Love Inspired June 2015 - Box Set 1 of 2: The Cowboy's Homecoming\The Amish Widow's Secret\Safe in the Fireman's Arms (23 page)

Their natural joy brought Joseph to mind. He'd been playful and full of jokes at times. It had taken her a while to get used to his ways when they'd first married, and she'd known he'd found her lacking. She'd soon grown used to his spirit and had found herself waiting with anticipation for him to come in from the fields. She missed the joy they'd shared. A tear caught her unaware. She brushed the dampness away and sat in her favorite rocker. Minutes passed. She listened to the
kinder's
laughter and then Mose's firm voice reminding them it was time for bed.

The quilt she was stitching was forgotten as soon as the back door flew open and three wet bodies rushed in. She laughed aloud as she watched Mose try to keep a hand on Beatrice while toweling Mercy dry.

“Would you like some help?”

“I think Mercy is more seal than child.” He fought to hold on to her slippery body. Mercy was all smiles, her water-soaked diaper dripping on the kitchen floor.

Sarah rushed over and took the baby. The child trembled with cold and was quickly engulfed in a warm, fluffy towel. Sarah led the way to the indoor bathroom, baby in arms. Mose filled the tub with water already heated on the wood stove. Sarah added cold water, checked the temperature of the water, found it safe and sat Mercy down with a splash. Mercy gurgled in happiness as Sarah poured water over her shoulders and back.

“You're a natural at this.” Mose spoke behind her.

Sarah reached around for Beatrice's hand and the child jumped into the water with all the gusto of a happy fish. Water splashed and Sarah's frock became wet from neck to hem. She found herself laughing with the
kinder
. Her murmurs of joy sounded foreign to her own ears.
How long has it been since I giggled like this?

In the small confines of the bathroom, Sarah became aware of Mose standing over her. “I'm sure I can handle the bath. Why don't you join my father for a chat while I get these
lieblings
ready for bed?”

Beatrice splashed more water. Mercy cried out and reached for Sarah. Grabbing a clean washcloth from the side of the tub, Sarah wiped water from the baby's eyes. “You have to be careful, Beatrice.” She held on to the baby's arm and turned to reach for a towel. Mose had left the room silently. She thought back to what she had said and hoped he hadn't felt dismissed.

* * *

The girls finally asleep and her father in his room with the door closed, Sarah dried the last of the dishes and put them away. Looking for a cool breeze, she stepped out the back door and sat on the wooden steps. Her long, plain dress covered her legs to her ankles.

Fireflies flickered in the air, their tiny glow appearing and disappearing. She took in a long, relaxing breath and smelled honeysuckle on the breeze. Somewhere an insect began its lovesick song. Sarah lifted her voice in praise to the Lord, the old Amish song reminding her how much
Gott
once had loved her.

“Dein heilig statthond sie zerstort, dein Atler umbgegraben Darzu auch dein knecht ermadt...”

No one except Marta knew how much she'd hated
Gott
when Joseph had first died. She'd railed at Him, her loss too great to bear. But then she'd remembered the gas light in the barn and how she'd left it on for the old mother cat giving birth to fuzzy balls of damp fluff. She'd sealed Joseph's fate by leaving that light burning. When she woke suddenly in the night, she'd heard her husband's screams of agony as he tried to get out of the burning barn. Her own hands had been scorched as she'd fought to get to him. She hadn't been able reach him and she'd given up. She'd failed him. He had died a horrible death. Her beloved Joseph had died, they'd said, of smoke inhalation, his body just bones and ashes inside his closed casket. She stopped singing and put her head down to weep.

“Something wrong, or are you just tired?” Mose spoke from a porch chair behind her.

With only the light coming through the kitchen window, Sarah turned. She strained to see Mose. “I'm sorry. I didn't know you were there.” She wiped the tears off her face and moved to stand.

“
Nee
. Don't go, please. I want to talk to you about Beatrice, if that's all right.”

Sarah prepared herself for his disapproval. She'd heard it before from other men in the community when she'd broken
Ordnung
willfully. The Bishop especially seemed hard on her. She sat, waited.

Mose cleared his throat and began to talk. “I wanted to tell you how much I appreciate your taking such good care of my girls. They haven't been this happy in a long time, not even with their
grandmammi
.”

Sarah touched the cross hanging under the scoop of her dress, the only thing she had left from her mother. If her father knew she had the chain and cross, he would destroy them. “I did nothing special, Mose. I treated the
kinder
like my mother treated me. Your girls are delightful, and I enjoy having them here. They make my life easier.” She clamped her mouth shut. She'd said too much. Plain people didn't talk about their problems and she had to keep reminding herself to be silent about the pain.

