The Amish Widow's Heart Page 5

  Janie’s eyes danced, probably at the idea of having an actual job. “I’d like that. Anytime you need me.”

  Putting a couple of apples in her basket, Beth stretched her back. When she looked across the orchard, she could see Daniel holding Benjy up to pick some apples high over his head.

  Benjy showed no fear, she realized. He trusted Daniel just as he trusted his family. He wasn’t afraid of the future.

  The thought struck her. Was that what was behind her reluctance to take her place as Daniel’s partner? Fear?

  There was no need for fear. Wariness, maybe. She didn’t think she could ever trust a man in the way she’d trusted James—blindly sure that she knew him. But it wasn’t that holding her paralyzed.

  She felt as if she were poised on a stone in a rushing creek, longing to stay in the familiar place, but knowing she couldn’t. Knowing it had already crumbled under her feet.

  It was time to move forward. Everyone, it seemed, knew that but her.

  Beth set her basket down. “I’ll be back in a minute, Janie.”

  Without waiting for a response, she headed toward Daniel. When he spotted her, he lowered Benjy to the ground, watching her warily.

  Did he think she was going to protest his boosting Benjy up in the tree?

  “Are you two getting lots of apples?”

  Benjy beamed at the question. “Look, Mammi. Me and Daniel picked half a basket already.”

  Beth touched his soft cheek. “We always put the other person first, remember?”

  He ducked his head. “Daniel and me.”

  Daniel’s mouth twitched at that, and she had to suppress a smile. At the moment she was teaching the Amish way, not grammar.

  “Better,” she said. She looked up at Daniel. “I just wanted to ask. Which is best for the business—for me to work mornings or afternoons?”

  He understood, and his face lit much as Benjy’s had. “Either is gut. Denke, Beth. I’m glad.”

  She took a deep breath and tried to settle the qualms she felt. She’d committed herself now, and she’d have to go through with it.

  Chapter Four

  Beth held Benjy’s hand as they walked out the driveway early the next morning. She tried not to smile at his solemn expression as he trotted along beside her, very conscious of his black suit and white shirt. The serious nature of his Sunday clothing always made him just a little more eager to appear grown up, not that any clothing could do that. The sweet curve of his neck and his rosy cheeks still reminded her of babyhood.

  She couldn’t say that she took much pleasure from her widow’s black clothing. Not that she was prideful about her appearance—that would be wrong. But black seemed to draw all the color from her face, making her look older than her years. Or maybe it was the grief and pain that had this effect.

  They reached the road and fell in with the other families from along their road. Worship this morning was at Sam and Miriam Shuler’s barn, no more than a half mile away. Had it been much farther she’d have waited for Mamm and Daad to pick her up in the family carriage. They had offered to stop for her today, but she relished the quiet walk. It gave time for reflection, something generally missing from her busy life.

  The fields on either side of the road had begun to show a glimpse of gold as the weather cooled down. This morning was a bit brisk, but the sun promised a warm afternoon.

  “Today is the first Sunday of preparing for fall Communion.” She spoke softly to Benjy, wondering whether to warn him that the service might go longer than usual. “We all want to prepare our hearts for Communion.”

  He considered that for a moment. Did he remember the conversation they’d had prior to spring Communion? Whether he did or not, it was good to reinforce the teaching. The burden of her son’s training in Amish ways was solely hers now.

  “What should I do?” he said finally.

  “We settle our hearts on the Lord, and we forgive anyone against whom we have been angry.” She had more to say, but the words dried up on her tongue.

  Anger and forgiveness. She had been angry, and try as she might to lose that anger, it flared up again and again. Her heart cramped. If she had not reached forgiveness of James and of the woman who had ruined her happiness, she wouldn’t be able to take Communion. What would that say to her son, as well as the rest of the community?

  Please, Lord. She tried to find the words to forgive, but each time she tried, her heart rebelled. Please, Lord, show me how to forgive. Please.

