“Absolutely!” Rose declared. There’s no way I’m going to make the mistake of delegating that responsibility to someone else again. As it was, after Rose learned the camp’s usual caretaker had broken his leg, she had tried to convince Nancy and Sol it wasn’t necessary for them to hire a resident replacement. Rose suggested they could save money by employing an hourly worker to make any urgent repairs the cabins needed, and she insisted she and the twins could manage the gardens on their own. But her aunt was resolute, claiming so much had been left undone because of Sol’s illness she didn’t want the camp’s condition to deteriorate further. Also, Hope and Charity both served as nannies for local Amish mothers from after breakfast until almost supper on weekdays, which meant they wouldn’t be available to pitch in during the day.
Rose sipped her lemonade and then asked, “When is Caleb arriving anyway?”
“Tomorrow afternoon around four o’clock.”
Rose frowned. “It’s odd that he’d travel on the Sabbat, don’t you think?”
“Neh, not especially. We travel when we visit our friends after church on Suundaag.”
“Jah, but you don’t pay someone to transport you—you take your own buggy. Isn’t hiring an Englisch driver or taking the train kind of like conducting business or going shopping?”
“The bishop allows it, so...” Nancy said with a shrug. Then she gently added, “I know Baker broke your heart, Rose—”
“He didn’t break my heart. He broke my trust,” Rose cut in. She would not give Baker credit for breaking her heart, even if that was exactly what he’d done.
“Jah, he definitely broke your trust,” Nancy acknowledged. “But not every young man you meet is going to be as unscrupulous as he was. I hope you’ll give Caleb a chance to demonstrate what kind of person he is before you come to any conclusions about his character.”
“Of course, I will,” Rose assured her aunt. Although, I can’t imagine spending much time getting to know him.
“Gut. Working together will be a lot easier if you do. And maybe the two of you will wind up becoming friends,” Nancy suggested.
I need to make money, not friends, Rose thought, biting her lip. But when she noticed her aunt scrutinizing her, she smiled and said, “Who knows, maybe we will.”
* * *
After the van driver dropped him off at the end of the long dirt driveway—which appeared more like a road—leading to the lakeside cabins, Caleb inhaled the piney scent, trying to calm his nerves. He’d spent nearly every moment since he called Nancy the weekend before preparing for his arrival here. He’d ordered an Amish hat and clothing and listened to as many recordings of people speaking Deitsch as he could find online. He’d even considered traveling the hour and a half from Madison to Green Lake County to hang out at the Amish market and practice the language, but he didn’t want to do anything to draw attention to himself.
He surveyed the fields as he ambled past them. Nancy had told him most of the acreage was used for berries and potatoes, but they also grew a variety of fruits and vegetables, from asparagus to watermelons and everything in between. From what Caleb could discern, their crops were flourishing. He’d developed an interest in horticulture as a teenager, when being alone outdoors provided him with an escape from his parents’ quarrels, and Caleb anticipated managing the gardens would be the most pleasant part of his role here, too.
The open fields gave way to a little forest of pine trees and once he’d trekked another quarter of a mile, Caleb spied what appeared to be the main house, as well as the roofs and back walls of several small cabins. He dallied a moment in the shade, his heart thumping in his ears. He felt as nervous as if he were waiting offstage, about to perform in a play—and in a way, he was.
“Wilkom,” a trim middle-aged woman called from the porch of the main house as Caleb approached. She pushed herself up from the wooden glider and waved to him.
“Guder nammidaag,” he replied, his voice cracking dryly.
“I’m Nancy Petersheim,” she said when he climbed the steps. “You must be Caleb Miller.”
“I am, jah,” he answered awkwardly, and set down his suitcase. Some Amish shook hands and others didn’t, so he waited for Nancy to take the lead.
“You walked in from the road? You must be parched. I’ll bring you a cool drink and a slice of Rose’s aebeer babrag boi. Take a seat.”
