by Emma Miller
“Dat never stopped having faith in him. Noah has told me that Dat’s support was the one thing that gave him the courage to come back home after his Rumspringa. Without someone believing in him...” Lovina picked up another bunch of rhubarb to cut. “Without someone believing in him, Noah might never have come home. If Dat thinks we should give this new man the same support, then I think we need to do it.”
Was Lovina right? Ellie cut her rhubarb in silence. Was Bram the invasive weed that would ruin their lives, or was she wrong?
She gave her head a decisive shake. As long as he wore those fancy clothes, she couldn’t trust him, no matter what Dat said.
* * *
“You got this plow for a good price.” Matthew ended his sentence with a grunt as he and Bram lifted the final piece of the dismantled equipment off the back of the wagon and onto Bram’s barn floor.
Bram lifted the tailgate and fastened the latch. “Ja, it didn’t go as high as I thought it would.”
Matthew took a wrench out of the toolbox behind the wagon seat and started reassembling the plow. Bram held the axle steady while Matthew replaced the bolts and tightened them.
“I saw Samuel while we were in Shipshewana.”
Bram didn’t answer Matthew. So what if his brother had been there? There had been no sign of Kavanaugh, and that was what mattered.
Matthew continued in his mild tone, “We could have taken the time to see him.”
“It would have been a waste.” Bram kept his eyes on the wheel he was adjusting.
“I know you have your differences, but it doesn’t seem right to ignore him.”
“My brother and I don’t have anything in common, that’s all.”
“Except you do.” Matthew was persistent. “You share your family, your parents, your history...”
Bram glanced at his brother-in-law. Did he have any idea what it was like to grow up as a Lapp?
“Ja, we share our history, and that’s the problem.” Bram tightened the last bolt and stood up to admire the plow. It was a beauty. He wiped his hands on a rag and turned to Matthew.
“Our Dat was an alcoholic. I didn’t like it, but that’s how he was, and that’s what killed him.” And what probably killed Mam, too, in the end. Bram rubbed a bit of grease from the side of his finger. “My brother is just like him, and if I never see Samuel again, I’ll be happy.”
Bram waited for the shock on Matthew’s face. Any Amishman would tell you that the attitude he had toward his brother was sinful, but Matthew’s face only showed sadness.
“Ach, Bram, Annie never told me all of this.”
“Ja, well, it happened when she was a little girl—and I don’t think the girls saw all of it. Mam did what she could to protect them.”
The silence that followed was as welcome as rain. Bram fastened the barn door and then climbed onto the wagon seat with Matthew for the drive back to their farm.
“How soon do you think you’ll be able to move onto this place?” Matthew asked.
“Next week, I hope.” Bram was glad to change the subject. “I’ve been working on the barn, and I’ll need to clean out the house before I move in.”
“It’ll be a good farm when you’re done.” Matthew slapped the reins over the horses’ backs. “You’ll be able to count on the church’s help with the farmwork, Bram.”
“Ja, that will be good. I appreciate it.” At least he thought he did. He liked to work alone.
Bram glanced sideways at Matthew. What kind of man had his sister married? A good man, for sure, but he was young. Oh, in years he was almost as old as Bram, but he seemed so naive about the world. All these Amishmen did. Compared to the men in Chicago...well, it was a good thing they’d never meet. These poor fellows wouldn’t survive on the streets.
Bram rubbed at the grease on his finger. He had survived, but he had been tougher at seventeen than Matthew was in his twenties. Maybe having a father like his wasn’t such a bad thing.
* * *
“Lovina, you be sure to take some of these cookies home to Noah.” Mam took another panful of snickerdoodles out of the oven.
Ellie took in a deep breath full of cinnamon and sugar. No matter how old she was, Mam’s kitchen would always be home.
“Were the children good for you today?” Ellie couldn’t resist taking a cooled cookie from the counter.
“Ach, ja. They are always the best when they’re with their grossmutti. They play so well together.” Mam slid another cookie sheet into the oven. “Of course, I haven’t seen anything of them once the girls got home from school. They’re all in the backyard.”
“I must be getting home.” Lovina found an extra plate and put some cookies on it. “Noah will be waiting for his supper.”
“We’ll see you at Matthew Beachey’s tomorrow?”
“For sure. I wouldn’t miss a frolic for anything.”
Ellie put down the cookie she was nibbling. “A frolic?”
“Ja,” Mam said as she put some more cookies on Lovina’s plate. “Remember? We’re having a sewing frolic for Annie Beachey. It’s their first little one.”
Ach, how could she forget? The cookie suddenly lost its flavor. She had let this frolic slip her mind, like most occasions that meant facing a crowd of people.
“You’re coming, aren’t you, Ellie?” Lovina paused, her hand on the door. “It’s been a long time since you’ve been to any of the frolics or get-togethers.”
A long time? Only since Daniel’s death.
“We’ll get her there.” Mam put her arm around Ellie’s shoulders and gave her a quick hug. “We’ll see you tomorrow.”
Ellie waited until Lovina was out the door before turning to Mam. “I don’t think I’ll go tomorrow.”
