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Her mother tsked.
“They were Christian romance, Mamm.”
“I’m guessing your date with Jacob didn’t match with what you’d been reading.”
“Hardly. First of all, he showed up with mud splattered all over the buggy, and the inside of it was filled with pieces of hay and fast-food wrappers and even a pair of dirty socks.”
“Didn’t he have older brothers?”
“He had one.”
“So I guess they shared the buggy.”
Hannah shrugged. “We’d barely made it a quarter mile down the road when we both noticed his horse was limping.”
“Oh my.”
“It was no big thing. He jumped out of the buggy and began to clean out her hooves with a pick.”
“While you waited.”
“At first. Then I decided to help, which he told me in no short fashion not to do.”
“There are times when it’s hard for a man, especially a young man, to accept a woman’s help.”
“I waited about ten minutes and finally said I was heading home.”
“Changed your mind before you were even out of sight of the house.”
“Maybe. What I knew for sure was that I didn’t want to stand on the side of the road while Jacob Schrock took care of his horse—something he should have done before picking me up.”
“Could have been his brother’s doing.”
“I suppose.”
“I hope you didn’t judge him harshly because of a dirty buggy and a lame horse.”
“Actually, I don’t think I judged him at all. I simply realized that I didn’t want to spend the evening with him.”
“Well, he seems to have turned into a fine young man.”
Hannah refolded the newspaper and pointed her highlighter at her mother. “Tell me you are not matchmaking.”
“Why would I do such a thing?”
“Exactly.”
“Though I did help both of your sisters find their husbands.”
“I need a job, Mamm. I don’t need a husband. I have a son, I have a family and I have a home. I’m fine without Jacob Schrock or any other man.” Before her mother could see how rattled she was, Hannah jumped up, stepped over to the window and stared out at Jacob and Matthew.
“At least you parted friends...or so it seems.”
Hannah suddenly remembered Jacob kissing her behind the swing set at school. It had been her first kiss, and a bit of a mess. He’d leaned in, a bee had buzzed past her and she’d darted to the right at the last minute. The result was a kiss on the left side of her kapp. She’d been mortified, though Jacob had laughed good-naturedly, then reached for her hand and walked her back into the school building. It was three years later when he’d asked her out on the buggy ride.
Remembering the kiss, Hannah felt the heat crawl up her neck. Before her mother could interrogate her further, she busied herself pulling two glasses from the cabinet and said, “Perhaps I should take both of the workers something to drink.”
She filled the glasses with lemonade, snagged half a dozen of her mother’s oatmeal cookies, put it all on a tray and carried it outside.
After setting it down on the picnic table under the tall maple tree, she turned to watch Jacob and Matthew. In spite of her resolution to maintain a safe distance from Jacob Schrock, her heart tripped a beat at the sight of him.
Which made no sense, because Jacob Schrock was not her type.
He was eight inches taller than she was, whereas David had been her height exactly.
He was blond. David had been dark haired.
His eyes were blue, and David’s had been a lovely brown.
Nothing about the man standing near her son appealed to her, least of all the suggestion that he knew what was good for Matthew.
She couldn’t help noticing, though...
The sleeves of his blue shirt were rolled up past the elbow, revealing his muscular, tanned arms.
Sweat gleamed on his forehead and caused his blond hair to curl slightly.
As she watched, he handed one end of a tape measure to Matthew, stepped off what was apparently the length of the project and pushed a stake into the ground.
When he was done, Jacob glanced up, noticed her waiting and smiled. Now, why did his smile cause her heart to race even faster? Perhaps she needed to see a doctor. Maybe the depression that had pressed down on her like a dark cloud for so long had finally taken its toll on her heart. Or maybe she was experiencing a normal reaction to a nice-looking man doing a kind deed.
Of course, he was getting paid for it.
But he didn’t have to allow Matthew to tag along.
He certainly didn’t have to smile at her every time she was near.
Jacob stored the tape measure they were using in a tool belt and said something to Matthew. When her son twisted in his wheelchair to look at her, she had to press her fingers to her lips. Yes, he still sat in his chair, but he looked like a completely different boy. He had rolled up his sleeves, sweat had plastered his hair to his head and a smear of dirt marked his cheek. When he caught her watching, he beamed at her as if it were Christmas Day.
In short, he looked like a normal child having a great time building a playhouse.
* * *
Jacob glanced back at Hannah in time to catch her staring at Matthew, the fingers of her right hand pressed against her lips. Jacob considered himself open to beauty. Maybe because of his own disfigurement, he found contentment in noticing Gotte’s handiwork elsewhere.
He’d often stood and watched the sunset, thinking that Gotte had done a wonderful thing by providing them such splendor. He’d helped his brother when it was time for birthing in the spring: goats, horses, cows, and once when a terrible storm came through and they couldn’t get to the hospital—a son. Jacob didn’t mind that such things brought him to tears, that he often had to pause and catch his breath, that he was sensitive to the joys of this world.
