Redemption in Amish Country, page 26
A laugh of disbelief slipped out. “You really want a little boy under your feet all day?”
“Why not? I watch Hiram and Hershel all the time, and if I can handle those two tiny terrors, I think I can handle Josh,” he countered in all seriousness. “And he’s not going to be under my feet. He’s going to be working. And he’s going to be earning a fair wage, just like any other employee.”
“And I can help pay for things, ’cause I’m old enough to be ’sponsible now,” Josh added, puffing out his chest.
Deeply touched, Maddie’s vision misted. Whatever Abram had said to Josh had certainly made an impression.
“I couldn’t take your money, honey,” she said, dabbing her eyes. “Why don’t you think about saving it? Then you can replace your broken tablet.”
“Tablets are for babies,” Josh pronounced seriously. “I think we should save up for a truck, like Elam has. A red one, with big tires.”
She smiled. Quite a big ambition for a little boy. “First you’d better save the money, and then we’ll think about the truck.”
Josh grinned. “Okay!”
Maddie turned to her landlady. “What do you think?”
“I think it is a fine idea,” Wanetta announced, sealing the deal with a firm nod. “It will be gut for the kind to learn the value of a dollar.”
“And the bonus is...” Abram added. “By the end of the day, he’ll be pooped.”
Maddie had to laugh. “That’s a plus, for sure.”
Abram peered over the rims of his glasses. “Then it’s settled?”
Leaning back in her chair, Maddie considered his proposition. Not half an hour ago, she’d been feeling as if everything in her life was falling apart. Once again, Abram had presented a reasonable solution.
“I guess you will see both of us at the market tomorrow,” she agreed, and then added a bit of caution. “I just hope you know what you’re getting yourself into.”
“Just give it a chance. It’ll be fine. You’ll see.”
“Food’s getting cold,” Mrs. Graff reminded. Bustling back into her kitchen, she began to tidy up after the evening meal.
“Better get this eaten before my driver comes back.” Abram steepled his hands and lowered his head, preparing to say grace. Following his example, Josh went quiet.
Bowing her head, Maddie couldn’t resist peeking across the table. It humbled her to see a strong man giving sincere thanks to his savior. She’d only known Abram Mueller a few days, but it felt like they’d been friends for years. Sitting at the table, sharing a meal gave her a sense of place and security.
It was time to stop second-guessing her decision. Humble was home now, and it was where they would be staying.
A sense of relief filled her. The oppressive burden of defeat had lifted, replaced by hope.
Her roller-coaster day had come to an end, and everything had worked out.
Just the way Gott intended.
Closing her eyes, Maddie sent up a prayer of her own.
Thank You for watching over me and Josh, Lord. And thank You for sending Abram into our lives. We are both truly blessed.
* * *
The clock was close to striking nine when Abram arrived home. Thanking his driver for working late, he made a mental note to add a bit more to his pay at the end of the week.
The warm glow of oil-burning lamps emanated through the windows of the old house he shared with his groossdaadi. Passing through the gate, he walked up the cobbled path. Solar-powered garden lights lit the walkway and dotted the yard with pops of illumination.
He sat down at the foot of the stairs. Tipping back his head, he studied the stars scattered across soft folds of black velvet. Rising early, the moon was climbing in the sky toward its peak illumination. The wind was warm, just breezy enough to ruffle his hair where it stuck out beneath the brim of his straw hat. The beauty of the night offered peace and a time to reflect.
From his vantage point, he could see the other homes dotting the landscape. Most every one of his siblings had built a house on the property and was busy with the task of raising their youngies.
A frown pulled his mouth down. Everyone else was living their lives.
Me? I’m just existing.
He hadn’t built a house on his share of the acreage because he’d never been able to envision himself as a married man with kinder. A bachelor like himself didn’t need a house, so he’d let the land sit fallow, untouched and uncultivated.
Truth be told, he hadn’t intended to stay in Humble. But after spending many years living in Milwaukee, he’d discovered he missed the simplicity of Amish living. He enjoyed getting up early and putting in a hard day’s work. In the evenings, he spent an hour studying his Bible. After giving some time to the Lord, he worked around the property, making the repairs that would keep the house in good shape. His familie was also a large one, and he was often pressed into helping a sibling with a building project or monitoring his many nieces and nephews.
All in all, his was a satisfactory life. But it wasn’t a joyful one. He went to bed alone at night and woke up the same way. And though he was trying to be patient, he’d wondered if Gott ever intended for him to have a wife.
Meeting Maddie Baum had added a splash of color to his drab days. Physically, she was a petite woman. But there was a lot of determination and drive packed into her tiny frame. Without the support of relatives or her child’s father, she had a hard row to hoe. It pained him to think of her, alone and struggling. The world often wasn’t kind to gentle souls.
Despite the hard lessons life had handed her, it hadn’t taken away her ability to smile. She smiled often, and with a sincerity mirrored in the depths of her sparkling eyes. When she smiled, it was the real deal. Visiting with her turned his gray day into pure delight. It didn’t matter what they were talking about. He was happy to have her attention.
The screen door creaked open. “Abram?”
Startled, he straightened. “Yes, Gran’pa?”
