Amish Reckoning

His eyes were hooded. “Do you have a problem with Amish women? The choices they’ve made? Maybe they don’t have the liberties you do in the Englisch world. But it’s a noble life.”

Now dizzy with relief, Gail shook her head. No, she had no problem with Amish women. She’d intended to be one. She’d planned to take her place in the Amish community. But sometimes life changed course on you.

The Belgians in the pasture welcomed the newcomer with a chorus of neighs, which he energetically returned from the trailer, jolting her back from the past. “No problem. I just need to get your horse unloaded so I can get back on the road.”

Never before had she unloaded a horse so quickly. Usually, she loved an opportunity to explore big Amish barns, but not today. As she drove down the lane ten minutes later, Gail tugged off the cap, tossing it on the passenger seat. Her head flopped back against the headrest. Yes, she had a problem with those women. One in particular. The blonde one. She was the most beautiful Amish woman Gail had ever seen.

Her older sister hadn’t changed at all.

Chapter Four

The empty trailer rattled down the lane. Hands on his hips, Samuel watched the truck turn and accelerate down the country road. She was going faster than normal. What’d upset her?

Returning to the shadowed interior of the barn, he unhooked the halter and tugged the lead free from where he’d hastily tied the gelding in a stall when he realized the clanking that’d followed him into the barn was Gail securing the door of the trailer at lightning speed. By the time he’d reached the double doors of the barn, she was pulling out.

He’d wanted to say farewell. Ach, more so, he’d wanted to probe a little about her strange reaction when Ruth and Hannah passed them in the lane. The usual Englisch response when they saw Amish was either to stare outright or pretend they weren’t when they really were. Perhaps Gail had worked with Elam so long and delivered enough horses to his farm that she had a more nonchalant response? But her actions had been anything but disinterested. She’d almost slunk all the way to the floorboards. He doubted she could see over the dash as the truck crept up the lane.

Gail didn’t seem to have a problem with him. Well, she had a problem with him but not in that way. Maybe she had an issue with strangers? If she had, she was capable of getting over it, as the folks at the track appeared to like her well enough.

His new purchase wandered around the unfamiliar stall, nosing the fresh straw cushioning the floor. Samuel hooked the stall door closed. Ascending the ladder to the hayloft, he dropped down a fresh bale. When he climbed back down, his mare, Belle, and the new gelding were eyeing him with interest.

He snorted at their avid attention, the dust motes kicked up by the dropped bale swirling about him. “Too bad women aren’t as easy to understand as you two. I can tell by your ears what you want.” Unbidden, the vision of Gail’s ears under her high ponytail sprang into his mind. Samuel tripped over the bale as he went to get the knife that hung on the barn wall to cut the twine. Quickly recovering, he glanced sheepishly back to the watching bays.

“You don’t mind a quiet conversation instead of a loud radio.” He snorted again. “You answer about the same amount of questions. In fact, I probably know as much or more of your history, even upon our short acquaintance, than I do hers.” Samuel rubbed the gelding’s forehead when the horse reached over the stall wall to lip some loose hay from his shirt.

Bending, Samuel cut the twine from the bale. It relaxed into an accordion of separate flakes, releasing a strong scent of fresh-cut hay.

“I’d like to say I like you better for your straightforwardness. But I don’t want to lie. There’s just something…” Samuel breathed in the sweet hay aroma, one of his favorite smells. He realized, though, as he tossed a few flakes of it into each horse’s manger, that a more intriguing one now was the clean soap fragrance that’d greeted him this morning when he climbed into the truck’s cab with Gail. Samuel frowned as he straightened up the open bale.

“A mysterious woman just makes a man wonder.” Ambling over to Belle, he stretched out a hand to scratch her between the ears. She jerked her head up and swung it out of reach, avoiding his touch. Shaking his head, Samuel retreated, giving her space to return to the hay in the manger. “Or maybe I’m just a fool for skittish females.”