“Well, I think it's
wunderbaar
you were able to reach Beatrice. I've been very concerned about her, and now I can rest easy. She has someone to talk to who understands loss.”

Understands?
Oh, I understand.
The child hurt physically, as if someone had cut off an arm or leg and left her to die of pain. “I'm glad I was able to help.” She rose. “Now, I need to prepare for breakfast. Tomorrow is going to be a busy day for both of us. There is food to cook, a barn to haul away.”

“Wait, before you go. I have an important question to ask you.”

Sarah nodded her head and sat back down.

“I stayed up until late last night, thinking about your situation and mine. I prayed and prayed, and
Gott
kept pushing this thought at me.” He took a deep breath. “I wonder, would you consider becoming my
frau
?”

Sarah held up her hand as if to stop his words. “I...”

“
Nee
, wait. Before you speak, let me explain.” Mose took another deep breath and began. “I know you still love Joseph and probably always will, just as I still love my Greta. But I have
kinder
who need a mother to guide and love them. Now that Joseph's gone and your
daed
insists the farm is to be sold, you'll need a place to call home, people who care about you, a family. We can join forces and help each other.” He saw panic form in her eyes. “Wait. Let me finish, please. It would only be a marriage of convenience, with no strings attached. I would love you as a sister and you would be under my protection. The girls need a loving mother and you've already proven you can be that. What do you say, Sarah Nolt. Will you be my wife?”

Sarah sat silently in the chair, her face turned away. She turned back toward Mose and looked into his eyes. “You'd do this for me? But...you don't know me.”

“I'd do this for us,” Mose corrected and smiled.

The tips of Sarah's fingers nervously pleated and unpleated a scrap of her skirt. “We hardly know each other. You must realize I'll never love you the way you deserve.”

“I know how much Joseph meant to you. He was like a
bruder
to me. You'd have to take second place in my heart, too. Greta will always be my one and only love.” Mose watched her nervous fingers work the material, knowing this conversation was causing her more stress. He waited.

She glanced at him. “I'd want the
kinder
to think we married for love. I hope they can grow to respect me as their parent. I know it won't be the same deep love they had for their
mamm
. I'll do everything I can to help them remember her.”

“I'm sure they'll grow to love you. In fact, I think they already do.” Mose fumbled for words, feeling young and awkward, something he hadn't felt in a very long time. He'd never thought he'd get married again, but
Gott
seemed to be in this and his
kinder
needed Sarah. She needed them. If she said no to his proposal he'd have to persuade her, but he had no idea how he'd manage it. She was proud and headstrong.

“What would people think? They will say I took advantage of your good nature.”

Mose smiled. “So, let them talk. They'd be wrong and we'd know it. I want this marriage for both of us, for the
kinder
. We can't let others decide what is best for our lives. I believe this marriage is
Gott's
plan for us.”

Sarah's face cleared and she seemed to come to a decision. She smoothed out the fabric of her skirt and tidied her hair, then finally took Mose's outstretched hand with a smile. “You're right. This is our life. I accept your proposal, Mose Fischer. I will be your
frau
and your
kinder's
mother.”

Sarah paused for a moment, then spoke. “Being your wife brings obligations. I expect you to honor my grief until such a time I can become your wife in both name and deed, as a good man deserves.” She looked him in the eye, seeking understanding. He deserved a woman's love and she had none to give him right now.

Mose smiled and nodded, gave her a hand up and stepped back. “I wish there was something I could do to help you in your grief.”

Sarah didn't know what to say. Few people had offered her a word of sympathy when she'd lost Joseph. They'd felt she'd caused his death. “I'm fine, really. I just need time.” She lied because if she said anything else, she would be crying in this stranger's arms.

“Time does help, Sarah. Time and staying busy.”

She could feel his gaze on her. She hid every ache and hardened her heart. This was the Amish way. “
Ya
, time and work. Everyone tells me this.”

“Take your time, grieve.” He murmured the words soft and slow.

Her heart in shreds, she would not talk of grief with him, not with anyone. “I don't want to talk anymore.” She moved past him and through the door, ignoring the throbbing veins at her temples. She would never get over this terrible loss deep in her heart. This unbearable pain was her punishment from
Gott
.

