by Sarah Price
She knew that her cheeks flushed at the strange compliment. She didn’t know how to respond, so she didn’t, choosing to remain silent for the rest of their journey.
But something had changed. Something was different between them.
When they arrived at the farm, Adam helped her get out of the buggy. This time, when her hand held his, he paused, waiting for her to look up at him. While he didn’t smile, she saw that he had a calm expression on his face. No more hostility lingered in his eyes. Instead, she thought she recognized admiration there.
“Danke, Adam. It was thoughtful of you to fetch me,” she whispered, too aware that he still held her hand.
He nodded once and gestured toward the house. “Go on and enjoy your book.”
Reluctantly, she withdrew her hand. He stepped away from her, grabbing the horse’s bridle and leading it toward the stable. She didn’t wait to watch him unharness the horse. Instead, she hurried into the house, and, after shutting the door behind herself, she leaned against it, the book clutched against her chest.
Was it possible? she wondered. Could she ever have feelings toward Adam like a wife should toward a husband? And could Adam ever feel something toward her? A week ago, she would never have believed such a thing was possible. But today, she had hope that something . . . even if just friendship . . . could develop between them. If something as simple as Belle standing up for him could change him, perhaps time would add a deeper affection to their relationship.
Chapter Fifteen
The rain hadn’t been forecast, and it caught Belle off guard. She had planned to work outside, weeding the garden and painting the fence that surrounded it. When she awoke and saw the gray skies, she sighed and hurried to get dressed. But by the time she had finished cooking breakfast, the rain was already pouring down the kitchen windowpanes.
“Oh, help!” she muttered as she stood at the sink and gazed outside.
“What’s the matter?”
Startled, she spun around and placed her hand upon her chest. “Adam! You frightened me.”
He gave her a look as if trying to interpret exactly how she meant that.
“I didn’t know you were there,” she said gently. “And look at you! You’re soaking wet!” Quickly she hurried to take his hat and coat, mindful not to slip on the puddles of water that he had tracked into the house. “Sit down and let me get you some hot coffee.”
She hung up his hat and coat on two pegs in the wall near the door. Water dripped down and collected on the floor. She’d have to dry that before it left marks on the wooden floor, but first she wanted to make certain that he warmed up.
After giving him a mug of steaming coffee, she went to the fireplace and threw in another log. “Did you know that it was to rain today?” she asked him.
“Only God knows what the weather will do.”
She frowned as she stood up from the fireplace. He was in a sullen mood, that was for sure and certain. Perhaps it was just the weather. For the past few days, he had been more quiet than usual, if that was even possible. Belle did her best to walk wide circles around him as she went about her daily chores. “It was such nice weather yesterday,” Belle commented as she hurried back to the kitchen stove to dish up his breakfast. “I had hoped to work in the garden a bit. Reckon that won’t happen today, ja?”
“Reckon not.”
She set down the plate before him. “This should warm you up right quick.”
He made a noise deep in his throat but said nothing else as he waited for her to join him at the table.
Bowing her head, she gave thanks to God for the blessings of the day, including the rain, before she began to eat. The silence in the kitchen began to feel overwhelming, especially since she had been looking forward to working outside.
Even though it hadn’t yet been two weeks, her long days of solitude were beginning to wear on her nerves. She missed being around her sisters and father. With Adam being so sullen and usually outside anyway, she was spending far too much time alone in the house. She missed conversations during meal times and playing games in the late evenings. Even the housework was dull, for ever since she had finished cleaning the house, it rarely got dirty, since Adam only came in for meals.
With a big sigh, Belle set down her fork and reached for her glass of water. “I should have picked up some apples while I was in town the other day. I could’ve canned applesauce today.”
He didn’t say anything as he continued shoveling food into his mouth.
“And I’ve already finished my book.”
The sound of her voice in the room sounded empty and hollow. If only she knew how to reach Adam and help him soften the harsh edges of his personality. Whether or not she loved him—and she most certainly did not!—she had committed to being his wife. Was it possible that he might, one day, treat her as such? Instead, he continued to treat her like a stranger in his home and life.
“I reckon I’ll clean that back room, then,” she said, mostly to herself, since she expected no answer from him. “I saw a china cabinet in there. I imagine nothing’s been cleaned in it for years.”
He grunted.
She made a face and sighed. Then, without waiting for him to finish, she stood up and carried her plate full of uneaten food to the sink. She was just about to throw it out when she had another idea. “Where’s Shep?” She directed the question to Adam, who, for once, looked up and acknowledged that she had spoken. “You know, Shep? Your dog?”
“What for?”
She held up the plate. “No sense wasting the food.” Carrying the plate to the door, she opened it and called out for the dog.
“That’s not his name.”
The irritation in his voice surprised her. Why should he get so offended by her calling the dog the wrong name? “Well, I had to call him something,” she countered. “And you never call him anything but ‘dog.’”
“That’s his name.”
She almost laughed. “Dog? You named your dog Dog?” Despite trying not to, she couldn’t help herself and finally laughed. “Why, I should think calling him Shep is quite an improvement over just calling him Dog.”
