On Her Own (19 page)

Paul cleared his throat, and she turned toward him.

“Why don’t you check on Aaron?” she suggested.

“You’re the boss.” He gave the bishop a quick nod and headed for the back of the shop.

Barbara set the bread aside, pulled out her order pad, and grabbed a pencil. “Let’s see now. . . . You said you wanted a new bridle?”

“Jah, that’s right.”

“It shouldn’t be a problem.” Barbara scrawled the bishop’s name at the top of the page and wrote down the order. “Do you want it to be black or brown?”

“Black. And nothing fancy added.” He shook his head. “Wouldn’t do for the bishop to be driving around using a worldly-looking bridle on his buggy horse.”

“No, of course not.”

When Barbara finished writing up the order, she tore off the
top sheet and handed it to John, placing the carbon copy in the metal basket with their other orders. “If you’d like to drop by in a few weeks, we’ll have the bridle ready for you.”

His forehead wrinkled. “I was kind of hoping to come by sooner than that.”

She tapped the tip of the pencil against the desk. “I don’t think we can have it ready any sooner.”

He grunted. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Oh?”

“I was planning to come calling on you. Maybe take you and the boys for a drive or on a picnic.”

Barbara gulped and tried to keep her composure. If the bishop had heard she’d gone fishing and shared a picnic supper with Paul a few weeks ago, there was no way she could tell him she wasn’t up to such an outing yet. Besides, it would be a lie, and her conscience wouldn’t let her knowingly tell an untruth.

“How about it, Barbara? Can I come by on Saturday and pick you and the boys up?”

She nibbled on the inside of her cheek, searching for the right words. She didn’t want to offend the man, but she didn’t want to lead him on, either. “Well, I. . .uh. . .appreciate the offer, but—”

“She’s made other plans.”

Barbara dropped the pencil and whirled around in her chair. Paul stood slightly behind her, off to one side. She opened her mouth to ask what other plans she had for Saturday, but the bishop cut her off.

“Is that so? What kind of plans?”

“She and the boys are going fishing with me.” The look of
determination on Paul’s face made Barbara wonder what was going on. He hadn’t said a word to her about going fishing again, but the idea did sound rather appealing, especially if it gave her an excuse to turn down the bishop’s invitation.

A warm rush spread through Barbara. She struggled to hide the unexpected pleasure of knowing Paul had spoken on her behalf.

John took a few steps in Paul’s direction and scowled at him. “I hear from your daed that you’re planning to return to Pennsylvania soon.”

Paul shrugged. “When Barbara doesn’t need me anymore.”

The bishop turned his gaze on Barbara. “How long will that be?”

Her face heated up, and she pressed both hands against her cheeks, hoping to cool them. “Really, Bishop John, I don’t think—”

Before Barbara could finish her sentence, Paul jumped in. “We haven’t set a date for my leaving, but since you’re so interested, I’ll be sure to let you know when it’s time for me to go.”

Barbara couldn’t believe Paul’s boldness or the way his eyes flashed when he spoke to John. What was he thinking, speaking to their bishop that way?
Of course, he’s not Paul’s bishop
, she reasoned.

John shook his finger in Paul’s face. “I’ll have you know, I’ve asked Barbara to be my wife. Has she told you that?”

A vein on the side of Paul’s neck bulged. Violence went against their teachings, yet Barbara worried he might be about to punch the bishop right in the nose.

“Mama, are you gonna marry the bishop?”

Barbara whirled around. She hadn’t realized Aaron had come onto the scene.

She reached for her son’s hand. “I’ve made no promises to marry anyone. I only said I would think on it.”

Aaron stared up at the bishop. “My mamm doesn’t need another husband. She’s got me to help out.” Then he looked at Paul. “Someday this harness shop will be mine, and then nobody can tell me what to do!” Aaron rushed out the door. Barbara just sat there, too stunned to say a word.

I
still don’t see why I have to go fishing,” Aaron complained when Paul pulled up in his buggy on Saturday. “You let me stay home with Grandma and Grandpa before. Why can’t I stay with them again?”

