The Amish Widow's New Love. Liz Tolsma
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to climb up there for the flour.” His wife paced the room stacked with large quantities of baking supplies, her black shoes leaving prints on the dusty floor. “Why didn’t you wait for Elam to get here to do it?”
Elam motioned for Sylvia to stop. “That doesn’t matter. Right now, let’s get him comfortable while we wait for the ambulance.”
Sylvia wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. “There are pillows and a blanket on our bed upstairs.” She wobbled on her feet.
“I’ll get them. And you look like you need a chair.” Naomi held her by the arm. “Lean against the wall. Will you be okay while I grab a seat for you?”
Sylvia nodded.
Elam placed the ladder against the shelves. “I’ll help you carry everything.”
Naomi opened her mouth to object, but shut it right away. Instead, she followed him up the stairs. “Why are you here?”
“I could ask you the same question.” He opened the door to the family’s living quarters.
“I’m trying to scrape together some money to repair the dawdi haus for myself and my son.”
“And Simon asked me to make a few new picnic tables for the Englisch to sit on when the weather’s nice. The ones they have now are unsteady and falling apart. They’re giving me a chance to prove myself and show people I’m serious about returning. I’m hoping it will lead to a new business venture. How is Joseph, by the way?”
She popped into the Herschbergers’ bedroom and pulled a couple of pillows and a red-and-blue wedding-ring quilt from the bed before returning to the kitchen, where Elam grabbed a chair. “Fine. And once more, denki for what you did for us when he got sick.”
“I’m happy I was at the singing to give you a ride.” His smile was tight, like he forced it.
They descended the stairs and returned to the Herschbergers. Naomi knelt beside Simon. “Here you are.” She lifted him enough to slide two pillows under his head, and then covered him with the quilt. Elam helped Sylvia into the chair.
Simon grasped the coverlet, his knuckles turning white. “Guess I’m going to have to go to the hospital.”
Naomi took care not to hurt him when she straightened the quilt over his twisted knee. “You’ve broken your leg. And done a good job of it. Let’s hope that’s all.”
“How long do you think I will be out of commission?” Simon groaned.
“Only a doctor can answer that.” What was taking that ambulance so long?
A furrow appeared on Simon’s brow. “But the auction is coming up.”
All the air rushed from Naomi’s lungs. That auction was to raise money for medical needs in the district. Like for Joseph’s surgery. And Aaron’s ongoing expenses. Simon did most of the organizing. How would they pay for anything without the funds the event raised?
Elam peered out the door. “I hear the siren. The ambulance must be just down the road. You hang on.”
Simon winced as he nodded. “And you and Naomi will take over coordinating the auction.”
“You want us to do it?” Elam spun around to face inside.
“You’ll do a fine job. I won’t have to worry with the two of you in charge.”
Elam hawed for a moment. “I’m not sure.”
“Make an old man happy. Let me rest well.”
Simon couldn’t be serious. “Nein, we can’t.” They couldn’t.
“She’s right. It would be too—”
“Nonsense. You can make it work.”
Elam shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Fine, we’ll do it.”
A bolt of lightning couldn’t have shocked her more. “We will?”
The sirens wailed as the ambulance raced from the bakery’s parking lot, carrying Simon Herschberger to the hospital, his wife at his side. Elam relaxed his shoulders. His friend and mentor was in gut hands now.
He turned to walk up the driveway, back to his wagon loaded with lumber for the picnic tables. The crowd of curious Englischers dispersed, some to their cars, others into the line for their baked goods.
Naomi scurried in front of him, blocking his path, her hands on her hips. “What did you do that for?” Her voice was a low growl.
“Do what?” His innocence was an act, one she was sure to see through.
“Volunteer us, me, to organize the auction. How could you do that without consulting me? Do you know how much time and effort that takes?” Color rose in her cheeks. “And I have a very sick bobbeli to care for. One who needs surgery as soon as possible. When am I supposed to have the time to work on this with you? You, of all people.”
The shine in her face got his blood to pumping. Her anger pierced him. When had their love turned to such bitterness? He peered around. Several of the Englisch stared at them. “You might want to keep your voice down.” He nodded in the direction of the bakery.
She whipped around and then turned to face him, the red that had graced her cheeks dissipating.
“That’s why I said you and I would put it together. Much of the money raised will go to pay Joseph’s medical bills and my daed’s. You’re as invested in this as I am. I thought you’d want to be part of it.”
“I have no desire to do anything other than sew a few quilts and bake a couple of pies. Besides that, leave me out of it.”
“Simon and Sylvia are counting on us.” Ja, it would be difficult to see her on a regular basis, but he could find a way to do it. Couldn’t she? Maybe they would be able to discover a path beyond the hurt.
“I suggest you volunteer someone else. It won’t be me.” She turned her back to him once more and started for the bakery.
He caught her by the elbow. Why he did it when she had just lashed out at him, he couldn’t say. “Won’t you reconsider?”
“Who’s making a scene now?”
He bent to her height and whispered in her ear, the clean scent of soap tickling his nose. “Please assist me. I’ll do most of the work.”
“Aren’t you helping your daed on the farm? Since his stroke, I think he’d need you.” She kept her gaze forward.
“I am, but Isaac will soon be back to take over the day-to-day operations. You know farming isn’t my life’s calling.”
“Go build your picnic tables, Elam, and leave me alone.” She yanked free of his grasp and scuttled to the kitchen.
This time, he let her go.
He scrubbed his face. Would he ever live down what he’d done years ago? It had been an accident, and she had turned her back on him when everyone else did. Then and now it seemed she couldn’t pardon the man she had claimed to love. He lost himself in the work in front of him, sawing and screwing and sanding until he shed his jacket and wiped sweat from his forehead, the day warm for early spring.
The line of customers stretched out the door, around the path, up the steps and into the parking lot. Naomi and the others inside would be busy. But he glanced up as a group of Amish women exited through the back door. And there Naomi was, in the middle of the bunch, a slight smile touching her lips as she reacted to whatever Rachel said.
He averted his gaze. Bumping into her so much made being back in the district more difficult. Part of him still loved her as