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“Ya,” Thomas agreed. He stood there for a second, then offered her the handsome grin that Amish girls all over the county talked about. “Well, see you.”
Leah turned in the seat to face Sara as soon as Thomas was out of earshot. “I hope you weren’t thinking of Thomas for me.”
“Nothing wrong with Thomas that a little attitude adjusting can’t fix,” Sara said, getting out of the car.
Leah shook her head. “I wasn’t criticizing him. It’s just that he’s too young, too...” She shrugged. “I don’t know. Not a man I could call husband.”
“Don’t worry,” Sara assured her, picking up the basket with the soup. “I think I know exactly what you need.” She closed the door and leaned down to speak through the open window. “Which is why you should come to the frolic.”
Leah groaned and rested her hands on the steering wheel. “It’s been a long time since I was single. I’m afraid I’ll feel out of place with the younger girls and fellows.”
“You won’t. I’ve invited people of all ages. And it will give you a chance to reacquaint yourself with the singles in our community. There’s a vanload coming from Virginia, as well, so there will be plenty of new faces.” She held up one hand. “I know, no Virginian, unless he’s willing to relocate. I just mean there will be interesting people to talk with—men and women.”
“Mam tells me that you’ve made a lot of good matches. Still, I have to admit that I’m nervous.”
“You won’t be alone in that, but we’ll muddle through.” Sara chuckled. “We should have a nice-sized crowd Friday night. And Hannah told me that you have a lovely singing voice. We can always use another strong voice. Would you like to come in and see the room I have for you? You can move in as soon as you’d like.”
“I don’t need to see the room. I’m sure it will be fine.” Leah glanced in Thomas’s direction as he untied his horse’s tie rope and slipped on the bridle. “I think I’d like to come tomorrow, if that suits you.”
“It suits me fine.” Sara watched as Thomas climbed up into his buggy. “He’s a good man, Leah. Don’t sell him short.”
Leah pursed her lips thoughtfully. “He doesn’t seem all that broken up over losing Ellie.”
“Because she wasn’t the right one for him.” Sara smiled and held up the basket. “I do appreciate not having to cook supper tonight. Your mother makes good soup.”
“I know,” Leah said. “It was one of the things I kept dreaming about when I was in Brazil—my mother’s cooking.” She paused. “You don’t think I’m rushing it, do you? You don’t think it’s too soon to look for a husband?”
Sara smiled kindly. “Ne, I don’t think you are. It’s only right that we grieve for those we’ve loved and lost. But it would deny God’s gifts if you couldn’t continue on with life. A new marriage will give you a new beginning. I promise you, Leah. I’ll find someone who will lift the sadness from your heart.”
“It’s what I want, too,” Leah agreed, starting the engine of the little black car. “God willing, we can do this together.”
* * *
Thomas stepped into the kitchen of Sara’s hospitality barn. Bright lights illuminated the immaculate food-preparation area. The kitchen wasn’t large, as Amish kitchens went, but it had a propane-powered refrigerator, double sinks, a freezer, a commercial stove and new butcher-block counters. Leah was the only one there, and she was busy making sandwiches.
“Hey,” Thomas said. He leaned jauntily against the double-door refrigerator. “Could you use some help?”
“Thanks, but I’m almost done.” Leah deftly spread some of her sister Ruth’s famous horseradish mustard on a slice of homemade rye bread and stacked on ham, cheese and pickles. “I thought Sara had too much food, but apparently not.” She chuckled. “A hungry bunch, those Virginians.”
“Probably the long ride. They’re staying over until Monday. Fred Petersheim told me that there’s talk they’ll come quarterly. He’s the short, gray-bearded farmer you were talking to.”
“Ya.” Leah nodded. “He talks a lot.”
Thomas grinned. “About his Holsteins.” Thomas had noticed that the older man had cornered Leah earlier in the evening. “He told me he lost his wife last winter. Does he have children?”
“Six, but two are grown and out of the house,” Leah responded. “The rest are girls.”
“He seems like a respectable man. I doubt Sara would invite him if he wasn’t.” Seeing that there were dirty dishes and silverware in the sink, he rolled up his sleeves, washed his hands and began to run warm water over the dishes. “I may as well wash these up,” he said. A dishwasher was the one appliance Sara didn’t have. With so much available help, she’d never seen the need.
“Are they still playing Dutch Blitz?” Leah placed the sandwich halves on a tray one by one. “I saw you won the first round.”
