“What are you going to do?”
Emma glanced around. “I think I’ll go look at some of the tools.”
Naomi patted her daughter’s cheek. “I pray you find the perfect thing to mend your heart there.”
Emma smiled broadly. “I believe I may.”
The women parted and Emma set out to find Adam. There was much she wanted to say to him, but mostly, she wanted to be near him. To hear his deep voice and happy laughter. He had brought sunshine into her life after a long, dark winter.
Suddenly, she caught sight of his cousins. Susan and Lydia walked ahead of her into the large barn. Perhaps they knew where Adam had gone. Hurrying to catch up with them, she paused inside to let her eyes adjust to the dimmer light, then spotted them looking at a collection of lanterns.
Walking that way, she had almost reached them when she heard Susan say, “Look. There is Onkel Daniel and he’s talking to Adam.”
A thrill danced through Emma at the sound of Adam’s name. She tried to see where the women were looking.
Lydia said with a smirk, “I can’t believe it. All he had to do was tell his dat he’s dating Emma Wadler and that smoothed things over?”
Susan crossed her arms. “Guess it was a goot plan. Onkel Daniel wants him to marry and settle down.”
“Do you think he will actually marry her? Can you see them together for a lifetime? He’s so handsome and she’s so plain.”
Susan picked up a lantern to study it. “She does own her own business, and Adam doesn’t have two cents to rub together. No…you’re right. Why would he settle for her?”
As the women walked on, Emma stayed rooted to the spot. The question echoed through Emma’s shocked mind. Why would Adam, a man who could have any woman, settle for her? Why would he?
The answer was as clear as the sky outside. He wouldn’t.
Chapter Nineteen
Adam was so happy he was humming as he climbed up to Emma’s loft. She was there before him, holding the kittens piled in her lap. “Guder mariye, Emma. How are the little ones?”
“The smallest one won’t eat. I think he is sick. The vet told me they would likely die. I should have listened to him and let him put them to sleep without suffering.”
Her tone was so sad it almost broke his heart. She wouldn’t even look at him. He sat down beside her. “Nee, do not say that. You have given them days of love and care. Do not give up now. We will take him to the vet and see if there is medicine to make him better.”
She looked at him then, her eyes empty and red-rimmed as if she’d been crying. “Some things can’t be fixed, Adam. Don’t you have work to do?”
“I thought I would help you with the kittens first.”
“I don’t need help.”
He took her chin in his hand, forcing her to look at him. “Emma, what’s wrong?”
She pulled away and replaced the kittens in the box. “Nothing is wrong. I got my hopes up and that was my fault. I’m a foolish old maid, but not so foolish that I can’t learn from my mistakes.”
Something wasn’t right. She wasn’t talking about the kittens. “It isn’t foolish to hope, Emma. I have hopes and dreams, too. I dream about finding a woman to share my life, about raising a family together and making a home filled with love and faith.”
Would she understand what he was trying to tell her?
“Good luck with that, Adam.” She scrambled to her feet, put the box under her arm and descended the ladder.
Confused and worried, he watched her leave the barn. What did he do now? Maybe he was rushing her.
Rising to his feet, he dusted the straw off his trousers. Patience was what he needed. He would show her how important she had become to him in little ways and wait for her affection to grow.
Leaving the barn, he walked through the garden gate to the inn. The morning sun gleamed off the snow on the roof and the long icicles decorating the edges. They were pretty, but they were proof that the gutters were blocked. The unusual weather was the culprit. The heavy snow followed by warmer days and freezing nights was causing the problem. When the sunshine began to melt the snow, the water that couldn’t run off could seep under the shingles and might damage the walls inside. Emma couldn’t afford any more trouble.
It was an easy fix. He knew exactly what to do. All he had to do was climb a ladder to the roof.
He would, as soon as his hands stopped shaking.
Chapter Twenty
Empty box in hand, Emma sighed as she walked home. In spite of all that had happened, she refused to go back into the darkness where she had lived for so long. Life held hardship and disappointment, but it held joy, too.
