An Amish Winter (Love Inspired) Read online

  But she’d missed it. She could see that now. Helping people be successful in the things they wanted to do was fulfilling. The fact that she was usually paid well for it was an added bonus.

  Leslie tapped her fingernails against the side of her mug. “Then again, Elijah has a point that folks in Shipshe have never heard of such a thing. You might have to start over, from the ground up.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Start with the accounting, something that many businesses admit they need help with. Amish men and women...” She emphasized the last word, throwing a glance at Elijah and then refocusing on Faith. “Amish men and women aren’t usually gut with the practical sides of business. That’s a stereotype for sure and certain, and yet I’ve seen it many times myself. I’ve seen it in myself.”

  She paused, looking out her kitchen window. “Why do you think I have building pads with no buildings? I like the idea of hosting Englischers, but I don’t know how to proceed, or even if I should. I could invest what little funds I have, only to have my B and B flop.”

  “But it doesn’t have to be that uncertain...” Faith sat up straighter, feeling an old familiar buzz shoot through her veins. “We can analyze how other similar businesses have done in neighboring communities.”

  “I don’t know that there are any.”

  “Which is easy enough to find on the internet.”

  “I don’t have a computer.”

  “But the library does. It’s where I’ve always done my research. A market analysis could be just the thing to either give you the confidence you need to continue with what you’ve started or send you in a different direction.”

  Elijah threw up his hands. “Libraries and research and market analysis. Whew. All too fancy for me. I’m just a small business owner.”

  Faith crossed her arms though she knew it made her look defensive. She was feeling defensive, so looking that way was fine with her. In truth, she was stung by Elijah’s sarcastic tone. She glanced at Leslie, who was looking at Elijah as if he were wearing his hat upside down. At least she wasn’t alone in her irritation.

  Elijah shook his head, then stood and pushed his chair in, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I best go and check on Boots,” he said and stomped from the room.

  Faith watched him go, uncertain what bothered her more—his abrupt change in mood or the fact that everything about her seemed to irritate him. Why should she care? She shouldn’t. She barely knew Elijah King, and she certainly didn’t need his approval.

  Finally she turned to Leslie. “Seems I managed to put a twist in his suspenders.”

  “Oh, honey, it’s not about you. Men like Elijah, they mean well, but they have trouble seeing women in different roles. No doubt he was picturing you with a quilting loom in front of you.”

  “I’m not a very gut quilter.”

  “Well, I could teach you, but if it’s not the thing you love to do, then lessons won’t help much. Now, tell me more about what would convince you to stay in Shipshewana, because I think you’d be a fine addition to our community.”

  Thirty minutes later they’d hammered out the details of Faith and Hannah coming to live with Leslie. They decided to try it on a temporary basis, and if either weren’t completely happy with the arrangement there would be no harm done.

  “I’m quite sure the job in Mio will still be there,” Faith admitted. “And the woman told me she wouldn’t be offended if I changed my mind. She failed to mention that I might have trouble even getting there.”

  “I don’t know what Gotte has in store for you, dear, but I’m happy to be your landing spot until you figure that out.”

  “But what about rent? I won’t be able to pay you right away.”

  “You’ll pay me when you can. That will work just fine.”

  Leslie went to the barn to let Elijah know Faith was ready, while Faith stayed in the house changing Hannah’s nappie. For the first time in a long time, the heavy cloud of despair that had pressed down on her since Jonas’s death seemed to have lifted.

  She picked Hannah up, held her high in the air, then brought her close so their noses were touching. Hannah laughed, then fisted both of her hands against Faith’s face.

  “Perhaps this is where we’re supposed to be, baby girl.” She glanced around the house—freshly painted walls, sunshine streaming through the windows, the sound of a bird chirping outside. It was almost too gut to be true. A peaceful, safe place for them to live.

  True, Leslie was virtually a stranger to her.

  But so was the woman in Mio.

  For the moment, she needed the kindness of strangers, and she was grateful that she’d found that in Shipshe. She would be a fool to pass it up. Wouldn’t she?

  She pulled herself from her musings and hurried outside.

  Elijah held Hannah as she climbed into the buggy.

  “See you in the morning,” Leslie said, leaning in and patting Hannah. “And don’t worry about cribs and bedding and such. We’ll make do.”

  Elijah was unusually quiet as they made their way back to Old Eli’s. Faith could sense his irritation, but she couldn’t bring herself to address what had caused it. Obviously he disapproved of her. What more was there to say? Except she did need to say one thing, even if it hurt her pride to do so.

  Clearing her throat, she cornered herself in the buggy and studied him. “I want to thank you.”

  “What for?”

  “Taking me to see Leslie, thinking of her in the first place, slowing down and offering me a ride during the snowstorm.”

  She might have imagined it, but it seemed that Elijah’s expression softened at the mention of their first meeting. Had it really been only two days ago? She already felt as if she’d known him for ages.

  He squared his shoulders, focused on the road, but finally gave in to the urge to set her straight. And she knew from the first sentence that was what he intended to do.

