by Jan Drexler
Bram walked over to the half-built calving pen. “Would you hold the other end of this board while I nail it on?”
Samuel picked up the end of the board and held it while Bram hammered some nails into the other end. They worked together as Bram finished building the pen, then picked up a few nails that had fallen onto the floor.
“Now we’re all set for Bessie to have her calf.” He grinned at Samuel. “I appreciate you giving me a hand.”
Samuel shrugged. “For sure. You would do the same for me, wouldn’t you?”
Bram studied him. “I would. Because that’s what brothers do.”
“And we didn’t get into an argument, even though you did use three nails where I would have used two.” Samuel felt a grin starting.
“Two would have gotten the job done, but three makes it more secure.” Bram grinned back as he put his tools away. “I was surprised to see that you had company when we got to the farm on Sunday. I’m glad the girls have friends.” He turned to Samuel. “Or is one of Sadie’s nieces more than a friend?”
Samuel felt his face heating. “What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean. You and Mary seem quite friendly today, with you driving her down here and everything.”
Samuel’s stomach started turning as if the puppies were back, raising a ruckus. “I don’t intend to be too friendly with anyone.”
Bram closed his toolbox. “Why not?”
The churning in his stomach closed in on itself. “I’m too much like Daed.”
“Who said?”
Samuel shrugged. “Everyone. I could see it in your eyes when you stopped by the farm last year. Men at church just laugh when I say I want to do something to be part of the community. And...” And his temper. Always going off when he least expected it.
“And you storm off when things don’t go your way,” Bram finished for him. “I saw that on Sunday afternoon.” He wiped his hands on a rag and tossed it on the workbench. “You don’t have to be that way. Look at you now. You aren’t angry with me, are you?”
Samuel shook his head. Bram was right. At other times, he would have closed off the conversation by now, with all of Bram’s prodding.
“You’re changing. I can see it.”
“But not enough. I can’t control my temper, and I can’t ask any woman to live...to live like Mamm did.”
Bram stood at the barn door, combing his fingers through his beard and watching a pair of barn swallows dance over the corn field.
“One thing I’ve learned is that if you try to change on your own, it’s nearly impossible.”
“How else can I do it?” Samuel could feel his temper pulsing.
“Ask God to help you.”
“As simple as that?” His words came out with a growl, but then he remembered. His prayer that morning had been for God to help him keep his temper, and here he was, talking with Bram, and his temper was controlled.
“As simple as that.”
Samuel looked at him sideways, not sure how to ask the next question. “You believe that God will do that?”
Bram grinned, still watching the swallows. “I know as sure as I’m standing here that God will do that if you ask Him.”
Chapter Ten
Mary held the box of chicks on her lap as Samuel drove home. The fifteen Rhode Island Reds from Ellie would be a welcome addition to the young flock.
They passed Annie’s house and continued north, but Samuel was silent. Ever since they had left Bram and Ellie’s, he had stared straight ahead through Chester’s ears as if she didn’t exist.
“The chicks are a wonderful gift, don’t you think?”
Samuel grunted.
“Ellie has nice children. She said they love Bram, and he is a good father to them.”
Samuel rubbed the side of his nose.
“The children certainly like having the old folks around. They are Ellie’s first husband’s aunt and uncle. Did you know that?”
No response. Mary sat back in her seat and watched the roadside.
When Samuel pulled to a stop at an intersection, she tried again.
“What did you and Bram find to talk about?”
He looked at her as if he had forgotten she was there. “Hmm.” He clucked at Chester to signal him to go on. “We talked about the children.”
He had finally given her a response.
“What about them?”
Samuel glanced at her. “Bram wants to raise them differently than how he and I were raised.”
“I’m sure you’d want to do the same thing if you had children.”
He nodded. “If I ever have children.”
“You don’t think you’ll find a nice girl to marry and raise a family?” Mary’s fingers grew cold. Had Samuel given up on the same dream that she had?
“I never thought about it much. I’ve always thought I was too much like my daed, and I didn’t want to have a family like his.”
Mary remembered the sad tone of his voice as he had spoken of his father on the way to Bram and Ellie’s farm.
“You don’t have to be like him. Bram isn’t.”
He lowered his brow. “I’m not Bram.”
“You aren’t your daed, either. I’ve told you that.” She shifted in her seat to look at him. “Who are you, Samuel?”
“I’m not sure.” He glanced at her again. “I’ve spent too much time trying to not be Daed, I guess.”
He drove past his farm and on to Sadie’s. When he turned in the drive, a strange buggy was tied near the house.
“Who could that be?”
Samuel’s voice was a growl. “That’s Martin Troyer’s rig.”
He pulled to a stop in the drive behind the other buggy. “I’ll take care of Chester if you want to go in to see your visitor. Esther and Judith might be eating supper here, too.”
Mary shook her head. “Ne, I’ll go to the barn with you.” She clutched the box of chicks, thankful for their presence. “I have to get these peeps settled in.”
