Thomas let the water out of the sink and wrung out the cloth. He hung it over the tap neatly.
“I’d best get some work done here at home,” he said. “I’ll be going back to the shop tomorrow, so...”
“Yah, of course,” she replied.
Thomas nodded, then headed past the table, his fingers skimming over the tabletop next to the spread-out fabric as he passed her. She watched him disappear into the mudroom, and a moment later the door shut behind him.
There was a rustle at the doorway to the sitting room and Patience looked up to see Mary standing there. Her eyes looked bleary from sleep, and she patted at her hair, checking for any loose strands.
“I must have dozed off,” Mary said. “I’d better get to the dishes.”
“Thomas did them,” Patience replied.
“Did he?” Mary’s face pinked. “That boy... They’re treating me like I’m old, you know. What is that you’re doing, dear?”
“I’m starting on a dress for Rue,” Patience replied.
“Well, let me help, then,” Mary said. “I can cut out the cloth still. I’m not as good with the stitching anymore, but—”
“That would be wonderful, Mary,” Patience replied with a smile. “Before the day is out, I want her to have at least one proper dress.”
Mary came to the table, and pulled out a chair. She reached for the shears, and Patience passed them over.
“She wasn’t a bad woman,” Mary said, setting to work. “Thomas’s mamm, I mean. She wasn’t a bad woman, just a sad one. She knew how to be Amish with her husband, but she hadn’t been raised in our ways, and she didn’t know how to do it without him. She couldn’t change who she was.”
Patience met the old woman’s gaze. Did Mary guess at how much Patience was judging the woman who’d left her sons behind? She didn’t answer, and Mary didn’t say anything further.
There was a dress to be made—an Englisher child to be made over into a plain one. Like her grandmother, Rue had started out an Englisher. Was there any real hope that that this child would stay Amish in the long run?
* * *
Two hours later, Thomas came out of the stable with a wheelbarrow full of soiled hay. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and he paused to pull out a handkerchief and wipe his face. The sun shone warm on his shoulders and he pushed his hat up on his forehead as he looked toward the house. It was a bit of a relief to have a young woman around for Rue’s sake, but also a little unnerving. They were used to their ways in this house—bachelor men living with one old woman whom they all secretly went out of their way to take care of.
If only this schoolteacher were a little less attractive. He wouldn’t be the only one to notice how beautiful she was. His older brother, Noah, certainly would, and Uncle Amos wasn’t exactly dead yet, either. Except Amos was legally married still, so his days of courting were past.
And yet, it was silly to be feeling competitive over a woman who was clearly uncomfortable with all the untraditional parts to Thomas’s heritage. Englisher convert parents, a mamm who didn’t stay, an Englisher daughter of his own... Thomas wasn’t going to have an easy time of finding a woman—some might see him as a threat to the very fiber of their community.
He dumped the load of soiled hay on the manure pile, and put the wheelbarrow back under the buggy cover where they kept it. The side door opened and Rue appeared on the porch. She stared at him somberly.
Amish kinner helped the adults and learned through chores. Work was how a family bonded, and while looking at her in those Englisher clothes was slightly jarring still, she could help with some little jobs.
“You’re awake now, are you?” Thomas called.
“Patience tricked me into sleeping,” Rue said, leaning against the rails.
“How did she do it?” he asked. Because he might need to use the same “trick” later.
“I don’t remember, but it was a trick,” Rue replied.
Thomas chuckled. “Well, if you’re up now, you could help me with the chickens.”
“I can help?” She perked up at that.
“Yah. Come on, then. We’ll get the eggs. Go ask Mammi for the bucket and bring it out.”
Rue disappeared back into the house and Thomas pulled off his work gloves, slapped them against his leg and tucked them into his back pocket. The screen door opened again, and Rue came out, dragging a blue plastic bucket half as big as she was. Patience held the door for her, letting her do the lugging on her own. He couldn’t help but let his gaze linger on Patience as she smiled down at his daughter.
“Carry it on down to your daet,” Patience said cheerily. “And when you’re done with the chickens, your dress will be finished.”
He dragged his gaze away from her—staring wasn’t appropriate behavior.
“Patience is making a dress, Daddy!” Rue hollered as she thumped the bucket down the stairs. “And it’s pink!”
By the time she got to him, she was breathing hard, and he bent down and picked up the bucket by the handle.
“Pink, you say...?” he said, and he started toward the chicken coop, Rue trotting along next to him.
“I don’t want it,” Rue said.
“I know,” he replied. “But it’s just an extra dress.”
“I don’t need more,” she countered.
The chicken coop was quite large, since Amos wanted his chickens to have space to move about. There was an outside space where they could run and scratch that was portioned off with chicken wire, and then the whitewashed coop where the nesting boxes were.
“Now, you’ve got to watch for the rooster,” Thomas said. “You just stick close to me, and I’ll deal with him.”
“Why?” Rue asked.
“He’s protecting his hens. So he tries to show you that he’s boss. You can’t let him be boss.”