Caleb knew aebeer meant strawberry and boi meant pie, but his mind went blank on the word babrag. He sat in a glider and scanned the grounds. The property in front of the main house sloped down toward the lake. From where he was situated on the porch, Caleb’s view of the water was partially obscured by trees, but he could see enough of the lake to understand why it was referred to as pristine on the flyer his brother had received. He counted nine small cabins tucked beneath the pines, each one angled toward the water. To his delight, he noticed the ground was covered in needles. No grass means no mowing. His least favorite part of yard work.
He turned toward the door as Nancy emerged with a tray of goodies. That’s right. Babrag means rhubarb. Caleb hadn’t realized how hungry he was until he took a bite of strawberry-rhubarb pie, the perfect marriage of tart and sweet. He briefly closed his eyes as he savored the flavor, amazed he’d forgotten how scrumptious Amish food could be.
“Appenditlich, isn’t it?” Nancy beamed. “My niece, Rose, makes the best boi I’ve ever tasted. She’s the one who will be doing most of the cooking while we’re away.”
“Jah, appenditlich,” he agreed, shoveling a large forkful into his mouth. Caleb figured by keeping his mouth full he could avoid answering questions until his nerves steadied. Fortunately, as he was finishing the dessert, Nancy cocked an ear toward the screen door.
“I hear my husband, Sol, stirring. When he first gets up from a nap, he’s a little woozy. You’ll get to meet him at supper. For now, why don’t you familiarize yourself with the grounds and make yourself at home in your cabin?” She pointed toward a tiny structure on the water’s edge. “You’ll be staying in that one, cabin number nine. Actually, we sometimes call it cabin eight and a half because it’s so small, but it has the best location.”
Caleb meandered happily down the path, relieved his initial interaction with Nancy had gone off without a hitch. Maybe this won’t be as difficult as I imagined, he hoped. Of course, convincing his employer he was Amish was a minor accomplishment compared to finding the evidence his brother needed him to find. But at least he’d made it over the first hurdle.
The humidity caused the cabin door to stick in its frame, and Caleb had to nudge it open with his shoulder. Once inside, he found the one-room structure contained a single bed, an armchair, a desk-and-chair set, a bureau and a gas lamp. There was a separate stall with a toilet, sink and shower. I guess this is what the flyer meant by simply furnished, he thought. But the view through the picture window more than made up for the scarcity of furnishings: not ten yards away Serenity Lake sparkled with sunlight, and in the distance, hills abundant with verdant trees encircled the shoreline.
After a little experimenting Caleb figured out the picture window opened perpendicularly instead of horizontally. He swung it toward himself on its hinge and then fastened the bottom sill with hooks to the beams overhead. Within seconds a soft breeze wafted across his face and he closed his eyes to relish the sensation. I’d better keep moving or I’m likely to doze off and miss supper, he thought, so he began unpacking his suitcase.
It didn’t take long. Aside from a couple changes of clothes and toiletries, all Caleb had brought with him was his cell phone and a solar-powered charger. He and Ryan had agreed that for the duration of his stay Caleb would call his brother only on Saturdays. Caleb would have to keep the phone muted, although they’d text or leave messages with each other about any urgent developments. Caleb stashed the phone in the middle drawer before removing his final possession from the side pocket of the suitcas
e: a photo of Liam, grinning broadly to show he’d lost a front tooth. On the back of the photo he’d written “I love you!” Caleb smiled before sliding the picture into a Bible he’d found in the top drawer of the bureau.
Stepping outside, he noticed the camp was unusually quiet, not a guest in sight. Maybe they were out fishing? As he walked toward the narrow stretch of sand in front of the dock, he noticed a sign that read No Swimming or Sunbathing. Doubtless, the Amish owners found Englisch swimwear too immodest to allow guests to wear it while on their property. However, according to the flyer the camp did provide two canoes and two rowboats for their guests’ use, as well as a shed full of fishing gear they could borrow. I wouldn’t mind vacationing at a place like this myself, Caleb thought. Too bad Liam couldn’t come here with me.
He’d been so nervous anticipating his meeting with Nancy and Sol, he hadn’t noticed until just then how much his feet ached. He hadn’t gotten a chance to break in the new work boots he’d bought before he left Wisconsin, and he was sure he had blisters on his heels. As he bent to unlace the boots so he could dip his feet in the water, he spotted a flash of color from the corner of his eye. A woman wearing a cobalt blue dress was paddling a canoe around a large rock that jutted into the water some two hundred yards down the shoreline.