She had no idea what Martin was doing there, but she wanted to put off going into the house as long as possible. She would find a way to keep busy in the barn or the henhouse.
Samuel nudged her with his elbow as he clucked to Chester to continue to the barn. “Don’t you want to keep those chicks in the house until they’re older?”
Mary looked down at the box. “I forgot that I need to keep them by the stove for a week or so. But I still want to check on the other chickens.”
“Martin might be waiting for you.” Chester walked into the barn and stopped. Samuel got out of the buggy and reached for the chicks so Mary could climb out.
“Why would he do that?”
Samuel shrugged, not meeting her eyes as he handed the peeping box back to her. “He’s a bachelor, and there are two single women living here.”
Mary stared at him. “You don’t mean that you think he came courting?”
“You won’t find out until you go in.”
As Samuel started unhitching Chester, Mary glanced back at the house. The sun was lowering into a bank of clouds in the west and Ida Mae had lit the kitchen lamp. If she was fixing supper already, that meant Sadie had invited Martin to stay. Her knees started to shake at the thought of a man sitting at their cozy kitchen table. Unless...
“Samuel, would you stay to supper?”
He had hung the harness on its rack and was brushing Chester.
“You want me to eat with Martin Troyer?”
She didn’t want to beg, but Samuel’s presence might keep the conversation off the subject of exactly why Martin Troyer was visiting a home with two single women.
“Please do. We can make a party of it, with your sisters and Sadie.” She smiled, willing her chin t
o stop quivering. “You can visit with Martin.”
“What makes you think Martin and I have anything to talk about?” He opened Chester’s stall and led him in.
“Please, Samuel. For me.”
He looked at her then, his eyes dark in the shadows of Chester’s stall. He met her in the center of the barn and took the box of chicks.
“All right. I’ll stay for you.” He carried the box under one arm and took her elbow with the other. “For you, I’ll even try to control my temper.”
When Mary stepped into the kitchen, the first thing she noticed was Ida Mae’s face. Tight and pale with a pained smile. Judith and Esther sat on either side of her, and Sadie was at the end of the table watching Martin, who sat with his back to the door.
“My farm is quite large,” he was saying, “and I have a full barn of dairy cows. My brother and I work the farm together.”
Samuel hung his hat on the peg next to Martin’s and planted his hand in the small of Mary’s back, propelling her forward to the empty chair at the end of the table.
“Good afternoon, Martin,” he said as he pulled the kitchen stool over and placed it at the corner between Mary and their visitor. “I was surprised to see your buggy here.”
Martin smiled at Mary before turning to Samuel, his eyebrows raised. “No more surprised than I am to see you here.”
Martin leaned forward so he could see past Samuel’s bulk and catch Mary’s eye. “As I was saying, my brother and I have a dairy farm. And to be plain—” He broke off and glared at Samuel before scooting his chair up. “Neither one of us is married.” He grinned. “Just a couple of bachelors. And we thought we should learn to know you girls a bit better.”
Samuel shifted on his stool and moved the box so it cut off Martin’s view of Mary. She looked up at him and he gave her a wink.
Ida Mae grabbed Mary’s hand under the table and squeezed hard enough to send shooting pains up her arm. Judith and Esther were both scrunched small in their chairs, looking at their laps. None of them looked happy. How long had Martin been here?
“I don’t think—” Mary started.
But Martin kept talking. “We thought a picnic on Saturday would be a good way to get acquainted. Just us four. You could pack some fried chicken, and potato salad. And Peter loves boiled eggs.” He scooted forward again to see around Samuel. “What do you think?”
Mary exchanged glances with Ida Mae. There had to be a reason for them to decline.
“This coming Saturday?” Samuel said, placing a hand on Mary’s shoulder. “I was going to ask Mary to spend the day with me.”
He squeezed her shoulder, letting her know he was giving her an excuse to refuse the invitation, but Mary wouldn’t make any commitments without talking to Ida Mae.
Martin’s teeth ground together. “I don’t see what concern this is of yours, Samuel Lapp. Isn’t it time for you to leave?”
Mary glanced at Sadie. The older woman was quiet for once, watching the exchange between the two men with a little smile, as if she was enjoying herself.
“I was invited to stay for supper.” Samuel’s voice was quiet, without the hard edge Martin’s frown invited.
Martin looked from Mary, to Ida Mae, to Sadie. But none of them said anything. The aroma of roast ham filled the kitchen, and a pot of potatoes boiled on the stove. If Ida Mae hadn’t invited him to supper, Mary certainly wasn’t going to be the one to do it, no matter how rude it looked.
Shoving his chair back, Martin finally stood and reached for his hat.
“I’ll come back another time, when you aren’t so busy,” he said, stepping toward the door, “and when you’re ready for better company.” He glared at Samuel.
“You’re welcome anytime,” Sadie said. “Isn’t he, girls?”
“For sure,” Mary said. She got up to close the door behind him. “Anytime.”
Martin turned as he reached the top of the steps.
“Think about my invitation.”
“I’ll let you know what we decide.”