Like the joy of finding out the vet’s daughter was eager to take over the care of the kittens, and the sick one needed only a dose of antibiotics to make him better. Knowing they would be well taken care of lightened Emma’s heart. Yes, from now on she would look each day for the unexpected joys God granted everyone.
It would be hard, because she had believed Adam was one of those joys.
After putting her box in the barn, she walked toward the gate. When she pulled it open the first thing she saw was Adam high on a ladder against the side of the inn. He leaned out to lay something near the downspout and the ladder slipped.
Emma’s heart jumped into her throat as he clawed at the frozen shingles. Terrified that he would plummet to the ground and be killed, she raced toward him screaming, “Hang on, Adam!”
Grasping the heavy ladder, she stabilized it and leaned against it to hold it still. “I’ve got you. Come down.”
Breathless, he descended the rungs. “Danki. You saved me from a nasty fall.”
Her racing heartbeat slowed from its wild gallop. He was safe. “You need someone out here to keep you from breaking your neck.”
When his boots touched the snow-covered grass, he let out a sigh and smiled at her in spite of her scolding. “God put you here to keep me from harm.”
“This time. What about next time?”
“That is up to God. Are you busy? I could use your help for another fifty or sixty years.”
She gaped at him.
Stepping closer, he pulled off his gloves and cupped her face in his hands. “I wanted to take it slow, make you see how much you mean to me, but I can’t. I must tell you now that I’ve fallen in love with you, Emma Wadler.”
“Why would you settle for a woman like me?”
“You mean someone who is smart, someone with compassion and a deep faith who has beautiful eyes? A woman who is full of grace and can cook better than my grandmother? I don’t know, Emma, why would I settle for someone like that?”
“Because it will help you mend things with your father.” She waited to see his reaction.
He gave her a puzzled look. “My father and I have already mended things between us. That has nothing to do with why I love you. I want to marry you, Emma, but I will settle for courting until we know each other better. May I court you?”
Her heart tumbled over and poured out the love she had been hoarding for years. She smiled broadly at him. “Yes, Adam Troyer, you may court me.”
Before she knew what was happening, he kissed her. It was a kiss full of warmth, hope and the promise of many joys to come. As his arms encircled her, she knew it was a kiss that would mend her broken heart at last.
* * * * *
Originally Published for Harlequin.com
A cowboy finds shelter on an Amish farm at Christmas.
Read on for a sneak preview of
A Haven for Christmas by Patricia Davids
“Did Rosie have her bobbli last night?”
Becca Beachy pinned her daughter’s white kapp to her thick red hair then tweaked the seven-year-old’s nose. “Nee, she did not. Do you think I would keep it a secret if your new calf had arrived?”
Annabeth couldn’t hide her disappointment. “Daadi thought she might, and he knows everything about cows.”
Becca glanced over her daughter’s he
ad to where her father-in-law sat at the kitchen table enjoying his first cup of coffee. She met his eyes and arched her brow. “Your grandpa Gideon may think he knows everything about cows, but he doesn’t know everything about Rosie. She will have her calf when she is ready. Not before. Sit down and eat your breakfast.”
Annabeth’s lower lip stuck out. “But I wanted to tell everyone at school about my new calf.”
Becca gave her a small push toward the table. “When you have a new calf, you may share the story with your friends. Your impatience won’t hurry the event.”
Gideon coughed and put down his cup. “It might be that your calf will be here when you get home from school today.”
“Then I will have to wait until Monday to tell everyone.” Annabeth plunked herself in her chair at the table with a pout on her face. She pulled her lower lip in when she caught her mother’s frown and folded her hands waiting for grace to be said.