Rue looked up at him, wide-eyed. “Is he naughty?”
“Yah,” he replied. “He’s very naughty.”
“Do you punish him?” Rue asked.
Thomas laughed. “You can’t punish a chicken, Rue. They aren’t very smart. One of these days, we’ll eat him, and then I’ll get a new rooster.”
“You can’t just eat someone for being naughty!” Rue retorted.
“He’s not a someone. He’s a chicken!” Thomas said, stopping short and looking down at her. “That’s where your chicken comes from on your plate, you know.”
“What’s his name?” Rue asked plaintively.
“He doesn’t have a name. He’s a chicken.” Thomas shook his head. Not only was she an Englisher child, but she was an Englisher child raised in the city. “Rue, don’t worry. I won’t let him peck you. He’ll be fine.”
Thomas started toward the coop again, Rue in tow.
“He won’t be fine if you eat him!” she said, tramping along behind him. “I’m going to name him Toby.”
“You can’t name him Toby,” Thomas said, opening the coop door.
“Why not?”
“It’s not an Amish name,” Thomas said. “Besides, we don’t name chickens. It’s very awkward to eat a chicken you named.”
“Daddy, you can’t eat Toby.”
She hadn’t even met the silly bird yet, and she’d grown attached. This was not an argument he’d win, he could tell. “Come on inside, Rue.”
The door shut behind them, and Rue wrinkled her nose at the smell.
“Yah, chickens smell, too,” Thomas said with a low laugh. “Now come on, we’re going to get the eggs and put them in the bucket—but very carefully. We don’t want to break them, okay?”
“Okay...”
For the next few minutes, Thomas took her around to the nests, pushing his hand under the ruffled hens to retrieve eggs. He handed an egg to Rue, and she cautiously put it in the bucket.
“The eggs are warm,” Rue said.
“Yah, they start out that way,” he agreed.
The rooster eyed them with beady, mistrusting eyes. But he knew Thomas well enough that if he came at him with his spurs and beak, he’d get a boot. Later this evening, Thomas would come back and clean out all the wood shavings and put in some fresh ones to make the coop smell clean again, but it was always a challenge because Thomas couldn’t turn his back on that bird. The rooster lowered his head and fluffed up his neck, and his wings came out.
“No, you don’t,” Thomas said, and he picked up a wooden switch and flicked it at the bird. The rooster backed off for the moment.
“Why is he mad?” Rue asked, accepting another egg to put in the bucket.
“Because he’s a rooster,” Thomas said. “And he wants to keep the hens to himself. He’s a jealous, feathery little fiend.”
“He needs a hug, maybe,” Rue said.
Thomas looked down at her, bewildered. “Rue, never hug a chicken, okay? That rooster will hurt you. He doesn’t want a hug.”
Rue didn’t look convinced of that, and he sighed. When they gathered the last of the eggs, including three that had been laid on the top of a beam, Thomas nodded toward the door.
“All right, let’s go out now,” Thomas said.
“Goodbye, Toby...” Rue said softly, and Thomas pulled the door tight shut behind them. The bright sunlight shone off Rue’s blond head and she hopped along next to him as he carried the bucket of eggs back toward the house.
When they got inside, Thomas lifted Rue up so that she could reach the sink, and with one hand he helped her soap up her hands, while he held her under his other arm, like a calf. When she was clean, he washed his own hands, then they dried them and headed into the kitchen.
Patience sat at the table, a mound of fabric in her lap that she was clipping some stray threads from. She lifted it and shook it out, and he saw a small pink cape dress. His heart gave a grateful squeeze.
“I see you brought us eggs,” Mammi said with a smile.
“It’s a lot of eggs,” Rue said.
“We have a lot of baking to do,” Mammi replied. “Cakes, and buns and bread and pies...”
“Can we share some with Toby?” Rue asked.
Mary and Patience both looked toward Thomas questioningly.
“She named the rooster,” he said helplessly.
“That ratty, ugly, nasty rooster?” Mary asked with a shake of her head.
“His name is Toby, and I love him,” Rue declared. “Don’t call him those things! Call him pretty and sweet... Call him Toby!”
“Come with me into the other room, Rue,” Patience said. “I’m going to get you into your new dress and you can show your daet.”
Patience took Rue’s hand and they headed down the hallway together.
“I think Toby needs to be hugged...” Rue’s little voice was saying as they disappeared into the laundry room.
Thomas rubbed his hands over his face, then shook his head. “She’s so—”
“English?” Mary asked, but her tone was full of humor.
“Yah,” he said. “She’s English. To the bone, it would seem.”
“I thought we were going to eat that rooster,” Mary said.
“I’m not sure we can now,” Thomas replied. “She decided she loved it sight unseen. I have no idea why.”
Mary chuckled. “Welcome to being a daet, Thomas. Your whole world goes upside down. And kinner seldom make perfect sense. They are confusing little bundles of personality and willfulness. Gott grows us more through parenting than He does through anything else.”
“Yah...” Thomas had heard the same thing repeated over and over again, but he was getting a firsthand view of exactly how true it was.
