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“What’s funny?” She bent to pick up the pencil he’d dropped just as he reached for it.
“I’m just thinking that with gut friends, you can pick up just where you left off, no matter how many years it’s been in between.”
Rebecca was speechless for a moment. Sometimes it seemed she was looking at Daniel with new eyes, seeing things she hadn’t noticed before. “Yah, that’s true, I think. When did you get so wise? You didn’t show any signs of that when you were little.”
“What kid does?” he asked. “It takes a bit of living to find some qualities in yourself. And maybe some folks never find them.”
Could he be right? If so, then she might have had the seeds within her the whole time to bear the burden of James’s injury and the effect it had had on their marriage. It wasn’t anything she’d ever expected.
She shook herself out of her momentary absorption, not wanting Daniel to think he’d made her sorrowful. “I certain sure never showed much sign of wisdom myself. Like the time I tried to prove that I could climb higher in the willow tree than Sam, and got stuck there. And all Sam could do was stand there and say he’d told me not to do it.”
“Sam was the one who wasn’t smart,” he said, grinning. “We knew how strong-willed you were. Telling you not to was the surest way to get you to do it.”
“I can still remember how small he was when I looked down at him from above. It would have been a triumph if I hadn’t outsmarted myself by going too far to get down.”
“You did get back to the ground, though. And you managed it without falling on your head.” He marked the board with care.
“Only because you talked me through it, climbing up to me and showing me exactly where to put my hands and feet so I could get safely down.”
“That was my strength,” he said, his grin smug. “I could talk you into things. Did I ever tell you I was scared stiff you were going to fall and Onkel Zeb would blame me? I had a lot to lose if I didn’t get you down.”
“I should have known there was something in it for you. Just like the day you talked me into sneaking one of Mammi’s cherry pies. I’ll never forget how you looked when Mammi caught us with cherry all over our faces.”
They were both laughing at the image when Lige came in, the mail clutched against his chest with both hands. He looked from one to the other, his eyes wide. Most likely, he didn’t expect grown-ups to behave that way.
Rebecca swallowed her laughter. “Ach, Lige must think we’re crazy.” She smiled at her son. “It’s a funny story about something we did when we were little. I’ll tell you about it later,” she said. “You can go ahead and run the mail to Aunt Leah, and then come back and help.”
“There is one for you, Mammi.” Lige extracted it carefully from the bunch. “I’m delivering it first. Now I’ll take the rest, and then I’ll come back and help Daniel, yah?”
She had to smile at his solemn attitude toward his new responsibilities. “Sehr gut. Denke, Lige.”
With a quick smile for Daniel, he hurried off with the mail, his shoulders squared with responsibility.
When he’d gone, Rebecca turned her attention to the envelope in her hand. It was from John, James’s brother, so it must mean that he’d sent the amount of his first monthly payment. Relief washed through her. Thank the good Lord it was here. She’d been running low on cash, and she wouldn’t feel right asking her parents for help. They’d done enough for her already.
Ripping it open, she looked for the pale blue check that was sure to be enclosed. But it wasn’t. There was just a letter from John, brief and to the point. He couldn’t pay her now. No excuses, no reason. Just a short statement.
She stared at the page, her body rigid while her mind raced. What was she going to do? How could John do this to them?
* * *
Daniel, watching her, saw the color drain from Rebecca’s face as she stared at the letter she’d received. His stomach clenched into a knot. She looked worse now than she had on the first day after she’d come back.
He dropped the tape measure. “Rebecca, was ist letz? Is it bad news you got?”
As if suddenly aware of his presence, Rebecca spun away from him, turning her back. Shutting him out. He had a brief flare of totally inappropriate anger.
Her hand, still holding the paper, was trembling, and sympathy washed away the anger in an instant.
“I can see it’s bad news.” He kept his voice gentle. “Won’t you tell me what it is?”
“It’s...it’s nothing,” she said, but her voice and her body gave the lie to the words.
“It’s something,” he said, propelled by the need to help close the distance between them, but not quite daring to touch her. “Trouble shared is trouble halved, ain’t so?”
Rebecca turned to face him. For an instant, he thought she’d burst out with it, but then he saw that her lips were folded tightly together.
