by Jo Ann Brown
“You’re not doing that here.”
“No, but I need to be on call for other things.” She saw the questions in his eyes, but ducked into the garage before he could ask. Talking to the children about DCF and the social worker bothered her and was sure to upset them.
The laundry room was warmer than the garage. As she opened the door to the dryer stacked on the washing machine, Beth Ann sent up another prayer of gratitude the mayor had put a laundry in the garage for her tenants’ use.
Dougie wasn’t interested in answering her questions. She gave up and, after cleaning the lint trap, handed him one of the two small baskets to carry while she switched another load of clothing from the washer to the dryer. It was the final one for the day.
She took the other basket and followed the boy upstairs, picking up the stray sock or T-shirt that fell from his basket. She was glad none dropped through the open steps onto the snow below, because she didn’t want to remain outside in the cold any longer than necessary.
Dougie left the basket in the middle of the floor and strode into the children’s bedroom to play with Tommy.
Dumping her own load on the bed in her room, Beth Ann picked up two of Tommy’s socks and rolled them together. Crystal came in and tried to do the same. When the girl found the task frustrating, Beth Ann asked her to match up the socks and set them on the bed, so they could be rolled up later.
“Hey, Crystal!” called Tommy from the other room. “Come and see!”
The girl paused, torn.
“Go ahead,” Beth Ann said with a smile. “I can finish the rest.”
Tossing the socks onto the clothing, Crystal ran to join her brothers.
Beth Ann hummed to herself as she finished folding and sorting the clothing from her basket. She got the other basket and continued with the task, checking each garment for holes and wear. Again she was thankful for what had been donated to the family, because the children were hard on their clothing.
“As they should be when they’re being children,” she said to herself, reaching for a pair of Crystal’s jeans.
Something fluttered to the bed. The kids never remembered to empty their pockets. She checked, but occasionally missed something. She hadn’t seen any bits of paper mixed in with the lint, and this item appeared to be intact.
It was money! She uncrumpled the single bill. A twenty! How had that gotten into the laundry? Had she stuffed it in a pocket while at the store? No, being careful with money was something her grandmother had taught her.
If it wasn’t hers, how had it gotten into the dryer?
She went into the other bedroom. The children were building a tower already taller than Tommy. She explained what she’d found and asked if they knew where the bill had come from.
They denied any knowledge of it. She wanted to believe them, because she had no idea how kids who’d lived in squalor and hadn’t had enough to eat would have twenty dollars.
“Maybe it belongs to Gladys,” Beth Ann said when she realized nobody was going to admit they knew about the money. “I’ll stop by tomorrow and give it to her.”
“You’re giving her twenty dollars?” Dougie grimaced. “She’ll keep it.”
“I can’t keep what’s not mine.”
“Finders keepers, right?”
“What if it were you?”
“I don’t have twenty dollars.”
“What if you did, and you lost it? Wouldn’t you want the person who found it to return the money instead of spending it?”
The boy didn’t fire back a quick, sass-filled answer. Instead, he said, “Lady Bee, if I ever get my hands on twenty dollars, I’d be stupid to lose it.”
“I’m sure you would be.” She put the bill in her pocket.
“What will you do with it if it’s not the mayor’s?” Crystal asked.
“I think it’d make a nice donation at church on Sunday, don’t you?”
When the three children exchanged a quick glance, she guessed they didn’t agree with her. She waited for one of them to share how the money had gotten into the laundry. None of them did.
Tomorrow was Thanksgiving. During the visit to Robert’s sister’s house, she’d talk to him about what had happened. Maybe he would have a suggestion of the best way to get to the truth.
* * *
Beth Ann was glad to see the lights from the old farmhouse as she drove up the lane, the excited children in the back seat. The sun had set an hour ago, and the night was bitterly cold. As she stepped out of her car, she pulled her red-and-blue-striped scarf closer to her face. She checked each child to make sure they still were bundled up, helped Tommy out of his borrowed car seat and herded them toward the house.
