The Farmer Next Door

by Patricia Davids

  “You should have seen the look on Esther Zook’s face.” Sarah started giggling again. “I’m sorry, I can’t help it. It was the funniest thing. Poor Faith, I’ve never seen anyone so contrite.”

  Adrian, sitting in the corner of his living room, continued his pretense of reading the newspaper while he listened to his cousin regale his mother with her story. Sarah was a frequent visitor in his home. They had been close since they were children.

  “What did you think of her?” his mother asked.

  “Adrian’s new neighbor or the bishop’s wife?” Sarah began giggling again.

  Glancing over top of the paper, Adrian saw his mother frown at Sarah’s levity. “I meant Faith Martin.”

  Sarah shrugged. “She seems nice enough. She is certainly a hard worker.”

  His mother transferred her gaze to him. “It’s a pity she is handicapped for there are several bachelors around who are on the lookout for a new wife.”

  Compelled to defend Faith, he said, “She walks with a barely noticeable limp. It isn’t a handicap.”

  “I’m sure there is someone who is willing to overlook such a minor imperfection.” She gave him a pointed stare.

  He turned the page and ignored her broad hint. He wasn’t on the lookout for a wife. His mother would eventually learn to accept that.

  Sarah, a widow herself, rolled her eyes. “Aenti Linda, if you mean Toby Yoder and Ivan Stultz, I don’t think they would mind a wife who walks with a limp. Not as long as she can cook and clean, mend clothes, run a farm and milk twenty cows twice a day while they spend their time gossiping at the feed store. Why, they would both be thrilled to have such a woman.”

  “You might be right,” his mother admitted.

  Adrian couldn’t stay silent any longer. “Maybe she doesn’t want to marry again. Did you think of that?”

  “What woman doesn’t want a husband and children of her own?” his mother countered.

  “The love between a husband or wife doesn’t die because one of them is with God. It lives on.” He didn’t care if she knew he was talking about himself.

  Her gaze softened. “Of course not, but we can love more than one person.”

  I know. I loved a wife and a child and God took them both.

  “Sarah hasn’t remarried,” he pointed out, keeping his painful thoughts to himself. His cousin ducked her head. Her smile vanished. He was sorry he’d brought the subject up. Sarah’s husband had passed away from cancer over three years ago.

  Glancing from Sarah back to Adrian, his mother gave him a fierce scowl. “Sarah has not closed her heart to love. It will find her again when God wills it. Hopefully, before she is too old to bear children.”

  He went back to his paper, knowing his mother would always have the last word.

  Sarah said, “Faith doesn’t have to worry about that. She already has a child on the way.”

  “What?” Adrian and his mother demanded together in shocked surprise.

  Sarah couldn’t keep a straight face. “She is adopting her brother’s child.”

  “Well, that changes things a little,” his mother mused. “Not all men want a wife and a child at the same time.”

  Sarah propped her elbows on the table. “Faith insists she won’t marry again, and I believe she means it.”

  Linda waved aside her comment. “Nonsense. Once she has had the chance to meet a few of our fellows she’ll change her mind. Let me think. Micah Beachy might be just the one. He’s got a nice little farm over by Sugarcreek and he’s never been married. I’ll have to invite him over for a visit next month.”

  Intrigued by Sarah’s comments, Adrian asked, “She specifically said she won’t remarry? Does she intend to raise a child alone?”

  Sarah turned in her seat to face Adrian. “Ja. What did you think of Faith when you met her?”

  “I think she is going to have a hard time making a go of that farm. She doesn’t have the money to hire help.”

  He understood Faith’s reluctance to marry again. Suffering the pain of losing a spouse and child was more than anyone should have to bear. Loving someone meant risking that pain again. He wasn’t willing to take that chance.

  “The peaches in her orchard should be nearly ripe. If she sells her fruit, she’ll be able to make some money, won’t she?” Sarah asked.