“Why ever not? And don’t try to give me the excuse that Danny’s too young. He’ll be fine.”
“I...” How could she tell Mam how it felt to be in a crowd? She had never liked large groups of people, but lately she was more than just uncomfortable. The thought of all the women talking, laughing, staring at her... Church was bad enough.
“I just don’t feel like going.”
Mam gave her a long look. “I know you don’t feel like it, but you’ve waited long enough. I haven’t pushed you, but perhaps I should have. You need to do this, Ellie. You need to be with your church family. The longer you put it off, the harder it will be.”
Mam was right, of course.
“Ja, I’ll go.” Ellie sighed, but with the sigh came a stirring of something she hadn’t felt for a long time. She would go. She had always enjoyed her friends before, hadn’t she? Perhaps she would even have fun.
Chapter Five
As soon as the scholars left the next morning, Ellie and Mam were off to Matthew Beachey’s in the family buggy.
“Who will be there, Memmi?” Susan sat on the front bench seat between them, her legs swinging with the buggy’s movements.
Ellie hesitated, her throat dry, and Mam answered. “Rachel will be there and most of the children from church.”
Susan’s anxious face mirrored her own, and Ellie gave the little girl’s knee a reassuring squeeze. They both shared an intense shyness around groups of people. Should they have stayed home after all?
Matthew Beachey came out of the barn to greet them as Mam drove into the yard.
“Good morning.” He reached for Brownie’s bridle. “I’ll take care of the horse for you while you go on into the house.”
“Denki, Matthew.” Mam returned the young man’s smile. “You’re keeping busy away from the hen party, are you?”
Matthew’s natural laugh put Ellie at ease. He was always friendly and ready for fun—no wonder everyone liked him.
When Bram Lapp walked out of the barn behind Matthew, Ellie looked away and stra
ightened Susan’s kapp. She had forgotten he might be here.
“Good morning, Bram.” Mam’s voice was friendly as usual, as if seeing Bram Lapp in the Beachey’s farmyard was an everyday occurrence.
“Good morning.” He answered Mam, but when Ellie finished fussing with Susan and glanced his way again, he was looking directly at her. His eyes were dark, unsure. Ja, he remembered how rude she had been the last time they’d talked. She looked over to Mam for help, but she was deep in conversation with Matthew.
Bram stepped closer and reached out to help Susan down from the buggy. Before Ellie could stop her, Susan jumped into his arms, and he gently lowered her to the ground. He lifted his hands up for Danny, but when Ellie held the baby close as she stepped down on her own, he just reached into the back of the buggy for her sewing bag and handed it to her.
“I hoped you would come to the frolic.” Bram stood close to her, Susan’s hand in his.
Ellie stared at his clothes—his Plain clothes. His brand-new shirt and plain-cut trousers were exactly like the ones all the men in the district wore, complete with the fabric suspenders and broad-brimmed hat. He didn’t look Englisch anymore, and he didn’t talk Englisch.... Her resolve wavered.
How would she answer him? His nearness was forward and unsettling, but she couldn’t help wishing for more. What would she do if he gave her that secretive grin again? The thought brought on a flurry of butterfly wings in her stomach.
“I forgot you’d be here.” Her face grew hot as soon as the rude words left her mouth. Why couldn’t she talk to him like she would Matthew, or anyone else, for that matter? Every time she spoke with him, her tongue seemed to belong to someone else.
Ellie reached for Susan, but he stopped her with a hand on her arm.
“Have I done something wrong? I know we only met a couple days ago, and you don’t know me, but I’d like to change that.”
His hand warming her skin through the sleeve of her dress prickled her nerves to awareness of just how long it had been since she had felt a man’s touch. She should turn away, let his hand slide off her arm, move to a more appropriate distance, but she was frozen in place.
She glanced up at his face. At her look, a smile spread, flashing the dimple in one cheek and encouraging her own mouth to turn up at the corners. She looked down, her face flushing hot again. What was wrong with her? She was acting like a schoolgirl!
Bram seemed to take her hesitation as an encouraging sign and stepped closer. Ellie found herself leaning toward him to catch the familiar scent of hay mingled with shaving soap, and she breathed in deeply.
Ja, just like a schoolgirl. What must he think of her?
“I’ve bought a farm.” His voice was low, the words for her alone. “It’s the Jackson place, just a couple miles west of your father’s farm. Would you like to see it sometime?”
The Jackson farm? Ellie knew that farm—it was an Englisch farm. A blast of cold reality shoved away all thoughts of dimples and hay and...soap. The telephone lines strung from the road to the house on that farm were the fatal testimony. Her shoulders drew back as her chin lifted, and his hand fell to his side.
“Ne, Denki,” she answered as firmly as she knew how. “I’m already familiar with that farm.”
She took Susan’s hand as Bram stepped away, her face flushing hotter than ever. She couldn’t have been ruder if she had slapped him in the face. How could she be so harsh? But an Englisch farm? Resolve straightened her spine with a snap.
“Come, Susan, it’s time to go in the house.”
Ellie followed Mam up the path to the kitchen door, anxious to get away from those intense blue eyes. She struggled to regain her composure before she reached the porch steps. How could one man upset her so?
