Runaway Amish Bride. Leigh Bale
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relief. He couldn’t blame her. He remembered her familye well and could guess her reason for not wanting to return to them. Mamm had told him that her father had died a few years earlier, which left her to the questionable mercy of Simon. Jakob had no doubt the boy had grown up to be a cruel man just like his father, and he hated the thought of sending Abby back to him.
A clatter sounded outside the open window. Jakob stepped over to peer out and saw Reuben racing across the lawn toward the barn. A bucket was overturned in the flower bed, as though it had been used as a step stool. The boy’s footprints were embedded in the damp soil, and he had tromped on Naomi’s petunias.
Hmm. No doubt the little scamp had been listening in on their conversation. Jakob had no idea how much the boy had overheard, but he would have to deal with that later.
“Wundervoll. I am so glad we have come to an agreement. Abby will remain here, then.” Bishop Yoder slapped his hands against his thighs and stood to signal his departure. Sarah rose also, smiling wide.
Naomi hopped up and escorted them out onto the front porch. “I appreciate your being here today.”
“Any time. Let me know how things go...” The bishop’s voice faded as the screen door clapped closed behind him.
Jakob turned and faced Abby. She’d been a young girl when he saw her last. Young, quiet and afraid. Now, she was an attractive, fully grown woman with magnetic blue eyes; smooth, pale skin; and golden-blond hair. Her light blue dress and matching cape looked perfectly starched, though her skirts were slightly wrinkled from her travels. She still looked quiet, still afraid. The complete opposite of his outspoken wife. Susan had been olive-skinned with dark hair, freckles, hazel eyes and an overly long nose. She wasn’t what most people would call beautiful, but she’d been kind and energetic, and Jakob had loved her dearly.
Correction. He still loved her. He always would. And he had no room in his heart to love another woman. Not ever again.
Now, Abby sat with her battered suitcase resting beside her on the hardwood floor. Her shoulders sagged with weariness. Still wearing her black travel bonnet, she appeared tuckered out and in need of some time by herself. She reached up and slid an errant strand of flaxen hair back into her kapp, looking lost and all alone in the world.
A twinge of compassion pinched his heart.
“Koom. I will show you to your room.” Without waiting for her, Jakob scooped up her bag and headed toward the back stairs. She followed. He could hear the delicate tapping of her sensible black shoes behind him.
Upstairs, he pushed the door wide to offer Abby admittance. She stepped inside and looked around the tidy room. It included a simple double bed, a nightstand on each side with tall gas lamps, a chest of drawers, a wooden chair and an armoire. The oak furnishings were beautiful but plain. Jakob had crafted the wood himself as a wedding gift for his new bride. They complemented the lovely blue Dresden Plate quilt that covered the bed. The design included small gold hearts at the corner of each quilt block. A matching braided rag rug covered the bare wood floor. Susan had made the quilt, rug and plain curtains hanging across the window. She’d claimed that the hearts on the quilt were a whimsical reminder of their love. And though pride was not something Jakob should allow himself, he couldn’t help feeling just a bit of Hochmut for her skill in making them.
Abby turned, her gaze riveted to the far corner of the room where a rocking cradle sat awaiting a little occupant. She made a small sound of sympathy in the back of her throat, her eyes filled with sadness. He’d made the cradle for his new child. As he looked at the empty mattress, a wave of lonely helplessness crashed over him. All his hopes and dreams seemed to have died with Susan and their unborn child. He should have removed it by now but hadn’t been able to let go of the past. Packing the cradle off to the barn would seem like burying his wife and child all over again. So he’d left it here, a constant reminder of all he’d lost.
He looked away, trying to squelch the pain. Setting Abby’s suitcase on the floor with a dull thud, he walked to the armoire and reached inside. It took only a moment to gather up his clothes. He didn’t have much, just what he needed.
Abby watched him quietly, her delicate forehead crinkled in a frown. Her gaze lifted to a hook on the wall where his black felt hat rested. He scooped it up, feeling out of place in his own home. Having this woman see the room he had shared with his wife seemed much too personal.
Abby looked at him, her eyes creased with compassion, and he felt as though she could see deep inside his tattered heart.
“This is your room,” she said.
It was a statement, not a question.
“Ja, but it is yours to use now. I will join Dawdi in the dawdy haus. He turned ninety-three last month and is quite frail, but he still lives alone now that his wife is gone.”
The dawdy haus was a tiny building next to the main house with a bedroom, bathroom, small living area and kitchenette. It included a front porch with two rocking chairs, although Dawdi Zeke didn’t do much idle sitting even though he was so old. The cottage was the Amish version of an old folks’ home, except that they cared for their elderly grandparents instead of turning them over to strangers. Jakob had no doubt the man would be happy to let him live with him for the time being.
“I’m sorry to chase you out of your room,” Abby said.
He shrugged. “It’s no problem, although Dawdi Zeke does snore a bit.”
He showed a half smile, but she just stared at him, totally missing his attempt at humor.
“We will eat supper soon. Come down when you are ready.” With one last glance around the room, he closed the door.
Alone for a moment, he stood on the landing, his thoughts full of turmoil. He didn’t want Abby here, but the situation wasn’t her fault. She’d come to Colorado in good faith. No doubt she was hoping for a better life than what she’d had with her own familye. He knew how he would feel if Reuben were beating little Ruby with a stick, and he made a mental note to speak with his son right after supper. He’d feel like a failure if one of his children grew up to be cruel and abusive. He couldn’t marry Abby, but neither could he turn his back on her in her time of need. If nothing else, he could shelter her. The Lord would expect no less.
Turning, he descended the creaking stairs and entered the wide kitchen. Mamm stood in front of the gas stove, stirring a pot of bubbling soup. Strands of gray hair had escaped her kapp and hung around her flushed cheeks. She looked tired, but he knew she’d never complain. It wasn’t their way.
The fragrant aroma of freshly baked biscuits wafted through the air. Mamm paused, looking at his armful of clothes. Her gaze lifted to his face, as if assessing his mood.
“Jakob, I’m so sorry. Your vadder never should have interfered...”
He held up a hand. She hadn’t been privy to his father’s plans and it wasn’t her fault, but he didn’t want to discuss it any further. “Abby is welcome in our home until she wishes to leave, but I am not marrying her or any woman. Not ever. Now, I’m going to get Dawdi and the children so we can eat. I heard Abby’s stomach rumbling and believe she is hungry. We should feed her before I complete the evening chores.”
With that final word on the subject, he stepped out onto the back porch and walked past the yellow daffodils Susan had planted the first year they’d been married. He saw her presence everywhere on the farm. In the garden where she’d grown huge beefsteak tomatoes in spite of the short growing season, and in his children’s eyes. They both looked so much like their mother that he could never forget. Nor did he want to.
No, he definitely would never marry again. It was that simple.
“What’s taking her so long?”
Abby