The Forgiven Read online

  Matt thought again of what her first guests had revealed. “Maybe you could find some other way.”

  Rebecca shook her head. “You’re thinking I’m not very gut at running the farm-stay, ain’t so?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “You were thinking it.” Her voice was tart. “Maybe I’m not—some parts of it, at least. But I either have to learn how to be or find someone else to help me with it.”

  She had a determination that had been completely lacking in the little girl he remembered, but he’d long since stopped thinking of Rebecca as a little girl. She was a woman, and a stronger one than perhaps even she realized.

  “Whatever you decide,” he said carefully, “it’s not wrong to accept help when it’s offered. If you need anything from me—”

  “No, denke,” she said quickly. “You have your own business to run. And I have mine.”

  That sounded final. And it was probably just as well. Hadn’t he just been telling himself that Rebecca didn’t need someone like him?

  • • •

  Rebecca still wasn’t sure she was doing the right thing in inviting her cousin Barbara to help with running the farm-stay. Even as she drew up at the hitching rail alongside the Schultz sisters’ bakery in town, Rebecca was scouring her thoughts for another solution.

  She couldn’t come up with one. As her grandmother had said, if she wasn’t good at one aspect of running the business, it made sense to enlist someone who was. And given that was the case, who else was there but her cousin Barbie? Rebecca couldn’t think of another soul who would be good at it, who would be free to do it, and most important, who would not expect a fancy salary.

  The mare waited patiently at the railing, no doubt wondering why Rebecca was still sitting in the buggy. With a quick shake of her head, Rebecca slid down. She had to make a move. She had a whole family booked for the weekend—parents, grandparents, and two children. Her palms grew damp at the thought of coping with all six on her own. Barbie, whatever her faults, was her best hope.

  Walking quickly around to the front of the building, Rebecca paused for a moment on the sidewalk leading to the shop. You couldn’t really call Brook Hill a town, since it was hardly more than a village. When the Amish had begun moving from Lancaster County into the hills and valleys of central Pennsylvania fifty years ago, the town had been a collection of houses with a name that referred to the whole area, including the outlying farms.

  Nestled in the creek valley between two wooded ridges, it hadn’t grown all that much since then; a few businesses mingled with the houses along the street, and there was a school and a post office down a ways. If people wanted to do any serious shopping, they went elsewhere. Still, folks knew one another here and felt at home.

  Rebecca pulled open the glass-paneled door and stepped into Two Sisters Bakery, inhaling the scents of baking bread and brewing coffee. Even though the two Amish sisters considered that they operated a bakery, not a restaurant, this was still a popular gathering place, especially in the morning when the small round tables would be filled with folks sharing the latest gossip over their coffee and crullers. Barbie worked a few early hours on weekdays whenever the sisters needed her.

  By now, the busy time had ended. Only a pair of elderly Englisch men sat at the table in the front corner, and they were a familiar fixture. Widowers, both of them, and according to Ruth, the older of the Schultz sisters, if those two didn’t get out and see folks once a day, they’d probably shrivel up and blow away.

  Rebecca nodded when the men turned and waved to her but she went on to the counter, knowing that if she stopped, Ed and Ben would be capable of bending her ear for the next hour, at least.

  “Rebecca.” Barbie straightened from sliding a tray of streusel muffins into the glass case. Her rosy cheeks were flushed still more by the warmth of the shop, and the all-enveloping white apron was tied snugly enough to show off her slim figure. “I’m surprised to see you in town this early. Doing your grocery shopping?”

  “Not exactly.” Rebecca took a breath. Just do it. “Actually, I wanted to have a chat with you. Do you think Ruth and Susie would mind if we had a cup of coffee and talked?”

  “No problem,” she said, using the Englisch slang that Rebecca knew annoyed her father. “I’ll just pop my head in the kitchen and let them know.”

  Barbie was back in an instant, looking pleased—probably at the idea of a break in the day’s routine. “Coffee for two.” She poured as she spoke. “And Ruth says to try her apple cinnamon coffee cake.”

