by Marta Perry
As she mixed the biscuits, she glanced out the window over the sink. Daffodils fluttered in the breeze along the hedge, and the tulips wouldn’t be far behind. She could see the first hint of purple from the old lilac bushes along the creek. Soon their fragrance would perfume the air.
She reached for comfort from the familiar, peaceful scene, but still her worries jostled one another in her thoughts.
Consider the lilies of the field . . . The scripture, with its reminder that worry was a useless exercise, touched her heart. If only she had the strength to cling to that promise—she hadn’t realized, when she was young, that following the Lord’s teachings with all her heart could be so difficult.
A car pulled in next to the house, startling Rebecca from her train of thought. She wasn’t expecting anyone, that was certain-sure.
The car door opened, and Rebecca immediately recognized the man who stepped out. Mr. Philmont, thin, graying, neatly dressed in his businesslike banker’s suit, wasn’t just an officer of the local bank. He and his wife lived no more than two miles down the road, and Molly Philmont was a familiar sight, always working in her flower beds when Rebecca went past on her way to Grossmammi’s house. Wiping her hands on the dish towel, Rebecca hurried to the back door as he mounted the porch.
“Mr. Philmont. It’s nice to see you.” At least, she hoped it was going to be nice. He’d worn a solemn expression when she’d first glimpsed him, but now his face creased in a smile.
“You’re looking well, Rebecca. How are the little ones?”
“Thriving,” she said, standing back to gesture him into the kitchen. “Please, sit down. You’ll have some coffee?”
“None for me, thank you. I can’t stay long, but there’s something I need to discuss with you.” He pulled out a chair and seated himself at the kitchen table, hands folded on its surface, much as he’d sat at his desk when she and Paul met with him about buying the farm. A slight chill touched her.
“Is something wrong?” She slid into the chair across from him, trying to keep the apprehension from her voice.
He hesitated, and she suspected he was trying to find a good way of saying something he didn’t want to. “It’s just a little matter of business to discuss. I didn’t see any need to ask you to come to the bank when I go right past your house on my way home.”
The chill intensified. “That’s sehr kind of you.” She took a breath. “If it’s something about our loan, my father has been taking care of business for me since . . .”
Since Paul got sick. Paul had dealt with finances, and when he couldn’t handle them any longer, Daad had taken over, saying she had enough to deal with.
“Yes, I realize that, but since you’re the owner of the property, I felt it was appropriate to speak to you, and then you can discuss it with your father if you wish.” He paused, as if considering how to go on. “Your father and I had a long conversation about your situation when Paul was ill. Clearly it was impossible then for you to keep up with your regular mortgage payments, and your father agreed to make such payments as he could.”
She nodded, trying to look calm despite the fact that her heart was thudding against her ribs. “He told me everything was taken care of.”
Mr. Philmont’s smile seemed strained, but his narrow face was kind. “We’ve never had cause to worry about any of our loans to our Amish neighbors, and I knew I didn’t have to be concerned that you were falling behind a bit on your loan. You would always honor your commitments. However—” His words died out.
Rebecca gripped her hands together in her lap, reading what he didn’t say. “Something has changed.”
He nodded, and she could sense his reluctance. “Small local banks like ours have been facing some difficult times lately. We’ve had to tighten up on our policies in order to survive. I don’t like it, but there it is.”
The meaning of his words sliced through the fog that seemed to be clouding her thoughts. “You mean I have to pay what’s owed or lose the farm.”
“Not all of what’s owed,” he said quickly. “Not all at once. But I need to assure my board that you’ll begin making regular payments or . . . or I’m afraid they’ll insist on taking action.”
Humiliation mixed with her despair. Why hadn’t she realized what was happening? Poor Daadi. He wanted to take care of everyone, but he had the younger ones to provide for, to say nothing of Grossmammi moving in. She should have realized.
And poor Paul. He’d never have insisted on taking out a mortgage to buy the farm and a loan for the new stable if he’d had any idea she’d be left facing the repayment without him.
“Denke.” She managed to keep a quaver from her voice. “I appreciate all you’ve done for us.” Thank goodness she had something positive to offer him. “I just recently rented the stable, so that’s bringing in money now. I’ll be able to pay that over to the bank each month.”
She spared a moment’s regret for the plans she’d had for the extra money—new shoes for the kinder, a little put back for a rainy day. It looked as if the rainy day had come already.
“That is good news,” he said, relief relaxing the taut muscles in his face. Poor Mr. Philmont—she hadn’t realized until now just how difficult he was finding telling her. “And it’s a sensible solution to the difficulty, since you no longer have a use for the building. I’d suggest you discuss the whole situation with your father. I’m sure he has a record of what’s been paid and what’s still owed. Then you’ll have a better idea of where the repayment schedule is at the moment.”
“I will.” And she’d find some way to make it clear to Daadi that she had to stand on her own feet.
And can you? The voice of doubt whispered in her ear.
She had to. Her thoughts flickered to that letter about the farm-stay. Paul had seen taking in summer guests as a means to earn the added income they’d needed even when he was alive. Much as she shrank from the idea, there was a way at hand to earn the money she needed, if only she had the courage to seize it.
