He tugged at his beard as the source of his coming discomfort limped down the walk and crossed behind the wagon to the passenger’s side. He glanced down at her as she prepared to step up into the wagon. Something of what he’d been thinking must have shown on his face.
A look of concern furrowed her brow. “Is something wrong?”
There was no point in ruining her afternoon with his glum thoughts. He extended his hand to help her in. “Nee. I’ve much on my mind. That’s all.”
She laid her hand in his without hesitation. He realized it was the first time she hadn’t flinched away from him. A sense of satisfaction settled in the center of his chest.
Her hand was small and delicate in his grasp. His fist completely engulfed it. She was light as a feather when he pulled her up. She might be a tiny thing, but what she lacked in size she more than made up for in determination. He admired her tenacity. She had done a lot with her rundown inheritance. She was making the place into a home.
He turned the wagon around in the yard and set his gelding to a steady trot when they reached the highway. The drone of the tires on the payment, the clatter of the horse’s hooves and the jangle of the harness were the only sounds for the first few minutes of the ride.
Adrian suddenly found himself tongue-tied. He hadn’t spent time alone with a woman since his single days. What should he talk about? Or should he keep his mouth shut?
He glanced at Faith sitting straight as a board on the seat beside him. The wide brim of her black bonnet hid her face from his view. What was she thinking? Did she regret accepting his offer? Was she worried that gossips might link their names?
She spoke at last. “What is your horse called?”
“Wilbur.”
“He has a fine gait.”
Wilbur was a safe enough topic. “He was a racehorse in his younger days, but he was injured. His Englisch owner didn’t want to waste money caring for him. You met Jonathan Dressler, didn’t you?”
“The Englisch fellow who has become Amish?”
“Ja. He works for a group that takes in abandoned and injured horses. He nurses them back to health and retrains them for riding or buggy work.”
“I’ll remember that. My Copper is getting old and slowing down. I will need a new horse in a few years.”
“Perhaps you can teach your alpacas to pull your buggy.”
She giggled and shot a grin his way. “Can you see how many tourists would want my picture if I did such a thing?”
“Not many once they met Myrtle.”
Faith laughed outright. His discomfort evaporated as warmth spread though his body. She had a way of making him forget his troubles. He said, “You should laugh more often.”
Their eyes met, and she quickly looked away. “How soon will our peaches be ripe?”
“Another two or three weeks.”
“Will you sell them from a roadside stand or take them into the market in town?”
“To market unless you want to run the stand?”
“I’ve been thinking about it. Do we get enough traffic on this road to make it worthwhile?”
Adrian relaxed and started to enjoy the ride as Faith asked about his plans for the orchard. A few pointed questions from him set her to talking about her alpacas and her plans for expanding her spinning business. It wasn’t long before the town of Hope Springs came into view. As far as Adrian was concerned, the ride was over all too soon.
He left her at the door to the medical clinic and quickly set about completing his own errands so she wouldn’t have to wait when she was done seeing the doctor. With a jolt, he realized he was eager for the trip home.
Faith entered the Hope Springs Clinic, a modern one-story blond brick building, with a sense of dread. She had spent more than enough time in hospitals and doctors’ offices over the past two years. What if they found something new wrong with her? What if they thought she wasn’t strong enough to take care of a child?
Inside the building, she checked in with the elderly receptionist and took a seat in the crowded waiting room. When her name was called, she followed a young woman in a white lab coat down a short hallway and took a seat on the exam room table.
The young woman introduced herself. “I’m Amber Bradley. I’m Dr. White’s office nurse and a nurse-midwife. Can you tell me what kind of problems you’ve been having?”
“None.” Faith withdrew her papers from her bag. “I am adopting a child, but first, I must have a physical.”
Amber’s smile widened as she took the paperwork. “Congratulations. The doctor will be with you in a few minutes. We will need to get any previous medical records you have. I’ll bring you the forms to sign so we can get them faxed to this office.”
“I’m very healthy. I did not see a doctor until I was in an accident two years ago.” Faith opened her mouth for the thermometer Amber extended.
“That doesn’t surprise me. Many Amish go their entire lives without seeing a doctor. We see a fair number here because of Dr. White’s reasonable rates. I tell him he’s just plain cheap.” Amber chuckled as she recorded the temperature reading, then wrapped a blood pressure cuff around Faith’s arm.
The outside door opened, and a tall, silver-haired man walked in. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Martin. I’m Dr. Harold White. What can we do for you today?”
Faith again explained her situation. The doctor listened carefully, then took the forms from Amber. “This looks pretty straightforward. We’ll get a chest X-ray, draw some blood and give you a complete physical while you are here today. My office will send you the results in a few days. Do we have your address?”
Faith recited it, and the doctor wrote it down. He said, “Isn’t this the old Delker Orchard?”
“Ja.”
Dr. White said, “That place has been empty for twenty years. I didn’t know it was for sale.”
“I inherited it when my husband passed away. He was the grandchild of the previous owner.”
The doctor’s eyebrows shot up. “He was that boy?”
Confused, Faith asked, “Did you know my husband?”