  Adrian shook his head. “The place is so overgrown, she’ll have a hard time even getting to the fruit. Those trees haven’t been pruned in twenty years. Most of them are so old they may not even bear fruit anymore. The peaches she does have will be small because no one thinned out the fruit when it was setting on.”

  “I told her to bring some of her yarns into Needles and Pins. I’m sure Janet will allow her to sell them there.”

  He turned the page of his paper. “It will take a lot of yarn to fix up that farm.”

  His mother left off cleaning the kitchen counter and began wiping down the table. “What kind of shape is the house in?”

  Sarah brightened. “It’s not too bad. I didn’t see any water damage inside, so the roof must still be sound. But it was so grimy. It took us hours to get the walls and floors clean. Elam Sutter, Eli Imhoff and his two sons managed to get the outside of the house painted but not the barn. I’m afraid it’s in need of a few repairs first.”

  “More than a few,” Adrian added, unable to stay out of the conversation.

  His mother folded her arms over her ample bosom. “Then everyone will have their work cut out for them. It is clear our sister is in need. We cannot turn our backs on her.”

  Folding his paper and laying it aside for good, Adrian said, “Do you really think everyone will feel the same way? She isn’t even a member of our church. Clearly, she didn’t make a good impression on the bishop’s wife.”

  His mother waved aside his objection. “Esther Zook will get over being made a laughingstock. She won’t hold our new neighbor to blame for the actions of her animals. Esther knows her Christian duty, and when she forgets it, her husband will remind her.”

  Adrian exchanged glances with Sarah. She obviously wasn’t in total agreement with his mother. She knew Esther Zook’s opinion could sway many of the women in the community if she chose to rebuff Faith.

  He rose to his feet. Grabbing his straw hat from the peg beside the front door, he slapped it on his head.

  “Where are you going?” His mother asked.

  “To see a woman about some peaches.”

  He left the house and headed for the hay meadow that separated his property from Faith’s farm as fast has his feet could carry him. With him out of the way, his mother could finish fussing in his kitchen and talk about him freely. Not that his presence ever stopped her.

  She meant well, he knew that. He appreciated that she came by to cook and clean for him each week even though he didn’t need her help. What he didn’t like was her interference.

  Twice he’d found Lovina and Gideon’s clothes had been packed away in a trunk in the attic. He never said a word to his mother. He simply put the clothes back into the bureau beside his own. He wasn’t ready to let go.

  Adrian’s rapid steps slowed as he approached Faith’s house. He wasn’t sure exactly what he wanted to say to her. He wasn’t even sure why he’d come. As he neared the front of her house, he saw she had moved her spinning wheel onto the front porch, probably to take advantage of the cooler evening breezes.

  Her head was bent over the wheel as she concentrated on her task. With deft fingers, she pulled fleece from a bundle into long slender strands. Her feet pumped the pedals and made the wheel fly, spinning the fleece rapidly into yarn that wound around a pair of spindles.

  It wasn’t so much the art of her work that caught his attention. It was the look on her face. The worry and pain he’d seen before were gone, replaced by an expression of serenity. A sweet, soft smile curved her lips. He caught snatches of a song she was humming. So this was how Faith Martin looked when she was happy.

  He couldn’t bring himself to i
nterrupt. Instead, he leaned on her rickety gate and simply enjoyed watching her work.

  He had once wished to see her smile. He had no idea the sight could steal his breath away.

  As much as he wished to let her work in peace, he had come here for a reason.

  Chapter Five

  “You make that look easy.”

  Faith jerked upright, searching for the source of the voice that startled her. She relaxed when she caught sight of Adrian leaning against her front gate. What was he doing here this late in the day? Her fence was finished.

  How long had he been watching her?

  Did he disapprove of the song she’d been humming? Mose had always hated it when she’d sung or hummed.

  Faith slowed her spinning wheel to a stop. It wasn’t fair of her to compare Adrian to Mose. They were two very different men. Even from the small amount of time she’d spent with Adrian, she could see that. She had to learn to let go of the past.

