Runaway Amish Bride

by Leigh Bale

  Ruby was already sitting quietly in the back of the buggy, a perpetual smile on her face.

  Beneath the brim of his hat, Jakob watched his mother and Abby. From his calm exterior, he appeared to be patiently waiting for them. But Abby sensed a nervous energy in him. No doubt he was eager to return home.

  “We better go. I don’t want to keep Jakob waiting any longer,” Naomi said.

  Abby agreed. She hurried past Naomi and climbed into the back of the buggy with Ruby. Ever considerate, Jakob reached to help her, but she pretended not to notice and quickly sat beside the little girl. Ruby leaned against her. Unable to resist the girl’s open affection, Abby lifted her arm around her slender shoulders and cuddled the child close to her side.

  Jakob helped his mother. Naomi gave him a sweet smile and patted his arm. When she sat back, Abby heard her breathing heavily, as though she couldn’t catch her breath. It had been a hectic morning. No doubt the woman needed a rest from her busy day.

  Jakob rounded the buggy to climb into the driver’s seat, then took the leads and clicked his tongue. As the horse moved into a quick trot down the street, Abby wished that things could be different somehow. But Jakob loved his wife. He didn’t want her. And longing for something that could never be would only bring more discontent to Abby’s heart.

  Chapter Four

  That afternoon, Abby carried the heavy rag rug from the main living room outside to the backyard. Swinging it up, she struggled for a moment to get it draped over the strong rope line that stretched between two wooden poles. Picking up a wicker rug beater, she pounded the rug for several moments. Clouds of dust wafted into the air. Bright sunlight streamed across the yard, highlighting the flower beds where yellow tulips and daffodils were just starting to bloom.

  Thirty minutes. That’s how long she had before she’d need to pull two cherry pies out of the oven. She’d set the timer on the front porch, so she’d be sure to hear it when it rang. Just enough time to get some house cleaning done.

  Ruby was inside with Naomi, helping dust the furniture. To ease Naomi’s workload, Abby had insisted on mopping the wooden floors herself. Soon, Reuben would be home from school. She was eager to hear his comments over the special note she’d tucked into his cookie bag. Hopefully the message had made him happy.

  Tugging on the rug, she adjusted its position and smacked it several times in different places. She coughed and waved a hand in the air to disperse the dust. The sound of horses drew her attention, and she faced the south pasture. On the opposite side of the barbed wire fence, Jakob sat on a disc plow with a two-team hitch. The moment she saw him, a buzz of excitement pulsed through her body. She didn’t understand why, but her senses went on high alert every time he was near.

  The two gigantic draft horses pulled the plow with ease. Jakob held the lead lines in his strong hands, his body swaying gently as the blades sliced through the heavy clods of dirt. His straw hat was pulled low over his eyes, casting his face in shadow. He didn’t look up as he passed, his focus directed at the dappled Percherons as they plowed in long, even furrows. Abby was amazed that anyone could handle such big horses, but she knew they were nothing more than gentle giants. She had been here only one day and already couldn’t help admiring Jakob’s strength and hard work ethic. In spite of taking them to the bakery in town that morning, he had plowed half of the fields. Neither her father nor Simon had ever been so industrious, and she couldn’t help making numerous comparisons.

  As he reached the end of the row and turned the horses, Jakob lifted his head and looked straight at her. Feeling suddenly self-conscious, Abby tugged the rug off the rope line and hurried toward the house. When she returned fifteen minutes later with the rug from the kitchen, Jakob and the horses were nowhere to be seen. She had just enough time to clean this rug before her pies needed to come out of the oven.

  “Abby!”

  She turned. Wearing a blue work apron over his clothes, Dawdi Zeke stood in front of the workshop. He beckoned to her, and she tossed her wicker stick onto the lawn. As she walked toward him, she brushed dust off her long skirts.

  “I just finished staining the china hutch. Would you like to see it?” he asked when she drew near.

  Abby glanced back at the house, thinking about her pies. She nodded, returning his exuberant smile. “Ja, but I only have a few minutes.”

