Love Inspired November 2013 #2 (7 page)

Rebecca picked up a ball of yarn and two knitting needles and settled into a rocking chair near the window. She didn't speak, and the only sounds in the kitchen were the warm crackle from the woodstove, the tick of a mantel clock and the click of her needles. She didn't launch into chatter as she usually did mornings and evenings at his house, but only rocked and concentrated on the scarf she was constructing.

The chair Caleb sat in at the head of the table was big and comfortable. The coffee was strong, and the pie the best he'd ever tasted. He hadn't sat down all day, and it felt good to relax in this warm, cozy kitchen, knowing that he'd put in a good day's work. If next week went as well, he was certain he could finish the contract on time.

Caleb pushed a forkful of pie into his mouth, thinking he shouldn't stay long. “Is Amelia ready?”

Rebecca looked up and smiled. “She's asleep. I tucked her in with Johanna's Katy, who is spending the night. The two girls had a great time putting together a puzzle and playing Go Fish. That was all right, wasn't it? To let her play the card game?” Old Amish didn't play adult card games that involved betting, but in most families, simple games were acceptable.

“Go Fish.” He shrugged. “I don't see why not.”

“I can go get Amelia if you'd like, but I was hoping you'd let her sleep over tonight. She wanted me to ask you. Johanna and Roland are picking Katy up in the morning after breakfast and they could drop Amelia off with you. Or I could take her with me to Ruth's. We're going to make applesauce. That way, if you want to go to the shop for a few hours...”

Caleb considered. He usually worked around the farm on Saturday, but an extra half day would certainly make his deadline more doable. “If you're sure that it's no trouble,” he said. “I'll pay you extra.”

“Ne.”
Rebecca shook her head and rose gracefully from the chair. “I invited her. Another slice of pie?”

He glanced down, surprised to see that only crumbs remained on the plate. He went to hand it to Rebecca just as she reached for it, and their fingers accidently brushed each other. A tremor of sensation ran up his forearm and he inhaled sharply. Instantly he felt his throat flush. “No need,” he stammered.

But she was already across the room and cutting more pie. Had she even noticed his touch? Caleb picked up the mug and downed a swallow of coffee to cover his confusion. He couldn't decide if this was way too comfortable or too uncomfortable. Somehow, he felt an invisible line had been crossed.

“Amelia can spend the night—since she's already asleep.” He rose, feeling awkward. “I'll be on my way.”

“But your pie?” She indicated the slice she'd just cut.

“I've had plenty.” He grabbed his jacket and started for the door. “It was good. The pie. Thanks.”

“You're welcome.” She followed him to the porch.

“Send Amelia home with Roland and Johanna. No need for you to care for her on your weekend.”

“As you like,” Rebecca answered from the back door. “But I wish you'd take part of this pie home for breakfast.”

“I told you,” he said from the porch. “I've had enough.”

“Good night, Caleb.”

He heard the door close behind him and went down the steps. In the middle of the dark farmyard, he stopped and took a deep breath. It had been nice sitting in the warm, cozy kitchen with Rebecca, having pie, listening to her knitting needles click.

Was Samuel right? Should he start thinking about finding a wife and a mother for Amelia?

As he unhitched his horse from the hitching post, he thought about the fact that his first instinct concerning Rebecca Yoder was that she wouldn't be an appropriate housekeeper and childcare provider. He should have listened to common sense.

Originally, he'd thought she was the wrong woman because of her age. He had assumed that she didn't have enough experience caring for children. At least not with a child like Amelia. He'd been right about her being the wrong one to have in his house, but maybe for the wrong reason.

Rebecca was the wrong woman to be his housekeeper because she was too...pretty. Too lively. She was...too...too much.

It had been a bad idea from the first day. What business did a respectable preacher have employing a single woman...one as pretty as Rebecca? If people weren't talking yet, they would be soon. Samuel was married to one of Rebecca's sisters. Had he been hinting that gossip was already circulating about Rebecca?

Did she have to go?

