The Amish Widower's Twins. Jo Ann Brown
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“Gute mariye, Grossmammi Inez.” He caught sight of Leanna’s eyes narrowing before she turned to calm the goat vying for her attention. He shouldn’t have used the name she always used when she spoke of her grossmammi. That suggested he was a member of the family, which he most definitely wasn’t.
“It...is...you.” She paused in front of him and rested both hands on top of the wood cane. “Are you...our new...neighbors?”
Gabriel wondered why Inez spoke in gasps. He flicked a quick glance toward Leanna and caught her unaware. Dismay was displayed across her face. As he watched, she rearranged her face into the same crisp, false smile she’d offered him.
“Grossmammi,” Leanna said, “if you needed something, you could have gotten my attention from the porch.”
“A soul...likes fresh...air...once in...a while.” She smiled at Gabriel. “Ain’t so?”
He raised his left hand as he kept Harley secure in his right arm. “I may be a new member of this settlement, but I learned long ago never to get in the middle of a disagreement between two strong-willed women.”
Inez laughed and, to his amazement, Leanna did, too. He hadn’t meant it as a joke.
“Who...is this...with you?” the old woman asked.
“My son, Harley.” He offered her a smile, but suspected it looked as fake as it felt. “His twin, Heidi, is at home. It’s a boys’ trip out to buy some milch from Leanna’s goats.”
His son seemed fascinated by Inez, who spoke to him in a gentle, soothing voice. Chewing on his teething biscuit, he stared at her.
“He’s...never seen...anyone...as old...as me.” Inez’s chuckle turned into a gasp as she struggled for breath.
Gabriel reached out to her, but she waved him away, telling him she was fine.
He didn’t believe it, not when he saw the concern on her kins-kind’s face. Leanna’s hands were clenched into impotent fists at her sides as if she were battling with herself not to climb out of the goats’ pen and come to her grossmammi’s aid.
“Welcome...to...Harmony...Creek. We hope...you’ll...like it...here.” She looked at her granddaughter. “Ain’t so?”
Color rushed up Leanna’s face, and he realized how pale she’d been since she discovered him on the other side of the fence. When Leanna nodded and remained silent, her grossmammi headed to the house. Inez halted partway and asked Leanna to come in when she was done with him.
Gabriel halted himself from saying Leanna had been done with him a long time ago. Why bring up the past when she’d made it clear with her curt comments that she hadn’t forgiven him for marrying someone else?
Why should she? She hadn’t replied to the letter he’d sent her before he took his marriage vows, so he’d known she hadn’t been ready to grant him the forgiveness he’d asked for. She must believe he was heartless. He couldn’t change her opinion, because he couldn’t share the truth with anyone.
Once her grossmammi was out of earshot, Gabriel asked, “Why does she sound the way she does?”
“We’re not sure.” Leanna pushed aside the goat poking her with its head. “Her doktor thinks it may have something to do with one of her heart valves, so he’s sending her to a cardiologist.”
“I never imagined her so weak she’d need a cane.”
“Me, neither.” Leanna became all business, and he knew she didn’t want to say more about her grossmammi. She told him what she charged for a quart of milch and what containers he would need.
“I leave for work by ten most mornings,” she said, “so please be here before then. Until school is out, Grossmammi Inez is here by herself, and it’d be better if she wasn’t disturbed.”
Though questions about where Leanna worked demanded answers, he didn’t ask them. “I’ll make it a priority to be here before you head out. If I can’t be, we’ll work out something else. I appreciate you helping me, so I want to make this as easy as possible for you.”
“Danki.” She glanced at the black goat on the milking platform, and he knew she and the doe wanted him gone.
Had she guessed he hadn’t been speaking just about picking up the milch? When he’d made the decisions he had almost two years ago, he’d hoped there would be a way to avoid hurting Leanna. He’d spent hours working on that letter to her, praying God would give him the right words. God hadn’t listened to that prayer, as He hadn’t so many others in the past year. Somehow, in the midst of his chaotic life, he’d lost his connection with God, and he wasn’t sure how to find it again.
“No, I should be the one saying ‘danki.’ If you didn’t have milch to sell, I don’t know where I could have found some.” He backed away a couple of steps.
“There are several people around here who sell it. If you want, I can give you their names and addresses. That way if you want to check prices or—”
“I’m sure you’re giving me a fair price, Leanna, and I won’t find any place more convenient than next door.”
“True.”
When she didn’t add anything else, he began to walk toward his gray-topped buggy. It’d been delivered that morning, and he had other errands before he headed home and continued unpacking enough so they could get through another day.
“Gabriel?” Leanna called.
Facing her, he asked, “Ja?”
“If it’s easier, your wife is welcome to komm and pick up the milch for your bopplin.”
It was his turn to flinch.
She must have seen because she hurried to say, “Gabriel, it’s okay. Tell her she and the kinder are welcome here anytime.”
“I can’t.” He kept emotion from his face and his voice as he added, “I can’t, because she’s dead.”
Leanna stood by the fence and watched Gabriel’s buggy drive out of sight along the curving road. She wasn’t sure how long she would have remained there, frozen in the warm sunshine, if Charity hadn’t voiced her impatience again.
Milking the rest of the goats took Leanna less than an hour, and she carried the milch into the house in two large pails. As she’d expected, her grossmammi was sitting at the comfortable kitchen table.
Grossmammi Inez looked up from her mending as Leanna walked past her to pour the milch into storage containers. Most of it went into the refrigerator to wait for customers to pick it up, but she kept some to freeze in plastic containers for when she made soap on Saturdays. She did that every other week, when a church Sunday didn’t follow, because she doubted anyone would want to sit for three hours beside her when she reeked of the fragrances she used in her soap mixtures.
“Are you still going to have enough milch to make soap?” her grossmammi said, halting to take a breath after every word.
“I may have to go to a schedule of making soap once a month.” She sealed the plastic containers and marked the date on them with a wide-tipped felt pen before putting them in the freezer. “I’ve been making soap since I started milking the goats this spring. I should have enough to set up a table at the farmers market for June and July.” She calculated in her head. “It’ll work out fine, though Gabriel wants to buy three pints every day.”
“With two bopplin, he’ll need that. Bopplin depend on milch when they’re young.”