  She said, “It is easy when you find the right rhythm. What can I do for you this evening?”

  “I have come with another proposition for you.”

  Disappointment stabbed her. He’d come to make another offer on her land. Was she foolhardy to hang on to her dream of a place of her own?

  She gathered up her loose fleece and placed it back in a blue plastic laundry basket. “I am still not interested in selling my land.”

  “What about your peaches?” He opened the gate and walked to the foot of her steps.

  She shifted her basket to her good hip. “You want to buy peaches from me?”

  “Not exactly. I’m willing to harvest your fruit and sell it for shares.”

  Faith pondered his surprising offer. She already had more work to do than she could possibly get done before Kyle arrived. That was, if the adoption when through. Selling peaches hadn’t entered her mind. She had thought only of canning some for herself.

  The extra income would be most welcome if Adrian was willing to do the work. “What share would you be asking?”

  “I was thinking of a seventy/thirty split.”

  That was generous. “Seventy for me, thirty for you?”

  He cracked a smile as he shook his head. “Nee. I would be doing the majority of the work.”

  Maybe so, but she wasn’t going to give her produce away. “The fruit is all mine. If you will do fifty/fifty, I’ll consider it.”

  “The crop will go to waste if I don’t pick it for you. In that case, you’ll get nothing.”

  He spoke the truth and she knew it. “Very well, sixty/forty and we have a deal.”

  Nodding once, he said, “Goot. We have a deal.”

  She expected him to leave, but he didn’t. The heat of the day had waned. A cool breeze slipped past her cheeks and rustled through the leaves of the trees beside the house. For her, evenings were the best time of the day. She said, “I have some sweet tea made. Would you care for a glass?”

  He hesitated. She thought he would refuse, but to her surprise, he said, “Ja. That would be nice.”

  “Let me put my fleece away and I’ll be right back with some.”

  She hurried inside the house, feeling strangely lighthearted. When she came out again, he was sitting on the bottom step. After handing him the glass of tea, she awkwardly sank down on the step beside him. His hand shot toward her. She flinched away before she could stop herself.

  He withdrew his hand slowly. The frown she was beginning to know so well settled on his face. He regarded her with a quizzical look in his eyes.

  Faith stretched her bad leg out in front of her and tried to pretend nothing had happened. “I hope the tea is sweet enough.”

  “Does it hurt much?” he asked softly.

  She rubbed her thigh and swallowed hard, uncomfortable with his sympathy. “Not as much as it used to.”

  “How did it happen? If you don’t mind my asking?”

  She didn’t mind talking about the accident. It was talking about her marriage that she shied away from. “A pickup struck our buggy when we were on our way home from church.”

  Adrian took a sip of his tea, then stared out across the yard. “Is that how your husband died?”

  “Mose was killed instantly.” Faith stared into her glass as she relived those painful days.

  “My son was struck and killed by a car. The English, they go so fast in their big machines. What in their lives makes them rush so?”

  “It seems to me they are afraid they will miss something important.”

  “What was more important than my son’s life?”

  “Nothing.” She wanted so much to reach out and comfort him. What would he think if she did? She tightened her grip on her glass.

  After a moment of silence, Adrian shook off his somber mood. “I understand Myrtle met the bishop’s wife today.”

  Faith pressed a hand to her cheek. “Please don’t remind me. It was horrible.”

  “Sarah thought it was quite funny.”

  Faith cast him a sideways glance. “That was the worst part. Everyone was trying so hard not to laugh while I was stuttering my apologies.”

  “I’m sure you told her alpaca spit will brush off when it dries.”

  “Of course I did.”

  “Did you also mention how long the smell lingers?”

  “I suggested she wash her clothes with baking soda to cut the odor as soon as she got home.”

  “I don’t recall you giving me that information.”

  She tried to look innocent. “Didn’t I?”

  “Nee. I will assume you were too worried about your animals to pass along that important piece of advice.”