Of course, if he was going to go to the older women in the community and tell them he needed a different housekeeper, he'd need to give them a reason. Rebecca was an excellent housekeeper. He couldn't deny that any more than he could deny that Amelia liked her, and the child's behavior was improving under Rebecca's tutelage. What would he say to the women of the community?

That he was afraid that he could possibly be attracted to her? He couldn't do that. It would be completely inappropriate. He wasn't even sure it was true.

Caleb climbed up into the buggy. The one thing he did know to be true was that something had to be done about Rebecca Yoder.

Chapter Seven

“F
irst breakfast, and then I'm sure Susanna will take you, Katy and Mae out to her library and let the three of you look at the children's books.” Rebecca motioned for Amelia to take her place at the table between the other two girls.

She scrambled up into the chair, and after a burst of small female greetings and chatter, the little girls closed their eyes for a few seconds of silent grace. Once the blessing had been asked, Rebecca handed each an apple-walnut muffin, a cup of milk and sections of tangerines. “Now, who wants oatmeal?” Rebecca asked. “Mam made it this morning before she went to school.”

Caleb had driven over in the buggy to drop his daughter off at the Yoder house this morning, a Wednesday, more than two weeks after the misunderstanding with Rebecca. Rebecca knew that pride was a fault, but she couldn't help being pleased with the little girl. Over the past weeks, she had come to adore Amelia. The child could be spirited, sometimes even naughty, but she had a loving heart, and she could be extremely helpful when she wanted to be. It was natural that a child raised without a mother could be difficult at times; all Amelia needed was a gentle but firm woman's guidance.

And...if Rebecca was absolutely honest with herself, she had to admit that she liked working for Caleb. Since he'd apologized for being cross with her the day Amelia pushed Mae off the step, he had been nothing but kind and pleasant. He had done as he'd said he would—he'd told other members of the community, including her mother, that he'd made a mistake in judgment and that he'd been hasty with Rebecca.

She'd been a little embarrassed that the whole incident hadn't been dropped. But at the same time, it pleased her that Caleb was true to his word, even if it meant taking public blame—something not all men were willing to do. Seeing what a good father he was and how seriously he took his church responsibilities made her admire Caleb's character even more.

Despite their awkward beginning—when he'd unnecessarily come to her rescue that evening in his barn loft—Rebecca was glad that she hadn't heeded her friends' warnings about how difficult Caleb and Amelia were. Mam was right. It was always better to form your own opinions and not listen to other people—especially when they had something unkind to say about strangers.

“Becca!” Susanna tugged at her arm. “You are not a good listener.”

“
Ach,
I'm sorry. I was woolgathering.” Rebecca glanced down at her sister. “What is it, honey?”

Something had clearly upset Susanna. Her nose and cheeks were red, and her forehead was creased in a frown. “Listen to me, Becca. I
said
I don't want to take the
kinner
out to my library.”

Surprised at such an unusual declaration from Susanna, who was always so willing to help, Rebecca stared at her in confusion. “You don't?”

“Don't want to read books,” Susanna said adamantly. “Don't want to watch Mae, Katy and Amelia.”

“But you love taking care of the library.” Anna poured milk on Amelia's oatmeal and sprinkled raisins and bits of chopped apple on top. “And it's your responsibility.”

“The girls want to take home books,” Rebecca reminded her. “Don't you want to show them—”

“Ne,”
Susanna cut her off. “I want to make applesauce with you.”

At a loss for words, Rebecca glanced up. Ruth, Miriam, Anna and Johanna were all looking at Susanna, too. They'd joined her in Mam's kitchen this morning to make applesauce and can it for the five households. Usually, Mam was in the center of applesauce production, but this was a school day. The sisters had planned to take on the task as a surprise and finish before Mam arrived home. Naturally, Ruth, Johanna and Anna had brought their children—the babies and those too young for school—and everyone had expected Susanna to entertain the little girls, as she always did. Small babies were easy to feed and tuck into cradles, cribs and bassinets, but active four-and five-year-olds could pose problems during the canning process if they weren't kept safely occupied.

“We were counting on you.” Ruth smiled at Susanna. “You know you love the girls.”

“Ya.”
Susanna nodded her head firmly. “Love the girls, but want to make applesauce. Today. For King David.”

