closer to the woodstove. Hannah’s purplish lips quivered.

  Josiah strode to the bedroom and removed his hunting rifle from the closet. He couldn’t let Moose suffer.

  Lindie gasped. “Why do you need a gun?” She followed him to the door.

  “Make sure Hannah stays inside.” He opened the door and stepped into the cold air. He pulled his glove off with his teeth, dug his hand into his pocket, and fished out the bullets. His fingers stiffened as he loaded the gun.

  Lord, please give me a sign if I’m not to put Moose out of his misery. He didn’t want to think about the pain Hannah would feel if Moose died.

  Lindie rocked Hannah in her arms. They both cried after Josiah left the house with the gun. “Moose didn’t get up. He must—” Hannah couldn’t finish signing before she broke down in tears. Lindie wasn’t sure what she meant, but what mattered now was comforting Hannah. Rocking helped a little. When one of her nephews was upset, she would rock him and sing. But Hannah wouldn’t be able to hear. Instead, she rubbed the child’s back.

  It wasn’t long before Hannah went limp in her arms. Then as though something had startled the child, she jolted upright. Her eyes widened as she looked around the room. She scurried off Lindie’s lap and bolted toward the door.

  Lindie stopped her.

  “Let me go to Moose,” she signed.

  Lindie shook her head.

  “But Moose—”

  The door opened and a blast of air entered with Josiah. Turning toward her father, Hannah’s hands moved so quickly that Lindie couldn’t follow.

  He stretched out his arm, h
olding the gun toward Lindie. “Would you hold this? It isn’t loaded,” he said.

  She held the gun pointed at the floor as he signaled to Hannah to wait a minute, then took off his coat and hat.

  Lindie turned so that Hannah wouldn’t see her mouth moving. “Did you have to shoot him?”

  “Nay.” He faced Hannah. “Moose got up himself. He’s in the barn.”

  She flung her arms around her father.

  Josiah kissed the top of his daughter’s kapp, then peered over her head at Lindie. “God answered mei prayer. By some miracle, the horse was on his feet when I reached him.”

  Lindie smiled. “You’ve certainly made Hannah happy.”

  “That was God. I had every intention of shooting him so he wouldn’t suffer.” He reached for the gun in her hands. “I’ll put that away.”

  Lindie followed him to the bedroom. “What had happened to Moose? Hannah was so distraught she couldn’t even sign.”

  “He’s old. Animals often wander off to die.” He placed the gun on the rack inside the closet. “I don’t think he has much longer to live. The old horse had closed his eyes. Given up.” He rubbed the spot under his arm where she had found the lump.

  “You need to have that lump checked. Does it hurt?”

  “Nay.” He dropped his hand and smiled. But it masked nothing.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  You’ve relapsed.”

  Doctor Ethridge’s words echoed as Josiah’s mind refused to register the news. No. This wasn’t so. God had healed him six years ago. The tests were wrong. A crushing sensation filled his chest. Stole his breath. He needed air. Josiah tugged his collarless shirt away from his skin. The room grew hot.

  “Can I get you some water?”

  Vaguely aware he nodded, he felt the room spin. Sweat beaded on his neck, dripped down his back. He gripped the edge of the cushioned exam table as dizziness swept over him.