His Amish Sweetheart (2 page)

“Are you sure?” he asked. “You got hit pretty hard.”

“I'm fine.” Her blue eyes regarded him with curiosity. “When did you return to Paradise Springs?”

“Almost a month ago. I've inherited my grandparents' farm on the other side of the village.”

“I'm sorry, Nat—Nathaniel. I should have remembered that they'd passed away in the spring. You must miss them.”

“Ja,”
he said, though the years that had gone by since the last time he'd seen them left them as little more than childhood memories. Except for one visit to Paradise Springs the first year after the move, his life had been in Elkhart County, Indiana.

From beyond the school he heard the rattle of equipment and smelled the unmistakable scent of greenery and disturbed earth. Next year at this time, God willing, he'd be chopping his own corn into silage to feed his animals over the winter. He couldn't wait. At last, he had the job he'd always wanted: farmer. He wouldn't have had the opportunity in Indiana. There it was intended, in Amish tradition, that his younger brother would inherit the family's five acres. Nathaniel had assumed he, like his
daed
, would spend his life working in an
Englisch
factory building RVs.

Those plans had changed when word came that his Zook grandparents' farm in Paradise Springs was now his. A dream come true. Along with the surprising menagerie his
grossdawdi
and his
grossmammi
had collected in their final years. He'd been astonished not to find dairy cows when he arrived. Instead, there were about thirty-five alpacas, one of the oddest looking animals he'd ever seen. They resembled a combination of a poodle and a llama, especially at this time of year when their wool was thickening. In addition, on the farm were two mules, a buggy horse and more chickens than he could count. He was familiar with horses, mules and chickens, but he had a lot to learn about alpacas, which was the reason he'd come to the school today.

He was determined to make the farm a success so he wouldn't have to sell it. For the first time in far too many years, he felt alive with possibilities.

“How can I help you?” Esther asked, as if he'd spoken aloud. “Are you here to enroll a
kind
in school?”

Years of practice kept him from revealing how her simple question drove a shaft through his heart. She couldn't guess how much that question hurt him, and he didn't have time to wallow in thoughts of how, because of a childhood illness, he most likely could never be a
daed
. He'd never enjoy the simple act of coming to a school to arrange for his son or daughter to attend.

He was alive and well. For that he was grateful, and he needed to let the feelings of failure go. Otherwise, he was dismissing God's gift of life as worthless. That he'd never do.

Instead he needed to concentrate on why he'd visited the school this afternoon. After asking around the area, he'd learned of only one person who was familiar with how to raise alpacas.

Esther Stoltzfus.

“No, I'm here for a different reason.” He managed a smile. “One I think you'll find interesting.”

“I'd like to talk, Nathaniel, but—” She glanced at the older boy, the one she'd called Benny. He stood by the well beyond the schoolhouse and was washing his hands and face. Jacob sat on the porch. He was trembling in the wake of the fight and rocking his feet against the latticework. It made a dull thud each time his bare heels struck it. “I'm going to have to ask you to excuse me.
Danki
for pulling the boys apart.”

“The little guy doesn't look more than about six years old.”

“Jacob is eight. He's small for his age, but he has the heart of a lion.”

“But far less common sense if he fights boys twice his age.”

“Benny is fourteen.”

“Close enough.”

She nodded with another sigh. “Yet you saw who ended up battered and bloody. Jacob doesn't have a mark on him.”

“Quite a feat!”

“Really?” She frowned. “Think what a greater feat it would have been if Jacob had turned the other cheek and walked away from Benny. It's the lesson we need to take to heart.”

“For a young boy, it's hard to remember. We have to learn things the hard way, it seems.” He gave her a lopsided grin, but she wouldn't meet his eyes. She acted flustered. Why? She'd put a stop to the fight as quickly as she could. “Like the time your brothers and I got too close to a hive and got stung. I guess that's what people mean by a painful lesson.”

“Most lessons are.”

“Well, it was a
very
painful one.” He hurried on before she could leave. “I've heard you used to raise alpacas.”

“Just a pair. Are you planning to raise them on your grandparents' farm?”

“Not planning. They're already there. Apparently my
grossmammi
fell in love with the creatures and decided to buy some when she and my
grossdawdi
stopped milking. I don't know the first thing about alpacas, other than how to feed them. I was hoping you could share what you learned.” He didn't add that if he couldn't figure out a way to use the animals to make money, he'd have to sell them and probably the farm itself next spring.

When she glanced at the school again, he said, “Not right now, of course.”

“I'd like to help, but I don't have a lot of time.”

“I won't need a lot of your time. Just enough to point me in the right direction.”

She hesitated.

He could tell she didn't want to tell him no, but her mind was focused on the
kinder
now. Maybe he should leave and come back again, but he didn't have time to wait. The farm was more deeply in debt than he'd guessed before he came to Paradise Springs. He hadn't guessed his grandparents had spent so wildly on buying the animals that they had to borrow money for keeping them. Few plain folks their age took out a loan because it could become a burden on the next generation. Now it was his responsibility to repay it.