  “I shouldn’t . . .” Rebecca began, but let the words fade as Barbie pulled two wedges of coffee cake from the case. The cake did look delicious, and it had been a long time since she’d had breakfast.

  “There we are.” Barbie plopped everything on a tray and led Rebecca to a table in the rear. She grinned as she set the tray down. “If we keep to Deutsch, those two won’t be able to listen in.”

  That was the sort of pertness that made Rebecca wonder whether Barbie was really suitable to the task she had in mind. There isn’t anyone else, she reminded herself.

  She took the coffee mug and added sugar, stirring unnecessarily long.

  Barbie didn’t wait. “How is your daad? I hear he’s doing better.”

  “He’s happier now that he’s home, that’s certain-sure. Mamm and Grossmammi are fussing over him, and he likes sleeping in his own bed. But it’ll be a job to keep him from doing things he shouldn’t.”

  “They’ll gang up on him,” Barbie said. “I’m glad we finished up at Grossmammi’s house before this happened.” She shrugged, wrinkling her nose a little. “But things are back to being boring now.”

  It seemed to Rebecca that Barbie too easily lost interest. She could only hope that if Barbie agreed to her proposition, she wouldn’t become dissatisfied with the farm-stay after a few weeks.

  “You know I started having guests at the farm last weekend?”

  Of course Barbie would know. Everyone knew. If she sneezed now, six people would offer her cold remedies before the day was over.

  “Ja, I heard. How did it go?” Barbie’s gaze evaded hers, which might mean she already knew the answer to her question.

  “Not too bad. Simon took over showing them the outside work, and I think he enjoyed it once he got started.” Her younger brother had been surprisingly competent, in fact. “But I found . . .” She hesitated, still not sure how to put it. “The truth of it is, I’m just not very gut at talking to the Englisch. You know, making them feel at home and telling them about our ways.”

  A spark of interest lit Barbie’s eyes. “It doesn’t sound hard to me. I talk to Englisch folks every morning here. They’re just like us.”

  “For you, maybe,” Rebecca said. “Not for me. Anyway, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Do you think you’d like to work with me on the weekends I have guests?”

  “Me?” Barbie’s eyes widened. “You want me?”

  “Why not?”

  Barbie grinned. “I didn’t think you approved of me.”

  Rebecca suspected she flushed, despite her best efforts. She hadn’t realized that Barbie had picked up on her feelings.

  “I think you have just the personality to greet the guests and keep them happy. I can manage getting the rooms ready and doing the meals, and Simon will do as much as he can outside. Of course, with Daad not well . . .”

  How much time would Simon have to spare for her? He wouldn’t want to let her down, but Daad’s illness placed an extra burden on the boys.

  “That’s not a problem.” Barbie’s face lit up. “I’d guess there’s nothing Simon does that I can’t do. And I’d love to be sort of a hostess. That’s what you want, isn’t it? I can do it. How soon can I start?”

  Barbie’s enthusiasm bubbled. Energy radiated from her so strongly that Rebecca wouldn’t have been surprised if s
he’d shot out of her chair. She made Rebecca feel as old as the ridge above the town.

  “I have a family of six coming on Friday for the weekend,” she said. “If you can start then—”

  “Of course I can.”

  “Maybe you should talk to your parents about it first,” Rebecca cautioned, wondering what her aunt and uncle would think about the idea.

  “They won’t mind. After all, it’s helping family, ain’t so? And they’ll be wonderful glad to have me busy. What do you have planned for the guests? Grown-ups or children? What things do they like to do?”

  Rebecca held up her hand to stop the flow, feeling as if she were being swept away by the wind. “Wait, wait. We haven’t even talked about what hours you’ll have to work, or what you’ll be paid, or anything. So long as I know you’re interested, we can set up a time to make plans together.”

  “We can do it now. Please, Rebecca.”