Turning his back on the mare, he crossed to a large pen in the back of the cavernous barn, vaulted the low gate there and strode through the pen to open the door that exited to an attached pasture. Jeb and Huck, the two Belgians, were waiting just outside. Gabby, the Guernsey cow, wasn’t far behind. “It’d be nice if she’d trust me like you all do.” Stepping aside as the trio entered the barn, he looked down the road in the direction the truck and trailer had taken. “Something for me to work on, I figure.”

Gail hadn’t seen Hannah in years. Four, to be exact, when Gail’s pregnancy was getting too difficult to hide. The day her folks were gone to an auction, when she’d walked down the lane with her eyes full of tears and her hands full of the few possessions she could carry to the bus stop.

Hannah had followed her to the road, her normally pristine apron wadded in clenched fists, trying to convince Gail to stay. But after a lingering final embrace, Gail had started walking. She hadn’t looked back.

With only an eighth-grade education, as per Amish practice, even part-time jobs for her were scarce. Somehow she’d ended up at the racetrack and Gott had answered her fervent prayers. Standardbred trainer George Hayes had needed a stable hand. Or maybe George hadn’t. Maybe he’d just known that Gail desperately needed a job. He gave her one.

She’d learned to drive, as a license didn’t require a high school diploma and it was something she could do while roundly pregnant. She’d scrimped together enough to put a small down payment on Bonnie and the trailer. Although the years since had been tough, she thought they’d finally be able to make it.

Until she hit a rough patch and missed some payments.

Scouring the rural area she traveled in for cheaper rent and childcare, Gott had again answered Gail’s prayers when she found a widow with a small basement apartment who was thrilled to watch Lily during the day. The downside was its proximity to Miller’s Creek. If the wrong person found out about Lily, she risked losing her daughter. But if Gail couldn’t keep a roof over their heads, she could lose her anyway. And that would happen if the truck and trailer were repossessed.

She’d worried Elam would recognize her. When he didn’t say anything, Gail allowed herself a sliver of hope. Later in conversation he admitted that he didn’t pay a lot of attention to the youngies and she breathed easier, casually probing him for news of home. That was how she learned about the death of Atlee Weaver, Lily’s father.

No. No one from Miller’s Creek could know she was nearby.

The buggy had fortunately turned down another road. Gail stopped at the intersection, shifting into Park. Crossing her wrists over the top of the steering wheel, she dropped her forehead against them.

She missed her family.

Seeing Hannah was like having a swollen river top a levee and weaken it, threatening to wash away the whole protective barrier.

She wanted to go home.

Gail raised her head at the sound of a passing car. Her eyes blinking back tears, she considered the roads before her. If she turned one way, it led to the small town where she lived. If she turned another…it would take her down the country road that led to her family’s farm.

Shifting the truck into gear, Gail turned on the country road and drove by well-remembered territory.

Her pulse started throbbing when her family’s white-painted buildings topped the landscape. I’m not going to turn my head to look as I pass. Too much like Englisch gawkers. Even so, the truck slowed to a crawl when she reached the beginning of her daed’s property, as Gail scanned the neat farmyard.

The wash was on the line. Oh my, the pants were getting long. Her younger brothers must be growing so big. Aprons and solid-colored dresses fluttered in the breeze. Dropping a quick glance to her jeans, Gail tried to remember the last time she’d worn a Plain dress.

She dashed a hand across her tear-blurred eyes when she saw the apron-wearing figure in the garden. Mamm. Against her resolve, Gail twisted her head, continuing to look as she drove past. A loud blare of a horn had her swerving the pickup back to her side of the road. A driver glared at her through the window of a passing SUV. A tug on the steering wheel warned the wheels of the trailer had dropped into the shallow ditch. She’d lose her livelihood if she tore up her rig. Berating herself, Gail eased the trailer back onto the blacktop surface.