  Grossmammi had reminded her to talk to God, that He would be listening. But right now she felt as if she prayed into emptiness.

  They’d reached the farm road, and it was a short walk to the barn. Those who had already arrived were gathering outside. Benjy spotted his grandparents, tugged his hand free and hurried to them, trying not to run.

  By the time Beth reached her parents and grandmother, Benjy was talking a mile a minute to his grandfather. She could only be glad he was doing it in a soft voice.

  Her grandmother smiled at her expression. “He’s trying,” she murmured. “Best to let him get it out before he goes in to worship.”

  “I know. Three hours is a long time for such a chatterbox to keep quiet.”

  “Ach, let him be,” her mother said indulgently. “I love to hear him talk. He’s so bright and happy it gives us joy to hear him.”

  “You can be the one to keep him quiet during the service, then,” she teased. “He’s certain sure not like me when I was his age.”

  Unfortunately, the words just reminded her that Benjy took after his father in that respect. She said a panicked prayer that that was the only way he resembled James.

  She had to stop thinking this way. It would soon be time to go into the barn. It might be only a barn, but when the community was gathered together, the Lord was there. She couldn’t carry angry thoughts with her.

  The business of finding her place in the line of young married woman distracted her attention. There were welcoming smiles, and more than one person clasped her hand briefly in passing. She exchanged smiles with Lydia, still in the group of unmarried women. Her gaze was caught by Daniel, who gave her the solemn nod that was appropriate to worship, and then her line passed into the barn.

  Settling Benjy next to her on the backless bench, she considered getting something out of the small bag of toys and snacks she’d brought, but at the moment he was looking around happily, so she left it.

  There, in the silence, she prepared her heart for worship, knowing already that today’s service would be focused on Nicodemus and new life in Christ. The worship year followed its traditional pattern. In two weeks it would be Council Meeting Sunday, with its emphasis on giving and receiving forgiveness. And the worship after that would be Communion. It wasn’t much time, it seemed, to find her way to forgiveness.

  The lead singer sounded the first wavering note of a hymn, and worship had begun.

  When the final hymn had been sung and the final prayer said, the quiet atmosphere of worship gave way to the bustle of preparing for lunch. Several women—the hostess, her daughters, her sisters and close friends—hurried toward the kitchen to begin carrying food out. Meanwhile the men and older boys started transforming the benches into the tables that would be used for their meal together.

  “Mammi, can I go find my cousins?” Benjy wiggled with pleasure at no longer being still.

  “Put your toys back in the bag first, and then you may.” She held it open while he hurriedly dropped his small horse and buggy in place.

  He scurried off and she followed more slowly, intent on finding Lydia. Lydia seemed to have the same thought in mind, because she was there in a moment, putting her arm around Beth’s waist as if they were ten again.

  “All right?” she asked, keeping her voice low. “I thought the first Sunday after...” She let that trail off, glancing around.


  “Yah. It was difficult, but I’m fine.”

  Lydia’s scrutiny said she doubted it. The barn was emptying out, and they walked slowly toward the door together.

  “The thing is...” It would be a relief to unburden herself to Lydia, but she was ashamed of some of the thoughts she’d had during worship.

  “What?” Lydia pinched her. “Komm on, I know there’s something. Spill it. I’m hungry.”

  That made her smile, as Lydia had known it would. “Are you ten or twenty-four? Hungry sounds like Benjy. He’s probably pestering his grossmammi for a snack right now.”

  “I intend to pester you until I get an answer, and I can pester a lot better than Benjy. Tell me. Have you found out something?”

  Her nerves jumped at the thought. “No, not really. But when I looked over at you during the second sermon, I realized I was seeing all the unmarried women of the community sitting on the same bench. It made me wonder...” She stumbled to a halt.

  “You wonder if it was one of them.” Lydia’s blue eyes grew somber. “Yah, I have to say I’ve been thinking that, too. But it doesn’t have to be, you know. It could just as easily be someone from a nearby community. Or a married woman. Or even an Englischer. Working in the store, he had to meet plenty of them.”