Inspiration struck when he looked from her to the naughty boys. It was a long shot, but he'd suggest anything if there was a chance to save his family's farm.

“Bring your scholars to see the alpacas,” he said. “I can ask my questions, and so can they. You can answer them for all of us. It'll be fun for them. Remember how we liked a break from schoolwork? They would, too, I'm sure.”

She didn't reply for a long minute, then nodded. “They probably would be really interested.”

He grinned. “Why don't I drive my flatbed wagon over here? I can give the
kinder
a ride on it both ways.”

“
Gut.
Let me know which day works best for you, and I'll tell the parents we're going there. Some of them may want to join us.”

“We'll make an adventure out of it, like when we were
kinder
.”

Color flashed up her face before vanishing, leaving her paler than before.

“Was iss letz?”
he asked.

“Nothing is wrong,” she replied so hastily he guessed she wasn't being honest. “I—”

A shout came from the porch where the bigger boy was walking past Jacob. The younger boy was on his feet, his fists clenched again.

She ran toward them, calling over her shoulder, “We'll have to talk about this later.”

“I'll come over tonight. We'll talk then.”

Nathaniel wondered if she'd heard him because she was already steering the boys into the school. Her soft voice reached him. Not the words, but the gently chiding tone. He guessed she was reminding them that they needed to settle their disputes without violence. He wondered if they'd listen and what she'd have to do if they didn't heed her.

As she closed the door, she looked at him and mouthed,
See you tonight
.

“Gut!”
he said as he walked to where he'd left his wagon on the road. He smiled. He'd been wanting to stop by the Stoltzfus farm, so her invitation offered the perfect excuse. It would be a fun evening, and for the first time since he'd seen the alpacas, he dared to believe that with what Esther could teach him about the odd creatures, he might be able to make a go of the farm.

Chapter Two

T
he Stoltzfus family farm was an easy walk from the school. Esther went across a field, along two different country roads, and then up the long lane to the only house she'd ever lived in. She'd been born there. Her
daed
had been as well, and his
daed
before him.

After
Daed
had passed away, her
mamm
had moved into the attached
dawdi haus
while Esther managed the main house. She'd hand over those duties when her older brother Ezra married, which she guessed would be before October was over, because he spent every bit of his free time with their neighbor Leah Beiler. Their wedding day was sure to be a joyous one.

Though she never would have admitted it, Esther was looking forward to giving the responsibilities of a household with five bachelor brothers to Leah. Even with one of her older brothers married, another widowed and her older sister off tending a family of her own, the housework was never-ending. Esther enjoyed cooking and keeping the house neat, but she was tired of mending a mountain of work clothes while trying to prepare lesson plans for the next day. Her brothers worked hard, whether on the farm or in construction or at the grocery store, and their clothes reflected that. She and
Mamm
never caught up.

Everything in her life had been in proper order...until Nathaniel Zook came to her school that afternoon. She was amazed she hadn't heard he was in Paradise Springs. If she'd known, maybe she'd have been better prepared. He'd grown up, but it didn't sound as if he'd changed. He still liked adventures if he intended to keep alpacas instead of the usual cows or sheep or goats on his farm. That made him a man she needed to steer clear of, so she could avoid the mistakes she'd made with Alvin Lee.

But how could she turn her back on helping him? It was the Amish way to give assistance when it was requested. She couldn't mess up Nathaniel's life because she was appalled by how she'd nearly ruined her own by chasing excitement.

His suggestion that she bring the scholars to his farm would focus attention on the
kinder
. She'd give them a fun day while they learned about something new, something that might be of use to them in the future. Who could guess now which one of them would someday have alpacas of his or her own?

That thought eased her disquiet enough that Esther could admire the trees in the front yard. They displayed their autumnal glory. Dried leaves were already skittering across the ground on the gentle breeze. Ezra's Brown Swiss cows grazed near the white barn. The sun was heading for the horizon, a sure sign milking would start soon. Dinner for her hungry brothers needed to be on the table by the time chores were done and the barn tidied up for the night.

When she entered the comfortable kitchen with its pale blue walls and dark wood cabinets, Esther was surprised to see her twin brothers there. They were almost five years older than she was, and they'd teased her, when they were
kinder
, of being an afterthought. She'd fired back with jests of her own, and they'd spent their childhoods laughing. No one took offense while they'd been climbing trees, fishing in the creek and doing tasks to help keep the farm and the house running.

Her twin brothers weren't identical. Daniel had a cleft in his chin and Micah didn't. There were other differences in the way they talked and how they used their hands to emphasize words. Micah asserted he was a half inch taller than his twin, but Esther couldn't see it. They were unusual in one important way—they didn't share a birthday. Micah had been born ten minutes before midnight, and Daniel a half hour later, a fact Micah never allowed his “baby” brother to forget.

Both twins had a glass of milk in one hand and a stack of snickerdoodles in the other. Their bare feet stuck out from where they sat at the large table in the middle of the kitchen.

