An Amish Match. Jo Ann Brown
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he’d somehow pushed out of his mind how beautiful she was. Her deep auburn hair was hidden beneath a scarf she’d tied at her nape. A splotch of soap suds clung to her right cheek and sparkled as brightly as her blue eyes. Her freckles looked as if someone had blown cinnamon across her nose and high cheekbones. There was something ethereal about her when she looked up at him, her eyes wide and her lips parted in surprise. Her hand was protectively on her belly. Damp spots littered the apron she wore over her black dress. He wasn’t surprised her feet were bare. Mamm and his sisters preferred to go without shoes when cleaning floors.
Then he noticed the gray arcs beneath her eyes and how drawn her face was. Exhaustion. It was the first description that came to mind.
She put her hand to the scarf. “I didn’t expect company.”
“I know, but it’s long past time I paid you and the boy a visit.”
For a moment he thought she’d argue, then she edged back and opened the door wider. “Joshua, komm in. How is Isaiah?”
“He was still asleep when I went over there this morning.” Guilt twinged in him. He’d been so focused on his own problems that he hadn’t been praying for his brother’s grieving heart. God, forgive me for being selfish. I need to be there to hold my brother up at this sad time. I know, too well, the emptiness he is feeling today.
“How’s your mamm? I have been praying for her to heal quickly.”
He stepped into a kitchen that was as neat as the outside of the house was a mess. The tempting scents of freshly made bread and whatever chicken she was cooking on top of the stove for the midday meal teased him to ask her for a sample. When Lloyd and she had come over to his house, she’d always brought cookies or cake, which rivaled the very best he’d ever tasted.
You wouldn’t have to eat your own cooking or Deborah’s burned meals any longer if Rebekah agrees to marry you, so ask her.
He wished that voice in his head would be quiet. This was tough enough without being nagged by his own thoughts.
Taking off his straw hat and holding it by the brim, Joshua slowly turned it around and around. “Danki for asking. Mamm is doing as well as can be expected. You know she’s not one for sitting around. She’s already figuring out what she can do with one hand.”
“I’m not surprised.” She gave him a kind smile. “Will you sit down? I’ve got coffee and hot water for tea. Would you like a cup?”
“Danki, Rebekah. Tea sounds gut,” he said as he set his hat on a peg by the door. He pulled out one of the chairs by the well-polished oak table.
“Coming up.” She crossed the room to the large propane stove next to the refrigerator that operated on the same fuel.
“Mamm?” came her son’s voice from the front room. It was followed by the little boy rushing into the kitchen. He skidded to a halt and gawped at Joshua before running to grab Rebekah’s skirt.
She put a loving hand on Sammy’s dark curls. “You remember Joshua, right?”
He heard a peculiar tension underlying her question and couldn’t keep from recalling how Sammy had been skittish around him at the cemetery. Some kinder were shy with adults. He’d need to be patient while he gave the boy a chance to get to know him better.
Joshua smiled at the toddler. It seemed as if only yesterday his sons, Timothy and Levi, were no bigger than little Samuel. How sweet those days had been when his sons had shadowed him and listened to what he could share with them! As soon as Deborah was able to toddle, she’d joined them. They’d had fun together while he’d let them help with small chores around the buggy shop and on the two acres where he kept a cow and some chickens.
But that had ended when Timothy had changed from a gut and devoted son to someone Joshua didn’t know. He argued about everything when he was talking, which wasn’t often because he had days when he was sullen and did little more than grunt in response to anything Joshua or his siblings said.
“Go?” asked Samuel.
Joshua wasn’t sure if the boy wanted to leave or wanted Joshua to leave, but Rebekah shook her head and took a cup out of a cupboard. The hinges screamed like a bobcat, and he saw her face flush.
“It needs some oil,” he said quietly.
“I keep planning on doing that, but I get busy with other things, and it doesn’t get done.” She reached for the kettle and looked over her shoulder at him. “You know how it is.”
“I know you must be overwhelmed here, but I’m concerned more about the shape of your roof than a squeaky hinge. If Lloyd hadn’t been able to maintain the farm on his own, he should have asked for help. We would have come right away.”
“I know, but...”
When her eyes shifted, he let his sigh slip silently past his lips. She didn’t want to talk about Lloyd, and he shouldn’t push the issue. They couldn’t change the past. He was well aware of how painful even thinking of his past with Matilda could be.
He thanked her when she set a cup of steeping tea in front of him. She went to the refrigerator, with her son holding her skirt, and came back with a small pitcher of cream. He hadn’t expected her to remember he liked it in his tea.
“Danki, Rebekah.” He gave her the best smile he could. “Now I’m the one saying it over and over.”
“You don’t need to say it for this.” She set a piece of fresh apple pie in front of him. “I appreciate you having some of the pie. Otherwise I will eat most of it myself.” She put her hand on her stomach, which strained the front of her dress. “It looks as if I’ve had enough.”
“You are eating for two.”
“As much as I’ve been eating, you’d think I was eating for a whole litter.” She made a face as she pressed her hand to her side. “The way this boppli kicks, it feels like I’m carrying around a large crowd that is playing an enthusiastic game of volleyball.”
He laughed and was rewarded with a brilliant smile from her. When was the last time he’d seen her genuine smile? He was sad to realize it’d been so long he didn’t know.
After bringing a small cup of milk to the table, she sat as he took one bite, then another of her delicious pie. Her son climbed onto her lap, and she offered him a drink. He drank but squirmed. Excusing herself, she stood and went into the other room with Samuel on her hip. She came back and sat. She put crayons and paper in front of her son, who began scribbling intently.
“This way he’s occupied while we talk,” she said.
“Gut.” If he’d had any doubts about her love of kinder, they were gone now. She was a gentle and caring mamm.
“It’s nice of you to come to visit, Joshua, but I know you, and you always have a reason for anything you do. Why are you here today?”
He should be thanking God for Rebekah giving him such a perfect opening to say for what he’d come to say. Yet words refused to form on his lips. Once he asked her to be his wife, there would be no turning back. He risked ruining their friendship, no matter how she replied. He hated the idea of jeopardizing that.
Samuel pushed a piece of paper toward him with a tentative smile.
“He wants you to have the picture he drew,” Rebekah said.
Jacob looked at the crayon lines zigzagging across the page in every direction. “It’s very colorful.”
The little boy whispered in Rebekah’s ear.
She nodded, then said, “He tells me it’s a picture of your horse and buggy.”
“I see,” he replied, though he didn’t. The collection of darting lines bore no resemblance he could discern to either Benny or his buggy. “Gut job, Samuel.”
The kind started to smile, then hid his face in Rebekah’s shoulder. She murmured