• • •
Matt held the two rocker pieces up to the light, comparing them to be sure the curve was exactly the same on each. Onkel Silas had said they might as well knock off early today with the kitchen job finished, so Matt should have plenty of time to work.
Matt smiled, running a work-roughened hand over the smooth wood. If Joshua came in today, he’d recognize the piece as a rocking chair this time.
Joshua had continued to visit the shop despite Simon’s opposition, so that probably meant Simon hadn’t spoken to Rebecca about it. Matt’s smile faded at the memory of that encounter with Simon. He’d done nothing that he knew of to get Simon’s back up, so he had to assume Simon was reacting to Matt’s reputation.
Well, he couldn’t fault Simon for wanting to take care of his sister and her little family, even if in this case he’d gone after the wrong person. Matt certainly didn’t intend any harm to them.
Rebecca surely knew that Joshua had been hanging around the workshop, as careful a mother as she was. So apparently she didn’t object, and it was her call, wasn’t it?
As if thinking about her had summoned her, Matt heard Rebecca’s light step behind him.
“Matt? I’m sorry if I’m interrupting you.”
He swung away from the workbench to give her a quick smile. “No problem.”
Now, what had put that added strain in her eyes? Something was worrying her. Maybe he’d been too quick to assume she didn’t mind Joshua hanging around him.
“I just wanted a word.” She crossed to him and then seemed distracted at the sight of the rocker. “How lovely. It’s near finished. Josh was telling me about it.” Her gaze shifted. “What’s this?”
Belatedly he realized that the birdhouse he’d been helping Josh make lay on the workbench in plain view. He reached out to toss a piece of canvas over it.
“That’s something
you’d best pretend you didn’t see. Josh wants to surprise you with it.”
Those expressive green eyes of hers softened. “Ach, Matt, you mustn’t let my son take up too much of your time. It’s wonderful kind of you to be bothered with him at all.”
“It’s no bother to be kind to such a sweet kid.” Joshua must get his lovable nature from his mother. It would be way too easy to be kind to Rebecca as well.
“He is sweet-natured, isn’t he?” Rebecca’s eyes lit at his words. “I can usually tell just what he’s thinking. Now, Katie is another story.” Her face clouded.
“I haven’t seen much of Katie,” he said, wishing he could wipe the cloud away. “She always seems to be busy with her grossdaadi and onkel when I’m here.”
“Katie loves nothing better than to help them with the chores. Far more than she enjoys helping me in the house, I’m afraid. I’m sure she’s not trying to avoid you.”
Her tone said the opposite was true. Fixing his gaze on the chair, he proceeded cautiously. “Maybe she doesn’t like to see someone else using the stable built for her daadi’s business. That’s not surprising.”
“It’s not, isn’t it?” Rebecca seemed to be seeking reassurance. “She remembers much more about Paul than Josh does, since she’s older. So it’s natural she’d be more troubled by . . . well, changes.” She said the word as if it held a world of meaning.
Matt studied her face, wondering how far he dared probe into things that were rightly none of his business. “It wasn’t Katie who had you looking so upset when you came in here, was it?”
Color bloomed in Rebecca’s cheeks. “I don’t know what you mean.”
He shrugged. “When I see Mr. Philmont from the bank driving away and you looking as if the weight of the world has been dropped on your shoulders, I sort of put two and two together.”
“It’s nothing,” she said quickly. She pressed her lips tightly, as if afraid the truth would slip out.
“Not my business, I know. But if you want to talk, I can listen.” He continued fitting the chair leg into the rocker, trying to look intent upon the task, much as he had when encouraging Joshua to come closer.
He could feel Rebecca standing there, could sense her indecision as she struggled between the longing to air her troubles and her caution about him. Finally she sighed with a soft exhale of breath.
“As you said, you can put two and two together. The problem is nothing very surprising, I suppose. We fell behind with the mortgage payments when Paul was sick. Now I must find a way to catch up.”
He could have afforded more than the five hundred a month rent he was paying for the use of the building. Why hadn’t he offered more? If he tried to do so now, she’d interpret it as charity.
“Your daad . . .” he began.
“Daad has been wonderful kind,” she said quickly. “He’s been taking care of all the business and farming my land along with his. But it’s time I took care of things myself.”
Her hands were in his range of sight as he worked. They moved restlessly among the objects that lay on the workbench, picking up a finishing nail and putting it down again. They were small hands, but strong and capable.
“Before Paul got sick, we opened the farm to visitors one summer—what they call a farm-stay vacation.” Rebecca sounded as if she were talking to herself.
He made a sound of understanding, afraid of interrupting the flow of words.
“I’ve had a letter from one of those visitors, wanting to come back. It made me think. If I took in guests this summer, it could make all the difference, you see.”
He nodded. He could see, yes, but it was obvious from the reluctance in Rebecca’s manner that her answer wasn’t that simple.
“I take it you’re not so eager.” He glanced at her, surprising her into a smile.
“You know, back when we were in school together I once overheard one of the older girls say that you knew what to say to girls because you always understood what they were thinking. Maybe that’s still true.”