  “I’m happy that things are going to work out with Leslie, and that you and Hannah are staying...”

  “But...”

  “But why can’t you try your hand at something more traditional?”

  “More traditional?”

  “For your work. You won’t need much money, not really. The community will help.”

  “And what if I want to pay my own way?”

  “Then why can’t you do it baking or, or...”

  “Quilting?” She almost laughed. Leslie had been right. Elijah, for all his new ideas and solar panels, was unable to picture a woman in a less-than-traditional occupation. “Don’t you think Shipshe has enough Amish quilters?”

  “I don’t know about that. My schweschder Deborah seems to do well with it. Not sure you can have too many Amish quilters or quilts, though maybe you could go to the library and research the exact numbers.”

  “Now you’re mocking me.”

  Elijah picked his hat up, then squashed it back on his head, but he didn’t deny what she’d said.

  “It’s just that I’d think you would want something more certain for Hannah.”

  “Don’t do that.”

  “Don’t do what?”

  “Pretend you know what’s best for my doschder.” Faith was relieved to see them pull into Old Eli’s place. She couldn’t get out of the buggy fast enough. In fact, she wanted to tell him to drop her off at the mailbox, but she knew he wouldn’t do any such thing. So instead she focused on pulling the blanket more tightly around Hannah, who immediately began to fuss.

  “Can’t see as I was doing that.” Elijah raised his voice to be heard over Hannah’s cries.

  “Then perhaps you need glasses.” Faith’s temper had complete control of her tongue now, and she knew that was dangerous. She closed her eyes, pictured Leslie’s calm home and reined in her emotions. When Elijah stopped, instead of hopping out of the b
uggy, she waited for him to look at her.

  “Danki, Elijah, for all you have done for us. I meant it when I said that earlier. But you’re not responsible for my life or for Hannah’s. We don’t need your help, and I’d appreciate your respecting my wishes on this.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying that you should mind your own business. You know nothing about me, nothing about what is best for me or Hannah, and the last thing I need at this point in my life is a man telling me what I should do. That has not worked well for me in the past.”

  She waited for him to nod that he understood before hopping out of the buggy, and she couldn’t have explained why tears stung her eyes as she hurried up the porch steps. Somehow she’d envisioned a friendship between them, but that wasn’t going to happen. She needed friends who believed in her, who would support her decisions.

  If she was going to stay in Shipshewana, and it seemed she was, then she’d do well to put distance between herself and Elijah King.

  * * *

  Elijah managed to stay away from Old Eli’s the next day.

  Sunday was an off-Sunday, so instead of going to church he headed over to his parents’ place. With his two bruders, three schweschdern and their families, it was always a boisterous affair. After they’d eaten, the conversation turned to Faith and Hannah. Fortunately, he needed to check on the horses so he excused himself from the table.

  Faith had told him to mind his own business, and he planned to do just that.

  But their community was small and close-knit. He couldn’t avoid news of Faith for long, and truthfully he was curious. She might not be the fraa whom he’d dreamed of, the woman that Gotte intended for him, but she was a neighbor whom he cared about.

  He was embarrassed that he’d ever dreamed they could mean more to one another than that.

  Woman in a snow globe indeed.

  Perhaps he’d hit his head and knocked a few screws loose. Love didn’t work that way. It didn’t appear out of thin air—or even out of a snowy evening. Love was something that took time to cultivate. Even he, with his limited experience courting, knew that.

  It was Monday morning when he heard from one of his employees, Jesse, that Faith had moved in with Leslie. Jesse’s fraa had donated a cradle. “We won’t be needing it since Beth can’t have any more children.” Jesse’s wife had needed a special surgery after their last kinder, their eighth, was born.

  The two men were carrying solar panels from Elijah’s supply shed to his flatbed trailer. He’d had it built specifically to be pulled by his buggy. He’d even had it registered with the department of motor vehicles. And he hadn’t needed a single business plan to know how to do those things. After he’d received his first ticket from a Shipshewana police officer for pulling an unregistered trailer, he’d taken care of everything.

  Why couldn’t Faith see that her idea was ludicrous? Amish businesses didn’t need a business plan.

  “Did you even hear what I just said?”

  “Course I did.”

  “So you’ll be there?”

  “Be where?”

  Jesse laughed. “Your mind is somewhere else today, my friend. I said that we’re having a work day at Leslie’s on Saturday, to build on a room for Faith and her boppli.”

  Elijah stopped halfway between the shed and the flatbed, holding three solar panels. “So she’s staying...long-term, I mean. She must be if they’re building on a room.”

  “Leslie said she was wanting to do it anyway, and it’ll give Faith a little privacy. Rather like a dawdi haus, but attached.”

  “Huh.” Elijah continued on to the trailer, carefully placed the panels on the stack already there, then proceeded to tie them down with straps and bungee cords. It made no difference to him whether Faith stayed for a week or twenty years.

  He was happy for her, of course.