  “That’s time enough.” He turned and hobbled into the workshop.

  Filled with curiosity, she followed. On the outside, the building appeared to be nothing more than a detached three-car garage the men had built themselves. From references made at supper last night, she knew this was where they made furniture. In addition to the farm and bakery, this was undoubtedly a side business that brought extra income to the familye.

  As Abby stepped inside, bright overhead lights powered by a gas generator made it easy to see. The air smelled of sawdust and varnish. Along one wall, tall metal shelves were lined with tidy stacks of lumber. The bare cement floors were well swept. A wide broom leaned against the open door along with several garbage cans filled with wood shavings and sawdust.

  “We use the shavings as kindling for our fires and nesting material for the chickens. Nothing goes to waste,” Zeke said.

  Along the far wall, several rocking chairs, oak benches, tables and a chest of drawers were in various stages of completion. At the back of the room, a huge bench stood with plenty of room to work on their projects. Along the entire width of the wall, hooks had been affixed to a fiberboard and held an assortment of clamps, screwdrivers, chisels, drills, hammers, levels, saws, tape measures and other items all hanging in their place. Abby wasn’t surprised by the orderliness of the shop. She was fast learning that this familye took special care with every facet of their life.

  Sitting next to the workbench was an ornate buffet and china hutch. A sparkling mirror had been set into the back of the hutch. No doubt it would highlight any dishes that were put inside on the shelves. The rich brown stain of the wood accented the embellished pilasters and complex detailing of the appliqués. Abby tried not to be impressed by its opulent beauty, but she honestly couldn’t help it. She would never own such decorative furniture. It was much too exquisite for a plain Amish home. Too prideful. But she couldn’t help admiring the skill that had made the piece.

  “What do you think?” Dawdi Zeke asked.

  “It’s...it’s nice,” she said, trying to find the right words that wouldn’t sound too prideful.

  “Dawdi, I need to sharpen the blades on the plow again. There are too many rocks in that farthest field...” Jakob pulled up short as he entered the shop and saw Abby standing there with Zeke.

  Dawdi Zeke turned. “I can help with that. I’ve finished my work. Does it look all right?”

  The older man gestured to the hutch. As Jakob walked over to them, Abby felt the weight of his gaze resting on her. She met his eyes briefly, then they all stared at the hutch. Jakob circled the grand piece of oak, surveying it with a critical eye. Finally, he nodded with approval. “It looks fine. You did a gut job covering up all the flaws in the wood. What do you think, Abby?”

  The two men looked at her, waiting expectantly for her verdict.

  She schooled her features so she wouldn’t overly express her awe. “Ja, it’s fine.”

  What an understatement. The piece was absolutely beautiful, but she refused to say so. It wouldn’t be appropriate. She could hardly believe that a man of Zeke’s advanced years and with his trembly hands could do such delicate work.

  “Gut. Jason Crawley commissioned it for his wife. It’s their fortieth wedding anniversary next week. I was worried we wouldn’t have it ready in time,” Jakob said.

  “I’ve just put on the last coat of stain. We can deliver it to Jason on Tuesday or Wednesday, after you’ve finished the planting,” Dawdi Zeke said.

  Abby looked at Zeke. “I’m sure Mr. Crawley wi
ll be very satisfied with your work.”

  Dawdi Zeke snorted, resting one gnarled hand on his hip. “All I did was stain the wood. Jakob did all the work. He makes all our furniture now that my hands are so shaky.”

  Which meant that Jakob had made the furniture in her bedroom, too. And once again, she felt a tad guilty for chasing him out of his room, but was touched by his generosity.

  “I stain everything because it’s easy work and I need something useful to do. I’m old and not much good at anything else,” Dawdi Zeke said.

  “That’s not true. You taught me everything I know and you have an excellent eye for staining. I couldn’t do it without you,” Jakob said.

  Zeke chuckled. “Ja, but I’ve never had your feel for the wood grain. You seem to know just how to cut the wood.”

  Abby looked at Jakob, impressed by the respect he showed his grandfather. She had thought Zeke built the furniture. “I didn’t know you both were carpenters.”