“I only met him once. I often wondered what happened to him. The whole thing was very hushed up at the time. Back then child abuse simply wasn’t talked about.”
Faith shook her head in denial. “You must be mistaken. He never spoke of such a thing.”
“Was your husband’s name Mose?”
“It was.”
The doctor began counting to himself using his fingers, then said, “He would be forty-five years old if he were alive today.”
She nodded. “He would.”
“Did he have scars on both his wrists?”
“From where he was dragged by a runaway team of horses when he was small.”
“I wish that were true. I’m not surprised he never spoke of it. Children who suffer such abuse often block it from their memory. His wrists were scarred from where he was tied up in his grandmother’s basement. Apparently, he came to live with her when his parents both died of influenza. Old Mrs. Delker hated the Amish. Her only daughter ran away from home and wound up marrying an Amish fellow who left the faith for her.”
“My husband said he was raised by his Amish grandparents after his parents passed away.”
“Eventually, he was. I was called out to the farm when a utility worker reported he’d seen a boy chained in the cellar. The poor child was wearing only rags and he was thin as a rail. It was clear he’d been beaten and neglected. He hit and bit at anyone who came close to him.”
Faith wrapped her arms around herself. “How terrible.”
If only she had known. If only Mose had shared his pain instead of keeping it hidden all those years. Would their lives have been different? Surely they would have been.
Dr. White stared at the floor, as if watching that long-ago scene. “It was terrible. Eventually, the sheriff located his father’s Amish parents and the boy was sent to live with them. Mrs. Delker spent some time in a mental hospital, but she came bac
k within about six months. She was even more of a recluse afterwards. She had a stroke and passed away ten years later.”
Dr. White looked up, suddenly contrite. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t go on like that. Sometimes we old people don’t know when to stop reminiscing. The past can seem clearer than the present for us. This must be quite a shock for you.”
“It explains a lot about my husband. He wasn’t a happy man.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Let us talk of more cheerful things. You are adopting a child. That’s wonderful. The sooner we get done here, the sooner that can happen. The first thing we need from you is a medical history.” He became all business.
Faith answered what seemed like a hundred questions, had her X-ray taken and suffered through getting her blood drawn, but the whole time she kept seeing Mose’s face. He had been a harsh man without peace in his life. She prayed he was at peace now.
When she left the doctor’s office, she saw Adrian waiting for her. The sight of him lifted her spirits.
“Are you finished?” he asked.
“Ja. And you?” She climbed up onto the wagon seat.
“All done. Shall we head home?”
“Would you mind if we stopped at the fabric store? I need to see if I should bring in more yarn.” She was in no hurry to return to the house that had seen such pain.
A fleeting look of reluctance flashed across Adrian’s face. “Ja, we can stop at the fabric store.”
“If it’s too much trouble, I can wait,” she offered, not wanting to upset him.
“It’s no trouble at all,” he drawled. Slapping the reins against Wilbur’s rump, he set the black horse in motion.
When they reached Needles and Pins, Faith scrambled down from the bench seat. “I’ll just be a minute.”
A wry smile twisted his lips. “Take your time and say hello to Sarah for me. Tell her I’ll be expecting Mamm this evening.”
Faith wasn’t quite sure what to make of his odd mood. He glanced toward the shop door as it opened and said, “Never mind. Here she comes now.”
Faith turned around, expecting to see Sarah, but saw instead a short, gray-haired woman coming out of the shop. She stopped abruptly when she caught sight of Adrian, then smiled broadly.
“Hello, my son. What are you doing here?”
“I had some errands to run. Mamm, have you met Faith Martin?”
“I have not.” His mother subjected Faith to intense scrutiny.
Faith was glad she’d taken the time to change her dress and put on her best bonnet. “I’m pleased to meet you, Mrs. Lapp. Your son has been wonderfully helpful to me. He has been the best neighbor anyone could ask for.”
“Please call me Linda. It does a mother’s heart good to hear such things about her son. I saw you briefly at the last church service, but I failed to introduce myself. I’ve been remiss in not welcoming you. Please forgive me.”
“There is nothing to forgive. Excuse me, I must check to see if Janet needs more yarn from me. I won’t be long, Adrian.”
“No hurry,” he replied.
Linda’s grin widened. There was a distinctive twinkle in her eyes. “Your papa and I must stop by for a visit one of these evenings, Adrian. We have some catching up to do.”
He knew where she was going and sought to cut her off. “Don’t read more into this than there is. I’m helping out a neighbor. That’s all.”
Her smile faded. “It’s time you put your grief away and took a close look at your life, my son. Many wonders of God are missed by a man who will not open his eyes.”
As his mother walked away, Adrian mulled her words. How did he put away his grief even if he wanted to? Did he want to?
His grief had become a high fence he used to hold others at bay. In spite of his efforts, and without meaning to, Faith Martin had made a hole in that fence. To close it back up meant pushing her out of his life. Was he willing to do that?
Even if he wanted to, he wasn’t sure he could. There was something special about her, something more than her pretty face and expressive eyes. When he was with her…he felt alive for the first time in years.