“Lost the second,” he said. “Ya, they’re playing. Couples now.” He reached under the sink for the dishwashing soap. “So, you’ve decided to let Sara make a match for you?”
Leah glanced over at him. “God willing. Sara seems pretty optimistic.” She gave him a quizzical look. “Is she trying to find a wife for you?”
“I’m thinking about it. Ellie suggested it.” He made a face. “I haven’t had any success on my own.”
Leah tried to open a quart jar of spiced peaches, but the lid was stuck. “Do you think you could open this?” Her vivid blue eyes regarded him hopefully. “Sometimes these lids are on so tight that it’s impossible to get them off.”
“Sure.” Thomas dried his hands on a towel and took the peaches. The ring gave easily under his strength. Without asking, he opened the other jar that she’d put on the counter beside the sandwiches. “Here you go.”
“Danki.”
Leah smiled her thanks and he was struck again by just how attractive she was. She didn’t look like a woman who’d been married and had a child. She hardly looked more than nineteen. Before she’d wed Daniel Brown and gone to Brazil with him, most people said she was the prettiest girl in Kent County, Amish or Englisher. He and Leah had never dated because she was a lot younger than he was and didn’t run with the same crowd. It was a shame she’d suffered such loss. But it did his heart good to see her here, still able to smile after all she’d been through.
Leah dumped the peaches into a blue-flowered bowl. “I’m surprised that you and Ellie are still speaking, let alone her giving you advice on finding a wife.”
He grimaced. “I’ll admit that I’m still smarting from the blow of her refusing me, but we’re too good of friends to let that come between us.”
“Sensible.”
“She’s special, Ellie. She’ll make some man a good wife. I’m just sorry it won’t be me.”
“It says something about you, Thomas,” Leah said, “that her being a little person didn’t matter to you. If you had married, your children may have been short statured, like her.”
“Ya, I did think about that. But it would have been in God’s hands. And who’s to say that being six feet tall is any better than being four feet tall?”
“Your parents didn’t mind?”
Thomas returned to washing the utensils in the sink. “My father huffed and puffed, but my grandfather reminded him that he had an uncle who had only one arm. He said that Uncle Otto could outwork any man he knew. And once Mam and Dat got to know Ellie, it wasn’t a problem anymore.”
“Your grandfather sounds like a wise man.”
“And a good one. He’s been good to me. My brother will inherit my father’s farm, but my grandfather has promised his to me. I was supposed to take up his trade, his and my dat’s, of smithing, but I’m not sure it’s what I want to do.” He lifted a dripping colander from the soapy water and rinsed it under the tap.
“Were you trained as a blacksmith?”
He nodded. “Ya. I was, but I think everyone is beginning to realize I may not be cut out for it. Grossdaddi has arranged for a new apprentice, Jakob Schwartz from Indiana. He’s arriving tomorrow.” Taking a clean towel, Thomas carefully dried the colander and put it in the cabinet under the sink. “Jakob’s little, like Ellie, but Grossdaddi says he has the makings of a fine smith.” He glanced at her. “You need the strength in the arms. Height doesn’t matter.”
Leah removed her oversize work apron. She was wearing a dark plum dress with a starched white Mennonite prayer kapp. “I suppose I should get these sandwiches out there.”
“The platter is heavy. Let me,” he offered.
“I can do it. I’m used to lifting heavy objects. Once, one of our parishioners brought home a quarter of a cow.” Leah rolled her eyes. “I didn’t ask where he’d gotten the beef. There was always a running feud between the farmers and the indigenous people.” She picked up the tray.
“What was it like, living among them?”
“Wonderful. Awful. I never knew what kind of day we were going to have, one where nothing happened or one where the world turned upside down.” She chuckled. “A fine missionary I turned out to be. I could never even pronounce or spell the name our people called themselves. They are listed in our rolls as the St. Joseph tribe or the St. Joes.”
“I’d like to hear more about them,” Thomas admitted. “I’m curious as to what they’re like.”
She gave him a surprised look and set the tray down. “Really? You’re one of the few to ask. Since I’ve come home, I mean.”
He nodded. “Ya, I’m sure. But I’ve always been interested in the English world.” He grimaced. “That didn’t sound right, did it?”