Susanna's speech was sometimes difficult for strangers to understand because she had Down syndrome. It was especially hard to follow her when she switched back and forth between
Deitsch
and English indiscriminately, but Rebecca had no trouble interpreting her little sister's meaning. Most of the time, Susanna was sweet-natured and biddable, but when she made up her mind to do something, she proved she was a Yoder. Susanna could be as stubborn and unmovable as Johanna.

Rebecca looked at Anna, who just shrugged.

“Susanna wants to make applesauce.” Miriam chuckled. “So I guess we go to plan B and let her help.”

“Me, too,” Mae piped up from the table. “I want to make applesauce.”

Katy chimed in. “And me! I can help!”

“I can, too.” Oatmeal dribbled from Amelia's mouth.

Rebecca grabbed a napkin and wiped Amelia's chin. Amelia slid down from her chair, and Rebecca leaned over and gave her a hug. When Amelia's arms tightened around her neck, Rebecca felt a catch of emotion in her chest. She was making real progress with Amelia. She knew she was.

“I can help,” Katy repeated.

“We're happy that you all want to be big helpers,” Anna assured them with a motherly smile. “But you can help most now by finishing your breakfast so we can clear away the dishes.” Seemingly mollified, at least for the moment, Amelia returned to her seat and the children went back to eating.

Ruth took Susanna's hand and turned it over to show a Band-Aid. “Remember what happened when you were peeling potatoes Saturday? You cut yourself. One time you cut your hand so badly that you had to go to the hospital for stitches. That's why Mam would rather you didn't use sharp paring knives.”

“We love you,” Johanna put in. “We don't want you to get hurt again.”

“You can help us, if you want,” Anna soothed. “You can wash the apples and jars and—”

“I want to peel apples,” Susanna insisted. “Me. Make applesauce for King David. He likes applesauce. With
cimmanon.
”

Miriam rolled her eyes.

Rebecca sighed. The family had thought that Susanna's innocent infatuation with David King, a young man who also had Down syndrome, would pass. But to Mam's distress, and all of the sisters, it showed no signs of going away.

Amish girls grew to women and married and had families of their own. That was the way it had always been. But because sweet Susanna had been born with Down syndrome, in many ways, she would always remain a child. There would be no husband for Susanna. She would never have her own family. Her family would always be those who loved her most: her mother, her sisters and brothers-in-law, her aunts and grandmother and her nieces and nephews. Through the years, Mam had tried to explain this to Susanna, but she never understood.

The family had always cherished Susanna. Their father had called her their special blessing. If there were things Susanna couldn't do—like using sharp tools or driving a horse and buggy—God had given her special gifts. Susanna could see clearly into the hearts of others, and she possessed endless patience and compassion.

Susanna had a tender understanding of children and animals, and she seemed to possess her own store of sunshine that she carried with her. Just being near Susanna and seeing her joy in everyday things made other people happier. In Rebecca's mind, Dat had been right. Susanna was not only one of God's chosen; she was a blessing to the family because they all learned so much by knowing her.

For all those reasons and a hundred more, none of them wanted to deny her the pleasure of helping in the daily household tasks. She could help in making applesauce as she helped Mam in the garden and kitchen, as she helped at community gatherings. But there were things that weren't safe for Susanna to attempt, one of which had proved to be cutting or peeling. And, until recently, Susanna had seemed to accept those limitations.

But today, apparently, was going to be different. Susanna's lower lip stuck out. She folded her chubby arms and stamped her foot. “I want to peel apples,” she said.

“Sorry,” Johanna said firmly. “Mam says no.”

“It's up to Mam,” Anna agreed. “You'll have to ask her.”

“Ya,”
Miriam said. “And she's at school.”

Tears glistened in Susanna's eyes and one slid down her cheek. Angrily, she wiped it away. “No library books,” she flung at them. “No washing apples.” Turning abruptly, she trudged out of the kitchen and up the stairs, leaving her sisters astonished.