  Barbie reminded Rebecca of Katie, trying to wheedle her into playing a game instead of getting on with the mending. “Not now. I’ve taken up enough of your time. You’re supposed to be working for Ruth and Susie now, remember?”

  “They won’t care.” Barbie wiped them away with a quick gesture.

  “Well, I do. It would be wrong for me to take the time they’re paying you for.” She could only hope Barbie wouldn’t have a similar attitude toward the work she was supposed to do with Rebecca’s guests.

  Barbie had the grace to look abashed. “Ach, you’re right. I’ll make sure I do everything here before I go. I promise. It’s just that running a farm-stay is much more exciting than serving behind the counter. Don’t you think so?” Without giving her time to answer, she swept on. “I have lots of ideas. I’ll bet we can come up with all sorts of things for people to do at the farm. When can we meet?”

  Barbie’s enthusiasm reminded Rebecca irresistibly of Paul’s when they’d planned that first summer. What was it about the farm-stay that so appealed to them? And what was missing in her, that it seemed such a scary ordeal to her?

  Matt’s words seemed to echo in her thoughts. Don’t you mean it was Paul’s dream? That doesn’t mean it has to be yours.

  Was it her dream? She hauled her thoughts back to Barbie.

  “Can you come out tomorrow after you get off work here? We can figure it out then.”

  “I’ll be there.” Barbie leaned forward, her whole body seeming to express her excitement at the idea. “I’ll start making a list of all the things we can do with the guests. By tomorrow, I’ll have dozens of ideas.”

  “I’m sure you will.” There wasn’t any doubt of that in Rebecca’s mind.

  What doubt there was went in exactly the opposite direction. Barbie’s enthusiasm threatened to sweep the farm-stay program right out of Rebecca’s hands.

  Nonsense. The farm belonged to her. The business, such as it was, did as well. Barbie was only coming in to help.

  But she couldn’t keep from feeling that by inviting her cousin in, she was unleashing something she wouldn’t be able to control.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Matt was earlier than usual in getting over to his workshop, but the fact didn’t especially please him. He was only arriving in midafternoon because Onkel Silas had given up. Matt couldn’t think of another expression that fit, no matter how he tried.

  The mare trotted toward the lane at Rebecca’s place, so used to it now that he hardly needed to touch the lines. He frowned at the road ahead between her ears, seeing instead the day’s fiasco.

  He and Onkel Silas had gone over to the new development on Bentley Road to talk to a homeowner about a job. The houses all seemed alike to him, sitting back from the streets with manicured lawns in front of them, surrounded by tidily mulched shrubs instead of the overflowing flower beds of an Amish home.

  The house they’d visited had seemed plenty big enough for the two people living there, but Mrs. Hansen wanted a sunroom added on the back. It would be a well-paying job, Matt thought, especially since the couple seemed to have more money than they knew what to do with.

  Their visit was intended to view the site, take measurements, find out what the homeowner wanted, and then go home and work up a bid on the job. It was the sort of thing Onkel Silas had done more times than Matt could imagine, and he was a pro at it.

  Until today. Today Silas had been so distracted that he’d commented almost at random about the project, barely making a note. Finally Matt had taken the notebook from his hands and started asking the necessary questions.

  He’d half expected Onkel Silas to snatch the notebook back, but not even that served to rouse him. He’d followed Matt and the Hansen couple around the house, sunk so deep in his distraction that Matt suspected he barely heard a word.

  It wasn’t hard to figure out the reason. After all, Matt’s bedroom was right across the hall from the one belonging to his aunt and uncle. He’d heard his aunt crying in the night, heard his uncle trying vainly to comfort her. The sounds had broken his heart.

  How could Isaiah disappear this way? Anger rose, and Matt’s hands tightened on the lines so that the mare turned her head in reproach. If Isaiah didn’t want to come back, that was one thing. Matt could hardly quarrel, since he’d done the same himself. But to cut off contact with his family so completely—that wasn’t acceptable, no matter how much Isaiah thought he was going to find happiness by jumping the fence.