“Because Grandma’s going to visit her friend Ada, and Grandpa’s got a cold and needs to rest.” Barbara ruffled his hair. “Besides, a day of fishing will be good for you.”

He gave a muffled grunt as he climbed into Paul’s buggy behind his brothers.

“Looks like a good day for fishing,” Paul said after he’d helped Barbara and the baby into the front seat.

She smiled. “Jah, there’s plenty of sunshine.”

As they traveled down the road, Barbara couldn’t believe she had let Paul talk her into going fishing again—this time with all
four boys in tow. She hoped today would be as pleasant as their other fishing trip had been.

It’s strange
, she thought as she cast a sidelong glance at Paul.
We get along fine at certain times, but other times, we’re at odds with each other
.

She wished she understood what attracted her to him. Other than their love for harness making and their commitment to God, they were as different as north from south. Of course, they did both enjoy fishing.

“I do love it here in Webster County, especially the warm days of summer,” she said, lifting her face toward the sun.

Paul grunted. “I’m not really partial to hot, muggy weather.”

“Doesn’t it get humid in Pennsylvania?”

“Jah.”

“But you still like it there?”

“I like my job.”

“Wasn’t it hard to leave your family and friends and move so far away?”

“It was, but I didn’t want to farm. I wanted to work in a harness shop. Since you and David owned the shop here, I didn’t see a need for a second one in our small community. So going to Pennsylvania to help my cousin was the only way I could do what I wanted.”

Barbara could see by the wistful expression on Paul’s face that he would have preferred to open a harness shop here rather than move to Pennsylvania. A sense of guilt stabbed her, but she realized it wasn’t her fault Paul had chosen to move. If he’d wanted to work in a harness shop that badly, he could have talked to David about working for him. Maybe Barbara never
would have become interested in working with leather if her husband had hired a helper.

“Did you ever talk to David about going to work for him?” she asked.

“By the time I figured out what I wanted to do, you were already his partner, and I didn’t think he’d need anyone else in the shop.”

“He could have used you part-time.”

He shook his head. “I didn’t want to work part-time. Pop would have expected me to farm when I wasn’t helping David.”

She could understand why he felt forced to leave Webster County. But from the tone of Paul’s voice, Barbara sensed bitterness in his heart toward his dad.

“I sure hope the fish are biting today,” he said. “I’d like to catch some nice big bass.”

“I think my boys would agree.” Barbara shifted the sleeping baby in her arms and glanced over her shoulder. Joseph and Zachary were drawing on their tablets. Aaron sat with his arms folded, looking straight ahead. She hoped that once they got to the pond and he saw how much fun the others were having, his attitude would improve.

A few minutes later, Zachary leaned over the seat and tapped her on the shoulder. “Mama, I’m hungry.”

“We’ll eat when we get there.” She touched Paul’s arm lightly. “Would you mind if we have supper before we fish?”

He patted his stomach. “That’s fine by me. I’m always ready for good food.”

When they pulled into the grassy area by the pond, Barbara noticed another open buggy parked there. She thought she
recognized it, and her suspicions were confirmed when she saw Bishop John sitting on a large rock holding a fishing pole.

“What’s he doing here?” Paul mumbled. “I’ll bet he only came because he knew we were coming.”

“He has as much right to be here as we do,” Barbara reminded him. “Why would you care, anyway?”

“I just do, that’s all.” When Paul came around to help Barbara and the boys down from the buggy, Barbara noticed deep furrows in his forehead. He was obviously not happy about having to share their fishing spot.

“It might be better if we go to the other side of the pond,” Paul said with a frown. “Wouldn’t want to scare away any fish the bishop might want to catch.”

Before Barbara could reply, her three boys took off on a run, heading straight for the area where the bishop sat.

“Yippee!” Zachary shouted. “Fisch! Fisch!”

“I hope I get me some big ol’ bass!” Joseph hollered.

Barbara grasped Paul’s arm. “So much for not disturbing the bishop.”

