His Amish Sweetheart Page 3

  Better to be wise than to be sorry. How many times had she heard Mamm say those words? She’d discovered the wisdom in them by learning the truth the hard way. She’d promised herself to be extra careful with her heart from now on.

  After giving her mamm a hug, Esther finished preparing their supper. She was grateful for Mamm’s assistance because she felt clumsy as she hadn’t since she first began helping in the kitchen. Telling herself to focus, she avoided cutting herself as she peeled potatoes. Her brothers were too busy teasing each other to notice how her fingers shook.

  Danki, Lord, for small blessings.

  She put the reheated ham, buttered peas and a large bowl of mashed potatoes on the table. Mamm finished slicing the bread Esther had made before school that morning and put platters at either end along with butter and apple butter. While Esther retrieved the cabbage salad and chowchow from the refrigerator, her mamm filled a pitcher with water.

  The door opened, and Ezra came in with a metal half-gallon milk can. In his other hand he carried a generous slab of his fragrant, homemade cheese. He called a greeting before stepping aside to let three more brothers enter. They’d been busy at the Stoltzfus Family Shops closer to the village of Paradise Springs. Amos set fresh apple cider from his grocery store in the center of the table.

  As soon as they sat together at the table, Ezra, as the oldest son present, bowed his head. It was the signal for the meal’s silent grace.

  Esther quickly offered her thanks, then added a supplication that she’d be able to help Nathaniel without complications. To be honest, she’d enjoy teaching him how to raise alpacas and harvest the wondrously soft wool they grew.

  As she raised her head when Ezra cleared his throat, she glanced around the table at her brothers and mamm. She had a gut life with her family and her scholars and her community. She didn’t need adventure. Not her own or anyone else’s. How she would have embarrassed her family if they’d heard of her partying with Alvin Lee and his friends! She could have lost her position as teacher, as well as shamed her family.

  Learn from your failures, or you’ll fail to learn. A poster saying that hung in the schoolroom. She needed to remember those words and hold them close to her heart. She vowed to do so, starting that very second.

  * * *

  As Nathaniel drove his buggy into the farm lane leading to the large white farmhouse where the Stoltzfus family lived, he couldn’t keep from grinning. He’d looked forward to seeing them as much as he had his grandparents when he’d spent a summer in Paradise Springs years ago. Micah and Daniel had imaginations that had cooked up mischief to keep their summer days filled with adventures. Not even chores could slow down their laugh-filled hours.

  Then there was Esther. She’d been brave enough to try anything and never quailed before a challenge. The twins had been less willing to accept every dare he posed. Not Esther. He remembered the buzz of excitement he’d felt the afternoon she’d agreed to jump from the second story hayloft if he did.

  He knew he was going to have to be that gutsy if he hoped to save his grandparents’ farm. It’d been in the family for generations, and he didn’t want to be the one to sell it. Even if he couldn’t have kinder of his own to inherit it, his two oldest sisters were already married with bopplin. One of them might want to take over the farm, and he didn’t want to lose it because he hadn’t learned quickly enough.

  Esther agreeing to help him with the alpacas might be the saving grace he’d prayed for. If it wasn’t, he could be defeated before he began.

  No, I’m not going to think that way. I’m not going to give up before I’ve barely begun. He got out of the buggy. Things were going to get better. Starting now. He had to believe God’s hands were upon the inheritance that gave him a chance to make his dream of running his own farm come true.

  He strode toward the white house’s kitchen door. Nobody used the front door except for church Sundays and funerals. The house and white outbuildings hadn’t changed much in ten years. There was a third silo by the largest barn, and instead of the black-and-white cows Esther’s daed used to milk, grayish-brown cattle stood in the pasture. The chicken coop was closer to the house than he remembered, and extra buggies and wagons were parked beneath the trees.

  He paused at the door. He’d never knocked at the Stoltzfus house before, but somehow it didn’t feel right to walk in. Too many years had passed since the last time he’d come to the farm.