Leaning against his cane, Amos Mueller peeked out. “I was wondering when you’d make it home.”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here. You’ve had supper, ja?”
“Lavinia served pinto beans and corn bread,” Amos said through a grumble. “If only that girl would learn to cook. The beans were half-done and the corn bread too salty.”
Abram chuckled. Even though her intentions were good, his younger sister’s cooking wasn’t. Boiling water for an egg often turned into a recipe for disaster.
“I take it you’d like to eat?”
“Ja, I’m peckish.”
He took the hint. “I’ll fix you some supper.”
“About time.” Happy to have the attention, the older man shuffled back inside.
Abram hung his hat on the peg by the door. Stepping inside was like traveling a century or more back in time. Glancing around, he took in the wood-burning stove, old-fashioned icebox and other items populating the large, open living space. The appliances were woefully out of date, but his groossdaadi refused to allow him to install anything propane or solar powered. Oil-burning lamps provided a familiar warmth.
Snagging a metal pot, he filled it with water from the spigot overhanging the basin. Pumped straight from the well, the water was ice-cold. As the house had no water heater, it made for a mighty uncomfortable bathing experience during the winter. As much as he tried, he couldn’t change the elderly man’s mind about updating a few things. Stubborn as a barnyard mule, Amos was determined to keep the modern world and its devices out of his home.
“Scrambled eggs with toast sound good?” he asked, stoking the fire with wood before setting the pot on to boil. His cooking skills weren’t top-notch, but he could manage the basics.
Plopping down in his rocking chair, Amos set his cane aside. “Breakfast for dinner sounds fine. Think you could throw on a slice of meat?”
“Sure can.” Heading to the icebox, Abram gathered a couple of eggs and a slab of ham wrapped in wax paper, along with a few other items.
“How come you were late?”
“I was helping a friend. Maddie had a problem with her little boi.”
“That girl... Didn’t you have lunch with her today?” Amos asked, peevish. “You know I don’t approve of her. She’s an Englischer.”
“Good thing it’s not your decision.” Cracking a couple of eggs into a bowl, he whipped them into a froth before adding some salt and pepper and a pat of butter. Letting the mix rest, he took down a cast iron skillet and set it on the stovetop to heat before slicing off a few pieces of ham to fry.
The old man scratched his chin. Though widowed quite a few years, he’d kept his bushy beard, now grown halfway down his chest. Though the Ordnung allowed men to keep their facial hair neatly trimmed, it was another thing Amos Mueller considered impious and refused to do.
“You just ain’t listening.”
Abram stabbed the sizzling meat with a fork, giving it a quick turn. “I know what you think. But I’m a grown man. I’ll pick my own friends.” Transferring the fried ham to a plate, he poured the whipped eggs into the skillet. “Anyway, Maddie’s boi—Josh is his name—he’s giving her a little trouble. Stealing, getting into things, talking back.”
The elderly man snuffled, something that sounded like half a laugh. “Sounds like you when you were that age.”
“Yeah, it does.”
Frowning, Abram scraped a spatula through the eggs to keep them from scalding. Talking with Josh was like visiting with the younger version of himself. The boy’s frustrations and discontent simmered beneath the surface, ready to explode without warning.
Unbidden images unspooled across his mind’s screen. A few months after his fourth birthday, his own mamm had passed away from a sudden virus. Barely three months after her funeral, his daed married Noemi Jaeger. Young and pretty, she’d moved in and set to erasing her predecessor’s presence from the house. Soon, she was with child, and new kinder filled the nursery. In no time at all, Abram had four younger siblings. Before that, he’d been the baby—and his mamm’s favorite.
Noemi despised him.
And tormented him.
In retaliation, he’d turned into a gor, a brat. Anything he could do to rebel against her rules, he would.
Abram grimaced. The more he angered his stepmother, the more his daed pulled out the strap. Then, he’d viewed the punishments as a badge of honor. The older he got, the more stubborn he became. In his mind, he knew everything, and his elders knew nothing.
But he wasn’t as clever as he believed.
And his disobedience had cost two of his friends their lives.
Hands shaking a bit, he forced himself to concentrate on his cooking. Eggs done, he scraped them onto the plate. Slicing a couple of pieces of bread, he added a smear of butter before toasting them in the skillet. Food done, he grabbed some cutlery and a linen napkin before carrying it to the table.
“Food’s ready,” he said, deciding it was best to change the subject.
The past, like his parents, was gone. Both Noemi and his daed had been killed in a buggy accident years ago. The house he’d grown up in had been razed to the ground.
Rising, Amos shuffled to the table. “Better than what Lavinia served.”
“Glad you think so.” Spooning instant coffee and a dash of sugar into a mug, he added hot water. He normally didn’t drink anything caffeinated in the evening, but there was no way he’d ever get to sleep. He had too much on his mind.
Amos cut into the ham, fumbling with his knife. “My old hands,” he complained. “Don’t work right anymore with this arthritis.”
Setting his coffee down, Abram cut the meat into manageable pieces. “Better?”
“Mmm-hmm...” The old man dug into his food, tearing his toast to scrape up his eggs, followed by bites of ham.