  “Ja, don’t think for a minute it was because you were scowling so fiercely that the words flew out of my head.”

  “Did I frighten you that day?”

  She shrugged. “A little.”

  “Are you frightened of me now?”

  She knew he was referring to the way she had flinched from him a few moments ago. She stared down at the glass in her hand, avoiding his gaze. “You have been most helpful to me. I could not ask for a better neighbor.”

  It wasn’t an answer to his question, but it was the best she could do. He said nothing more. The sounds of cicadas rose and fell as they started their noisy evening songs. As abruptly as it started, their song stopped, and the silence stretched on for another awkward minute.

  Faith racked her mind for something to say, but Adrian beat her to it. “I will go through your orchard on Wednesday and see if the fruit is ripe enough for picking.”

  “It’s a mess. There are downed branches and dead trees all through it.”

  “We had a bad ice storm a few years back. I imagine most of the damage is from that. However, many of the trees are getting old. Peach trees only live about twenty years and these were planted at least that long ago.”

  “Do you know if they are freestone or clingstone peaches?”

  A hint of a grin tugged at the corner of his lips. “The ones I snitched as a kinder were all freestone and extra sweet.”

  She smiled at his confession. It was easy to imagine him as a mischievous child. “Goot. Those are the best kind for selling at market.”

  Faith smoothed her skirt with one hand. It should have felt strange to be sitting beside Adrian and discussing the work that needed to be done on the farm, but it didn’t. It felt comfortable. It was only when the conversation turned personal that she grew uncomfortable.

  The shadows had grown long, and the cicadas resumed their evening serenade. Adrian finished his drink and rose to his feet. “It’s getting late. I should go home.”

  Faith tried to stand but didn’t quite make it. Embarrassed, she gathered herself to try again. Adrian stepped close and held out his hand to aid her.

  Faith’s heart began hammering so hard she was sure he could hear it. Fear made her mouth dry. Adrian wasn’t Mose. She didn’t have to be afraid anymore. They were brave words but hard to live by. She ignored his hand and pulled herself upright
using the railing.

  Adrian saw the change that came over Faith when he offered his hand. Was it pride that made her struggle to her feet alone? He didn’t think so.

  He saw the flash of fear in her eyes, although she hid it quickly. What reason would Faith Martin have to fear him?

  He let his hand fall back against his side. If his presence was unwelcome, he would not force it upon her. “I will see you Wednesday, then.”

  She twisted her hands together as she avoided looking at him. “I may not be here. I’m taking my yarns into town. Your cousin Sarah was kind enough to invite me to bring my work into her shop. After that, I will be here, but I’m expecting the social worker from the adoption agency. I’m trying to adopt my brother’s child.”

  Was that why she seemed so worried? Was she afraid her adoption wouldn’t go through? He tried to picture her with a babe in her arms. She would make a good mother.

  He said, “You don’t need to be here while I survey your orchard. We can discuss what I find another time. I promise I won’t eat up your profits.”

  She smiled halfheartedly at his humor. He wanted more. He wanted a real smile from her. “How are your beasts adjusting to their new home?”

  “They seem quite happy in the pen you built for them. Thank you for your help with that. They are growing fat on the thick grass in the orchard.”

  “Will I disturb them working in there?”

  “I do not think so. They may disturb you for they are quite curious. You’re likely to find them underfoot and investigating everything you do.”

  He nodded toward the barn. “Has your expectant mother had her calf?”

  “A baby alpaca is called a cria, not a calf.” She relaxed as she talked about her animals. The haunted look faded from her eyes.

  “Cria.” He rolled the unfamiliar word on his tongue. “Has Myrtle had her cria?”

  “Not yet. I think it will be few more weeks before she becomes a mother again.”

  “This is not her first babe?”

  “Bandit and Baby Face are both her offspring.”

  “You have chosen unusual names for your unusual creatures.”

  “My husband and I rented a farm from an English family when we lived in Missouri. I let their daughter name all the new babies.”