The steps creaked a warning as they climbed. A bright orange road cone marked a spot where the porch floor had given way, and she watched the boards uneasily. The children must have noticed, too, because they tiptoed toward the door.
It opened, and a woman who was a head shorter than Beth Ann called out, “It’s not as bad as it looks. Isaac found that cone in the barn and left it on the porch so he’ll remember to take it to the town barn.” She laughed. “Maybe he will remember one of these days.”
“I’m glad to hear that.” She smiled at the woman whose hair was as black as a star-studded sky.
“Komm in. I’m Rachel Yoder, and you must be Elizabeth Overholt.” She took a step back to let Beth Ann enter. Her blue eyes were warm with welcome.
“Beth Ann, please.”
She grinned at the Henderson children. “Dougie, Crystal and Tommy. Is that right?”
“Yep!” shouted the irrepressible Tommy. “Do you have cows?”
“Not in the house,” Rachel replied while she put her hands on the shoulders of two little girls peeking around her dark green skirt. “I do have my daughters. This is Loribeth, and the little one is Eva.”
“Me Eva!” She grabbed Tommy’s hand. “Komm see my kitty.”
“Our kitty,” corrected her older sister with the weary tone of someone who’d had to repeat herself too often.
“Take our guests,” Rachel said, “and play with Sweetie Pie while I get supper on the table. Beth Ann and I are going to talk.”
Eva pouted for a moment, then brightened. “Play with my—our kitty.”
As the two girls scampered away with the younger Henderson children, Beth Ann looked at Dougie. “You don’t want to go and play, too?”
“Not with little kids.”
Rachel said, “Isaac and Robert are out in the big barn. Why don’t you join them?”
“Go ahead,” Beth Ann seconded when she saw how excited he was to be counted among the men. “Don’t touch anything without asking first.”
Dougie rolled his eyes, then scurried out before she could change her mind.
“Thanks,” Beth Ann said. She unbuttoned her coat and slipped it off, savoring the scents of stuffing and roasting turkey.
“Robert is supposed to be helping you, so I thought I’d let him have the opportunity to do so.” Rachel gave a conspiratorial laugh, and Beth Ann knew Robert’s sister enjoyed picking on her brother.
Beth Ann noticed, other than the kitchen, the house wasn’t in much better shape inside than outside, but it was clean. Though the kitchen floor was gouged and had lost any finish it might once have had, the maple cupboards shone with attention. The refrigerator gleamed beneath the collection of childish drawings hanging on the door. A huge woodstove claimed one side of the room, giving off a welcoming heat. A pair of pots steamed on a gas range that must be older than she was. In the middle of the room, a long table was set for ten, but could have comfortably held half again that number.
“What can I do to help?” she asked as she hung up her coat on the row of pegs by the door. She knew any woman invited to join an Amish family for a meal was expected to pitch in.
“
Can you cut the bread and put it and butter on the table?”
“Gladly.” Had Robert warned her that Beth Ann had few skills in the kitchen?
Picking up the knife, she sliced two loaves of warm bread. As she had often in the past, she asked herself why she could wield a knife with ease, but couldn’t boil an egg without burning the pot. Though her grandmother had taught her the skills to become a midwife, Grandmother Overholt’s attempts to teach her to cook had ended in failure.
She glanced into the living room as she walked to the table. The children were sitting on the floor, surrounded by books. Crystal was reading aloud to her brother and Rachel’s daughters. They were the picture of perfect domestic harmony, and Beth Ann knew, whatever she decided about her future, she wanted having a family to be part of it. Losing her grandmother had left a far bigger void in her life than having her job disrupted.
She didn’t begrudge Rachel her beautiful family, but oh, how she longed to have one of her own! She was happy, despite the challenges of taking care of the Henderson children. The youngsters were becoming her family to replace the one she’d lost. No, replace wasn’t the right word, but she longed to belong with someone else again.