  Happiness. Matt’s jaw tightened, but he kept his hands light on the lines with an effort as the buggy turned into the lane to the workshop. Amish parents didn’t consider that happiness was a suitable goal for their children, and he’d begun to understand that for himself. A person didn’t find happiness by looking for it. If it came, it was a by-product of something else entirely—a good marriage, maybe, or a job well-done, or the knowledge that you were living the way God intended.

  Well, wherever Isaiah had gone and why, he had no right cutting off his family. Maybe it was time somebody found him and told him so.

  Sliding down from the buggy, Matt let his gaze travel across the fields behind the farmhouse. Simon was the person he needed to question, and he couldn’t put it off any longer. If anyone could give him a clue to where Isaiah had gone, it might be Simon, assuming his cousin Sadie had been speaking the truth. It was time he and Simon had a little talk.

  And sure enough, there was Simon at the edge of the cornfield. It looked as if he was mending a fence. Matt set off toward him, not giving himself time to change his mind.

  The path led along the pasture, already green and lush from the spring rains and the warm sunshine. A wave of nostalgia swept over Matt as the scent of it rose to meet him. Funny, how a smell could take a person back. He might have been walking through the fields on his daad’s farm, either the one here in the valley where Matt and his siblings had grown up or the one in Indiana.

  The Amish settlement in Indiana had seemed very different from the Pennsylvania valleys. Acreage there was flatter and easier to cultivate, cheaper besides. Still, he’d missed the narrow valleys and wooded ridges he’d grown up with, even if he hadn’t realized it at the time. The reckless teenager he’d been hadn’t slowed down long enough to know what he was feeling.

  Simon must have been aware of Matt approaching him, but he didn’t look up from the strand of barbed wire he was mending as Matt drew near.

  “Deer getting into the corn, are they?” he asked as he came to a stop a few feet from Simon.

  “Worse.” Simon grunted out the word. “A bear ripped through here last night. Took the fence right out, and trampled his way through the corn.”

  Now that he looked, Matt could see the tracks. Fortunately the corn was only about a foot high, so it would probably recover from the mauling it had taken under the bear’s broad feet.

  Matt followed the trail with his gaze. It led right through the cornfield and on toward the trees beyond, where t
he land lifted toward the ridge.

  “Probably going from the stream back up to the woods,” he commented.

  “Ja.” Simon rose, giving Matt a frowning glance. “You didn’t come here to talk about bears. What do you want?” The words were little short of rude.

  Matt couldn’t help tensing at the animosity coming off Rebecca’s brother. Rebecca’s brother, he reminded himself. He couldn’t get into a quarrel with him.

  “I hear you were close friends with my cousin Isaiah.” He kept his tone easy. “I hoped I could talk to you about him.”

  Simon shrugged, avoiding his gaze. “We used to hang out. So what?”

  “So I thought you might have some idea of where he went.”

  Simon’s face seemed to close. “I don’t know anything about it.”

  Matt wasn’t about to be put off so easily. “You were friends. He must have talked about going away. About his plans for the future.”

  “No.” The word came too quickly to be true, and it was accompanied by a glare. “Anyway, why should I tell you anything?”

  “Because I’m his cousin. Because I want to find him, and you can help.”

  “Seems to me if I’m his friend, that’s the last thing I’d do. If he wanted you to know, he’d have told you.”

  Matt tried to count to ten. He didn’t make it. “You might want to think about his parents. They haven’t heard a word from him.”

  “What do you care?” Simon’s face darkened, and he clenched his fists. “You’ve already got what you wanted, ain’t so? You took over Isaiah’s place so fast, if he did want to come back, he couldn’t.”

  “That’s ridiculous.” Matt’s fragile control on his temper was fraying. “I’m just helping out until Isaiah returns. His daad can’t carry on alone.”

  “Yeah, right.” The words were contemptuous, and Simon swung away from him.