Descending into silence, Abram sipped his coffee. He just wanted to sit and enjoy the silence.
“You made nothing for yourself,” his grandfather commented. Usually, they ate their evening meal together. Afterward, Abram would read from the Bible or another approved publication until the old man fell asleep.
“Had something at Wanetta’s place. She served up a nice beef stew.”
“Runs that boardinghouse, doesn’t she?”
“Yes. Maddie is renting her loft.”
“That fraulein—Maddie, you say—you like her?”
He shrugged. “I suppose I do.”
Suspicion crept into Amos Mueller’s expression. “Would you leave the faith for her?”
Caught by surprise, Abram lowered his mug. Abandoning his faith would mean automatic excommunication. His name would be announced to the entire Plain community, and he would go under the bann. No one would be allowed to have a meal or ride in a buggy with him. All socialization was discouraged, implemented to teach the offender a lesson they wouldn’t forget.
“Are you questioning my commitment to the church because I spent a few hours helping Maddie with her sohn?”
Finishing his last bite, Amos pushed the empty plate away. “You’ve left the faith before because you were lured by Englisch ways.”
Abram frowned. “I was unbaptized.”
The old man doubled down. “But you are baptized now. And it’s not proper for an unwed Amish man and a single Englisch woman to spend time together. You have no business visiting her.”
Abram forced himself not to roll his eyes. His groossdaadi was a stickler for the old ways and felt a man should not even be seen speaking in a familiar way to any female who was not accompanied by her ehmann or her daed, should she be unmarried. As for Englisch women—they were strictly off-limits in every way.
“Gran’pa, bless your soul. I’ve done nothing scandalous. And I don’t intend to.”
A squint crossed the table. “I don’t want you seeing her again.”
Abram gathered his patience. “That’s not sensible. Maddie works at the market. I’ve no good reason to let her go.”
Amos wiped his mouth with his thumb and forefinger before brushing away the crumbs in his beard. “Fine. Just don’t go getting too fond of her. She doesn’t belong in this familie.”
Swallowing against the emotion tightening his throat, Abram drained his mug. “Maddie’s just a friend,” he said after a moment’s silence. “Nothing more.”
Chapter Seven
“What are we going to be today?”
Hand nestled in her larger one, Josh glanced up. “Respectful, mindful and grateful,” he said, repeating back the morning’s lesson.
“Very good.”
Guiding him toward the Amish market, Maddie felt her nerves tighten. When Abram had suggested that she bring Josh to work with her, she’d thought he might be joking. But as their conversation had progressed, it had seemed like the best solution to the problem.
Asking Mrs. Graff to give him another chance wasn’t an attractive option. The dilemma with Josh would still be the same—he was hyperactive and had a short attention span. Finding a day care might be doable, but it would take time to find the right place she could afford. Because they’d left Philadelphia on short notice, she also didn’t have any of Josh’s recent school or medical records. Even though she’d asked her former landlord to forward her mail, it could take a while for the paperwork she needed to show up. Her only option was to give Abram’s suggestion a try.
“Now remember, mind your elders, and if you feel yourself getting mad, stop and take deep breaths.”
“I’m a working man now,” Josh said, clutching the lunch box Mrs. Graff had packed.
“Yes. You are. And I’m so proud.”
As they walked, the rest of the employees gave them a few stares but said nothing. A little less reserved, a few of the younger women smiled.
“Guten morgen, Maddie,” Gretl greeted as they joined the others and walked inside.
“Guten morgen,” Maddie returned. Living around other people who spoke the language daily had prodded her into remembering a lot of what she’d forgotten. Switching from Englisch to Deitsch was getting easier.
“And who is this kleiner?”
“This is my sohn, Josh,” she explained. “I’ve lost my sitter, so Abram said I could bring him to work. He’s going to be helping him with deliveries.”
“Good morning, ma’am,” Josh said politely.
“Ach, good morning, little one.”
Pleased with his manners, Maddie directed Josh to put his lunch box in the fridge. “I’ll be there in a minute,” she said, reaching for her time card.
“I think that’s wonderful,” Gretl continued, taking care of her own. “Abram’s gut about helping mothers when they need a hand with their youngies. You are not the first mutter who has had to bring her kinder to work.”
“I’m relieved to know that.”
Glancing around, Gretl leaned close. “It’s true. When Juanita Trent’s ehmann up and left, she had to bring her two babes for several months. She’s an Englischer, and her no-good man left her without a cent. Gott bless him, Abram helped her out with extra food and baby things until her familie could move her.”
Though she never indulged in idle gossip, Maddie wasn’t surprised Abram had stepped up to help.
“I feel blessed to know him.”
“To know who?” a familiar voice inquired from behind.
Maddie pivoted. Abram stood a few feet behind her, a bemused look on his face. Unlike many Amish men who wore their hair in the traditional bowl cuts, his collar-length mane of black curls tumbled aimlessly across his forehead. His glasses gave him a studious air but failed to dim the sparkle in his eyes.
Embarrassed, her stomach did a slow backflip. A ribbon of warm familiarity wound itself through her.
“Um, you. I said, I’m blessed to know you.”