Becca dished up the scrambled eggs, sausage links and pancakes onto a plate and sat at the foot of the table. Gideon bowed his head and began the silent blessing. Becca added a plea for his improved health to her prayer of thankfulness for God’s blessings. She needed his help to run the dairy. She couldn’t do it alone. The last thing she wanted to face was failing at this new endeavor and having to uproot her daughter yet again. Her husband had never found the place where he wanted to put down roots. They had moved every year of their marriage, even after Annabeth was born, but Becca knew home wasn’t a place to be found. It was a place to be made. Here in the north of Maine was where Becca was making a home.
When Gideon looked up, signaling the end of the prayer, Annabeth reached for the pancakes. Becca pushed the pitcher of syrup toward her, knowing her daughter’s sweet tooth. She covertly studied Gideon’s drawn features as they ate. He wasn’t getting better, and that worried her. A cold was one thing, but his cough had hung on much longer than it should. She waited until he finished eating. “Gideon, why don’t you drive Annabeth to school today? I’ll take care of the milk for a change.” She held her breath, waiting for his answer.
“You won’t try to lift those heavy milk cans by yourself?”
Because their Amish religion didn’t allow the use of electricity, their cows were milked by hand. The milk was strained and poured into ten-gallon stainless steel milk cans. The cans were taken by wagon every morning and every night to the refrigeration facility two miles away. Ten gallons of milk in a steel can weighed nearly a hundred pounds. She had filled five of them that morning. They were still sitting in the milking parlor.
She sought to ease Gideon’s mind and convince him to take the easier task of driving Annabeth to their Amish school in New Covenant. “I’ll wait on you and get started on my baking. If you don’t stop to gossip with the neighbors, we can get the milk to the collection point before the truck comes. If we miss it, nothing is lost. The milk won’t spoil in this weather. We’ll take a double load this evening.”
“Nee, you take the child. I will see to the milk as usual.”
“I want you to take me. Please, Daadi,” Annabeth said with her mouth still full of her last bite of sausage.
Becca didn’t scold her for her table manners. She hoped the child’s pleading would sway Gideon. It usually did. This morning was no exception. He smiled and nodded. “All right, I’ll take you. It will make a nice change for your mother.”
Becca’s tense shoulders relaxed. “Goot, now take the plates to the sink, Annabeth, and go wash your hands and face.”
“Daadi, will you tell me another story about the little boys with red hair that you used to know?” the child asked as she gathered the plates.
“If you do as your mother tells you,” he said softly.
“Okay.” She put the dishes in the sink and ran to wash up.
He looked at Becca. “Do you think she knows they are stories about her father and his brother?”
Becca’s heart contracted with pain. “Not yet, but one day she will realize the truth and thank you for it.”
Among the Amish it was proper to grieve for a lost loved one, as Becca still grieved for her husband, but it wasn’t considered proper to speak about them afterward. In doing so it might appear that a person was questioning God’s will in calling their loved one home. Annabeth had only the vaguest memories of her father. He died when she was barely four. Gideon’s stories of the little red-haired boys were his way of sharing his memories of his sons with her without naming them.
Annabeth came rushing back into the room, pulling on her coat. “I’m ready.”
Becca handed her a blue plastic lunch box and held open the door for the pair. The cold late-November air rushed in. Gideon took Annabeth’s hand and walked with her to the black buggy parked by the front gate. Cider, their buggy horse, stood waiting patiently, his warm breath rising in puffs of white mist from his nostrils.
Annabeth looked up at her grandfather. “Tell me the story about how the oldest red-haired boy saved his little brother in a runaway buggy.”
“You have heard it many times.”
“But it’s my favorite.”
Gideon coughed and pressed a hand to his chest for a moment before he lifted her into the buggy. “All right. I will tell it again.”
“And many more times, I pray,” Becca said softly. She watched them drive away and closed the door against the chill.
* * *
“I’m sorry to do this to you, Tully. I hope you know that.”
Tully Lange stared at the eviction notice he had just been handed by the kid who managed the apartment building. His rent was two weeks past due, but he had hoped to get a month’s extension. So much for hope.