  “I’ve thought of that. It’s getting so every woman I look at makes me wonder. Was it you? Are you the one who stole James from me?”

  Lydia’s eyes flashed. “James had something to do with it, too, ain’t so?”

  “I know, I know. I’m not saying he didn’t. But the thing is, I know I have to forgive them if I’m ever going to stop going around in circles. And how can I forgive her when I don’t know who it was?”

  Lydia looked troubled. “Ach, Beth, surely it is best not to know. Not to picture the two of them together.”

  “I still picture them,” Beth blurted out. “I just can’t see her face.”

  Lydia gave her a quick hug. “Let it go, Beth. It’s a terrible bad thing, but you have to get past it.”

  Not even Lydia understood, it seemed. She spoke with sudden clarity. “I can’t do that. I have to know. I have to know who the woman was. I have to.”

  * * *

  Leaning against the fence, Daniel joined in the talk after worship about Sam’s new pair of draft horses—Percherons, they were, and a fine-looking pair with strongly muscled bodies.

  “Sam says he got a gut deal on the pair of them. He went clear down to Lancaster County for them.” Daniel’s older brother Seth, who was taking over the dairy farm from Daad, stood beside him. As if they knew they were being admired, the massive animals raised their heads to gaze back at them.

  “Sam’s got his heart’s desire, I guess,” Daad said, eyes twinkling. “Everyone knows he’s been trying to convince Miriam for a couple of years now.”

  The group of men chuckled, and someone moved the talk on to the price soybeans were bringing and the possibility of planting a few more acres in the spring.

  Daniel could almost list the topics of conversation from memory. Every other Sunday the men gathered after worship to exchange talk of farming, lumber, dairying and the work of the coming month. He’d guess that the women were doing the same thing, only their subjects would be babies, fabric, the best place to buy children’s shoes and who would host the next quilting bee.

  Those frequent conversations seemed to make up the patchwork of Amish life, creating the dense, tight fabric that meant being Amish. His gaze roamed the farmyard—the children playing, the teenage girls watching the babies, the women either carrying food or clustered in small groups, heads together.

  He glimpsed Beth in a clutch of young married women, the people she had the most in common with, he supposed. But even as he watched, she slipped out of the group, her black dress contrasting with the blues and dark greens the other women wore.

  Did she feel uncomfortable with them now that she was a widow? Maybe so, because she went quickly to her mother and grandmother, maybe taking refuge in the family circle.

  He pulled his attention back to the group, and just in time, because Elijah Schmidt mentioned his name.

  “...hear tell that Beth Esch is working at the store now. That right?”

  Something in him resented the question—in fact, any mention of her by someone who was fairly new to the district and couldn’t claim to have known her since childhood.

  “Yah,” he said, hoping the short answer would deter the man.

  Elijah didn’t seem to get the message. He shook his head, frowning. “Hope she’s not thinking she can take her husband’s place in the partnership. That sort of work would never do for a young woman like her.”

  Annoyance rumbled inside him, but before he could speak, his daad chipped in. “It’s not like Daniel will have her unloading trucks. That’s what young Timothy is there for.”

  Seth grinned. “If Daniel can get a day’s work out of the boy, that’s enough to make me happy. He’ll never make a farmer, that’s certain sure.”

  “You have other sons,” Daad said. “It’s never wise to set a youngster’s hand to the wrong plow.”

  Several other fathers nodded in agreement. Usually in every Amish family there’d be one destined to be a farmer. Seth’s second boy showed every sign of being the one, even though he was just ten. At least they’d gotten Elijah off the subject of Beth.

  But it seemed Daniel was wrong, because Elijah brought it up again almost immediately. “Now, what the widow ought to do is sell her share in the business. I wouldn’t mind owning half a thriving business like that myself. What do you suppose it’s worth?”