  “Ja, we built the house and barn ourselves. Of course, Daed was alive back then and helped,” Jakob said in a matter-of-fact voice. “But furniture making is just a sideline we do in our free time. Dawdi and my vadder taught me. It brings in some extra funds.”

  Free time? She hadn’t been here long, but hadn’t noticed any of them ever sitting idle. There always seemed work to do. It had been the same back home in Ohio.

  “Someday, Jakob would like to open a furniture shop in town, but he’s afraid we wouldn’t get enough business for us to earn a living full-time,” Dawdi Zeke said.

  “You won’t know unless you try,” she said.

  Jakob nodded, his ears slightly red with modesty. “We’ll see. Maybe in another year. Word will get out and I’ll have more customers. I don’t want to jeopardize our livelihood until we are sure we can make it through a lean spell. Time will tell.”

  Yes, time would tell a lot of things. Right now, she had no idea where she might be this time next year. But she knew one thing for certain. If not for the deaths of Jakob’s wife and father, Abby believed these people would be very happy. And she couldn’t help wishing she could be a permanent part of their familye.

  * * *

  “Abby! Your pies are all burnt up.”

  Abby gasped and whirled toward the door. Jakob turned and saw Ruby standing there breathing hard, as if she’d run all the way from the house.

  “Oh, no! I got caught up in our conversation and forgot all about them.” Picking up her skirts, Abby ran outside.

  Jakob followed, just in case there was a fire he needed to help put out.

  As they approached the back door, billows of thick smoke wafted from the kitchen. Jakob stood back as Naomi pulled the smoking remnants of the blackened pies out of the oven and scurried outside to set them far away from the house. Jakob grabbed the fire extinguisher they kept hanging on the wall in the laundry room, but there was no need. The fire was out and the pies were ruined.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry. I lost track of time and let them burn.” Abby quickly opened all the windows and propped the door wide, waving her arms to get the smoke to filter outside.

  “You should have paid more attention. Now we won’t have pie for supper,” Reuben said.

  The boy stood beside Ruby in the doorway leading to the living room, having just gotten home from school after Naomi went to fetch him in the buggy. In Ohio, the schoolhouse was close enough that the children could walk to school. But here in Riverton, their farms were spread too far apart.

  A disapproving scowl creased Reuben’s forehead. Abby glanced at him, then ducked her head. But not before Jakob saw the absolute misery in her eyes. Her face was flushed red from the heat of the kitchen or embarrassment, Jakob wasn’t sure which. Probably both.

  “I’m... I’m truly sorry,” she said again. “I can fix it. I’ll go right to work and make new pies. I can have them ready by suppertime.”

  She hurried over to the cupboard and pulled out a mixing bowl and canister of flour. Not only did she seem jittery, but also frightened. As though there might be horrible repercussions for her failing to watch the pies more carefully.

  “There’s no need for that. We’ve got other things to do now. Heaven knows I’ve burned my share of pies and numerous other dishes in this kitchen, too.” Naomi bustled back into the house and took hold of Abby’s arm to stop her. With a flip of her wrist, she turned off the oven heat.

  Although Jakob couldn’t remember his mother ever burning a single thing, he appreciated her kind heart and cheerful support.

  Abby stood back and twined her fingers together in a nervous gesture, her eyes filled with uncertainty. She wouldn’t look at any of them, staring at the floor instead.

  “We don’t need pie tonight. Do we, Reuben?” Jakob gave his son a pointed look. They all could see that Abby felt bad enough already. She didn’t need a seven-year-old boy to act like a spoiled brat right now.

  Reuben hesitated, his face twisted in an ugly glare.

  “Do we, Reuben?” Jakob said again, his tone more insistent.

  The child heaved a disgruntled sigh. “I guess not.”

  “We’ll have cookies instead. I’ve always got tons of those on hand,” Naomi said in a pleasant voice.

  Reuben grimaced, as though the thought of eating a cookie sounded repulsive to him.

  “I love cookies, especially chocolate chip. You can make pie tomorrow,” Ruby suggested. The girl walked over to Abby and took her hand in a show of support.