  Everyone should have a home, a place where they felt safe.

  His mind flashed back on what she’d said about her in-laws. There was something she hadn’t shared. He was sure of it. Whatever it was, he was glad she was clear of the couple if they’d been that unkind.

  An image flashed across his mind of Hannah reaching for his hat. She was a happy baby, and he was glad that she was in a cozy, safe home. Leslie would provide that, for sure and certain.

  He made a mental note to clear his schedule the following Saturday. The least he could do was show up to help Leslie. He’d just find a way to stay out of Faith’s path. Clearly what he’d thought was growing between them wasn’t. It was all because of that New Year’s resolution he’d made—as if one could decide to find a fraa, as if he had any say in such a thing happening.

  He didn’t.

  And he probably wouldn’t.

  And the sooner he accepted that, the better.

  The rest of the week seemed to drag by, though he was working on two new houses and one business. He found himself putting panels on upside down and forgetting to bill one client, and on Friday morning he even drove to the wrong job site.

  He was distracted.

  Who wouldn’t be on a wintry week in January? Spring was still so far off, and everything was harder to do in the cold. He was grateful that he had only the one buggy horse to care for. The weather was cloudy but no additional snow fell. Elijah knew he should be grateful for that. Instead his restlessness increased, and he found himself putting in extra hours on the jobs. But working more didn’t calm his agitated spirit.

  “You’re in a funk,” his bruder declared one evening.

  “Ya. What would you know about that?”

  “Everyone gets in a funk at one time or another. The key is to figure out what’s causing it, then do the opposite.”

  “Uh-huh. Maybe winter’s causing it. How do I do the opposite?”

  “You could take a trip to Sarasota.”

  Elijah snorted. “And hang out with a bunch of old folks? No thanks.”

  “You could volunteer for an MDS mission. They’re still sending crews to work on houses in Florida and Texas.”

  “Thomas, I work on houses all day, nearly every day. I can’t imagine volunteering to ride in a van for twenty hours, so I could work on more houses.”

  “You are in a funk.”

  They were in Elijah’s barn, working on a new dining room table for their mamm’s birthday. Aaron, Elijah’s younger bruder, was working on a preacher’s bench and chairs to go with the table. It was all supposed to be a big surprise, but something told Elijah that his mamm already knew what they were doing.

  Thomas snapped his fingers. “I’ve got it. You need to start courting.”

  Elijah stared down at the file he was using to smooth out the side of the table. He briefly thought about chucking it at his bruder, but then he’d have to go and pick it up off the floor. So instead, he sighed and continued filing the wood.

  “I heard a group of youngies have scheduled a driver. They’re going up to Timber Ridge to ski on Friday.”

  When Elijah didn’t rise to the bait, Thomas added, “You used to love to ski.”

  “I haven’t skied in ten years.”

  “That long?”

  “Yup. That long.”

  In truth the thought of riding in a van with a dozen eighteen-year-olds was enough to set his teeth on edge. Fortunately, Thomas took the hint and dropped the subject. Within a few minutes, they’d turned to safer topics—spring crops, the cost of seed and projected weather forecasts.

  Elijah tossed and turned most of Friday night.

  Finally he threw back the covers, padded to the kitchen and made himself a cup of coffee. One of the perks of being a bachelor in his own home was that he could keep whatever hours he liked.

  “Not exactly a perk,” he muttered to himself.

  The home he had built was beautiful.

  His business
was successful.

  But he was unhappy on a fundamental level.

  What was it Old Eli had preached on during their last service? Something about eating and drinking and birds.

  He sipped his coffee, then stood and fetched his Bible from the table next to the couch. He read it rather infrequently, except for during Sunday service. He had good intentions of studying whatever passage Old Eli preached on, but then he got home, tossed the Bible onto the table and generally forgot about it until the next church meeting.

  Not today, though.

  Glancing out the window, where dawn was still a long way off, he suddenly needed to see the verses Old Eli had focused on. He stumbled his way through the Psalms, decided it wasn’t there, then flipped back and forth in the New Testament before he finally found the passage in the book of Matthew, chapter six.

  Take no thought for your life, what ye shall eat or what ye shall drink.

  He didn’t overly focus on such things. He certainly didn’t stop to think about what there was to eat in his pantry. But perhaps that wasn’t what the gospel writer had meant. If he were honest with himself, and what was the point in lying to yourself, his thoughts usually centered on his business, what was next on the work schedule and whether he’d done a good job on the last site.

  Is not the life more than meat, and the body more than raiment?

  Easy enough to say when you had plenty of meat and raiment. What was raiment, anyway? He read the verses again, decided the word meant clothes, and immediately thought of baby Hannah swaddled in her patched blanket.

  Behold the fowls of the air...your heavenly Father feedeth them. Are ye not much better than they?

  The words followed him through the chores that he finished as the sun was coming up, then as he hitched Boots to the buggy and finally as he drove toward Leslie’s.

  Round and round they went.

  Are ye not much better than they?