“You're home early,” she said as she hung her bonnet and satchel on pegs by the back door. The twins' straw hats hung among the empty pegs, which would all be in use by the time the family sat down for dinner.

“We're finished at the project in Lititz,” Daniel said. He was a carpenter, as was Micah, but the older twin specialized in building windmills and installing solar panels. However, the two men were equally skilled with a hammer. “Time to hand it over to the electricians and plumbers. Micah already went over what needed to be done to connect the roof panels to the main electrical box.”

“You've been working on that house a long time,” she said as she opened the refrigerator door and took out the leftover ham she planned to reheat for dinner. “It must be a big one.”

“You know how
Englischers
are.” Micah chuckled. “They move out to Lancaster County to live the simple life and then decide they need lots of gadgets and rooms to store them in. This house has a real movie theater.”

She began cutting the ham into thick slices. “You're joking.”

“Would we do that?” Daniel asked with fake innocence before he took the final bite of his last cookie.

“Ja.”

“Ja,”
echoed Micah, folding his arms on the table. “We're being honest. The house is as big as our barn.”

Esther tried to imagine why anyone would need a house that size, but she couldn't. At one point, there had been eleven of them living in the Stoltzfus farmhouse along with her grandparents in the small
dawdi haus
, and there had been plenty of room.

Daniel stretched before he yawned. “Sorry. It was an early morning.”

“You'll want to stay awake. An old friend of yours is stopping by tonight.”

“Who?” Micah asked.

She could tell them, but it served her brothers right to let their curiosity stew a bit longer. Smiling, she said, “Someone who inherited a farm on Zook Road.”

The twins exchanged a disbelieving glance before Daniel asked, “Are you talking about Nate Zook?”

“He calls himself Nathaniel now.”

“He's back in Paradise Springs?” he asked.

“Ja.”

“It's been almost ten years since the last time we saw him.” With a pensive expression, Micah rubbed his chin between his forefinger and thumb. “Remember, Daniel? He came out from Indiana to spend the summer with his grandparents the year after his family moved.”

Daniel chuckled. “His
grossmammi
made us chocolate shoo-fly pie the day before he left. One of the best things I've ever tasted. Do you remember, Esther?”

“No.” She was glad she had her back to them as she placed ham slices in the cast-iron fry pan. Her face was growing warm as she thought again of Nathaniel's visit and how she'd made a complete fool of herself. Hurrying to the cellar doorway, she got the bag of potatoes that had been harvested a few weeks ago. She'd make mashed potatoes tonight. Everyone liked them, and she could release some of her pent-up emotions while smashing them.

“Oh, that's right,” Daniel said. “You decided you didn't want to play with us boys any longer. You thought it was a big secret why, but we knew.”

She looked over her shoulder before she could halt herself. “You did?” How many more surprises was she going to have today? First, Nathaniel Zook showed up at her school, and now her brother was telling her he'd known why she stopped going to the Zook farm. Had Nathaniel told him about her brash stupidity of announcing she planned to marry him one day?

“Ja.”
Jabbing his brother with his elbow, Micah said, “You had a big crush on Nate. Giggled whenever you were around him.”

She wanted to take them by the shoulders and shake them and tell them how wrong they were. She couldn't. That would be a lie. She'd had a big crush on Nathaniel. He was the only boy she knew who wasn't annoyed because she could outrun him or hit a ball as well as he did. He'd never tried to make her feel she was different from other girls because she preferred being outside to working beside her
mamm
in the house. Not once had he picked on her because she did well at school, like some of the other boys had.

That had happened long ago. She needed to put it out of her head. Nathaniel must have forgotten—or at least forgiven her—since he came to ask a favor today. She'd follow his lead for once and act as if the mortifying day had never happened.

“You don't know what you're talking about,” Esther said, lifting her chin as she carried the potatoes to the sink to wash them. “I was a little girl.”

“Who had a big crush on Nate Zook.” Her brothers laughed as if Micah had said the funniest thing ever. “We'll have to watch and see if she drools when he walks in.”

“Stop teasing your sister,”
Mamm
said as she came through the door from the
dawdi haus
. She'd moved in preparation for Ezra's marriage. Though neither Ezra nor Leah spoke of their plans to marry, everyone suspected they'd be among the first couples having their intentions published at the next church Sunday.

“Well, she needs to marry someone,” Micah said with a broad grin. “She can't seem to make up her mind about the guys around here. Just like Danny-boy can't decide on one girl.” He poked his elbow at his twin again, but Daniel moved aside.

“Why settle for one when there are plenty of pretty ones willing to let me take them home?” Daniel asked.

Esther was startled to see his smile wasn't reflected in his eyes. His jesting words were meant to hide his true feelings. The twins were popular with young people in their district and the neighboring ones. They were fun and funny. What was Daniel concealing behind his ready grin?

More questions, and she didn't need more questions. She already had enough without any answers. The marriage season for the Amish began in October. As it approached, she'd asked herself if she should try walking out with another young man. Maybe that would be the best way to put Alvin Lee and his betrayal out of her mind. But she wasn't ready to risk her heart again.

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.