His jaw tightened in response as he took in that refusal. “Remember what I was saying about friendship never changing? It looks as if I was wrong, yah?”
For an instant, she glared at him, and he thought she was going to walk out. Then she sucked in a deep breath. “I...I’m sorry if it seemed that way. This affects you, so I guess you’ll have to know anyway.”
He wanted to reach out and touch her, but instinct told him it wouldn’t be welcome. Instead, he waited, sure now that she’d tell him, whatever it was.
Rebecca gave a sidelong look at the letter, almost as if she needed to avoid it. “The note is from my brother-in-law, John. The one who is buying the farm in Ohio from me.”
She seemed to have difficulty getting the words out, and he tried to help her along. “Yah, I know. You mentioned that you’d used his down payment to buy this house.”
“I did. And his monthly payments were intended to cover the costs of remodeling and getting my business started. The first one should have come by today.” The hand holding the letter trembled again before she saw and seemed to force it to steady. “But he says he can’t make the payment this month. He’ll send it later.”
Daniel frowned, trying to make sense of it. “But...does he say why?”
“No. No explanation. But then, John’s not one to explain himself.” She rubbed her arms, almost as if she was cold.
He was beginning to form a picture in his mind of the brother-in-law, and it wasn’t a very complimentary one. What was the man about, to fail in his duty to his dead brother’s widow and child?
“Did you have a written contract with him?” It wasn’t his business, but he hoped now that she was talking, she’d keep going.
“Yah. I maybe wouldn’t have thought of it, but Daad was there at the time, and he insisted a written contract was proper. I think James’s family was a little offended by his attitude, but Daadi wouldn’t let it go.” She might have seen his surprise that she’d even let her father handle the negotiations, because she made a small movement with her hands, as if pushing something away. “Daad and Mammi gave us money to help buy the farm to begin with, so it only seemed right for him to have a say in what happened.”
Thank the good Lord that Josiah had such a businesslike attitude toward it. Folks didn’t usually get the better of a hardheaded Pennsylvania Dutchman easily.
“Seems like it was smart you listened to him. At least you have it in writing.” He hesitated and then said what was in his mind. “Maybe you should remind John of that contract he signed.” He was probably going too far, but Rebecca seemed to need bolstering up where her in-laws were concerned.
He wasn’t sure she took in what he said, but finally she shook her head. “No. There’s nothing I can do. I don’t want to start a hassle with James’s family.”
“Seems to me John is the one who started it.”
She just looked at him, and he knew what she was thinking. Finally he shrugged, his palms up. “Yah, all right, I know. It’s not my business. I just don’t like to see him take advantage of you.”
“I’ll handle it.” Rebecca retreated into herself. Clearly, she had nothing else to say.
He had a few more arguments he’d like to express, but he restrained himself. Turning back to his work, he had to start again with the measurements, having totally forgotten what he’d come up with. It didn’t help that he watched Rebecca covertly all the time he was doing it.
She might not be talking, but her body language was clear enough, with that stiff back and tight face. Why was she so determined to handle everything on her own? It wasn’t natural in an Amish family, where helping each other was considered God’s plan, and that sort of independence drew very near to pride, about the worst thing for an Amish person. But if he said that to her, she’d probably never speak to him again.
Finally Rebecca seemed to pull herself out of her worried thoughts. She moved toward him, so he looked up from his work, and his heart twisted. Rebecca looked as if she were picking up a burden that was too heavy for her.
“You’ll have to stop work.” She blurted the words out and then sucked in a breath. “I’m sorry. This isn’t fair to you, but...”
“We talked about this.” His voice might be calm, but his thoughts were spinning rapidly, trying to come up with a way to change her mind. “You have already paid for the materials, and you don’t owe me anything until the job is finished. Surely by then your brother-in-law will have paid what he owes you.”
Rebecca’s hands clung to each other until the knuckles were white. “That would not be fair. I can’t accept your work when I don’t know when or if I’ll have the money to pay you.”
“Ach, Rebecca, I would do the work for nothing for an old friend. The money doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me,” she snapped. “I won’t accept charity.”