Things weren’t going his way. He’d lost his job as a night watchman on Monday when the owner of the corner pawnshop where he worked died. Tully hadn’t found another job yet, but he was looking. The high point of his week had been a lukewarm Thanksgiving dinner at the local soup kitchen the day before yesterday. And now this. Happy holidays. It was enough to drive a sober man to drink.
He crumpled the paper in his hand. He wasn’t going to be that man ever again. “It’s okay, Reggie. I know you’re just doing your job.”
The skinny young man with spiked blond hair and thick glasses sagged with relief. “It’s nothing personal. You know that. The super won’t let me cut you any slack. I mean, I told him you just got out of rehab. I don’t think he has any idea how tough that is. Don’t let this bounce you off the wagon, Tully. I’ve seen how hard it is to quit drinking. My brother went through rehab. It was rough, but he stayed sober seven years.”
“Tell me he is still sober.” At the moment Tully needed to hear it could be done.
Reggie pressed his lips together and stared at his feet. “I wish I could. His wife left him. He couldn’t handle it. But hey, seven years, that’s a lot.”
Tully turned away before Reggie could see how crushed he was. For every story about people who stayed sober, there were dozens more about people who had failed. “Yeah, seven years is a lot. I hope he finds his way back to sobriety.”
“Thanks, man. I hope he does, too. What are you going to do?”
“I’ve got no job. It looks like I’ve only got two weeks left in this paradise.” He let his gaze drift over the peeling paint, tattered carpet and water-stained ceiling in what passed for a lobby of the low-rent Philadelphia apartment complex the rehab center had located for him. What was he going to do? “I’ll think of something.”
“I can let you know if I hear about a job.” The offer was half-hearted, but Tully nodded his thanks.
Too bad his AA meeting wasn’t tonight. He could still call his sponsor and…do what? Cry on the man’s shoulder? Life was tough. Tully Lange, formerly Sergeant Lange of the United States Army, needed to be tougher.
At least no one was shooting at him.
He unlocked his mailbox and pulled out the usual junk mail along with one oversize red envelope. He smiled when he saw it was from Arnie Dawson, also
formerly of the United States Army and a longtime friend. Arnie was among the few people Tully had told he was going into rehab.
He tore open the envelope. On the front of the card inside was a baby in a diaper wearing a black mortarboard cap with a gold tassel. Inside the card read, “Graduation is only the first step. Keep stepping.”
Arnie had added a handwritten note.
Couldn’t find a card that said “congrats on getting through rehab.” Thought this one had pretty much the same message. I’m real proud of you, Cowboy. I wish I had half your guts. Pop up to Maine and see me soon. We’ll swap lies about our good old army days. I might even convince an Okie like you to stay in my slice of heaven.
Arnie loved teasing Tully about his Oklahoma roots, boots and Midwestern drawl. He never called Tully anything except Cowboy. Tully turned the envelope over and studied the return address. Caribou, Maine. The place even sounded cold. Would there be snow already? Tully almost chuckled. Wouldn’t Arnie be shocked if he took him up on his offer?
“Well, why not?” he muttered to himself. What did he have to lose?
“Why not what?” Reggie asked.
Tully had forgotten the boy was still hovering nearby. “A buddy has invited me to visit him in Maine. I guess I’ve got the time. It’ll be good to see him again.”
“Maine? Nothing but lumberjacks and moose that far north, unless he lives on the coast. I hear the seafood is awesome, though. At least that’s what they say on those TV travel channels. I’ve never been there myself. I’ve never been outside Philadelphia.”
Tully stared at the envelope in his hand. If he spent the rest of his last paycheck on gas, he could make it in a day or two, provided his car had that many more miles left in it. He didn’t have much to pack. That was the upside of being homeless and living out of his car for a year. The only upside.
An unfamiliar sense of excitement began creeping in to replace the despair that always hovered at the edge of his consciousness. A road trip and a visit with a friend he hadn’t seen in more than two years. What better way to celebrate four months of sobriety and the upcoming Christmas season? He needed to go. He had to get away before his old life pulled him back down to the gutter. Maybe this was his chance to make a real change.
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