Maybe some church Sunday when she knew they’d be gone, she’d drive by with Lily. Nothing would be said about unknown grandparents, but Gail could point out what a beautiful and carefully maintained farm looked like. Yes, they could do that. Lily would enjoy it and she…she needed to show her.

Did Mamm have any grandchildren beside Lily? Surely Hannah was married by now. Or was the reason Hannah was coming over with Ruth to the Schrock farm because she was interested in Samuel?

The truck shot forward with the sudden pressure on the gas pedal. It slowed again when Gail forced her foot to relax. What girl wouldn’t be? Gail’s stomach twisted as she vividly recalled being second choice for an attractive Amish man before. And the bleak outcome.

Get over him, Gail. She shouldn’t be dreaming about an Amish man. If Samuel happened to marry her sister, well…it wasn’t like she’d be around to see them together.

She longed to head straight home to where Lily waited for her. But the black-and-white Holsteins in her daed’s pasture had reminded her of their milkless refrigerator. She’d intended to grab some groceries while in town, but the flat tire and her new customer had driven everyday things from her mind.

Even with the warm breeze that blew through the open window, a cold sweat broke out over Gail. She couldn’t afford to drive the many miles out of the way to another grocery store when there was one almost in her path. If she went into Miller’s Creek.

Surely Gott had tested her enough today? Surely she could run into a store without seeing someone she knew? The meager amount in her checkbook persuaded her that the odds should be in her favor.

Gail pulled into the small grocery store’s parking lot. Her left foot bounced in the footwell when she saw the horse and buggy hitched to the rail made available for Amish customers. She stilled the action with a hand on her leg. It’s not Mamm or Daed. Hannah wouldn’t have had time to get into town. I look different. No one else knows me as well. As long as it isn’t… But what are the chances that out of all in the community, it’s Ruby Weaver’s buggy? The woman probably doesn’t do anything as mundane as grocery shopping. She’s too busy manipulating lives.

Retrieving the baseball cap from the passenger seat, she tugged it low on her forehead. With a deep breath, Gail exited the truck and hurried across the parking lot. Slipping through the sliding doors, she ignored the carts and scanned the produce section for anyone wearing a dress and kapp. The coast was clear. Exhaling slowly, Gail peeked into the first aisle. Finding it empty, she headed for the back of the store.

Gail flicked her gaze down the aisles as she passed. Clear. Clear. Noting the sign indicating box goods, her breath hitched at the sight of a woman in an aisle until she quickly identified the shopper by attire as Englisch. She trotted down it to grab a box of mac and cheese. Returning to the refrigerated coolers at the back of the store, she snagged a package of hot dogs and a gallon of milk. Gail’s shoulders relaxed as she rounded the endcap of the last aisle. Just a loaf of bread and she was done. No one is going to recognize me. It’s been four years. I’m an unreasonable coward, except the stakes are so high. But that’s only if I see…

Gail stood motionless, almost as if she’d become one of the items in the hip-high freezer at her side. Atlee’s mother, Ruby Weaver, was halfway down the aisle, wearing a frown like a required piece of clothing as she stared at the shelf in front of her. While the years had changed Gail, time hadn’t made a difference to Ruby. The belt of her apron sagged at the waist of her gaunt figure. Her kapp, pressed in iron folds, was anchored scrupulously to her steel-gray hair. Ruby’s eyes were narrowed on the container in her hand, as if she planned to recommend shunning it for offending her in some manner.

It was a look Gail remembered well. An amplified version of it had pinned a sixteen-year-old Gail to a barn wall where Ruby had cornered her alone after the church service announcing Atlee’s engagement—to another girl. Calling Gail a jezebel, the bishop’s wife warned her to leave her son alone, or Gail would regret it, as would her family.

Later, Gail wished she’d retorted that Ruby’s cherished son had been the seducer, probably of many young Amish women, but at the time, she’d been shocked and scared. She still was, because Ruby was the neck that turned the head of the bishop. A bishop who interpreted the community’s Ordnung in a manner that best suited his own family.