“Charity?” He straightened, his own temper finally flaring, although he wasn’t sure whom he was angrier at, Rebecca or that brother-in-law of hers. “Who’s talking about charity? The Fishers and the Kings have been doing things for each other for a hundred years. Seems to me your time away from here has made you forget a lot of things. It’s made you prideful.”
He shouldn’t have said that, but he could be just as determined as she could. Rebecca might have been able to push him into a mud puddle once and not have him shove back, but she wasn’t going to push him around now.
Rebecca’s face had tightened into a mask that bore little resemblance to the girl she’d been. “Prideful or not, this is my decision. And my house. Please put down your tools and stop. Now.”
“And when Lige comes back ready to help me? How are you going to explain that to him?”
“Lige is my son. I’ll tell him what he needs to hear.”
Daniel stared at her for a long minute, trying to make sense of her attitude. He couldn’t.
“If you reject my help, Rebecca, you are rejecting our friendship.”
He knew he shouldn’t have said it the instant the words were out, but it was too late. Rebecca took a step away from him. She crossed her arms.
“Please go, Daniel.”
There was nothing for it but to pick up his tool bag and leave, berating himself the whole time for handling her so badly. And yet, what else could he have done?
The trouble was that he kept thinking he knew her, and maybe he was wrong. Maybe he didn’t know Rebecca at all.
* * *
Rebecca didn’t look forward to telling Lige that the project was off and he wouldn’t be working with Daniel for now. She waited until they were walking back to the farmhouse, thinking it would be easier away from the place he connected with Daniel. It would hurt, but she assumed he’d take it as silently as he did everything else.
But in this, she was wrong. To her astonishment, her quiet little son started to argue with her. Lige, who never spoke up for himself, was actually disagreeing.
“But, Mammi, you can’t do that. Daniel wants to work on the shop with me. You can’t!” He tugged on her apron, as if that would make her see reason.
She stared at him, trying to gather her wits. “I’m sorry, Lige. I know you’re disappointed, but that’s how it is right now. When I can afford to pay Daniel, he’ll come back. You’ll see.”
“But I want to work with him now.” It was almost a wail. “Won’t he come back now if you ask him?”
Rebecca bit her tongue to keep from saying something that would put the blame on Daniel. She couldn’t be that unjust to him, even if it were easier on her. “Daniel is willing, but it wouldn’t be fair. Carpentry is how he makes his living. He has to be free to accept jobs for people who can pay.”
Lige’s lower lip came out in a decided pout. “He’d rather work for us. I know. We make him smile.”
“Daniel is friendly. He smiles at everyone.”
“Not like that. Please, Mammi. Please, please, please.”
Her father came around the house in time to hear Lige’s words, and his face crinkled. “It sounds as if this boy really wants something. What is it, Lige? A cookie?”
Lige shook his head. “Mammi says Daniel can’t work for us anymore because we don’t have money to pay him. But Daniel would, wouldn’t he? You tell her, Grossdaadi.”
Her father’s gaze studied her face, and she longed to turn away but couldn’t. Daadi touched Lige’s cheek lightly. “I’ll tell you what. You go and help Grossmammi with the cookies she’s making, and I’ll talk to your mamm.”
“Snickerdoodles?” Lige asked hopefully. At his grandfather’s nod, he darted off, leaving Rebecca to face what would probably be a lecture.
“Let’s sit down on the steps.”
She wanted to argue, but she couldn’t. Daadi led her to the porch steps and waited while she took a seat.
“I know what you’re going to say, but I don’t want you to pay Daniel. I need to do this by myself. Don’t you see?”
“No. I don’t.” Her father didn’t scold. Instead, he seemed disappointed. “Did John Mast not send the money he owes?”
She shook her head. “He wrote and said he couldn’t right now. The point is that I can’t let Daniel keep working if I can’t pay him. It wouldn’t be right.”
“What did Daniel say to that?”
“He offered to keep on working.” She evaded his steady gaze.
“How did you convince him to stop, then?”
She’d never doubted her father’s wisdom. He could go straight to the heart of what his children weren’t saying to him. “I...I said something that hurt his feelings. But it wasn’t all my fault. He was the one who...”
Rebecca let that trail off, because it was starting to sound like her explanations of the quarrels she’d had with her brothers when they were small.