  “That’s right. You can make pie tomorrow.” Jakob smiled with encouragement, hoping to put Abby at ease. He hated that Reuben had made her feel bad. And that’s when it occurred to him that she expected them to bawl her out for her mistake. Was that what Simon would have done? And would he have beaten Abby, too? The thought of anyone striking this gentle woman upset Jakob more than he could say.

  “Bah! It’s just pie. No use getting upset about it.” Dawdi Zeke waved a hand from the back door, as though brushing it all away.

  “Danke,” Abby said, her voice a low whisper as she showed a half smile.

  With the pies out of the kitchen, the black smoke soon cleared, but the stench remained. Two hours later, they finished their evening chores and gathered for supper. Night was coming on, the air brisk and cool, but Naomi kept the windows open. After prayer, Abby helped serve the meal, setting a bowl of boiled potatoes on the table.

  “Abby put a special note in my cookie bag today,” Ruby told Reuben.

  The boy grunted as he took a huge bite of bread spread with butter and strawberry preserves.

  “She put a special note in your lunch box, too. What did it say?” Ruby asked.

  Everyone turned to look at Reuben. Abby’s eyes glowed with anticipation.

  Reuben shrugged, not looking up. “I didn’t find any note in my lunch. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You didn’t? What happened to it?” Ruby asked.

  “I don’t know. Leave me alone.” The boy gave her a sharp jab with his elbow.

  “Ow!”

  “Reuben, be kind to your sister,” Jakob said.

  Abby exhaled a low sigh and blinked in bemusement. She didn’t say anything, but Jakob knew she was confused. He had no doubt that she’d included an uplifting message in Reuben’s lunch box, similar to the one she had written for Ruby. So what had happened to the note?

  “Maybe the slip of paper fell out and was lost when you unwrapped your cookies,” Dawdi Zeke suggested. The elderly man eased himself into his chair and rested his gnarled hands in his lap.

  Jakob glanced at Abby. She was watching Dawdi, her eyebrows drawn together with concern. She seemed highly observant and undoubtedly noticed that Dawdi was in pain. She nodded at Jakob’s comment and took her seat before reaching for a thick slice of bread to butter.

  “I said I didn’t find a note and I didn�
��t,” Reuben insisted. A deep scowl pulled his eyebrows together. He hunkered over his plate and ate in brooding silence.

  Jakob sensed his son was telling a fib. He didn’t like this open hostility toward Abby, but didn’t feel that he could call the boy a liar without proof. Abby hadn’t done anything to the child, except try to make him happy. And yet, Jakob had no idea how to get Reuben to stop being so angry at everyone. It wasn’t Ruby’s or Abby’s fault that Susan had died. But Abby was a constant reminder of all that they’d recently lost. A reminder that they’d been happy once. And Jakob didn’t understand why her presence impacted Reuben this way. But he did know one thing. He had to do something about it, before the boy grew up to be as heartless and cruel as Simon had become.

  * * *

  Abby closed the door to her bedroom. After cleaning up the kitchen, she’d come upstairs without a light. Standing in the dark, she breathed a sigh of relief. Now that she was alone for the night, she could finally let down her guard. She’d been so eager to win everyone’s approval. Writing special notes for the children. Helping with the house chores. Making pies for supper. Trying to win their friendship. She’d failed miserably. Instead of easing Naomi’s load, she’d increased the work. No matter how clean the house was, the stench of burned food permeated every room. Maybe tomorrow, she’d ask Naomi if she could wash the curtains. That might help. But what had happened to the special message she’d put in Reuben’s lunch for him to find? Maybe Zeke was right and the note had fallen out when Reuben had ripped open his bag of cookies. She’d be sure to make up for it by writing him another note for his lunch box on Monday.

  For now, she was exhausted, both mentally and physically. Removing her kapp, she laid it on the dresser, then sat on a corner of the bed and brushed out her long hair. She stifled a huge yawn as she stood, pulled the covers back and slid her legs between the sheets. She immediately scrambled out. Something prickly had dug into her feet and calves.