Ruby pivoted and stared unblinkingly at where Gail stood rooted. Ducking her head, Gail stared at the bags of frozen chicken breasts in the freezer, her fingers white-knuckled on the groceries in her hands. She won’t recognize me. The hat. The ponytail, the jeans. It’s my imagination that she’s watching me. I’m just an Englisch girl. Gail forced herself to move along the far side of the freezer, working her way to the front of the store.

From under the bill of her cap, she sneaked a glance at the older woman. Ruby’s eyes, under the center part of her hair, were hooded as she watched Gail. The older woman’s pursed lips gathered up the loose wrinkles from her face. Gail ignored the bread section and hastened to check out. Thrusting her items onto the conveyor belt, she looked back to find the bishop’s wife had followed her to the end of the aisle and stood, hands on narrow hips, staring at her.

Foot tapping a rapid tattoo on the tile, Gail waited for her change. When she had it, she grabbed her items and fled the store, feeling a burning stare between her shoulders with every step. Shoving her purchases to the passenger seat, she jumped into the cab. Moments later the truck and trailer rattled out of the parking lot.

Gail was half a mile out of town before her heart rate slowed down. Ruby Weaver was the reason she couldn’t return to the Amish community. The threat the bishop’s wife posed to her daughter forced Gail and Lily to stay in the Englisch world. If Ruby ever found out her precious dead son, Atlee, actually had a daughter, she’d use the bishop to gain custody of the child.

Elam lived on the fringe of the Amish community. Samuel’s farm was closer to the center. Somehow, Gail needed to avoid Miller’s Creek while supporting her new—and very distracting—customer.

Pulling into the main street of a town so small it couldn’t boast a gas station, Gail circled a block and parked the pickup and trailer along a side street lined with small, neat houses.

Grabbing her groceries, Gail shut the door with her hip and headed for the sidewalk. She had greater things to worry about than a man. Yes, Samuel Schrock was tempting, but he didn’t fit into her life. And he didn’t hold a candle to what did. Gail smiled as she crossed bright-colored chalk marks on the cement pavement, the tension of the day easing from her shoulders at the unidentifiable drawings. Before she reached the screen door, it flew open and a small blond-haired girl bounded down the steps and launched into her arms.

“Mommy! You’re here! I love you so much!”

Dropping the grocery bags, Gail closed her eyes and embraced the girl’s precious, warm weight. Inhaling the soft, sweet scent of her daughter’s hair, she murmured, “Me, too, Lily. Me, too.”

The double barn doors were open, ostensibly to let in light from the glow of the early-morning sun, but primarily so Samuel could hear the sound of a truck and trailer pulling up the lane. He pitchforked a flake of hay in front of their cow, Gabby. He’d been thinking about his driver since she’d dropped him off three days ago with barely a wave in his direction. His trip today might have more to do with the ride to and from the track than the Standardbreds there. But he wasn’t going to tell his bruder that.

“I ran into Elam at the hardware store yesterday.” Gideon’s muffled voice came from the far side of Gabby, where he leaned his head against her flank as he milked the fawn-and-white cow.

Samuel stabbed the pitchfork into a nearby bale of alfalfa. He’d made time to see Elam the day before to ask his opinion on the trainers at the track. “He told me he’s not regretting his decision to quit the business. Hope it wasn’t just to make me feel good in taking it over. Seems hard to believe, but I look forward to today with even more excitement than I felt on my first one.”

“Ja. Really hard to believe.” The hiss of milk pinging against the metal sides of the pail punctuated his bruder’s words. “When were you going to tell me that the driver, Gail, was a woman? And a yung one at that?” Although his hands never stopped their steady rhythm, Gideon leaned back and shot his brother a glance. “Is that why you’ve been working like a madman the past few days? So you could fit in another trip to the track this week? I half expected the barn to be repainted when I arrived home yesterday, the way you’ve rushed to get work done.”