From the other room, he could hear Patience’s soft tones... It was different having her here—but it was different having Rue here, too. Suddenly this house full of bachelors had more female presence to even them out. But he found himself straining to hear one particular voice—the soft, reassuring tones of their schoolteacher.
Rue emerged into the kitchen again first, clad in that small pink dress that fit her perfectly. Her feet were bare, and her hair was tangled, and she looked up at Thomas irritably.
“Very nice,” Thomas said with a smile. “You look like an Amish girl now.”
“I’m not an Amish girl,” Rue replied.
Patience came up behind her, holding Rue’s folded sundress. Patience looked as cool and neat as a spring morning, except for one tendril of honey-blond hair that had come loose from her kapp and fell down the side of her face. There was something soothing about their new schoolteacher. She calmed him, at least.
“Will it do?” Patience asked.
“It’ll more than do,” Thomas said. “It’s perfect.”
Patience smiled at that, her own blue gaze meeting his for just a moment, before she seemed to feel the hair against her face and she tucked it back up under her kapp. Then she turned toward the table with the scraps of cloth, bits of thread and the open sewing box and started to clean up. Thomas’s gaze moved back to his little girl.
“Thank you for this, Patience,” he said quietly.
“Yah. You’re welcome. It’s no trouble,” she replied. “I’ll make another one tomorrow.”
But it wasn’t about the trouble, it was about the transformation. If this little wildcat could be made to look Amish, then it was a step in the right direction. Because while he couldn’t help the start she’d had in life, he could try to make up for it now.
Could he raise his daughter to become like this—an Amish woman who loved this life? Could he give his daughter a community, a place to belong and work that made her happy?
Maybe... But when he looked over at his daughter, she was looking down at her dress balefully.
“She looks very proper,” Thomas said. Not happy, but at least she looked Amish.
“I think she looks like you, Thomas,” Patience said, and then she moved past him toward the cloth scrap bag.
Hopefully that wasn’t a comment on his expression, because Rue looked about as sweet as that rooster outside right now. Rue needed more than genetics to help her settle in. She needed a new mother, and some brothers and sisters to nail her down. Because her link to her daet, as well-intentioned as he was, wouldn’t be nearly enough.
Chapter Five
The next day, Patience worked on a second dress for Rue with Mary’s help in some of the hemming and the cutting. Between the two of them, the work went smoothly, and Rue played outside in the garden, picking the tender, tiny pea pods and crunching on them whole. She looked toward the chicken coop, standing, staring thoughtfully, and then gathered a few more pea pods and headed over there.
Patience watched her through the kitchen window.
“What’s she up to?” Mary asked.
“Feeding peas to the chickens,” Patience replied.
“Ah.” Mammi smiled at that. “At heart, kinner are all the same. They like to eat and feed things.”
Patience chuckled at that. She’d find out a lot more about kinner when she had a classroom filled with them from the first grade through to the eighth. She was used to caring for her nieces and nephews, and most young Amish women had plenty of practice in taking care of little ones. But this would be a whole new challenge.
Last night, sleeping in the upstairs bedroom of the Kauffman house, Patience had lain awake wondering about the strange story surrounding Thomas. If she hadn’t been told what had happened, he would seem like a regular Amish man to her. He loved his work, he seemed dedicated to the Amish way of life and there was nothing about him that stood out as different. And yet, everything about him was different.
But he wasn’t the only one with a peculiar story, it would seem. These men were bachelors living together, or so she’d been told. And most had been married before.
Mary was making sure the stove did double duty, and she had some meat pies baking in the oven alongside some potatoes and some flatbread cooking on the stove top—all to feed the hungry men who’d be home soon for their dinner.
“What happened to Amos?” Patience asked. “He has a beard. Did his wife die?”
Mary looked up from her work, using her bare fingers to pluck up some flatbread and flip it on the pan.
“That’s a sad story,” Mary replied. “She didn’t die. Her name is Miriam, and she left Amos after their first year of marriage. She went back home to her family in another community.”
“Why?” Patience asked.
“They weren’t happy,” Mammi replied. “They were both stubborn, and we all told him when he set his sights on her that it wouldn’t end well. She was too well off, and Amos barely had two nickels to rub together.” Mammi paused, thoughtful. “We aren’t supposed to focus on money, but it does make a difference. He could afford a little cottage on the corner of someone else’s land. And her daet owned two farms free and clear. They butted heads a lot, and Amos was more fiery-tempered back then.”
“Oh...” Patience sighed. “That’s sad.”
“Yah, it is,” Mammi replied. “And she broke his heart when she left him. But now they’re both living their own separate lives, and... It is what it is.”
“Isn’t it worth patching it up?” Patience asked.
“He tried once. He went out to see her daet, but her daet’s a proud man, and he told Amos that if he wanted his support in bringing Miriam back home, then he’d better prove himself a better provider. That insulted him deeply, and he just couldn’t forgive it.”
The Nanny's Amish Family Page 6