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Not that it would matter. Ruby would think him a hopeless woodenhead now, a klutz who’d slipped and broken his skull.
“Here’s Grace now,” Sara said. “We were in luck. She was just next door. She’ll drive you into Dover and get you patched up.” And then to Ruby, Sara explained, “Grace is my cousin’s daughter. She’s Mennonite and drives a car.”
“I don’t think I need to see a doctor,” Joseph protested. “It’s just a little bump on the head.” He raised his gaze to Ruby again.
Sara scoffed. “Nonsense. You cracked your head like a melon. You need more stitches than I’d like to put in you. And you’re not to worry about the cost. You fell in my yard, and I’ll pay for everything.”
“Do you feel well enough to walk?” Grace appeared at his side, taking his arm.
“I can walk,” Joseph said.
“I’m going with him.” Ruby grabbed his other arm to help him to his feet. “It’s the least I can do.”
Sara looked at her. “Are you certain? Not sure how long the wait will be.”
“Ne, I want to,” Ruby insisted.
“Well, then, go and change your dress and stockings. There’s no need for you to go out with your things wet and dirty,” Sara replied. “You look as if you’ve been swimming in a mud puddle.”
“I’ll hurry,” Ruby said.
Walking to Grace’s motor vehicle took more effort than Joseph expected. Every step he took was a shaky one. His stomach churned and his head throbbed. He felt foolish with the towel on his head. As they made their way to the black SUV, he remembered his horse and buggy. He’d come to see Sara, and his horse was still harnessed and tied in her shed. “My horse,” he began, but Sara patted his hand.
“Don’t worry. Hiram will take care of him. Plenty of room in my barn.”
“He’s wet,” Joseph said.
“I said you’re not to worry.” She peered into his face. “Hiram can rub him down and give him a nice ration of oats.”
Joseph slid into the back seat and leaned back, gratefully resting his aching head. He thought he only closed his eyes for a moment but then the door on the other side opened and Ruby climbed in. “It will be all right,” she said soothingly.
A short time later, they arrived at the urgent care facility and Joseph, Sara and Ruby got out of the car.
“I’ll call you when we need a ride home,” Sara told Grace. “No telling how long a wait we’ll have.” She turned to Joseph as they went through the automatic doors at the entrance. “You two just find a seat in the waiting room. I’ll check you in. Hopefully, they’ll see you soon.”
But the walk-in facility was busy and it was obvious he wasn’t going to see a doctor right away. Instead, Ruby guided him to a corner of the crowded room while Sara checked him in. Ruby found two empty seats side by side and proceeded to convince another waiting patient and his mother into moving to the far wall so that Sara could sit with her and Joseph. As Joseph watched Ruby, he couldn’t help but be surprised a young woman could be so assertive with Englishers in a strange town.
“You’ll be able to see the television better from over there,” Ruby assured the woman who was wearing a tight Superman T-shirt, cut-off denim shorts and cowboy boots.
Her child, a stout, red-faced boy of about eight, didn’t appear to be too sick to Joseph. In one hand the boy clutched a can of soda, in the other a bag of chips. But he was whining that he was hungry and needed a candy bar from the vending machine. The kid’s head was shaved except for a standing ridge down the center, two inches high and a thin braid hanging down the back of his dirty shirt.
“You’ll be closer to the snacks, as well,” Ruby said with a cheery smile as she scooped up the woman’s rain jacket and handed it to her. The boy’s mother reluctantly gathered her belongings and moved toward the other vacant seats. “Terrible, isn’t it, how you have to wait?” Ruby went on. “We’re so grateful that you were kind enough to allow our friend to sit with us.”
“I want a candy bar!” the boy whined.
“All right, all right,” the woman said as she and her son walked away.
Joseph glanced at Ruby as she plopped her black purse on the empty seat on one side of him and sat down in the other one. He wanted to tell her how much he admired her ability to deal with the situation, but as usual, words failed him. All that he could manage was, “Your English is goot. I mean good.”
To his delight, she turned that sweet smile on him. “Thank you.”
Joseph felt his face grow warm and he averted his eyes.