But when he looked up and saw Hannah, an unfamiliar emotion brushed against the inside of his heart. It couldn’t be attraction, as he’d never asked a woman out on a date because of how she looked—not before the fire and not since. He hadn’t asked a woman out in years, and he wouldn’t be starting today. As for her personality, well, if he were to be honest with himself, she was pushy, obviously overprotective of her son and taciturn to the point of being rude.
She was beautiful, though, and more than that, her obvious love for her son was moving. Her vulnerability in that moment reached deep into his soul and affected him in a way he didn’t realize he could be touched.
So he stooped down and said to Matthew, “Best take a break. Your mamm has brought us a snack.”
He walked beside the boy as they made their way toward the picnic table.
“Mamm, I’m helping.” Matthew reached for a cookie, broke it in half and stuffed the larger piece into his mouth.
“It appears you worked up an appetite.”
Matthew nodded, and Jacob said, “We both did.”
Hannah motioned for him to help himself. He popped a whole cookie into his mouth and said, “Wow,” before he’d finished chewing. Which caused Matthew to dissolve in a fit of laughter.
“What-id I-ooh?” Jacob asked, exaggerating each syllable.
“You have to chew first,” Matthew explained. “And swallow!”
Jacob did as instructed, took a big sip of the lemonade and then said, “Danki, Hannah. Hit the spot.”
“Looks as if actual construction on this playhouse is slow getting started.”
“Measure twice, cut once,” Matthew explained.
“We’ve managed to mark off the dimensions and unload my tools.”
“You brought all that lumber in your buggy?”
“Nein. The store in town delivered it. I guess you didn’t hear the truck.”
“I guess I didn’t.”
“It was this big,” Matthew said, holding his arms out wide.
“The playhouse will go up quickly,” Jacob assured her. “I’ll begin the base of the structure today. The walls will go up tomorrow, and the roof and final details the third day.”
“Kind of amazing that a child’s toy takes so long to build.” Hannah held up a hand and shook her head at the same time. “I did not mean that the way it sounded. It’s only that when you consider we can build a barn in one day, it seems funny that a playhouse takes three.”
“Sure, ya. But this isn’t a barn, and, as you can see, young Matthew and I are the only workers.”
“I’m going to help,” Matthew exclaimed, reaching for another cookie.
Hannah’s son was rambling on now, explaining that he could mark the wood before Jacob made the cut and hand him nails as he hammered.
“Wait a minute, Matt. We have therapy tomorrow.”
“But—”
“Nein. Do not argue with me.”
“Ya, but this is kind of therapy.”
“What time is Matthew’s appointment?” Jacob asked, recognizing the escalating disagreement for what it was. Hadn’t he argued in the same way when he was a young lad? Maybe not over physical therapy appointments, but there was always something to pull him away from what he’d wanted to do—fishing, searching for frogs, climbing trees.
“Matthew is scheduled for therapy three afternoons a week—Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday.”
“That’s perfect, because I need help tomorrow morning.”
Matthew and Hannah both swiveled to look at him.
“In the afternoon, I’ll be doing other stuff that an apprentice isn’t allowed to do. But the morning?” Jacob rubbed his hand up and down his jawline as if he needed to carefully consider what he was about to say. Finally he grinned and said, “Mornings will be perfect.”
“Yes!” Matthew raised a hand for Jacob to high-five. “I gotta go inside and tell Mammi.”
Without another word, he reversed the direction of his chair and wheeled toward the house.
“That was kind of you,” Hannah said.
“Actually, he is a big help to me.”
Instead of arguing, she again pressed her fingers to her lips. Was it so she could keep her emotions inside? Stop her words? Protect her feelings?
“It’s only a little thing, Hannah. I’m happy to do it. It’s plain to see that Matthew is a special young man.”
She picked up the plate of cookies and stared down at it. “He never eats more than one cookie. In fact, he often passes on snacks and desserts. Today he ate two and drank a full glass of lemonade.”
“Is that a problem?”
He thought she wouldn’t answer. She glanced at him and then her gaze darted out over the area where construction had not yet begun. “The doctors said that the steroids might suppress his appetite, but that it was best to encourage him to eat more.”
“And what purpose do the steroids serve?”
“They’re supposed to decrease swelling around the spinal cord.” She placed the plate on the tray and transferred the empty lemonade glasses to it, as well. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bore you with the details.”
“Do I look bored?”
She sat on the picnic bench then, staring back toward the house, seemingly lost in her worries over Matthew. “The last thing we needed is him losing weight. Then there are the other complications...”
“Such as?”
“Children with spinal cord injuries often struggle with pneumonia and other breathing disorders. Secondary infections are always a worry—it’s why I was afraid for him to help you. If he were to get a cut or take a nasty fall, it could spiral into something worse.”
“It must be a lot for you to monitor.”
“Matthew needs all his strength, even when it comes in the form of oatmeal cookies.”
“I’d like to ask what happened, but I know from personal experience that sometimes you feel like sharing and sometimes you don’t.”
Hannah jerked her head up. She seemed to study his scars for a moment and then she nodded once. “It’s true. Sometimes I want to talk about it, need to talk about it, but then other times...”