She chuckled. “Ne, Thomas, it didn’t. I wouldn’t expect you to know, but I can’t imagine a life more un-English than our village. But to them, it is all the world. Like us, most of the St. Joes want to remain apart, with their customs and their jungle.”
He felt a flush of tingling warmth at the way she said his name, slow and sweet. He shifted his feet, suddenly feeling the conversation was getting too serious. “But what about that mysteriously acquired beef? Did you eat it?”
She laughed. “We all did. It was the season when protein is scarce. There were hungry people to be fed, so I asked the women to light the cook fires and we had a feast. Our refrigeration unit was very small, just used for medicine. Daniel was concerned that it would set a bad precedent, but I said, ‘Eat the cow or let her go to waste, and that doesn’t sound very sensible.’”
“And did Daniel eat the meat?”
Leah shook her head. “It didn’t keep me from enjoying every bite.”
Thomas laughed, then grew more serious. “This has got to be hard...coming home. Starting again.”
“Ya,” Leah agreed.
Thomas’s throat tightened. Leah had suffered a great loss. He had to admire her courage. “So I guess this—” he motioned toward the gathering beyond the door “—is as awkward for you as it is for me?”
“It is,” she said. “I didn’t want to come.” She shrugged. “But Sara is very persuasive.”
“Truer words,” Thomas agreed as he picked up the platter of sandwiches. “So...back we go to meet Sara’s likely candidates and hope for the best.”
“Ya.” Leah’s smile was mischievous. “And be prepared to hear a lot more about Holsteins.”
Chapter Three (#ulink_d7f3399d-5376-5b7e-9555-59557789064f)
Thomas pushed open the sliding wooden doors to his grandfather’s forge to catch some of the midmorning breeze. It was stifling inside, and he’d started to beat the last of the wrought-iron hinges into shape. Returning to his task, he used long-handled tongs to lift a smoking hinge into the sunlight to get a good look at it before plunging it back into the glowing coals.
His grandfather watched, faded blue eyes narrowed with concentration. “Goot,” he said. “A little more. Feel the shape in your mind, Thomas. Strike hard and true.”
Thomas swung the hammer again and again. The shock resonated through his body, but he paid it no mind. He was used to it. He didn’t mind hard work. It was this work he disliked.
Patience, he told himself.
Again and again he struck hammer to iron. Slowly the iron yielded to the shape he wanted. He knew it was good and he should have been pleased, but he took little pleasure in the forge. He much preferred digging in the soil or building with wood and brick. He’d been born to a family with a tradition of blacksmithing going back to the old country, but he had no heart for it. Never had.
“Ya.” Obadiah nodded. “Ya. That is the way. Was that so hard?”
Thomas placed the finished piece beside the others to cool and turned toward his grandfather. The gray-haired man held out a small bucket. Thomas took it, drank and then dumped the remainder of the cool well water over his head. It ran down his neck and shirt to wet his leather apron and forge trousers, but he didn’t care. The pants and shirt would dry soon enough and both trousers and apron were scorched and riddled with holes.
His grandfather chuckled. “Always with you the heat, Thomas. The heat never bothers me.”
And it never did. For sixty-five years Obadiah Stutzman had labored in a forge, and the flames and red-hot metal had only made him tougher. Past eighty now, his shoulders were still formidable and the muscles in his arms were knotted sinews. Thomas loved him as he loved his mother and father. He couldn’t imagine what life would be like without Grossdaddi watching over his shoulder, hearing the raspy voice hissing in Deitsch, “Strike harder, boy. Feel the iron.” Thomas had always wanted to please him, but spending his life within the walls of this forge, he didn’t know that he could do it.
Thomas walked to the open doorway and squatted on the hard-packed earth, letting the warm sunshine fall full on his face. He ran a hand through his damp hair and let his muscles rest from the strain of swinging the hammer.
In the distance, a calf bawled, its call quickly answered by the mother’s deeper mooing. The farmyard stretched out in front of Thomas, familiar and comforting as always. Chickens squawked and scratched, earnestly searching for worms or insects. One hen was trailed by six fluffy chicks and a single yellow-and-brown duckling. Thomas smiled at the sight, knowing that when they came to the first puddle the foundling would terrify its adopted mother by plunging in and swimming. Maybe I’m that duckling, he thought, always ready for fun, never quite fitting in or doing what I’m expected to do by my family.
His grandfather came to stand beside him. “A sight you look,” Obadiah said. “Goot thing your mother is to the house. Doesn’t see you without a hat to cover your head in God’s presence.”