“My mommi and daddi thought it was important that I learn English early on. Most parents from our church send their little ones off to school not knowing a single word, but not my mam and dat. Not my parents. No, indeed...”
Joseph stole a glimpse of Ruby as she chattered on. Usually, when he was with a girl, he was too nervous to get out a sensible word. He liked girls; he desperately wanted a wife. A family. He just wasn’t good at meeting girls. Talking to them.
Ruby asked him a question, but then thankfully went on, not waiting for him to come up with a clever reply. She just kept talking and he kept staring at her, not even trying to hide his infatuation now.
Joseph couldn’t believe this was happening. If he’d known that falling and cracking his head would have gotten him the attention of a beautiful young woman, he would have done it long ago. Best of all, Ruby wasn’t blaming him. She seemed to think that it was her fault. And she didn’t appear to care whether he talked or not. She seemed to have no problem talking for them both.
Joseph glanced up and saw Sara, who had taken the seat Ruby had saved for her, looking at them. He wondered what she was thinking. Did she think he was slow-witted because Ruby was talking and he wasn’t? Some people who didn’t know him well thought he was slow. Even his mother agonized over his lack of knowing what to say when girls were nearby. “Speak up,” she always told him. When he was a boy, it was “Stand up straight, Joseph. Look people in the eye when they speak to you. Do you want the teacher to think you have an overripe cucumber for a brain?” And now that he was a man full grown, it was “God gave you a mind. Why can’t you show it when it matters most?”
Joseph became aware that Ruby had stopped speaking. He looked into her eyes and was rewarded with another compassionate smile. She was waiting for him to say something, but what? He tried to think. What had she been saying? He was so overwhelmed by her presence that he was at a total loss. And just when he thought the floor would open and swallow him up, Sara came to his rescue.
“Ruby comes to us from Lancaster County in Pennsylvania,” Sara said, handing Ruby her purse. “I’ve promised her parents that I’ll find her a match.”
“Who is it?” he blurted. Was it Levi King? Jason Bontrager? If she’d set her kapp for either of them, he wouldn’t have the chance of a pullet in a fox den. Levi could charm the birds from the trees. And Jason had a blacksmith’s shoulders and a father with more farms than he had sons.
“She’s not spoken for yet,” Sara said. “But I’m certain it won’t be long before we’ll all be invited to her wedding.”
Ruby blushed prettily.
Then Sara added icing to the cake by saying, “Our Joseph is looking for a bride. He’s a master mason, and is a credit to his mother and community.”
“Is your father living?” Ruby asked. “Ach, maybe I shouldn’t have asked that. I have a wonderful father.” Without taking a breath, she switched from smooth and perfect English to Deitsch. “He’s so good to me. And he loves to laugh. Everyone says I look like my mother but I’m most like my father. I hope that if I do find someone to wed, we won’t live far from my parents. I’m devoted to them.”
She paused and looked at him expectantly. What was he supposed to say?
“Joseph’s father died when he was very young,” Sara said. She reached into her bag and pulled out a Christian romance novel. “I hope the two of you won’t mind, but I’m dying to see what happens in my book.”
“Do you like to read?” Ruby asked Joseph as Sara settled in her chair.
He nodded. Instantly, his head began to throb again and it was all he could do not to reach up to touch the towel. But he didn’t want her to think he was a complainer or that he wasn’t tough.
“Don’t move,” Ruby cautioned, brushing her hand against his wet sleeve. “I don’t want you to start bleeding again. I feel so terrible that you were hurt. And I’m entirely to blame. I’m such a klutz. You may as well know it. I’ve always been a klutz.”
“I read,” he managed. “The Bible. And The Budget.”
“Your injury will probably be written up in The Budget. I hope no one mentions my name. It’s so embarrassing. And you’ll probably miss work. Will your boss be angry with you?”
“Ne. I...I’m sort of an independent contractor.”
“You are? That’s wonderful.” She clasped her hands together. They were nice hands. “What kind of masonry do you do? Bricklaying? Stonework? Cement?”
“Ya. All.”
“And you’re a master mason already? You must do fine work.”
