“Well enough that I have not had to take alms from Bishop Schrock in over a month.”
“If you married me, you would not have to take alms at all, nor would you have to work for this Englisch man in a house that should still belong to your family.”
She gasped at his blunt mention of marriage, then decided to ignore it. “My father allowed the sin of gambling into his life and lost the farm. It was for sale. The Englischer had a right to purchase it.”
She could not believe she was defending Logan to one of her own, but her employer had treated her kindly. He was innocent of her father’s failure. That was on her father’s shoulders.
There had even been a very nice bonus in the envelope Logan had left on the kitchen table last week!
“I am a good, steady worker with a large house and a roof that does not leak. My farm is productive. My children are under my control and not problem children. I am of your faith. I can help you raise your small children. You should quit this job and marry me.”
“I do not love you,” Hope said. “I will not marry you. It is that simple.”
Abimelech then did something that she would never have believed could happen back when he was simply her father’s friend who came to visit with his wife and children from time to time. Back when she was not much more than a child herself and paid little attention to the grown-ups. He allowed his eyes to look at her from the top of her head to the bottom of her feet and then back up again. The look in his eyes was not love, it was something else, and the realization that he was not a good man made her flinch. The air around them seemed to become thick with an emotion that closed her throat and made her want to cover herself.
Thank goodness Carrie was with her. Had there not been an innocent witness in that little girl’s eyes, she wasn’t sure what Abimelech might have done or suggested.
The little girl was too young to understand what was going on, but Carrie’s sturdy little heart made her come take her mother’s hand and stand protectively beside her. Hope held tight to her broom with her other hand, wondering if she would have reason to use it as a weapon.
When her daughter moved to stand with her, Abimelech seemed to come to himself and had the grace to look away.
“I have been too long without a wife,” he muttered before walking away.
The minute he left the porch, she dropped the broom, picked Carrie up in her arms, and flew into the house, then locked all the outside doors. The lock on the back door had never worked properly, if one tried to secure it from the outside, but her father had installed a large screen-door lock-and-eye on the inside for securing the house after their family had all gone to bed. This she shoved down into place, and then collapsed into a kitchen chair.
If Titus were alive, Abimelech would have never dared look at her like that!
Carrie crawled onto her lap and hugged her neck. “I am scared, Mommi.”
“Oh, little one . . .” She smoothed back her daughter’s hair, realizing that she had frightened the child with her frenzied locking of doors.
“Abimelech would not hurt you . . . or me.” And then, because she tried very hard to always be honest with her children, she added, “At least, I hope not.”
“I will ask Grandpa to make him stay away from us,” Carrie said stoutly. “Everyone must obey Bishop Schrock.”
“That is true,” she soothed the little girl. “But let’s not worry about that now.”
Actually, the knowledge that Bishop Schrock and the other men of their church would not allow Abimelech to bother her if they knew that he had been inappropriate in his behavior was a comforting one. As was the knowledge that her father would have a few words to say to the man as well if she told him what happened.
She was not without resources to keep this man out of her life and would not hesitate to use them.
“I shall pray that he finds a wife, soon,” she said. “But that wife will not be me!”
• • •
Logan was surprised to find two buggies in his yard instead of only Hope’s. In fact, he was a little surprised to find her buggy there at all. Having her work for him was rather like employing a ghost. Hope had apparently adjusted her schedule to be gone whenever she thought he might be home. Sometimes he suspected that she turned around and went home whenever she saw his car at the house.
It was a bit of a surprise to see a strange Amish man tearing past him, whipping his horse into a canter within seconds of leaving the driveway.
This was odd. He had not seen anyone here make a horse go faster than a quick trot while pulling a buggy. The man was obviously angry, and what on earth had he been doing at his house?
As he got out of his car, he was perplexed, curious, and more than a little concerned.
Finding his own back door locked, he knocked. This was highly unusual. He’d taken some pride in living in an area where doors could still be left unlocked. “Hope? Are you in there? It’s Logan. Please let me in.”
A flustered, embarrassed, red-faced Hope opened the door. It was apparent that she had been crying.
“Hope—what’s wrong?”
“I’m sorry, I—I—”
“What happened here? Who was that man I saw?”
“Abimelech Yoder. He wants to marry me. And I refused him. That is all.”
Her embarrassment was almost too painful to watch.
“Abimelech Yoder.” He turned the name over in his mind. “He’s the man who just left?”
“Ja. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. I was just sweeping the porch when he came and started . . . proposing to me.”
“Wait a minute.” Logan felt immediately protective. “That man came onto my porch, uninvited, and frightened you?”
“He is a friend of my father’s,” Hope said. “He was used to coming and going at our home.”
“Except that it isn’t your home anymore. Doesn’t he realize that?”
“He knows, but he wanted to talk to me alone and he lives nearby.”
“Sit down.” Logan pulled a chair away from the table, took her arm, and gently led her to it. He noticed that she was trembling.