At the sound of her laughter, he glared at her and shoved his plate away from him. “His name is Dog!” He stood up and stomped to the door, pausing to snatch the plate from her hand before he pushed the door open and stormed away.
Belle couldn’t keep herself from laughing. She hadn’t meant to upset him, but the ridiculousness of a man living without any other companion besides a dog with no name struck her as humorous. Adam seemed to genuinely care for the dog, but to never have named it?
While she cleaned up the breakfast dishes, she continued shaking her head and smiling over the farcical situation.
An hour later, with all of the other chores completed, Belle made her way into the large room across from the sitting room. Earlier that week, she had swept and washed the floor. Twice. But she hadn’t tackled cleaning any of the furniture. There wasn’t much in the room—just a large sideboard and the china cabinet. The size of the room would have been perfect for hosting worship services, but it appeared that there was currently no use for the room at all.
Sitting on the hardwood floor before the china cabinet, she opened the lower doors and peeked inside. She caught her breath at the sight of beautiful, stacked china dishes. Carefully, she reached for one, withdrawing it and holding it up to the dim light that shone through the windows in the front.
It was white china with pretty, rose-colored flowers around the rim. Painted gold trimmed the edges. From the looks of it, there were twenty-four place settings. A set like this often started as a wedding gift, with pieces and place settings added to it over the years. Belle had never seen such a beautiful set of dishes, and she longed to know their history.
She opened another cabinet door and found serving bowls and platters, teapots and teacups. With as much care as possible, she removed each piece and set it upon the floor. By the time she finished, she realized what a
hidden treasure she had just found.
Rather than carry all of the pieces to the kitchen for washing, she decided it was safer to wash them in that very room. After fetching one tub full of soapy water for washing and another full of plain water for rinsing, she set about the task of wiping away the years of neglect and abandonment. It was a task that took time and patience, for she did not want to chip even one of the pieces.
As she dried them, she wondered how many family meals had been served on these plates. Surely Adam’s mother must have come from a large family, for no one would need such a tremendous set unless there were plenty of children and grandchildren. And yet, why would his mother have been the recipient of such an heirloom? Shouldn’t the gift have passed to another, perhaps a sibling who had more children and could actually use the china?
That was when an idea occurred to her: she would set the dinner table with the china and prepare a wonderful meal for Adam. Perhaps that would encourage him to open up to her at last!
After cleaning the cabinet, including the glass doors on top, she carefully returned all of the pieces except for two place settings and serving dishes, enough to set the dinner table.
By the time Adam returned to the house, with the empty plate from breakfast in his hand, the kitchen smelled of pan-fried ham, mashed potatoes, fresh bread, and steamed vegetables that she had purchased in town. And the table looked beautiful, the food perfectly arranged on the china platter and bowls, set before the two place settings.
“What is this?” He looked genuinely curious as he walked to the table and picked up one of the plates. “Where did you find these?”
She smiled at him, her hands clasped behind her back. “In that big empty room. They were in the china cabinet.”
The curious expression on his face darkened, changing into a scowl. “Then these are my maem’s.” He set the plate back onto the table. “Who said you could use them?”
Belle’s mouth opened into a small O at the harshness of his voice. “Who said that I could not?” she countered sharply. “What good does the china do sitting there? Unused? That’s wasteful, Adam. Just like the yarn that was downstairs in the dusty old basement!”
“These things are not yours.”
She pressed her lips together. “You didn’t even know the china was there! Why, how long has it been since you even stepped into that room? How long has it been since she died?”
From the way the muscles twitched in his jaw, Belle could tell that he was agitated. She didn’t fancy an argument with her husband, for she knew that the Bible said “stirring up anger produces strife.” She tried to take a deep breath and calm herself, hoping that Adam was capable of doing the same.
“I don’t mean to pry, Adam,” she said in a soft voice. “I’m sure that it was not easy, living here alone for so long.” Cautiously, she took a step toward him. “Surely your maem would want her china used for delicious meals. She’d want her yarn used to make warm blankets and winter hats. Simply boxing away her things and pushing them into the corners of the house does not make them go away. Nor does it lessen the pain of her passing.” She took another step toward him. “Mourning your loss is one thing. Refusing to live your life . . . well, that’s quite another.”
He lifted his chin defiantly, his one good eye staring at her.
“Clearly you want to live,” she continued in that same soft voice. “You want a son. That’s what you told me. Do you want your son to live like you did when she was alive, or would you prefer he live the way you do now, isolated and alone?” Slowly, she reached out her hand as if to touch his cheek. But he grabbed her wrist and leaned backward. Belle remained determined to try to reach him. “It’s as if Satan has your heart locked up in a little box. But don’t you know that you hold the key, Adam? You can unlock that box and live again, Adam.”
For a moment, he closed his eyes. There was a pained look on his face, and Belle waited, hoping that her words might have triggered something—anything!—to break through the self-constructed barrier that surrounded him. But then he shook his head, mumbling, “No, no, no.” Gently, he pushed her away from him and stepped backward. “No.”