True to her word, Faith was back in a few minutes. He glanced at her seated beside him as they rode homeward. She was unusually quiet. Her eyes held a faraway look, as if she were viewing something sad from her past.
Was she remembering trips she’d taken with her husband seated beside her? Had the doctor given her bad news? Did her leg hurt? Was she tired?
There were so many things he wanted to know about her, so many questions he wanted to ask, but he shied away from them because they might reveal the real question nagging at the back of his mind.
Did Faith enjoy being in his company as much as he enjoyed being with her?
The afternoon sun beat down on them as they traveled along. Faith untied her dark bonnet and laid it on the seat between them. He asked, “Are you warm?”
“A little.”
Stupid question. Of course she was or she wouldn’t have taken off her bonnet. Why did he revert to acting like a tongue-tied teenager around this woman?
They made the rest of the journey to her home in silence. When he pulled to a stop in front of her gate, she didn’t get down but sat staring at the house like she’d never seen it before. She asked, “Did you know the woman who lived here before I came?”
“Vaguely.”
“Was she evil?”
What a strange question. “I don’t think so. She was old, and ab im kopp.”
“Off in the head? Crazy?”
“Ja.”
“She must have been,” Faith whispered.
He covered her hand with his. “Is something wrong?”
She didn’t look at him. Her eyes remained fixed on the house. He checked out the building but didn’t see anything amiss. What was going on?
Gazing back at Faith, he studied her face intently. It was as if she couldn’t see or hear him. He squeezed her fingers. “Faith, what’s the matter?”
Her gaze slid to their hands and then to his face. She pulled away sharply and climbed down from the wagon, mumbling, “Goodbye.”
Stunned by her abrupt departure, Adrian stared after her. Had he done something wrong? Had he upset her with something he said? Should he follow her and ask or leave her be?
The safe thing to do was to leave her be. He was becoming far too caught up in Faith Martin’s life. He’d been neglecting his own work to help her, something he never did. This had to stop.
He turned the wagon and started for home. He’d only gone a hundred yards when he noticed her bonnet on the seat beside him.
Stopping the horse, he picked up the bonnet and held it in his hands. The dark fabric was warm from the sun. He lifted it to his face and breathed in. It held her scent.
He looked over his shoulder toward her house. Perhaps he was too caught up in her life, but he was ready to admit he was deeply drawn to Faith. He saw no way to free himself unless she turned him away.
Looping the reins over the brake handle, he jumped down from the wagon and strode toward her gate not knowing if he was simply returning her belonging or starting down a whole new path in his life.
When he reached the porch, he saw the front door stood open. He climbed the steps and called her name. She didn’t answer. Pausing in the doorway, he started to call out again when a sound stopped him. Someone was crying.
“Faith?” He took a step inside. The muffled sounds of sobbing were coming from a doorway at the back of the kitchen. Hesitantly, he walked that way.
The second he realized the door led to the cellar, he rushed forward. Had she fallen? Was she injured? “Faith, is that you? Are you all right?”
It took a second for his eyes to adjust to the darkness below him. When they did, he could just make out her form at the bottom of the stairs. She sat huddled into a ball on the bottom riser with her arms around her knees. Her shoulders shook with sobs.
He descended quickly, stepping past her to crouch in front of
her. He laid his hand gently on her shoulder. “Faith, did you fall? Are you hurt?”
She lifted her head and shook it in denial as she wiped the tears from her cheeks.
His heart began beating again with rapid erratic thuds. “You scared the life out of me. What’s wrong?”
Words began pouring out of her. “If only I had known, I would have been a better wife. How could he keep such a thing locked away from me?”
“Faith, I don’t understand.”
“I married Mose because my parents were gone, my brother had left the faith and I had no one. I didn’t love him as a wife should. I tried, but I couldn’t, and I’m so ashamed.” She buried her face in her hands.
This was way out of his depths. Faith needed another woman to talk to. Someone like his mother or Nettie, but he couldn’t leave her weeping in the cellar.
No, that wasn’t true. He could leave, but he didn’t want to.
Adrian settled himself on the narrow step beside her. His hip brushed against hers. Her shoulder, where it touched his, spread warmth all down his arm. He wanted nothing more than to slip his arm around her and comfort her, but he knew it wouldn’t be right. Such closeness between a man and a woman was for husbands and wives.
He had no idea what to say. He simply started talking. “I loved my wife dearly, but I can’t remember her face. I try so hard to see her, but she isn’t clear anymore. I’m ashamed of that. How can I forget the one I loved more than my own life?”
Faith sniffed and slanted a look his way. “You should not feel ashamed for that.”
“Nor should you feel shame. We are only human.”
Nodding, she looked away from him, staring into the dark corner of the room. “My husband was a cruel man. I think he tried not to be, but he couldn’t help himself. I used to think it was my fault. I thought I couldn’t make him happy because I didn’t love him enough.”
Adrian’s breath froze in his chest. “He was cruel to you?”
She looked down at her hands and gave a tiny nod.
Was she saying what he thought she was saying? “Faith, did your husband beat you?”
The Farmer Next Door Page 9