* * *

Mose wished he'd kept his mouth shut. He'd caused her more pain, reminding her of what she'd lost. Joseph had been a good man, full of life and fun. He'd loved
Gott
with all his heart and had dedicated himself to the Lord early in life. His baptism had been allowed early. Most Amish teens were forced to wait until they were sure of their dedication to
Gott
and their community, after their
rumspringa
, when they're time to experience the Englisch world was over and decisions made, but not Joseph. Everyone had seen his love for
Gott
, his kindness, strength and purity. He felt the painful loss of Joseph. What must Sarah feel? Like Joseph, she seemed sure of herself, able to face any problem with strength...but there was something else. She carried a cloud of misery over her, which told him she suffered a great deal. What else could have happened to make her so miserable?

He heard a window open upstairs and movement, perhaps Sarah preparing for bed. Mose laughed quietly. Was he so desperate for a mother for his
kinder
that he had proposed marriage to a woman so in love with her dead husband she could hardly stand his touch? They both had to dig themselves out of their black holes of loss and begin life anew. Could marriage be the way? He knew he would never love again, yet his
kinder
needed a mother. Was he too selfish to provide one for them? Would marrying again be fair to any woman he found suitable to raise his
kinder
? No woman wanted a lovesick fool, such as he, on their arm. They wanted courtship, the normal affection of their husband, but he had none to give. He was an empty shell. Mose looked out over the tops of tall trees to the stars.
Gott
was somewhere watching, wondering why He'd made a fool like Mose Fischer. Stars twinkled and suddenly a shooting star flashed across the sky, its tail flashing bright before it disappeared into nothingness. It had burned out much like his heart.

Chapter Three

S
arah's eyes were red-rimmed and puffy. She placed her
kapp
just so and made sure its position was perfect, as if the starched white prayer
kapp
would make up for her tear-ravaged face.

“My mother wore a
kapp
like that, but it looked kind of different.” Beatrice clambered onto the dressing table's stool next to Sarah.

“It probably was different, sweetheart. Lots of Amish communities wear different styles of
kapps
and practice different traditions.”

“How come girls wear them and not boys?” Beatrice reached out and touched the heavily starched material on Sarah's head.

“Several places in the Bible tell women to cover their heads, so we wear the
kapps
and show
Gott
we listen to His directions.” Sarah wished she could pull off the cap, throw it to the ground and stomp on it. Covering her head didn't make her a better person. Love did. And she loved this thin, love-starved child and her sweet baby sister. She felt such a strong need to make things easier for Beatrice and Mercy. “Would you like to help me make pancakes?”

As if on a spring, the child jumped off the stool and danced around the room, making Mercy laugh out loud and clap her hands. “Pancakes! My favoritest thing in the whole wide world.”

Sarah pushed a pin into her pulled-back hair and glanced at her appearance in the small hand mirror for a moment longer. She looked terrible and her stomach was upset, probably the result of such an emotional night. She'd lain awake for hours, unable to stop thinking about her promise to wed Mose. She'd listened to the
kinder's
soft snores and movements, thinking about Joseph and their lost life together.

Gott
had spoken loud and clear to her this morning. The depression and grief she suffered were eating up her life. She'd never have the love of her own
kinder
if she didn't come out of this black mood and live again. But why would Mose want her as a wife, damaged as she was?

“Your eyes are red. Are you going to cry some more?” Beatrice jumped off the bench and danced around, her skirt whirling.

The child heard me crying last night.
She forced herself to laugh and join in the child's silly dancing. Hand in hand they whirled about, circling and circling until both were dizzy and fell to the floor, their laughter filling the room.

A loud knock came and her father opened the door wide. “What's all this noise so early in the morning?”

Her joy died a quick death. “Beatrice and I were—”

“I see what you're doing. Foolishness. You're making this child act as foolish as you. It's time for breakfast. Go to the kitchen and be prepared for at least twenty-five men to eat. We have more work to do now that the old barn is to be towed away. We'll need nourishment for the hard day ahead.”

Beatrice snuggled close to Sarah, her arms tight around her neck. “This may be your home, but you're out of line,
Daed
. Close the door behind you. We will be down when the
kinder's
needs are met.” Sarah looked him hard in the eyes, her tone firm.

Her father's angry glare left her filled with fury. She hated living at his farm, at his mercy. She longed to be in her own home two miles down the dusty road. She would not let him throw his bitterness the
kinder's
way. She'd talk to him in private and make things very clear. She'd be liberated from his control once she and Mose were married. But, right now she was still a widow and had to listen to his demands. But not for long.
Gott
had provided her a way to get away from his control.