That must be Rose, he thought as she drew closer. She looked too mature to be one of the sixteen-year-old daughters Nancy had told him about on the phone. The woman’s strokes were smooth and sure, and in no time she’d bypassed the dock, apparently preferring to disembark on the shore. Deeply tanned, she had a kerchief instead of a prayer kapp fastened over her dark hair, and her forehead glistened with perspiration. Her face was all broad planes and sharp angles and if Caleb didn’t know she was Amish, he would have claimed for certain she was wearing rose-red lipstick—was that how she’d gotten her name?
“Don’t just stand there—move!” she hollered as she propelled the fore end of the canoe onto the shore, nearly bowling into him. He jumped back just in time.
No, Caleb decided. Her parents probably named her Rose because they knew how prickly she’d be.
* * *
As Rose got out of the canoe, the man greeted her. “Guder nammidaag. I’m Caleb. Caleb Miller. You must be Rose.”
“Jah,” she answered tersely, pulling the canoe farther onto shore. We haven’t even started working together and he’s already getting in my way. She knew she should welcome him or say she was glad he’d arrived, but she didn’t appreciate the way he’d been gawking at her. The most she could ask by way of hospitality was, “How was your trip?”
“Gut, denki,” he answered as he helped her flip the canoe over in the sand. His dark curly hair poked out from beneath his hat, and when he looked at her she noticed he had the longest eyelashes she’d ever seen on a man; they made his blue eyes appear all the more luminous. Or was that a trick of the light off the lake? “How was yours?”
“My what?” Rose was annoyed at herself for being flustered by him. Gut-looking doesn’t mean gut acting, she thought, remembering her sisters frequently commenting about how handsome Baker was.
“Your canoeing trip.” He pointed toward the water.
“Oh, it was fine.” It hadn’t been fine. It was hot and buggy, and the only reason she’d stayed out all afternoon was because she didn’t want to be at the house while Eleanor’s twenty-four-year-old brother, Henry, tried to flirt with her under the guise of visiting Nancy and Sol. Rose unfastened her life vest and hung it in the shed nearby.
When she emerged, Caleb handed her her sneakers and grinned. Wisconsin must have something special in their water, she thought—his teeth were as white as the Englisch celebrities on the covers of magazines at the superstore. The clanking of a bell interrupted Rose’s thoughts. “That’s Ant Nancy’s signal supper is ready.”
Although she was still barefoot, Rose trod easily on the path up the hill, with Caleb lagging behind. I hope he doesn’t always move as slowly as what I’ve seen so far. There was a bin of water and a towel outside the door on the porch. Rose dunked one foot into the bin and then the other, rinsing them free of pine needles and then drying them before going inside with Caleb.
“Ah, I see you two have met, Caleb and Rose,” Nancy said. She introduced her husband to Caleb and explained Hope and Charity had gone to a singing that evening and wouldn’t be joining them for supper. Then everyone took a seat at the kitchen table.
“I’ll say grace,” Sol announced, giving Caleb a moment to remove his hat.
Don’t they have any manners in Wisconsin? Rose wondered when Caleb didn’t take the hint.
“There’s a hook near the door for your hut or you can hang it on your chair, Caleb,” Nancy kindly suggested.
“My apologies,” Caleb replied, sweeping his hat off his head and balancing it on the back of his chair. Rose noticed his face was still aflame after Sol finished praying and everyone lifted their heads again.
“What is your occupation in Wisconsin that allows you to come all the way to Maine at this time of year?” she asked.
“I’m a teacher.”
Rose cocked her head, intrigued. “I’ve heard some settlements are so small they have male teachers instead of female teachers, but I’ve never spoken to one. What’s your favorite part of working with scholars?”