“I try.”
She smiled at him. “Listen to me. When I’m nervous, I talk too much.” She chuckled. “Truth is, I always talk too much. Are you thirsty? Hungry? There are vending machines over there. The least I can do is to buy you a drink. Wait, I’ll go see what they have.” She got up, taking her purse with her, and threaded her way through the waiting people to the corner.
Sara glanced at him. The corners of her mouth were drawn up in a “cat that swallowed the cream” hint of a smile. “Ruby talks a lot, doesn’t she?”
“Not too much,” Joseph defended, watching Ruby. “Just the right amount, I think.”
Ruby returned. “They have Coke, orange, lemon-lime and root beer. Then there’s bottled water and iced tea in a can. What would you like?”
Joseph reached for his wallet.
“Ne,” Ruby said firmly, patting her purse. “This is my treat. I insist.”
“All right.” Feeling bold, he returned her smile and said, “Next time, I pay.”
“But what would you like?” she asked.
“Soda is good.”
“But what kind?”
He shrugged. “Anything wet.”
She giggled. “Ne, you have to tell me what you like best.”
“R-root beer,” he managed. “I like root beer.”
The smile spread across her face, making her even more beautiful. “Me too. I love it. My daddi says that I like it too well. It’s not good for my teeth. But I drink it anyway.”
Her teeth looked fine to him. White and even and sparkling.
“And now you get to choose a snack. Pretzels. Chips. Candy. Or peanut butter crackers.”
“Crackers,” he said. “I like...crackers.”
“Me too.” She laughed, looking down at him like he was the cleverest man she had ever met. “Isn’t that funny? We both like the same treats. Sara, I’m not forgetting you. What would you like?”
Sara glanced up from her book. “I’m fine. Too many treats and I’ll grow out of my clothes. You young people enjoy your snacks.”
“If you’re sure,” Ruby said, turning back to Joseph. “I’ll be right back with your soda and crackers.”
As she walked away, he noticed that she was wearing a green dress. He liked green. He smiled to himself as he watched her. His head hurt and he was still feeling a little dazed, but it didn’t matter because this was turning out to be the best day of his life.
Chapter Two (#u11ccd54d-f96b-56f9-98b3-f69668d76425)
Joseph pushed back his plate. He’d eaten only a few bites of potato salad and nibbled at a fried chicken leg. The truth was the back of his head where he’d gotten the stitches stung and he didn’t have much of an appetite. And he had more on his mind than eating.
“Joseph, you’ve barely put a thing in your mouth.” His mother’s delicate forehead wrinkled with concern. “I knew you should have stayed in bed this morning. Does your head hurt? Are you dizzy?” She fluttered her hands helplessly over her plate. For a small woman, Joseph was always amazed at how much his mother could eat and never gain an extra pound.
He forced a smile and took a sip of the glass of buttermilk next to his plate. Normally, he loved buttermilk, but today, it tasted flat on his tongue. “Now, don’t fuss. A few stitches. Nothing for you to worry yourself over.”
His mother rose, came around the table and pressed a cool palm to his forehead. “You feel a little warm to me. You might be running a fever.”
“Ne, no fever,” he protested. “It’s a hot day. Near ninety, I’d guess. And you’ve made enough food for two families.” It was stifling there in the kitchen. All the windows were open, but no breeze stirred the plain white curtains. It made a man think longingly of cool autumn mornings.
His mother, Magdalena, nibbled at her lower lip. “It wouldn’t hurt for you to go back to the doctor.”
Joseph raised a hand in protest. “Mother, ne, really. There’s no need for you to be concerned. I slipped in the mud and knocked my head. It’s nothing. I’ve had far worse. Remember when I fell out of the hayloft?”
“And landed in the pile of manure your father had just forked out of the cow stall,” she finished for him with a chuckle. “At least you had no stitches then.”
“No stitches, but I broke my arm in two places.”
“We felt so awful.” She shook her head ruefully. “My only kinder, my precious seven-year-old son in so much pain. We rushed you to the hospital and there you were all covered in muck and stinking like an outhouse with all them Englishers staring at us. Such a bad mother, they must have thought, to have no care for her child.”