“Come darling, let's get Mercy out of her cot and make those pancakes. We have a long day of cooking ahead of us and need some healthy food in our bellies.”

“Is that mean man your
daed
?” Beatrice asked.

Sarah helped her off the floor.
“Ya.”
She lifted Mercy from her cot and nuzzled her nose in the baby's warm, sweet-smelling neck. She checked her diaper and found she needed changing. Mercy wiggled in her arms, a big grin pressing dimples in her cheeks. She held the warm baby close to her and thanked
Gott
her father's harsh words hadn't seemed to scare the baby.

Watching her sister get a fresh diaper, Beatrice spoke, “Why is he so angry? I don't think he loves you.” Confusion clouded Beatrice's face, a frown creasing her brow.

“Of course he loves me,” Sarah assured her. But as she finished changing Mercy's diaper, she wondered.
Does he love me?

* * *

The narrow tables lined up on the grass just outside Sarah's kitchen door didn't look long enough for twenty-five men, but she knew from experience they would suffice. She, Marta and three local women laughed and chatted as they covered the handmade tables with bright white sheets and put knives, forks and cloth napkins at just the right intervals.

As the men began gathering, Sarah placed heaping platters of her favorite breakfast dish made of sausage, potatoes, cheese, bread, onions and peppers in the middle of each table and at the ends. Bowls of fresh fruit, cut bite-size, added color to the meal. Heavy white plates, one for each worker, lined the tables. Glasses of cold milk sat next to each plate.

“The table looks very nice,” Marta whispered.

“It looks hospital sterile.” Sarah loved color. Bold, bright splashes of color. What would happen if she'd used the red table napkins she'd hemmed just after Joseph died? In her grief she'd had to do something outrageous, or scream in her misery. She longed to use the napkins for this occasion. Bright colors were considered a sin to Old Order Amish.
How could Gott see color as a sin?
Some of the limitations she lived under made no sense at all.

“We're plain people, Sarah.
Gott
warned us against adorning ourselves and our lives with bright colors. They attract unwanted attention.” Marta straightened a white napkin and smiled at Sarah.

“I know what the Bishop says, Marta, but I think too many of our community rules are the Bishop's rules and have nothing at all to do with what
Gott
wants. The older he gets, the more unbearable his ‘must not's and should not's' get.”

“Everything looks good,” Marta said in a loud voice, drowning out Sarah's last comment. Bishop Miller's wife walked past and straightened several forks on the table close to Sarah.

Marta rushed back into the kitchen, her hand a stranglehold on Sarah's wrist. “Do you think she heard you?”

“Who?”

“Bishop Miller's wife.”

“I don't care if she did.”

“Well, you should care. I know she's a sweet old woman and always kind to me, but she tells her husband everything that goes on in the community, and you know it.”

Sarah shrugged and looked out the kitchen window, watching Mose approach the porch and settle in a chair too small for his big frame. Her future husband wore a pale blue shirt today, his blond hair damp from sweat and plastered down under his straw work hat. Beatrice left the small
kinder's
table and crawled into her father's lap, her arms sliding around the sweaty neck of his shirt.

“That child loves her
daed
.” Marta grabbed a pickle from one of the waiting plates of garnish.

“She does. It's a shame she has
nee
mother to cuddle her.”

“I'm worried about you, Sarah. Lately all you do is daydream and mope.”

Sarah considered telling Marta her news but decided against it. Marta would never approve of a loveless marriage. “Don't worry about me. I'll be fine. I like having the
kinder
here. They've brightened my spirits. I've never had a chance to really get close to a child before. They can make my day better with just a laugh. They are really into climbing, even Mercy. This morning I caught her throwing her leg over her cot rail. She could have fallen if I hadn't been close enough to catch her. I'm going to see if someone has a bigger bed for her today. She's way too active to manage in that small bed
Daed
found in the attic.”

Sarah grabbed two pitchers of cold milk and headed out the back door.

“Is there more food? These men are hungry.” Adolph grabbed Sarah by the arm as she passed through the door, his fingers pinching into her flesh.

“
Ya
, of course. I'll bring out more.” She placed the pitchers on the table and returned the friendly smile Mose directed her way.

“See that you do,” her father barked, as if he were talking to a child. He moved down the table, greeting each worker with a handshake and friendly smile.

Sarah hurried into the kitchen and grabbed a plate of hot pancakes from the oven and rushed back out the kitchen door, a big jar of fresh, warmed maple syrup tucked under her arm. Her father was right about one thing. The men were eating like an army.