God, is that what You want for me? She looked at the brace on her leg, wondering again whether there was a man out there who wouldn’t see it as a reason for her to make an unsuitable wife and mother.
The door opened again, and Robert walked in with Dougie and a man Beth Ann knew was Isaac Kauffman. Cold air flowed in with them, and Rachel chided them to close the door. The children rushed into the kitchen, followed by a tiny calico kitten with the biggest front paws Beth Ann had ever seen on a cat.
She was more amazed to discover her gaze wanted to linger on Robert. With his face slapped red by the cold, its strong lines were emphasized. Her fingers tingled at the thought of tracing from one craggy plane to the next.
What was she thinking? She wasn’t a teenager who couldn’t control her hormones. She was a grown woman, too grown for most men to take a second glance at. Robert Yoder was a compelling man, and from glances she’d seen at the community center, he could have had his pick of the single plain women in Evergreen Corners. Letting herself imagine otherwise was foolish, so why couldn’t she stop thinking of a future the two of them could share?
* * *
Robert sat at the kitchen table between his niece Eva and Dougie while they bowed their heads for grace. Dougie had been thrilled to discover Clipper in the barn, and he’d asked when Robert would teach him to drive. When Robert said he wasn’t sure, the boy kept pestering him while Robert tried to keep his temper from rising at the incessant interruptions.
Isaac had stepped in with his usual quiet dignity. “Dougie, I know it’s not easy to wait, but that’s what God often asks of us. In Psalm 37, it says: ‘Rest in the Lord, and wait patiently for Him: fret not thyself because of him who prospereth in his way, because of the man who bringeth wicked devices to pass. Cease from anger, and forsake wrath: fret not thyself in any wise to do evil.’”
Had Isaac looked at Robert while speaking the second verse about anger and wrath? Or was it his own shame that made the words resonate?
“Why is Beth Ann’s kapp not like my mamm’s?” asked Eva as she tugged on his sleeve, banishing the unpleasant memory.
“Your mother is Amish,” Beth Ann said with a smile before he could. “I’m Mennonite.” Seeing the child didn’t understand, she pointed at Rachel’s pleated kapp. “That’s what your family wears, and this is what my family wears.”
“Like your shoehorn?” The little girl peered under the table.
For a moment, Beth Ann was confused. “Oh, my brace!”
“Eva, what have I told you about talking about what people look like?” asked Rachel, a flush climbing her cheeks.
Beth Ann chuckled. “Everyone is curious about my brace, but only children are forthright enough to come out and ask.”
Robert averted his eyes. He’d glanced often at her brace, but never had found the words to ask her about it. When she hadn’t offered any explanation, he’d assumed she didn’t want to discuss it.
He’d been wrong, because she spoke to his niece as easily as if they’d been discussing the cat. “I hurt my leg when I was in an accident when I was four years old.”
“Does it hurt?”
Rachel scolded again. “Eva, enough.”
“It’s okay,” Beth Ann reassured her before saying to the little girl, “No, my leg doesn’t hurt, but the brace makes me itch sometimes when it’s hot.”
The answer tickled the little girl, who giggled.
Her mother turned to Isaac and Robert. “The living room is ready to be painted whenever you two have time.”
“Beth Ann is an experienced painter,” Robert said, his smile returning. “Or so she’s told me.”
“You’re not going to pass the task off to her when she’s already got her hands full.” Rachel wagged a finger at him, then looked at Beth Ann. “The girls and I are staying here while we make the house livable. Our trailer was damaged in the tornado during the last hurricane.”
“Can we move in, too?” asked Dougie, stabbing another big slice of turkey off the platter in front of him. “This food is great! Beth Ann is nice, but her cooking...” He gulped and lowered his head.
The room grew still until Beth Ann laughed. She patted Dougie’s arm. “I think I’ll be asking Rachel for her recipes and her advice on how to prepare them.”