  “Why are you standing on the steps?” came a friendly female voice as the door swung open. “Komm in, Nate. We’re about to enjoy some snitz pie.”

  Wanda Stoltzfus, Esther’s mamm, looked smaller than he remembered. He knew she hadn’t shrunk; he’d grown. Her hair had strands of gray woven through it, but her smile was as warm as ever.

  “Did you make the pie?” he asked, delighted to see the welcome in eyes almost the same shade as her daughter’s.

  “Do you think I’d trust anyone, even my own kinder, with my super secret recipe for dried-apple pie while there’s breath in these old bones?” She stepped aside and motioned for him to come in.

  “You aren’t old, Wanda,” he replied.

  “And you haven’t lost an ounce of the charm you used as a boy to try to wheedle extra treats from me.”

  He heard a snicker and looked past her. Esther was at the stove, pouring freshly brewed kaffi into one cup after the other. The sound hadn’t come from her, but his gaze had riveted on her. She looked pretty and somehow younger and more vulnerable now that she was barefoot and had traded her starched kapp for a dark kerchief over her golden hair. He could see the little girl she’d been transposed over the woman she had become, and his heart gave a peculiar little stutter.

  What was that? He hadn’t felt its like before, and he wasn’t sure what was causing it now. Esther was his childhood friend. Why was he nervous?

  Hearing another laugh, Nathaniel pulled his gaze from her and looked at the table where six of the seven Stoltzfus brothers were gathered. Joshua, whom he’d recently heard had married again after the death of his first wife, and Ruth, the oldest, who had been wed long enough to have given her husband a houseful of kinder, were missing. A pulse of sorrow pinched at him because he noticed Ezra was sitting where Paul, the family’s late patriarch, had sat. Paul had welcomed him into the family as if Nathaniel were one of his own sons.

  Nathaniel stared at the men rising from the table. It was startling to see his onetime childhood playmates grown up. He’d known time hadn’t stood still for them. Yet the change was greater than he’d guessed. Isaiah wore a beard that was patchy and sparse. He must be married, though Nathaniel hadn’t heard about it. All the Stoltzfus brothers were tall, well-muscled from hard work and wore friendly smiles.

  Then the twins opened their mouths and asked him how he liked running what they called the Paradise Springs Municipal Zoo. Nothing important had changed, he realized. They enjoyed teasing each other and everyone around them, and he was their chosen target tonight. Nothing they said was cruel. They poked fun as much at themselves as anyone else. Their eyes hadn’t lost the mischievous glint that warned another prank was about to begin.

  For the first time since he’d returned to Paradise Springs, he didn’t feel like a stranger. He was among friends.

  Nathaniel sat at the large table. When Esther put a slice of pie and a steaming cup of kaffi in front of him, he thanked her. She murmured something before hurrying away to bring more cups to the table. He had no chance to talk to her because her brothers kept him busy with questions. He was amazed to learn that Jeremiah, who’d been all thumbs as a boy, now was a master woodworker, and Isaiah was a blacksmith as well as one of the district’s ministers. Amos leaned over to whisper that Isaiah’s young bride had died a few months earlier, soon after Isaiah had been chosen by lot to be the new minister.

  Saddened by the family’s loss, he knew he shoul
d wait until he had a chance to talk to Isaiah alone before he expressed his condolences. He sensed how hard Isaiah was trying to join in the gut humor around the table.

  Nathaniel answered their questions about discovering the alpacas on the farm and explained how he planned to plant the fields in the spring. “Right now, the fields are rented to neighbors, so I can’t cut a single blade of grass to feed those silly creatures this winter.”

  “You’re staying in Paradise Springs?” Wanda asked.

  “That’s my plan.” His parents weren’t pleased he’d left Indiana, though they’d pulled up roots in Lancaster County ten years ago. He’d already received half a dozen letters from his mamm pleading for him to come home. She acted as if he’d left the Amish to join the Englisch world.

  “Wunderbaar, Nate... I mean, Nathaniel.” Wanda smiled.