“I'm sorry she's upset,” Ruth said, crossing the room to check on her sleeping twins. Mam and Irwin had carried a cradle down from the attic, and when Ruth or Anna visited, there was usually a baby tucked into it. In Ruth's case, with her twin boys, there were two. “I think someone is awake and hungry,” Ruth murmured. She picked up Adam and sat down in the rocker near the window. Covering herself modestly with a shawl, she began to nurse the baby.

“It's good to have so many little ones in the house,” Anna said. Her own youngest, Rose, was asleep in Hannah's bed. She wiped her hands on her apron and walked over to smile down at Ruth's other sleeping boy. “I know it makes Mam happy.”

“Shouldn't one of us go up and talk to Susanna?” Johanna wiped off an already spotless counter and shifted a large kettle from one burner on the stove to another. “If she's really upset...”

“Maybe we should let her be,” Ruth said. “Mam would have our heads if she had another accident with a paring knife, and once she's over her fuss, she'll be fine.”

“Can we go see the books?” Amelia ventured. “Is there one about a giraffe?”

“I have a giraffe book,” Mae said. “And a book about chickens.”

“I want a book about ponies.” Katy tugged at her mother's apron. “The brown pony with the black mane. That book.”

“Come on,
kinner.
” Miriam indicated the door with a nod of her head. “I'll take you out to pick books.”

Giggling excitedly, the three girls followed Miriam outside to the Amish community library, in what had once been Dat's milk house.

“And that leaves us to start on the applesauce.” Anna placed her hands on her ample hips and glanced at the huge copper-bottomed pots that stood on both Mam's woodstove and the six-burner, propane gas range. “Do you two want to start carrying in the apples? We've got a lot of peeling and cutting to do before they're ready for the kettles.”

“Sure,” Rebecca agreed. Bushels of Black Twig, Granny Smith, Winesap and Jonathan apples waited on the porch. Making applesauce with her family was something that she looked forward to all year. She loved the heady smells of cooking apples and cinnamon, and she loved seeing the results—rows of quart jars of applesauce to line the pantry shelves. There was something so satisfying about knowing that a few days' work provided good food that would last them until next fall and the next crop of ripe fruit.

The baskets were heavy, but the Yoder sisters had done manual labor since they were young, and Rebecca didn't mind the lifting. Peeling was easy. Her fingers remembered what to do while she was free to sit and visit with her sister. They laughed and shared memories of their childhood as well as amusing or serious moments in their own homes.

This is a good day, a happy day. But how many days with my sisters do I have left?

Since Rebecca was fifteen, she'd been taking part in young people's singings and frolics. So far, while she watched her sisters, cousins and friends court and marry, she hadn't met a man with whom she wanted to spend the rest of her life.

An unmarried girl her age usually began to look farther afield; it wasn't uncommon to go to another community in another state to find a husband. It wasn't the thought of leaving her mother's house that bothered her as much as not having her sisters around her on a daily basis, as she did now. How could she marry and move away and not watch Anna's little Rose learn to talk, or see Ruth's twins start to crawl and then walk? What would she do without Miriam to tease and laugh with, or Johanna, who gave the best advice? How could she leave all those she loved to go away to be a wife and miss the remaining years of Grossmama's life?

If only there were someone here like...like Caleb.

Caleb was a fine man, of course. That went without saying. But she didn't want him for a husband. He was a preacher and too settled in his ways for her. Not old exactly, but thirty, at least.

A preacher's wife?
she mused.
Impossible.
She couldn't imagine herself as a preacher's wife. The community expected a certain seriousness from the spouse of a religious leader. Dat had been Bishop and her mother had always been respected. Women came to Mam when they needed help or advice in their personal lives. Mam had always had a dignity, an instinctive manner that told even the English that she was an authority figure.

Rebecca sighed as she tossed another apple peel in the bucket. She was definitely too worldly and not humble enough to be a preacher's wife. Besides, Caleb didn't think of her as a candidate for courtship. Eventually, she knew that he would seek out a wife, but it would be some older woman, probably a widow with children. Someone Johanna's age. Johanna would have been a good match for Caleb if she and Roland hadn't fallen in love all over again and wed.

I could end up meeting some young man from Ohio or Oregon or Virginia and going to make a new life among his family and friends,
Rebecca thought.