It seemed so strange to have her actually sitting here. He had laid eyes on her only once since he’d hired her. All he ever saw of her was the evidence of her hard work.
The house was always clean these days, and it smelled amazing. Thanks to Hope, his house ran as much like clockwork as a house without electricity could run. He did not want to lose her, and he deeply resented the man who had so obviously upset her.
Now the lovely Amish housekeeper was sitting in his kitchen with tears shimmering in her eyes, and her little daughter looking on with concern, a miniature of her mother, same dark blue dress, same little Kapp, same bare feet.
“Can I fix you something? A cup of tea maybe?” That sort of thing sometimes helped Marla stop crying.
Hope choked out a laugh. “I think I am the one who is supposed to be getting the tea around here! I will be fine.”
“Right.” Logan turned on the stove, lit the burner, and placed the teakettle on it. “I’m going to take that as a ‘yes.’ Don’t get up. Let me take care of you for a change.”
At home in Manhattan, he would have simply put a cup of water in the microwave. Using the old-fashioned teakettle still gave him fresh pleasure each time. There was something about the process of actually boiling water for tea that he enjoyed.
“Here.” He poured the hot liquid over a tea bag, then placed it, a container of milk, and the sugar bowl in front of Hope. “Now tell me what’s going on.”
“Abimelech Yoder is a widower with eight children and a good farm.” She gave a deep sigh. “He and his older children also run a small store. He feels that he needs a wife. I am without a husband and he thinks it would make good sense for me to marry him. He seems to be angry that I am refusing him.”
“How long has your husband been gone, Hope?”
“Two months now.”
“Only two months?”
/> “Ja.”
“You barely know your own name if it has only been two months. Let alone have someone trying to talk you into marriage! I’m surprised you can function at all. Are you sure you even feel like working here?”
“I have children. I must function.” She tilted her head and studied him. “You sound like a man who has known grief.”
He seldom talked about Ariela, but somehow, it felt right to confide in this Amish widow.
“I was married before. I loved her with all my heart.”
“What happened?”
“Leukemia.”
There was no need to say anything more. A world of explanation was attached to that one word.
“I am so very sorry! How did you stand it?”
“I was not terribly sane for the next couple of years. It took a long time for me to recover and sometimes I’m not entirely sure I ever did.”
She thought this over. “Sometimes I fear that I will never recover, either. I loved my husband so very much. From the time I was fourteen I knew I wanted to marry him.”
He sat down at the table across from her. “It will get a little easier with time.”
“It is very hard right now.” She cradled her teacup in her hands. “Especially when Abimelech is being so pushy.”
He drummed his fingers on the table. “I don’t know much about the Amish, but is it normal for your people to marry so soon after a spouse’s death?”
“No, not at all. We are the same as your people that way. But that is not the biggest problem to me.”
“What is?”
“We Amish marry for love, and I do not love him.” She stared down at her hands, which she now folded in her lap. “I will never love him.”
“Then he is never to come here and bother you again.” He felt anger building inside while he watched her. She was not a large woman, and delicately made. The thoughts of that rough-looking scarecrow of a man frightening her made him want to bash his face in.
“My father and the bishop will take care of it,” she said. Then she added in a small voice, “At least I hope so.”
“Keep the door locked from now on when you’re here.”
“I think that might be a good idea.” She looked up and there was worry in her eyes. “You will not fire me because he was here?”
“Fire you?” He was shocked. “After the good job you’ve been doing? Of course not!”
“You think I have done a gut job?” Her face lit up with such a grateful smile that it made his heart ache.
“You’ve been doing a wonderful job. I don’t know how I got along without you.”
She glanced around. “I love this old house. It is a pleasure to my heart to care for it.”
“Your grandfather built it?”
“My great-great-grandfather built it.” She seemed to suddenly realize that she and Carrie were alone with him, and stood up nervously. “It is getting late. I should leave. Carrie . . .”
“Do you feel well enough?” he said. “I could drive you if you aren’t.”
“I am fine now. I must go. It grows late. I have a cow to take care of.”
“I have an empty barn,” he said. “Would it be easier for you to keep the cow here?”
“You would pay me to milk my own cow?” There was amusement in her voice, and he was glad to hear it. She was getting over her shock from the man’s rough proposal.
“Sorry,” he said. “I don’t know how much care a cow needs. I suppose that was a stupid thing to say.”
“No,” she said. “It was very kind and thoughtful, but I must go now.”
“I understand.”
Then, instead of leaving, she abruptly sat back down, twisting her apron in her hands, her eyes downcast.
“You have been so kind to me that I am ashamed of not telling you something I should have told you when you first hired me.”
He smiled to reassure her. “I can’t imagine you having too great a sin to confess. What should you have told me that you didn’t?”
“I—I’m pregnant,” she said. “I did not want to tell you that first day because I was afraid you would not hire me if you knew, and I badly wanted to work in this house that I knew so well. I thought if I showed you what a gut worker I was first, you wouldn’t mind so much when you found out.” She glanced up at him quickly. “I did not lie. It was not really a sin.”