Now it was his turn to smile. “I was never that smart.” Full of misplaced confidence was more like it, but for some reason that cockiness had seemed to charm the girls.
“You’re right this time,” she said. “That’s certain-sure. Paul was always so natural with the visitors. They’d follow him around like a row of little ducklings, and he had a way of making every single chore sound so interesting they wanted to try it.”
Paul had always been filled with enthusiasm, even when he was a kid, as far as Matt could remember. “Maybe that was his gift.”
“For sure. He could talk to anyone. As for me . . . well, I was better at hiding in the kitchen and cooking the food.”
Matt leaned against the workbench to concentrate on her face, trying to understand. “Food is important when you have guests in the house. I suspect you did your share.”
“Maybe so.” She shrugged. “Folks said they liked the meals, anyway.”
“You and Paul made a good team.” It seemed to him she was too ready to put down her contributions.
“We did.” Sorrow shadowed her face for a moment, but she seemed to shake it off. “But doing it alone—I just don’t see how I could. I couldn’t do all the cooking and cleaning and have time to involve folks in doing all the things around the farm the way Paul did.”
True enough. He supposed that sort of thing really was more of a two-person operation. “Maybe your daad could do that part of entertaining the guests.”
She shook her head. “Daad has so much to do already, running my farm along with his own. And I don’t think he’d like it much anyway.”
From what he remembered of Rebecca’s father, he was a typical taciturn Amish farmer of the older generation. No, he probably wouldn’t enjoy trying to teach an Englischer how to milk a cow.
“What about Simon, then? It seems he’s over here working most of the time, and I imagine he’s comfortable around the Englisch.” He had an inward smile at the thought of Simon hearing Matt recommend him for the job.
“Simon?” Rebecca’s eyebrows lifted. “I never thought—Well, maybe he could, at that. I’m so used to thinking of him as my little brother that I didn’t even consider him.”
“Simon seems pretty well grown to me.” Matt trusted it wouldn’t occur to her to ask how he knew.
“Even if Simon could handle it . . .” She paused, the struggle obvious in her expression. “It wouldn’t be easy to do this without Paul.”
“No.” He discovered that he hurt for her. “No, it wouldn’t.”
He bit back the urge to offer advice. Hadn’t she said she needed to handle things on her own? She wasn’t finding it easy. He reached for the right words and hoped he’d found them.
“You’ve grown into a strong woman, Rebecca. Whatever you decide, I think you can find a way to make it work.”
She blinked, as if surprised. “Denke, Matthew.” She smiled, and it seemed to Matt that her smile traveled right to his heart.
• • •
Rebecca walked toward the barn after supper, snuggling her jacket around her. The weather might feel like summer in the middle of the day, but once the sun slipped over the ridge, the air was still chilly. Still, the threat of frost was past, according to Daadi. He had his own method of predicting the weather, and mostly he was right.
Katie had said that Onkel Simon was still in the barn, working on something, though Daad had gone home. This would be a fine opportunity for Rebecca to speak with him about helping her with guests without anyone else around. She wouldn’t want him to say yes just because Daadi thought it was his duty.
Asking Simon had been a sensible suggestion of Matt’s. She had a tendency to see Simon as the little brother she had to look out for instead of the young man he was. Maybe that was only natural, but she should give him credit for the man’s work he did.
> Simon could certainly do what had to be done with the guests, and he would probably enjoy it. After all, he had many Englisch friends and seemed much more comfortable around the Englisch than she was. It was odd that Matt, coming on the scene after so many years away, should be the one to see Simon as an adult.
Rebecca’s thoughts flickered to the passages she’d read in Anna’s diary last night. She’d been trying to stay awake an extra fifteen minutes each night to do some reading, especially since she suspected Grossmammi would be asking what she thought of Anna’s story.
Anna and her family had lived in a time so frightening it was difficult to imagine, but even so, her relationship with her younger brother was familiar enough to make Rebecca smile. Maybe the fact was that families didn’t change, no matter how much the world around them did.
Matt hadn’t offered an opinion on the wisdom of her plan. Most people were quite free with their advice on other people’s business.
Maybe he’d been embarrassed, not expecting her to confide in him. But that didn’t make sense, since he was the one who’d seen that she was worrying about something.
Funny, how that forgotten memory of the older girls talking about Matt had popped back into her head. She could see them now, clustered in a corner of the schoolroom, giggling and glancing at the boys as they came in.
Rebecca’s reminiscent smile faded as she neared the barn. She’d told Matt that she wanted to stand on her own feet. It was true, but it was also a rather lonely business.
The barn door stood open, and Rebecca stepped inside, pausing for a moment. Simon was trying to hold a flashlight under his arm while he repaired a loose ring on one of the stanchions.
“Looks like you need another pair of hands.” She reached him in a few steps and took the flashlight, focusing its beam on the screw he was tightening.
“That will do it,” he said, not taking his gaze from his work. “I should have lit the lantern, but I thought there was enough daylight left to do it.” Another quick turn of the screwdriver, and he pulled on the ring to test it. “Finished.” He glanced at her. “What are you doing out here?”