* * *
Bram blinked as Ellie walked away. What happened? One minute her arm was lying warm and sweetly soft under his hand as she leaned toward him while they talked, and then those shutters had slammed tight again.
Matthew stood next to him with a grin on his face, watching him stare toward the house. “I don’t think she likes you. What did you do to her?”
Bram frowned as he turned and checked the buckle on the harness. “Nothing. We were just talking.”
“She’s been widowed for almost two years now.”
“Ja, that’s what her father told me.”
“So when will you ask her to go out with you?”
Bram shot a look at his brother-in-law. Matthew’s smile hadn’t left his face. One thing about married men was that they were usually quick to make sure every other man ended up in the same trap.
“What makes you think I want to go out with her?”
Matthew didn’t respond. He just grinned, waiting for Bram’s answer.
“All right. I just did. She turned me down flat.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that. She’ll come around.”
Bram took the horse’s bridle and started leading him to the hitching rail on the shady side of the barn. “I didn’t say I was giving up, did I?”
The problem was he should give up. He should let that prickly woman go her own way. He didn’t need her. He didn’t want her.
Bram went into the workshop next to the barn and found the broken harness strap Matthew had told him about. He turned the piece over in his hands. It was in good shape other than that one break.
Nothing felt as right as when he worked with harness leather. He loved this peaceful pleasure that came from handling the supple straps and the satisfaction that came with taking something that had been destroyed and making it whole again. Scarred, perhaps, because you could always see the repair, but useful once more and stronger than it had been.
He started in on the harness, first taking his pocketknife and cutting the frayed edges off the broken ends of the leather. As he worked, children’s laughter drifted in through the shop window from the backyard, and he shifted to get a view of the sandbox from his stool at the workbench. Girls’ pastel dresses and boys’ shirts in the same hues filled the yard. Older ones played a game of Duck, Duck, Goose. He looked for Susan, but she wasn’t among them.
How long had it been since he’d heard children playing without traffic noise mingled with their harsh voices?
Almost as long as he had missed the scent of a woman. A real woman, not girls like Babs, with her cloying odor of dying flowers and smoky bourbon. Babs had never looked at him with the cold eyes Ellie Miller used. No, she had been more than willing to press her silken dress against him, batting her heavy black eyelashes.
His eyes narrowed. Babs made sure he knew what she wanted—or what Kavanaugh paid her to provide—and he was glad he had never taken her up on her offer. He had never spent more time with her than an occasional dinner or as a date to one of Kavanaugh’s shin-digs. Something about the girl had turned his stomach. Not just her—black-haired Cindy before her and Madge before her. Kavanaugh kept his boys supplied with women.
He took a deep breath, dispelling the memory.
Thoughts of Ellie swirled into his mind to take its place. She had leaned toward him, coming within inches of his chest. He could have reached out for her, pressing her slight form against him while he kissed her...but that would have ruined everything. A woman like Ellie would never put up with what the girls in Chicago begged for. He pushed the thought away.
Her arm under his hand had felt alive, firm, capable. Taking another deep breath, he tried to recapture the scent of...what? Just soap and water? Whatever it was, the memory clung to him.
Keep focused.
Bram shaved the two ends of the leather strap with his knife, shaping them to overlap each other. If he did find Kavanaugh, the last thing he needed was for someone to get in the way. The last thing he wanted was for someone to get hurt.
Taking the awl from Matthew’s tool bench, he dril
led holes through the splices, lining up the shaved ends so they would overlap in a solid, smooth join.
John Stoltzfus was a good man, and he liked Bram. That was a step in the right direction. He should spend more time with him, but that would mean spending more time around Ellie and her children.
Bram rummaged in a jar for a couple rivets and fitted them into the holes.
That Susan—yeah, she was something. The way she looked up at him with those solemn brown eyes as if he was some sort of hero pulled at his heart.
He glanced through the window at the playing children again. Susan had joined the game, her light green dress and white kapp mingling with the other pastels. She laughed as she played, her face sweet and innocent.
A steel band twisted in his gut. What kind of hero could he be to a little girl?
He found Matthew’s tack hammer hanging on the wall. A sharp rap sealed the first rivet. He shifted to the second rivet but stopped.
If Ellie looked at him the way Susan did, what would he do then?
His world tilted for a brief moment, then righted. He gave his head a shake and then drove the hammer home on the second rivet.
Focus. Play the part. Lie low under his cover until his job was done, then maybe he could...what? Court her?
Forget her. That was what he needed to do. God help him if he let himself fall for the woman.
* * *
Ellie took a deep breath as she laid her hand on the knob of the Beacheys’ back door, listening to the women’s voices on the other side. Facing Bram Lapp would be easier than stepping through this door.
“Ellie, you can do this.”
Ellie turned to see Mam’s eyes filled with understanding. The soft words gave her strength.
The crowd of chatting women parted to welcome them as the door opened. Susan clung to Ellie’s skirts as they stepped in. Ellie wished she had somewhere to hide, but it was too late. Mam had already set her pies on the table and was greeting her friends.
Annie Beachey came over to Ellie as she lingered just inside the door.