Paul’s skin prickled under his short-sleeved cotton shirt. Every time he and Barbara made physical contact, his insides turned to mush.

If I had a lick of sense, I’d catch the next bus heading for Pennsylvania and let Barbara marry the bishop
. Paul grimaced.
Of course, she might become the man’s wife even if I were to stick around
.

“Would you mind holding the boppli while I get the picnic
basket out of the buggy?” Barbara asked.

He blinked. “Huh?”

“I said—”

“I heard what you said, but don’t you think it would be better if I got the basket and you kept the boppli held securely in your arms?”

She grinned at him, and his heart did a little flip-flop. “Davey won’t bite, you know. He has no teeth yet.”

Paul’s face heated up. What if the little guy started to howl or spit up all over him? What if he dropped the baby?

“I think you’re blushing, Paul Hilty,” Barbara said with a smirk. “A big man like you isn’t afraid of a baby, I hope.”

Regaining his composure, Paul held out his hands. “I’m not afraid of much. Leastways, not a little scrap of a guy like Davey.”

She chuckled and reached into the buggy to grab a quilt, which she tucked under Paul’s arm. “Why don’t you ask Aaron to spread this on the grass? You and Davey can have a seat, and I’ll be there soon with our picnic supper.”

“What about the boppli’s carriage?”

“We can get it later.”

“Okay.” Paul glanced over at Aaron and forced a smile. “Are you looking forward to putting your line in the water, Aaron?” he asked, hoping the idea of fishing might put a smile on the boy’s face.

Aaron grunted.

“You’ve been grunting an awful lot lately,” Paul said as they strode to the pond. “I’m wondering if you’re spending too much time with your grandpa’s pigs, because you’re beginning to sound like one of them.”

“I ain’t no pig,” Aaron said with a frown.

Paul bit back a chuckle. “Let’s get that quilt put on the ground like your mamm asked us to do.”

The boy complied, but not without first giving Paul another disgruntled look. To make matters worse, he placed the blanket not three feet from where the bishop sat fishing.

“Good day to you, Paul,” John said with a slight nod. “Looks like you’ve got your hands full.”

Paul’s face flooded with warmth again. “How’s the fishing?” he asked.

“Got myself a couple bass and a nice fat catfish.” The man nodded toward his cooler sitting nearby. “ ’Course, with the way Barbara’s boys are running around hollering like that, it’ll be harder to lure the fish now.”

If the bishop was looking for an apology, or even an offer to move, Paul wasn’t about to provide him with one. He was pretty sure the man had come here on purpose. Well, two could play that game. If Bishop John wanted to marry Barbara, he’d have to earn the right. But the man hadn’t won Barbara’s hand or her heart yet. At least not as far as Paul knew.

The baby started to cry, and Paul shifted uneasily on the quilt.
Sure hope Barbara shows up soon, or the bishop will have one more thing to razz me about
.

Paul watched in horror as Zachary picked up a flat rock and pitched it into the pond—right in front of John’s fishing line.
Splat!
Drops of water splattered everywhere, some landing on the man’s shirt and trousers. A few even made it to the quilt Paul sat on. At least he and the baby hadn’t gotten wet.

“Hey, watch what you’re doing!” The bishop’s face turned
red, and a vein on the side of his neck stuck out like a noodle boiling in a pot.

“What’s going on here?”

Paul cranked his head. Barbara stood nearby, holding the picnic basket and tapping her foot.

“Your boy Zachary is throwing rocks into the pond,” John said before Paul could open his mouth.

Barbara’s brows furrowed. “Is that so, Zachary?”

“He only threw one,” Paul said in the boy’s defense.

“Jah, and it splashed water all over me.” The bishop held up his arm, but there was barely a sign of the water droplets left.

Barbara took a step toward her son. “Zachary, tell Bishop John you’re sorry.”

The boy’s lower lip quivered, and he stared down at the grass. “S–sorry, Bishop.”

“Jah, well, don’t let it happen again.” The bishop smiled up at Barbara. “It’s good to see you. Even though your boy tried to drown me.”