Samuel couldn’t deny the accusation, as it was the truth. “The past few days were clear and the low humidity was good for cutting and drying the hay at our farm while it was down. I’ve got to get to Malachi’s fields after that. And with the long evenings, there was plenty of light left after you got home yesterday to help me put up the bales. Just because I’m doing the majority of work on the farm doesn’t mean that you can’t occasionally get your hands dirty with it anymore.”

“Ach. That’s not what I mean, and my hands feel pretty full of farmwork right now.” After a few final squirts, Gideon grabbed the handle of the bucket and stood from the three-legged milking stool where he’d been perched. “And after talking with Elam, I just wanted to know what I’m working for.”

Samuel took the pail from him and poured its contents through a strainer into a metal milk can. “You’re working for the farm.” He set the pail down and shot his brother a grin. “And maybe a bit for your bruder to see a pretty girl again this week.”

Gideon didn’t share his smile. “As long as my bruder remembers that the pretty girl is Englisch.”

Samuel’s smile slipped. “Your bruder is very aware of that fact and doesn’t need to be reminded.” He stepped away to disinfect Gabby’s udder and release her head from the wooden stanchion. The Guernsey stayed put, munching on the hay. “We met Englisch girls at rumspringa parties in Ohio before we moved. She’s not the first girl who wasn’t Amish who I’ve flirted with. Though I may stretch them at times, I know where the boundaries are.” He placed a hand on Gabby’s bony hip and met his brother’s eyes. “When the time comes, I’ll be baptized. I’m not leaving the Amish faith.”

His younger brother’s shoulders visibly relaxed and his mouth tipped up at the corners. “That’s a relief. I thought so, but after watching the spring in your step even after the past few long days and finding out that the driver was a yung woman…and pretty—” his smile expanded “—your word, not Elam’s, I was a little concerned over the glint in your eye when you spoke of your new business.”

“Mamm will be glad you’re here to take her place as mother hen. Malachi hasn’t even been married a year yet and you’re trying to get me married off, too? I said, when the time comes I’ll be baptized into the church. Then I’ll be married. But the time hasn’t come, bruder. I’m not ready to settle down yet with Gott’s chosen one for me. This girl—” Samuel didn’t know how to describe Gail, or his unaccustomed feeling for her “—is a challenge, that’s all. Can you believe that she might not like your charming bruder?”

“It makes me think she has good sense.”

Patting his brother on the shoulder, Samuel stepped back to pick up the milking stool and hang it on pegs on the barn’s wall. His ears had picked up the sound of a vehicle approaching in the quiet morning. “No worries, then. Who wants to marry a sensible woman? Isn’t Ruth enough to scare us off from that?” He winked at his brother, knowing that Gideon cared for his sister-in-law as much as he did.

His attention already on the approaching truck, he absently instructed, “Take some milk in for Ruth and Malachi and drop the rest off at the cheese factory.”

“Like I do every day?”

He waved away Gideon’s response, which followed him out the barn’s double doors, and watched Gail’s truck and trailer pull into the lane. Maybe he was more than a little eager to see how long it would take him to get past this woman’s defenses.

He’d sold the gelding. Made a slim profit, but a profit nonetheless. Although the Amish seemed a patriarchal society, the adage “happy wife, happy life” still applied. The wife had been happy with her new transportation, happy enough the husband had talked about it with some friends, drumming up a few more potential customers for Samuel.

The truck pulled into the lane and swung around in the farmyard. A moment later Samuel was sitting next to Gail in the worn cloth seat. He was immediately wary when she shot him a hooded look. He was used to women watching him closely, but not like they were just waiting for him to put a foot wrong. He hadn’t been the recipient of a look like that since his mamm had to run an errand, leaving him alone in the kitchen with the cookies she’d just finished baking for a Christmas exchange.

“What?”

Gail didn’t reply, just shifted the vehicle into Drive and the rig rattled down the lane.

That was when he realized they weren’t alone.

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