“Quesadillas?” asked Tommy.
That drew chuckles from the adults and more giggles from the youngsters.
The uncomfortable moment passed, but Robert found himself glancing at Beth Ann when the conversation shifted to the old mill’s reopening next week. Her lips were tilted in a smile, but a hint of shadow clung to her eyes. Though he wanted to ask what was bothering her, he didn’t. He didn’t want to force her into being the center of attention again.
“Are you planning to go to the mill’s open house next week, Beth Ann?” Isaac asked.
“Everyone’s been talking about it, and I’m curious to see it.”
“Doris Blomgren will be giving classes on advanced sewing techniques.” Rachel smiled. “I’ve got to figure out how to make seams little girls won’t burst the first time they go out to play.”
“Who’s Doris?” Robert asked.
“She helped,” his sister replied, “with the project to remake the donated clothing for our young friends.”
“And those seams are still intact.” Beth Ann laughed. “In spite of being worn by three very active kids.”
Again laughter swirled around the table, the sound of friends and family enjoying their time together.
When the meal was finished, the kinder, including Dougie this time, went into the living room to play with the kitten and color in the books Rachel pulled out of a basket. The Henderson kids helped his nieces find the picture they wanted and offered them the first choice of crayons.
“Robert, why don’t you and Beth Ann sit and chat while Isaac helps me put away the leftovers?” asked Rachel.
“I can help,” Beth Ann offered. “I may not be a great cook, but I’m a skilled dishwasher.”
“Me, too,” Robert said.
Rachel waved her hands at them. “Go, go! You’re my guests, and I’m not asking my guests to do the dishes.”
Robert was about to argue when he noticed a furtive glance between his sister and Isaac. It told him the two of them wanted time alone.
Beth Ann must have seen it, too, because she motioned for him to follow her toward the door. “We’ll bring in some wood, so you won’t have to go out later, Rachel.”
“Danki,” his sister said, but she was already turning toward the man she planned to marry.
Grabbing his coat and Beth Ann’s, he waited until she’d buttoned hers and pulled on her gloves and hat.
He opened the door and led the way out into the blustery twilight. Edging around the weakest boards on the porch, he motioned for her to follow him through the frigid evening toward the woodpile on the far side of the house.
He started to apologize for his niece’s nosy queries, but Beth Ann waved his words aside.
“I don’t mind answering a child’s questions,” she said. “Eva was curious, and she asked. That’s what we want children to do.”
“Not adults?”
Her lips tightened, and his heart beat three times before she answered, “I don’t mind answering an adult’s questions, either, if the questions are asked in the same way Eva’s were.”
“You mean wanting to learn more without judgment?”
She bent to pick up a chunk of wood and put it on his outstretched arms. “Questions that judge and try to belittle I despise.” Lifting another piece, she faced him as she held it to her like a boppli. “Tommy’s gait could be helped by a brace, but I can’t keep from wondering if it’ll be the source of prejudice against him as he grows up.”
“Like it was for you?”
“At times. What do you think?”
“You’ve been around us Amish enough to know we don’t look at disabilities the way the rest of the world does.”
She nodded, her eyes glistening like the twinkling stars above them. “I’ve seen babies born with horrible birth defects, but they were welcomed into their family for as long as they lived. Nobody complained about the care or cost of that care. They simply loved those children.”
“We call them special.”
“You mean the child is a special, wondrous gift from God.”
“We each are a special, wunderbaar gift from God.” He set the wood she’d handed him on the edge of the porch and put his hands on her arms.
Touching her was a mistake, he knew. When he looked down into her warm eyes, they brightened in an unspoken invitation. What would happen if he drew her to him and sampled her lips?
Nothing, his mind warned him.
Nothing would happen because nothing could happen. What could he offer her other than a man whose only inheritance from his daed had been a vile temper?