“You’re pregnant?”
“A woman’s eyes would already have seen. If you want to fire me now, I will understand.”
“You’re pregnant?” He was a bit flustered by her confession. He knew next to nothing about pregnant women. Weren’t they supposed to be fragile?
“That is what I said.” She stopped twisting her apron. “Is this a big problem to you?”
“No. No problem.” At least he hoped not. “Do you feel all right?”
“I feel fine. May I continue to work here?”
“Of course, as long as you like, but I don’t want you to overdo. The baby must come first.”
“Ja. Babies must always come first. But I will be fine.”
“A baby,” he said with wonder. “I’ve not spent much time around babies.”
“A good baby isn’t much trouble,” she said. “I should be able to do my work again soon after it comes. I will need to bring it with me, of course.”
“Of course you will. How far along are you?”
“Three months. I am due in May.”
He quickly counted the months. If he kept to the timetable he and Marla had agreed upon, the baby would be about two months old when he left. Instead of relief at the thought of leaving Hope and her baby behind, he felt a surprising stab of disappointment.
While he pondered this, Hope rose from the table, carried her teacup to the sink. She rinsed it out and set it to drain.
“Thank you for understanding,” she said as she left with Carrie in tow.
He watched in the direction she had gone for a long time after her buggy left his yard. How strange would it feel to have a baby in his home? Somehow he got the feeling that the old house was pleased with the fact. It was the kind of house that had been built to shelter babies.
He wished he knew what was in her head. As a writer, he was used to putting himself inside people’s heads, seeing out of their eyes, hearing out of their ears, but he couldn’t begin to imagine what went on in this Amish widow’s mind as she faced bringing another life into the world. What did she think about? How tenuous was her financial survival? She had looked so scared for a moment when she had asked if he was going to fire her.
He realized that yet again, there was something that smelled delicious simmering on the stove. He glanced into the skillet and found a hash in which she had used up the leftovers from yesterday’s roast, turning them into something wonderful as usual. She didn’t have to scrimp like this—he was able to afford enough food that she didn’t have to use up leftovers. He took an exploratory taste. Sure enough, like everything else she made, this, too, was scrumptious. He hoped she had fed herself and the little girl as well. He would make sure to bring in more groceries. So many that she would have to take extra food home with her.
chapter THIRTEEN
Sunday services were a challenge to Hope with Abimelech Yoder glowering at her. They were having church at Hans and Missy’s house, and even though the couple had a house large enough to fit in all the benches from the church wagon, it was still a tight squeeze for thirty-eight families. They were crowded together, women on one side, men on the other, facing one another as usual, so it was no trick for Abimelech to stare at her.
She sat with face averted when the preacher stood in the middle of the group. When he moved to one side or another, it was possible for her to look up and allow her black bonnet to block her gaze just enough to avoid Abimelech’s eyes.
As she wrestled with her discomfort at being stared at, she felt rivulets of sweat roll down her back. She didn’t know if it was nerves or the moist heat being thrown off by so many bo
dies.
Like many Amish houses in Holmes County, Hans and Missy’s had a wraparound porch that provided acres of tin roof for the rain to ping against. Adam squirmed beside her and she patted his leg as the rain increased to a roar against that roof. Thunder rolled in volleys through the windows, which had been opened to relieve some of the heat inside the house. Even though it was December, all the bodies packed into the house made it uncomfortably warm. Then the wind picked up and ruffled the pages of Bibles opened on the laps of those who were not holding small children.
The preacher was visiting from another church district. He had a good voice and plenty of volume, which he cranked up in order to be heard. It was as though he and the storm were having a duel to see who could be the louder as lightning crackled in the sky. Adam jumped with each strike and hid his face in her lap. Hope, sitting with her mother, Rose, gathered Carrie against her side. The two women exchanged worried glances.
There had not been enough stalls to put all the horses in Hans and Missy’s barn, and even though it looked like rain when Hope drove in, she was too late to get a spot. She had tied her horse to a fence post and hurried inside, leaving the door of her buggy rolled open. This was regrettable—there would be wet seats for her and her children on the way home!
The thing she most hated was that her poor horse was standing outside in all of this. Horses were, of course, used to being outside in all sorts of weather—but she blamed herself anyway.
If Titus were here, he would have taken care of the horse while she ushered the children inside. It had been so wonderful to have someone to do things like that.
The Lord had been wise in creating a mother and a father for a family. It was so difficult trying to be both. It hit her anew that Titus would never be coming back, and she choked back tears, determined not to allow the children to see her cry. They missed their father terribly, they did not need to be worried by their mother’s tears.
She realized Abimelech was struggling with the same problem. He, too, was trying to be both father and mother to his children, as well as apparently wrestle with being a man in need of a woman. There were a handful of other widows in their congregation, but all were well past the age of raising his children. Unfortunately, she was the only viable candidate from within their church for him to court.
Fearless Hope: A Novel Page 9