  Daniel couldn’t control himself any longer, but before he could find the words to say what he thought, Seth broke in, his face suddenly solemn. His deacon’s face, the children called it.

  “The Sabbath is not the time, and this isn’t the place for talking business.” His tone was so severe Daniel almost didn’t recognize it.

  In any event, it seemed to abash Elijah. Muttering something that might have been an apology, he turned away just as the lunch bell rang. Everyone started moving to where the long tables were ready with the usual after-worship lunch.

  Daniel fell into step with his brother and father. “Denke,” he murmured. “It seems it takes a deacon’s word to shut Elijah’s mouth.”

  Seth grinned and nudged him. “Thought I’d best intervene before you said something you might regret. It’s fortunate for him that he didn’t say that around one of Beth’s brothers or he’d have gotten the wrong side of the tongue for his trouble.”

  “Yah.” Daniel figured it best to agree, although he didn’t think he’d regret anything he might have said to the man. “You have to extend wilkom to a newcomer, but Elijah doesn’t seem to fit in very well. I just hope he doesn’t say anything to Beth. It would upset her.”

  Seth nodded his agreement. “How is Beth getting along? Mary Ann says she’s going to take a meal over sometime this week and ask if there’s anything we can do to help with the orchard.”

  “It’s early yet, but she seems to want to do her share with the store. She’s planning to work a few hours each day to start.”

  Daad frowned a bit, his thick, graying eyebrows seeming to bristle. “You’d best make sure she doesn’t do too much. It takes time to heal from a loss like hers.”

  “I know. I’ll keep an eye on her.” He saw the white, strained expression Beth sometimes wore. “Seems to me it’s doing her gut to get out of the house and talk to people.”

  “You’ll know, I expect. You two were always close when you were small. In fact, your mamm and I thought that the two of you would make a match of it.”

  The only safe thing Daniel could do was nod, but Daad’s casual comment sent his thoughts spiraling back to his teens—to the evening at a singing when he’d quite suddenly stopped thinking of Beth as a tomboy friend and seen
her as a young woman. And known he loved her.

  Strange, that it was that same evening when James began looking at Beth in a new way, too. James, who charmed every girl, hadn’t yet tried his charm on Beth, but he was abruptly sure she was the girl he wanted. Beth, like every other girl, fell victim to his easy, laughing smile.

  He’d stepped away. What else could he do, when James was his best friend? God was wise in not letting anyone know the future. James had brought Beth to grief in the end. Still, she’d never had to learn anything negative about him while he was still with her.

  Did that make it any better? He wasn’t sure.

  * * *

  By Tuesday morning, Beth was beginning to get used to her new routine, and Benjy had fallen into it as if it were normal. They arrived before the store opened, and once she had Benjy settled with something to do, she helped set up for the day.

  Benjy seemed happy enough to play in a corner Daniel had set up for him with room for a few toys, books and games, so she hadn’t yet called on her niece to babysit. She should do that soon, so that Benjy could spend more time outdoors while the nice weather lasted. Janie would jump at the chance, she knew.

  She started toward the checkout counter and then paused, noticing Anna doing the same. Anna was still so shy and reserved around her, and she didn’t want to make the girl think she was taking over her job.

  Daniel appeared next to her, so she didn’t have to make a decision. “I asked Anna to take the checkout first this morning so we could spend some time on how the storeroom is arranged and stocked, if that’s okay with you.”

  “For sure. I thought we should be venturing into there soon. Just let me tell Benjy where I’ll be.” She detoured around the end of a counter to where Benjy was creating what was probably a barn from some blocks.

  “I’m going in the storeroom to work for a little while.”

  “Can I come, too?” he asked, before she could even finish what she was going to say.

  “Not this time. I’ll show you what I’ve learned later. If you need any help, Anna is at the counter. You can ask her, yah?” She’d noticed that Anna wasn’t nearly as shy with Benjy as she was with adults.