Daadi gave her a disappointed look. “He is your friend, Rebecca. I shouldn’t have to tell you what you must do when you’ve hurt a friend.”
She wanted to argue, but she couldn’t think of a thing to say. Daniel shouldn’t have pushed her into that position. But she certain sure should have found a way of dealing with him that didn’t involve causing him pain.
Sitting there debating with herself wasn’t getting her anywhere. She didn’t have to let Daniel continue to work for her, but she did have to ask his forgiveness for her anger. She pushed herself to her feet.
“You will find Daniel in his workshop,” Daadi said calmly. “I saw him go in a few minutes ago.”
Rebecca headed reluctantly toward the King place. She should have hired someone she didn’t know to do the work for her, she thought rebelliously. Then she wouldn’t have been put in this position.
Daniel’s shop was a square-frame building situated at a little distance from the barns. Daad had told her that he’d built up quite a business for himself in the past couple of years, even doing some kitchen remodeling for a few Englisch families. Daniel was a hard worker who deserved success, and that wouldn’t come if he spent his time on work he wasn’t paid to do.
The sound of a saw reached her even before she opened the shop door. A motorized saw, as it turned out. Daniel had apparently found it worthwhile to install a generator for his business, much as dairy farmers like Sam and Daniel’s brother had to do for their milking equipment.
She stopped inside the door, trying to find the right words while she waited. Daniel must have seen the movement when she entered, but he finished what he was cutting before he stopped the saw and stood, pulling off the safety goggles he wore.
“Rebecca. I didn’t think I’d see you over here.” His voice didn’t express anything—not anger, not apology, nothing.
Unable to find the right words, she looked around the shop. “This is a fine setup you have here. Daad says that you’ve been doing a lot of remodeling jobs. It looks as if you could handle most anything with all this equipment.”
“I don’t think you came here to admire my shop, Rebecca.”
He wasn’t going to make it easier for her, in other words. Rebellion flared. He was the one who’d equated their friendship with letting him work without pay, after all.
Unfortunately, she also knew full well that if she hadn’t been totally caught up in her problems, she could have handled it better, without the need for this breach between them.
She sucked in a deep breath, knowing what she had to say. “I came to tell you I’m sorry. Getting that news was a blow, but I had no right to take it out on you. Please forgive me.”
His eyes were very dark in the muted light of the shop, and she couldn’t tell what he was thinking. If she’d broken their friendship entirely... Panic flashed like lightning, showing her what that would mean.
“I’ll forgive you on one condition.” Now his smile was back, and her heart lifted. “You let me keep working on the shop.”
“Maybe I didn’t explain it very well.” She struggled to hold on to her emotions. “When I came back, I made a promise to myself that I wouldn’t lean on anyone else.” The way she’d leaned on James. “I would stand on my own two feet.”
“Nothing wrong with that,” he said, “except that it’s not the Amish way. We help one another, as you know very well. You wouldn’t hesitate to help me if I needed it. Like Sam, over here every day to help do our milking, as well as his own, when Caleb was laid up. That’s what we do.”
Her arguments were being cut from under her, and she struggled to find a solution they both could accept.
Daniel crossed the distance between them and stood, smiling at her. “What’s wrong? Can’t find anything else to say?” His voice teased her gently.
“Nothing that wouldn’t necessitate another apology,” she said tartly. “Suppose we do this. You let me help. Surely there are things I can do. And you don’t turn down other jobs to work for me.”
“Deal,” Daniel said. He grinned at her. “See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”
She’d tell him it was, but he wouldn’t understand. None of them would, because they didn’t know what her life had been like with James.
It hadn’t been his fault, she told herself once again. The injury was to blame.
Whether that was true or not, she had to walk away from the past. She had to accept Daniel’s help to do so. He held the door open to her new life, but she had to pass through, and she would.
Chapter Four
By Saturday, Daniel had begun to feel confident that Rebecca wasn’t going to back out of their agreement. She showed up every day, determined to help, sometimes with Lige, sometimes by herself.