“I, uh, enjoy teaching Deutsche,” Caleb said, taking an enormous bite of his ham-and-cheese sandwich. When he finished chewing he addressed Sol. “Your wife told me on the phone I’d be taking care of the gaerde and baamgaarde as well as maintaining the grounds and cabins. What kind of repair projects have you been working on?”
“There will be time enough for discussing work when the Sabbat is over,” Nancy said, and again Caleb’s cheeks went red.
Like Rose, her uncle must have noticed Caleb’s embarrassment, because Sol waved his hand and commented, “Nancy’s just worried if you find out how much work there is to do, you’ll turn around and go back to Wisconsin in the middle of the night.”
That wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, Rose thought facetiously.
“I’ll take you around tomorrow morning and show you everything,” Sol continued. “I’ve made a few to-do lists, but most of your responsibilities will be typical gardening and maintenance projects. Making sure everything is functional and tidy for our guests. And keeping shifty-looking types from prowling around the property.”
“Shifty-looking types?” Caleb coughed, wide-eyed. “Have you had a problem with unwelcome people on the property?”
“Perhaps not unwelcome, but uninvited, jah.” Sol winked at his wife before explaining to Caleb, “Our Rose hasn’t even been here a month and we’ve already had more bachelors visiting us the past couple Suundaage than we’ve had all spring. I get the feeling once Nancy and I leave they’re going to find excuses to kumme by during the week, too. So if you notice any young men hanging around or acting strange, feel free to tell them to scram—”
“Onkel!” Rose was sure her face was even redder than Caleb’s had been. She didn’t need the likes of a slow-moving, ill-mannered man like Caleb looking out for her. She didn’t need any man looking out for her, for that matter.
“Something tells me Rose would chase away any unsavory characters long before I got to them,” Caleb remarked, and she didn’t know whether it was a compliment or a criticism. Either way, she didn’t care.
“You’ve got that right. The only fishy behavior I’ll put up with is from the bass and trout in Serenity Lake,” she declared. Everyone cracked up, and Rose laughed along with them even though she couldn’t have been more serious.
Chapter Two
Caleb woke shortly after first light. The battery-operated clock on the desk said it was only a little past four; the sun wasn’t even up yet. But since he’d turned in early the night before and he’d had such a refreshing sleep, he got up and dressed anyway. Now what? He wi
shed he’d brought something to read; the Bible was the only book in the cabin. He leafed through it until he got to the sixth chapter of Matthew so he could review verses 19–21. By now he had them practically memorized, but he still wasn’t convinced they had anything to do with the stolen coins from the museum. As he flipped the page back and skimmed the chapter from the beginning, the words of the Lord’s Prayer caught his eye and it occurred to him he should pray.
It had been so long since he’d spent any time in prayer he felt sheepish talking to the Lord now, but Caleb bowed his head and mumbled, “God, I know I haven’t been very faithful lately, but Ryan is desperate, so if there is something here at the cabins that will help prove my brother’s innocence, will You please show it to me?” Caleb meditated silently for several minutes, listening to the rhythmic slapping of water against the shore before opening his eyes and rising.
Sol had said to meet him on the porch at six o’clock, which was also when Rose or one of Sol’s daughters collected eggs and milked the cow. Caleb kind of wished that would be his responsibility. He’d enjoyed milking when he lived on the Amish farm, but he was out of practice. Surely the meed would appreciate it if he did it for them, he thought as he headed toward the barn on the other side of the main house and then went inside. Even with the door open it took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the lack of light.
Scanning the organized interior, he glimpsed the family’s milk cow and horse. The buggy and harness were also housed in the barn, as well as hay, feed and sundry farming tools and supplies. Caleb briefly considered whether the coins could have been stashed among them, but on first look he saw nothing resembling the carrying case or small safe Ryan said the thief would have been likely to use to transport the valuables. Besides, the barn was a highly trafficked area. If I were concealing stolen goods, I’d hide them someplace that was off the beaten path. Like in the woods. Taking a fresh pail from the hook and removing the stainless steel lid, Caleb set about milking the cow and he was surprised by how quickly the process came back to him. “Good girl,” he said, patting the gentle animal when he was finished, grateful she’d been so passive.
Her Amish Suitor's Secret Page 2