  “Call me whichever you wish. It doesn’t matter.”

  “I know your family must be pleased to have you take over the farm that has been in Zook hands for generations. It is gut to know it’ll continue in the family.”

  “Ja.” He sounded as uncertain as he felt. The generations to come might be a huge problem. He reminded himself to be optimistic and focus on the here and now. Once he made the farm a success, his nephews and nieces would be eager to take it over.

  His gaze locked with Esther’s. He hadn’t meant to let it happen, but he couldn’t look away. There was much more to her now than the little girl she’d been. He had a difficult time imagining her at the teacher’s desk instead of among the scholars, sending him and her brothers notes filled with plans for after school.

  Esther the Pester was what they’d called her then, but he’d been eager to join in with the fun she proposed. He wondered if she were as avid to entertain her scholars. No wonder everyone praised her teaching.

  Ezra said his name in a tone suggesting he’d been trying to get Nathaniel’s attention. Breaking free of his memories was easier than cutting the link between his eyes and Esther’s. He wasn’t sure he could have managed it if she hadn’t looked away.

  Recalling what Ezra had asked, Nathaniel said, “I’ve got a lot to learn to be a proper farmer. Esther agreed to help me with the alpacas.”

  “Don’t let her tell you Daniel and I tried roping hers,” Micah said with a laugh. “It was an innocent misunderstanding.”

  “Misunderstanding? Yes,” Esther retorted. “Innocent? I don’t think so. Poor Pepe and Delfina were traumatized for weeks.”

  “The same amount of time it took to get the reek of their spit off me.” Micah wrinkled his nose. “Watch out, Nathaniel. They’re docile most of the time but they have a secret weapon. Their spit can leave you gagging for days.”

  Nathaniel grinned. “I’m glad you two learned that disgusting lesson instead of me.” He noticed Esther was smiling broadly. “I hope, Ezra, you don’t mind me asking you about a thousand questions about working the fields.”

  “Of course not, though it’d be better to wait to ask until after the first of the year.” He reached for another piece of pie.

  Nathaniel started to ask why, then saw the family’s abruptly bland faces. Ezra must be getting married. His mamm and brothers and Esther were keeping the secret until the wedding was announced. They must like his future bride and looked forward to her becoming a part of their family along with any kinder she and Ezra might have.

  He kept his sigh silent. Assuming he ever found a woman who would consider marrying him, having a single kind of his own might be impossible. He’d been thirteen when he was diagnosed with leukemia. That had been after the last summer he’d spent in Paradise Springs with his grandparents. For the next year, he’d undergone treatments and fought to recover. Chemo and radiation had defeated the cancer, but he’d been warned the chemo that had saved his life made it unlikely he’d ever be a daed. He thought he’d accepted it as God’s will, but, seeing the quiet joy in Ezra Stoltzfus’s eyes was a painful reminder of what he would never have. He couldn’t imagine a woman agreeing to marry him once she knew the truth.

  When the last of the pie was gone, the table cleared and thanks given once more, Nathaniel knew it was time to leave. Everyone had to be up before the sun in the morning.

  As he stood, he asked as casually as he could, “Esther, will you walk to my buggy with me?”

  Her brothers and mamm regarded him with as much astonishment as if he’d announced he wanted to discuss a trip to the moon. Did they think he was planning to court her? He couldn’t, not when he couldn’t give Esther kinder. She loved them. He’d seen that at the school.

  “I’ve got a few questions about your scholars visiting the farm,” he hurried to add.

  “All right.” Esther came to her feet with the grace she hadn’t had as a little girl. Walking around the table, she went to the door. She pulled on her black sneakers and bent to tie them.

  The night, when they stepped outside, was cool, but crisp in the way fall nights were. The stars seemed closer than during the summer, and the moon was beginning to rise over the horizon. It was a brilliant orange. Huge, it took up most of the eastern sky.

  Under his boots, the grass was slippery with dew. It wouldn’t be long before the dampness became frost. The seasons were gentler and slower here than in northern Indiana. He needed to become attuned to their pace again.