He had to admit, the work went more quickly with another pair of hands, even unskilled ones. He took a step back, assessing the shelf he’d just installed on the back wall. Rebecca wouldn’t come today, he felt sure, since the Fisher family was hosting worship the next day. Everyone would be busy cleaning and cooking to prepare for the church’s once-a-year visit.
So it was with considerable surprise that he heard the back door open and the now-familiar sound of Rebecca’s footsteps. He lifted his eyebrows in a question when she appeared in the doorway.
“I thought you’d be completely occupied with getting ready for worship. Don’t tell me your mamm let you out of the kitchen.”
Her smile came more easily now than it had at first. “I tried to help, but what with Mamm and Leah and the girls, we were starting to get in each other’s way. Mamm thought I’d be more use here.”
“What about my little helper?” He picked up the next shelf, and she hurried to grasp the end of it.
“Lige went off with Daad and Jacob to pick up some extra peanut butter for the sandwich spread. You know my mother—she never thinks there’s going to be enough food.”
He nodded. It was a common enough description of most Amish mothers. “Gut that Lige is getting to know his cousin Jacob. Having a cousin just a little older will ease the path for him, especially when he starts school in the fall.”
“Yah.” Rebecca paused, and he suspected she was comparing steady, calm Jacob with her small son, always so shy and fearful. Then she brightened, as if she’d shoved the unwelcome thoughts away. “Lige needs to have friends to count on, like Sam and I counted on you and Caleb.”
“Counted on us to keep you out of mischief, that’s for sure.” Keeping the talk on happy subjects was best, he thought.
“I remember it the other way around.” She glanced up at him, her eyes alight, and she looked suddenly years younger. “Caleb was usually the instigator, but I remember one time when you dared Sam to jump from the hayloft. Remember? He landed right on the bags of fertilizer and broke them open. He was covered with the stuff.”
He grinned. “Mostly, I remember how Sam looked, and when you started sloshing water over him, that made the mess even worse.”
“And your Onkel Zeb walked in on us. He just stood there, looking at us until you felt guilty enough to confess.”
“That’s Onkel Zeb, all right. I’ve never figured out how he does it.” Daniel’s smile lingered as he thought of all the times his uncle’s solemn look was sufficient to get the truth.
“He put us all to work cleaning up the mess, and I didn’t have anything to do with it.” She gave him a playful swat and he ducked, laughing.
Laughing...and then the laughter was arrested suddenly, by his awareness of her. Rebecca, so close to him, wasn’t any longer just his friend and playmate. She was a woman who seemed to draw him closer with just her smile.
Daniel drew in a shaky breath and hoped his expression hadn’t changed. Ach, that wasn’t right. He shouldn’t be looking at Rebecca that way, or feeling the longing to find out if her lips were really as soft as they looked.
Fortunately, Rebecca didn’t seem to have noticed anything, maybe because her thoughts had turned back to her son. He could read it so clearly in her expression.
“Sometimes I wish...” She let that trail off, shaking her head.
“What do you wish, Rebecca?” He kept his voice calm, interested, just the voice of a friend.
“I guess I’d like to see Lige get into a little mischief once in a while. It’s natural enough for a boy that age.”
He wasn’t sure what to say. There were too many things he didn’t understand. “It’s natural enough that he’s still grieving his daadi. He was probably fine before that shock, ain’t so?”
For a moment, he thought she wasn’t going to respond, but then she shook her head. “James had an earlier serious accident, nearly two years before he passed. I’m afraid Lige doesn’t remember much of his daadi from before that.”
“I didn’t realize.” Maybe this was what Onkel Zeb had meant when he’d spoken of the hardships she’d gone through. His heart swelled with sympathy. “I’m sorry for your trouble.”
“It’s...”
Her words were cut off by the front door banging open. Barry Carter, the electrician Daniel sometimes worked with, made his usual noisy entrance. “Hey, there you are!” he shouted.
Any reply vanished from Daniel’s mind when he saw Rebecca’s face—saw her flinch, saw her eyes fill with panic for just a brief instant before she regained control.
His wits started working again, and he stepped in front of Rebecca, screening her from view. “Barry, it’s gut to see you, but do you have to come in like a tornado? You made me forget what I was measuring.” His only thought was to keep talking until Rebecca had a chance to collect herself. “You got my message, yah?”