Thomas glanced guiltily at the wall where his straw hat hung on a peg. He never wore it in the forge for fear of it catching fire. Grossdaddi wore an old felt dress hat with the brim cut off over his thinning gray hair, but Thomas wasn’t ready to be seen in such a thing, so he worked bareheaded.
“When do you expect Jakob to get here?” he asked. His father had told him at morning milking that the new apprentice was arriving today. He’d be staying with them in the big house.
“Anytime now. Hired a driver to bring him from the train station in Wilmington.”
“I liked Jakob when I met him. I hope he works out,” Thomas said. “Hope he likes Seven Poplars.”
“Be a change from Indiana,” his grandfather answered. “You know those folks don’t even have tops on their buggies? Winter and summer, no tops. Their bishops won’t allow it.”
“I’d heard that,” Thomas said.
“How was your social last night? Too bad Jakob couldn’t have been here in time to go along,” Obadiah said.
“It was fine. Good food.”
“Any new girls catch your eye? Your mother said she spoke to Sara yesterday about possibly making you a match.”
“Ne. No one in particular; I spent most of the evening talking to Leah Yoder.” Thomas shook his head. “Honestly, I’m having second thoughts about this matchmaker thing. Don’t see why we need to lay out the money. I’ve never had trouble finding dates.”
Obadiah turned a half-bushel basket upside down, sat on it and took out a penknife. Absently, he began to whittle at a small piece of wood he carried in his pocket. They sat in silence for a few minutes and then his grandfather said, “People say Sara knows her trade. They say give her a chance, she’ll find you a proper wife.”
“Seems foolish, though, doesn’t it? Having her find me a wife? When I could do it myself?”
“But you haven’t.” His grandfather sighed. “Thomas, what can I say? Time you grew up. Started working in the family business. Trouble is, you think you can stay free and single year after year. You like the pretty girls. I can see it. But when talk turns serious, you’re off after the next one.”
Thomas felt heat flush his face. “It’s not like that. I thought that Ellie and me would...” He trailed off, not wanting to talk about Ellie. That was still a sore subject. “I’m not certain Sara can find me a match I’d be happy with. She wanted me to meet this woman last night—Hazel something or other. One of the ones who came up from Virginia in the van. Sour as an October persimmon. Little beady eyes and a mouth screwed up so tight I thought she didn’t have front teeth until I saw her eating. I couldn’t imagine looking at that face across a breakfast table every morning.”
Obadiah chuckled. “So, not pretty enough for you?”
Thomas shook his head. “That wasn’t it. Hazel would have been attractive if she hadn’t been so ill-tempered. Not a good word to say about anyone or anything. One complaint after another. She even complained about the potato salad. Said she preferred German potato salad to Sara’s and left it on her plate.”
“One wasteful woman doesn’t ruin the batch. You’re being stubborn. Time you started walking out with a respectable girl.”
“I thought I was when I was with Ellie. And you all liked her.”
His grandfather ignored that and went on. “Bishop Atlee asked me last week if you were planning on going to baptism classes. Way past time, Thomas. I’m going to retire in a few years. Don’t know how much longer I have on this earth. I know I’ve always told you that I wanted to leave this farm to you, but you worry me. I’m starting to have second thoughts. Maybe you mean to drift away from the faith. Maybe you’re too flighty to entrust our family farm to.”
Thomas winced as if his grandfather had struck him. This was the first he’d heard of his grandfather’s hesitation about leaving him the farm. Since he was a boy, he’d expected it would be his someday. His throat clenched. “That’s up to you, Grossdaddi.”
“You should be married. You should have married five years ago. I could have great-grandsons and granddaughters to spoil. I’ve stood up for you to your mother and father, took your side when maybe I should not have.” He exhaled. “You don’t give Sara a chance to find you a wife, I have to take it into consideration that maybe you’ve lost track of what’s important in life.”
Thomas opened his mouth to respond, but his grandfather’s shepherd raised his head and let out a single yip, then leaped up and ran toward the house. Thomas heard the beep of a car horn and the dog began to bark in earnest. “That must be Jakob coming now,” he said, rising to his feet.
“Must be,” his grandfather agreed. “But you think on what I said. I’m worried about you, boy.” He met Thomas’s gaze. “Prove to us all that you are ready to take over this farm. Find a wife, get to churching and be quick about it.”