  Esther’s steps were soft as she walked beside him while they made arrangements for the scholars’ trip. He smiled when she asked if it would be okay for the kinder to have their midday meal at the farm.

  “That way, we can have time for desk work when we return,” she said.

  “I’ll make sure I have drinks for the kinder, so they don’t have to bring those.”

  “That’s kind of you, Nathaniel.” She offered him another warm smile. “I want to say danki again for helping me stop the fight this afternoon.”

  “Do you have many of them?”

  “Ja, and Jacob seems to be involved in each one.”

  He frowned. “Is there something wrong with the boy that he can’t settle disagreements other than with his fists?” The wrong question to ask, he realized when she bristled.

  “Nothing is wrong with him.” She took a steadying breath, then said more calmly, “Forgive me. You can’t know how it is. Jacob has had a harder time than most kids. He lives with his onkel, actually his daed’s onkel. The man is too old to be taking care of a kind, but apparently he’s the boy’s sole relative. At least Jacob has him. The poor boy has seen things no kind should see.”

  “What do you mean?” He stopped beneath the great maple tree at the edge of the yard.

  She explained how Jacob’s parents had been killed and the boy badly hurt, physically and emotionally. Nathaniel’s heart contracted with the thought of a kind suffering such grief.

  “After the accident,” she said, “we checked everywhere for other family, even putting a letter in The Budget.”

  He knew the newspaper aimed at and written by correspondents in plain communities was read throughout the world. “Nobody came forward?”

  “Nobody.” Her voice fell to a whisper. “Maybe that’s why Jacob is angry. He believes everyone, including God, has abandoned him. He blames God for taking his mamm and daed right in front of his eyes. Why should he obey Jesus’s request that we turn the other cheek and forgive those who treat us badly when, in Jacob’s opinion, God has treated him worse than anyone on Earth could?”

  “Anger at God eats at your soul. He has time to wait for your fury to run its course and still He forgives you.”

  “That sounds like the voice of experience.”

  “It is.” He hesitated, wondering if he should tell her about the chemo. It was too personal a subject to share, even with Esther.

  She said nothing, clearly expecting him to continue. When he didn’t, she bid him good-night and started
to turn away.

  He put his hand on her arm as he’d done many times when they were kids. She looked at him, and the moonlight washed across her face. Who would have guessed a freckle-faced imp would mature into such a pretty woman? That odd sensation uncurled in his stomach again when she gazed at him, waiting for him to speak. Another change, because the Esther he’d known years ago wouldn’t have waited on anything before she plunged headlong into her next adventure.

  “Danki for agreeing to teach me about alpacas.”

  He watched her smile return and brighten her face. “I know how busy you are, but without your help I might have to sell the flock.”

  “Herd,” she said with a laugh. “Sheep are a flock. Alpacas are a herd.”

  “See? I’m learning already.”

  “You’ve got much more to learn.”

  He grinned. “You used to like when I had to listen to you.”

  “Still do. I’ll let you know when I’ve contacted the scholars’ parents, and we’ll arrange a day for them to visit.” She patted his arm and ran into the house, her skirts fluttering behind her.

  With a chuckle, he climbed into his buggy. He might not know a lot about alpacas, but he knew the lessons to come wouldn’t be boring as long as Esther was involved.

  Chapter Three

  Nathaniel stepped down from his wagon and past the pair of mules hooked to it. There would be about twenty-two kinder along with, he guessed, at least one or two mamms to help oversee the scholars. Add in Esther and her assistant teacher. It was a small load, so it would give the mules, Sal and Gal, some gentle exercise. Tomorrow, he needed them to fetch a large load of hay. He’d store it in the barn to feed the animals during the winter.

  The scholars were milling about in front of the school, their excited voices like a flock of blue jays. He was glad he’d left his mutze coat, the black wool coat plain men wore to church services, home on the warm morning and had his black vest on over his white shirt. His black felt hat was too hot, and he’d trade it for his straw one as soon as he got to the farm.