“Why ‘no’?”
He kept shaking his head. “You don’t know what it is like. Being abandoned. Being unloved.” His voice trembled, and he refused to look at her. “Being a beast to everyone who sees you.”
“I don’t think you are a beast,” she said.
He snapped his gaze to meet hers. “Don’t you?”
“I most certainly do not.”
“Do you love me?”
And, once again, Belle hesitated too long.
That same dark expression crossed his face, his eyes turning icy as he pressed his lips together. “That’s what I thought.” He spun around and stormed out through the kitchen door, letting it slam shut behind himself.
Belle started to run after him, stepping outside and dashing down the porch steps. She stood in the rain, her bare feet in a mud puddle. Adam was already entering the barn, Shep barking and dancing around his legs in happy circles.
“Adam!” she shouted. “How can I learn to love you if you won’t show me who you are?”
But her words were drowned out by a rumble of thunder.
Chapter Sixteen
It was a warm day, even for late September. Belle wiped the perspiration from her brow with the back of her hand. All that morning she had made applesauce with the carton of apples that Adam had picked up for her the day before. The windows were open, but even the occasional breeze did nothing to cool the kitchen.
She leaned down and glanced out the window. The sun was still high in the sky, and Belle wondered how Adam was making out in the fields. At breakfast, he had commented that he would be cutting hay. Belle had frowned, wondering about all of the crops he said he was managing. But she didn’t ask. Now, with the applesauce canned, Belle decided she would bring Adam some fresh meadow tea (for there was plenty of mint growing around the gardens) and see for herself.
With a plastic cup and a pitcher in hand, Belle headed toward the barn. She wandered behind the dairy and noticed a dirt path that ran between the large paddock for the cows and the cornfield behind the horse stable. She followed the path to the tree line just beyond the two fields. To her surprise, the path continued into the woods, winding to the left. It was cooler under the cover of the trees, and she found herself lost in the noises of nature. Birds singing. Leaves rustling.
But the woods were not very large. The path ended at the edge of the trees. For a moment, Belle stood there, staring in amazement at a large field that merged into another and another. Her mouth dropped as she realized that all of the land she was staring at belonged to Adam. If she had wondered about where all of his “magical” crops were, she now knew: here.
In the distance, she saw Adam on the hay cutter, driving his team of four Belgian draft horses across the field of grass. He was far enough away that he didn’t see her, so she began to walk along the edge of the hay field toward him. She watched him as he worked, realizing that it was the first time she’d had an opportunity to see him in the midst of his farm duties. He wore black trousers that had a tear over the knee and a long-sleeved white shirt that clung to his back with sweat. The straw hat shielded his face from the sun, but even from this distance, she could see the moisture on his brow.
When he guided the horses to turn, she lifted her arm and waved to him.
“Whoa!” He leaned back as he pulled on the reins to stop the horses. “Wie gehts?”
She held up the pitcher. “I thought you might be thirsty working outside.”
He squinted as he glanced at the sun overhead. “Ja, I am.”
As she poured him a cup of the iced tea, she couldn’t resist inquiring about the fields. “I didn’t realize that your farm went all the way back.” Handing him the cup, she met his eyes. “I’ve never been over here. And from the house, I never suspected the farm was so large.”
Adam lifted the cup t
o his lips and drank down the liquid in one long, slow gulp. “It used to be larger,” he said as he handed her the cup to refill.
“Larger?” Nothing he said could have surprised her more. “Why! It’s already the largest farm in Echo Creek! Who on earth can farm all of this land?”
“It’s been in the Hershberger family for generations, Belle. Passed down from father to son.”
She thought she caught a sad tone in his words. Usually the Amish passed down their farms to one of the younger sons. With smaller families, however, older sons might inherit the farm. “Do you have any siblings?”
He shook his head and looked away. “Seems like you now know the truth about the magical crops,” he said, changing the subject away from his family. He returned his attention to her. “The only magic is a man who works from before sunup and long after sundown.”
“That’s a lot of work for one man.” She hesitated before adding, “It would be easier with the help of another, don’t you think?”
His expression softened, and he lowered his tone as he said, “Women don’t belong in the fields.”
“That’s nonsense, Adam Hershberger,” she scolded. “It’s also nonsense that you are too proud to ask for help. Why, I see women helping their husbands in the fields quite frequently in Echo Creek!”
He exhaled sharply. “Nee, Belle. Not my woman.”
“Pride is a sin.”
“It isn’t pride, Belle.”
“Then what is it?”
But he wouldn’t answer her question.
His silence infuriated her. Just when she thought they were beginning to have a breakthrough, he shut down and retreated into himself. How could she ever learn to feel something for a man who constantly hid behind invisible barriers? “Well, Adam,” she said in a pithy tone, “mayhaps one day you will see fit to confide in me. To open up and share so that I can understand. In the meantime”—she took the empty cup from his hand—“I’ll just busy myself in the house.” She started to walk away, but stopped and added, “Like a good fraa, ja?”