Martin looked from Mary to Samuel, still sitting on the stool with his back to the door. “If I were you, I would think hard about the kind of company you keep.” His voice was quiet, so it wouldn’t carry back into the kitchen. “I can offer you a much better life than a Lapp can.”
Mary forced a polite smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“And I will be back on Thursday for your answer. I’ve been watching you at church, and I like how you care for Sadie. You seem to be a good Amish woman, just the type of girl I want to be my wife. We’ll do well together.”
A sickening turn to her stomach forced Mary to clutch at the doorknob. “You are wasting your time. I don’t intend to marry.”
He gave her a self-assured grin. “We’ll see about that.” He stepped off the porch and untied his horse. “We’ll see.”
Mary watched him leave, willing her knees to stop quivering. When she had seen Martin at church, she had no idea that he might have been watching her. The thought made her stomach turn again. He didn’t seem to be the type of man who would give up his suit easily.
* * *
Even though he had been invited to supper, Samuel had no intention of outstaying his welcome. Once the sound of Martin’s buggy wheels disappeared down the drive, Samuel set the box of chicks on the table and took his hat from the peg by the door.
“I’ll be getting home. I don’t want to horn in on your hen party.” He grinned at Judith’s giggle.
Mary, still standing by the door, brushed his sleeve with her hand. “You can still stay, even though Martin left.”
“I have work to do at home, but I’ll do your chores before I leave.”
Mary followed him out the door. “You don’t need to do that.”
She seemed nervous. Had Martin’s visit frightened her? He started toward the chicken house on the far side of the barn and she followed.
“I heard Martin talking to you as he left. Did he insist that you and Ida Mae go on that picnic he had planned?”
“He said he wants to marry me.”
Samuel put his hands on his hips, facing her. “You can’t think that Martin Troyer would make a good husband. What made him think you would consider such a thing? How many times has he visited you? How much have you talked together?”
“I don’t know.” She shook her head. “I’ve never even talked to him before.”
A dull roar started in Samuel’s ears, echoing the thunder that rumbled in the distance. “He wouldn’t just ask you out of thin air.” But why would Mary lie to him?
“He said he had been watching me at church meeting, and he liked what he saw. I guess he and his brother want to spend time with Ida Mae and me to convince us to marry them.”
Samuel rubbed his day’s growth of whiskers. Martin Troyer. If that man came courting his sisters, he would throw him out on his ear. He was old enough to be their father.
“I hope you told him to forget the idea.”
She drew herself up to her full height and her eyes narrowed. “Why?”
“Because he’s not the man for you.”
She took a step closer to him and he backed away. “You are not the one to tell me who I should consider and who I shouldn’t, Samuel Lapp. You are not my father or my brother.”
“But I’m...” What? Her friend? He leaned toward her. “I don’t want to see you make a bad decision. You don’t know this man like I do.”
“Aren’t you the one who told me I should get married rather than start a business?” Her eyes narrowed farther. “Maybe I should think about taking your advice.”
Had he said that? He stared at her. Probably, and she remembered even if he didn’t. But she couldn’t...she wouldn’t marry that bully.
He wouldn’t let her.
&nbs
p; “Go on in the house and visit with the girls. I’ll do your chores for you.”
She shook her head. “I’ll do them. I don’t need you or any other man telling me what to do.”
Samuel’s face grew hot in the cool evening air. The wind whipped in a moisture-laden gust. “I said I would do your chores. You need to learn to accept help when it’s offered.”
Her fists perched on her hips. “You’re telling me what to do again.”
He held his hands up in surrender. “All right. You do it your way.” He took two steps back as the thunder rumbled again. “I told the girls to stay all night if it’s still storming after supper.” He turned to take the path home. “But don’t forget what I said about Martin.”
Glancing back, he saw her silhouette in the dusk, her fists still on her hips, watching him go. He took off his hat and slapped it against his leg as he walked. That woman was the most stubborn female in the world. He had known sows who were easier to handle than her.
Reaching home, he went to the barn to do his chores. The first task was pumping the water trough full. As he pumped, he watched the sky. Clouds gathered in the west, blocking the last pale blue of the sky. A flash of lightning lit the darkness with a brief glow. He counted the seconds before the quiet rumble of thunder reached him. By the time the rain started, he should be in the house for the night.
He finished filling the trough, then went into the barn. As he poured a cupful of oats into Tilly’s feed box, she came in from her pasture. She sniffed the grain, then pushed against his chest with her nose before taking a mouthful of the oats. She raised her head, watching him as she chewed. He closed her door to keep her in out of the storm for the night, and fastened the shutters on the windows. He gave Tilly a last pat before leaving the barn. After he blew out the lantern and hung it from the hook by the door, he checked the latch on the big main doors then headed to the house.
The wind had picked up, and the storm was closer. Lightning flashed again, followed by a crack of thunder. He watched the storm as it rolled in, the black clouds building on each other as the wind pushed them, backlit by lightning that was nearly constant. A picture of his building temper.