They traded smiles at the shared memory. He’d long ago forgotten the hurt of the broken arm. What he remembered was that he’d gone all that summer unable to swim in the pond with his friends, and that his father and mother had churned ice cream for him every Saturday. He wiped his eyes with the napkin, rubbing away the tears of laughter and maybe something more. That summer and the taste of that sweet ice cream on his tongue were some of the last memories he had of his father. His dat had been killed in a farming accident that September.
His mother was still hovering, something she had a tendency to do. “Maybe you could manage a slice of pie?” she coaxed. “Peach. Your favorite. I made it especially for you.”
Which was what she said of most meals... “Save it all for supper tonight,” Joseph answered. “I’ve got an errand to run this afternoon, and I’ll be sure to be hungry later. We’ll have everything cold, and you won’t even have to heat up the kitchen by turning on the stove.” His mother pursed her lips and began clearing away the dishes. Her silence and the pained expression on her face was an obvious sign of her disapproval.
“Can I help you clean up?” he offered.
She shook her head. “This is my job, Joseph. It’s the least I can do, being a widow and dependent on your charity.”
Joseph bit back the retort that this house was hers as long as she lived and he loved her and would never consider her a burden. He’d said that many times before. Instead, he rose to put the milk and chicken into the refrigerator.
Theirs was a small kitchen for an Amish house, but it provided everything his mother needed to cook and preserve food from her garden. He’d worked hard since he was fifteen to provide for the two of them, and his mam had done her share by keeping their home as shiny as a new penny. The Bible said to honor your mother and father, and he tried to always remember that when she was being difficult.
There’d never been any doubt in Joseph’s mind that she loved him and wanted what was best for him. Twice she could have remarried, but both times she’d refused, even though both prospective husbands could have given her a more spacious home and an easier life. “A stepfather might be harsh on you,” she’d said. “And your needs might be lost in a large family of stepbrothers and stepsisters. We’re better on our own.”
Joseph smiled at her as he crossed the room to take his hat from the peg near the door. It fit a little snug because the emergency room doctor had shaved the back of his head and covered the six stitches with a thick bandage. But he could hardly show up at the matchmaker’s without his head covered. It wouldn’t be proper.
“Where are you going?” His mother removed the plate of chicken from the refrigerator where he’d just put it and covered it with a clean length of cheesecloth before placing it back in the refrigerator. “I think you’d best put your errand off for a few days,” she said. “No need for you to go out in this afternoon heat.”
“I’ll be fine,” Joseph assured her. “I won’t be long.”
“Where did you say you were going?” She dropped her hands to her hips and tilted her head in that way she always did that reminded him of a curious little wren. Her bright blue eyes narrowed. “Joseph?”
“I didn’t say.” He opened the back door. “I’ll be back in plenty of time to milk the cow before supper.”
“But Joseph—”
He closed the door behind him and kept walking. He loved his mother dearly, but if he let her have her way, she’d treat him as though he was twelve years old and not in his late twenties. He was blessed to have a mother who loved him so much, but she had a strong will, and it was sometimes a struggle as to who was the head of their house. She was sensitive, and if he was too firm with her, she’d dissolve in tears. He couldn’t stand the idea of making his mother cry and he felt relieved that she hadn’t wept when he hadn’t done what she’d wanted and stayed home.
Turning to a matchmaker to find him a wife had been his mother’s idea, and after hearing her talk about it for nearly two years, he’d weakened and agreed to let Sara Yoder see if she would have more success than he had on his own. He’d been reluctant and more than a little nervous because he’d always been tongue-tied around young women. He’d never imagined that he’d meet anyone like Ruby so quickly or in such an unusual way.
Whistling, Joseph descended the porch steps. Glancing back over his shoulder, he caught a glimpse of white curtain moving at a window. As he’d suspected, his mother was watching him. He strode around the house to his mother’s flowerbed, out of her sight, and quickly picked a bouquet of colorful blooms. A girl like Ruby probably had lots of fellows saying sweet stuff to her, but girls liked flowers. Maybe they could speak for him.