* * *

The last of the horse-drawn wagons carrying burned wood pulled out of the yard and down the lane, heading for the dump just outside town.

Mose grabbed the end of a twelve-foot board, pulled it over and nailed it into the growing frame with three strong swings of the hammer. A brisk breeze lifted the straw hat he wore, almost blowing it off his head. He smashed it down on his riot of curls and went back to work. The breeze was welcome on the unseasonably hot morning.

“Won't be much longer now,” the man working next to Mose muttered. The board the man added would finish the last of the barn's frame, and then the hard work of lifting the frames would begin.

Sweat-soaked and hungry, Mose glanced at the noon meal being served up a few yards away and saw Sarah carrying a plate piled high with potato pancakes. She'd been in and out of the house all morning, her face flushed from the heat of the kitchen. Beatrice trailed behind her, a skip in her steps and the small bowl of some type of chow-chow relish dripping yellow liquid down the front of her apron as she bounced.

He laughed to himself, taking pleasure in seeing Beatrice so content. Sarah had a natural way with
kinder
. She'd make a fine mother.

“Someone needs to deal with that woman.”

“Who?” Mose turned his head, surprised at the comment. He looked at the man who'd spoken and frowned. Standing with his hands on his hips, the man's expression dug deep caverns into his face, giving Mose the impression of intense anger.

“The Widow Nolt, naturally. Who else? Everyone knows she killed Joseph with her neglect. Bishop Miller might as well shun her now and get it over with. No one wants her in the community anymore. She causes trouble and doesn't know when to keep her mouth shut.”

Mose mopped at the sweat on his forehead. “What do you mean, she killed Joseph? There's no way she's capable of doing something like that. The police said he died of smoke inhalation.”

Stretching out his back and twisting, the man worked out the kinks from his tall frame, his eyes still on Sarah. “She did it, all right,
bruder
. She left the light on in the barn, knowing gas lights get hot and cause fires.”

“I'm sure she just forgot to turn it off. People forget, you know.” Mose knew he was wasting his breath. Some liked to think the worst of people, especially people like Sarah, who were powerless to defend themselves.

“Sarah Nolt is that kind of woman. Her own father says she's always been careless, even as a child.”

“I believe
Gott
would have us pray for our sister, not slander her for something that took her husband's life.”

“Well, you can stand up for her if you like, but I'm not. She's a bad woman, and I wouldn't be here today if it weren't for my respect for Joseph. He was a good man.”

“He'd want you to help Sarah, not slander her.” Mose threw down the hammer. His temper would always be a fault he'd have to deal with, and right now he'd best move away or he'd end up punching a man in the mouth.

The food bell rang out. He dusted as much of the sawdust off his clothes as he could. Still angry, he moved toward the long table set up in the grass and took the seat closest to the door. A tall glass of cold water was placed in front of him by a young girl.
“Danke.”
He downed the whole glass.

“You're
welkom
,” the girl muttered and refilled his glass. Mose watched Sarah as she served the men around him. She acted polite and kind to everyone, but not one man spoke to her. The women seemed friendlier but still somewhat distant. He saw her smile once or twice before he dug into his plate of tender roast beef, stuffed cabbage rolls and Dutch green beans. Sarah knew her way around a kitchen. The food he ate was hardy and spiced to perfection.

A group of men seated around the Bishop began to mutter. A loud argument broke out and Mose could hear Sarah's name being bandied about. Marta hurried past, her face flushed, and the promise of tears glistening in her eyes. Her small-framed shoulders drooped as she made her way into the house. Soon Sarah was out the door, her eyes locked on Bishop Miller who sat a few seats from Mose.

“You have much to say about me today, Bishop Miller. Would you like to say the words to my face?” Her small hands were fisted, her back straight and strong as she glared at the community leader.

Adolph shoved back his chair and stood.

“Shut your mouth, Sarah Yoder. I will not have you speak to the Bishop like this. You are out of line. You will speak to him with respect.”

“My name is Nolt,
Daed
. No longer Yoder. And I will not be told to hush like some young
bensel
. If the Bishop has something to say, he need only open his mouth or call one of his meetings.”

Mose rose.
Gott, hold Sarah's tongue.
She had already dug a deep well of trouble with her words. Her actions were unwise, but he would not stand by and watch her be pulled down further by her father's lack of protection. Let the Bishop show proof of her actions and present them in a proper setting if he had issues with her.