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A Husband For Mari
Emma Miller


Back to Amish CountryStruggling single mother Mari Troyer decides to move—temporarily—to the Amish community of Seven Poplars. With a place to stay and a good job, Mari soon fits right in with the warm, welcoming Delaware residents. But when her son asks a matchmaker to find Mari a husband, Mari worries that the handsome builder who’s become the boy's father figure can never be her intended. James Hostetler requires a wife as committed to the Amish life as he is. Need brought Mari to Seven Poplars, but maybe love and renewed faith will make her stay forever.







Back to Amish Country

Struggling single mother Mari Troyer decides to move—temporarily—to the Amish community of Seven Poplars. With a place to stay and a good job, Mari soon fits right in with the warm, welcoming Delaware residents. But when her son asks a matchmaker to find Mari a husband, Mari worries that the handsome builder who’s become the boy’s father figure can never be her intended. James Hostetler requires a wife as committed to the Amish life as he is. Need brought Mari to Seven Poplars, but maybe love and renewed faith will make her stay forever.


“Are you going to the birthday supper celebration tomorrow?” James asked.

Mari nodded. “Sure am.”

“We’d be glad to have you and Zachary ride with us.”

“Are you certain we’ll all fit in your buggy?” she asked.

He grinned. “The more the merrier. Besides, if you come along, I won’t have to drive with one of my sister’s twins in my lap. You can hold him.”

She laughed with him. “I’d be glad to come with you.” And then she just stood there for a moment looking at him.

I think he’s the best friend I’ve ever had, she thought. Better than any man I’ve ever known. I trust him to do what he says he’ll do. And he’s been such a help with Zachary.

“Good,” James said. He met her gaze and then held it.

It was a strange moment, standing there, her looking at him, him looking at her. As if there was something else to be said, but she couldn’t think what it could be.

“See you tomorrow, James,” she finally said, making herself walk away.

“See you tomorrow, Mari.”


EMMA MILLER lives quietly in her old farmhouse in rural Delaware. Fortunate enough to be born into a family of strong faith, she grew up on a dairy farm, surrounded by loving parents, siblings, grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins. Emma was educated in local schools and once taught in an Amish schoolhouse. When she’s not caring for her large family, reading and writing are her favorite pastimes.


A Husband for Mari

Emma Miller






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


A friend loves at all times…

—Proverbs 17:17


Contents

Cover (#u0c2aa30c-7f67-5e5f-bbc7-a5e64d7c7750)

Back Cover Text (#u8915505e-3574-5530-9a70-df6c3c3bf193)

Introduction (#ufe520bae-9505-5de1-9338-178085d44f32)

About the Author (#u73520999-a8d2-5352-b62d-e23ea9005657)

Title Page (#u5e44d002-46f8-57e9-8986-bb6a2ce52cd1)

Bible Verse (#u9d88f9ae-3823-546e-90f5-b2d24de170c4)

Chapter One (#ulink_36e0dc21-9fb8-5693-8220-df2115bd43f5)

Chapter Two (#ulink_fe80eace-75ee-548d-88cc-499f62cbc7f3)

Chapter Three (#ulink_98311d81-1103-50e0-bfe9-1d5d73f5b299)

Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Dear Reader (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


Chapter One (#ulink_8e65daa4-0f71-5651-84f6-4cd777c595f0)

Wisconsin

Mari rolled up her grandmother Maryann’s red-rooster salt-and-pepper shakers in a stained dish towel and stuffed them into a canvas gym bag. “What time is your boyfriend picking you up?” she asked her soon-to-be-ex roommate.

Darlene pulled her head out of the dark refrigerator, a carton of milk in her hand. There wasn’t anything left but condiments, two eggs and the quart of chocolate milk. With the electricity shut off for the past forty-eight hours, Mari wouldn’t have touched the milk. Darlene took the cap off and sniffed it. “Twenty minutes.” She wrinkled her nose and took a swig. “You want the eggs?”

Mari shook her head. “You take them. I can hardly carry them to Delaware, can I?”

Darlene, thin as a rake handle, features embellished by enough dollar-store makeup for all the participants in a toddlers’ beauty pageant, tucked the egg carton into a cardboard box. “Suit yourself.” She picked up a green rubber band that had once secured celery and gathered her dyed midnight-black tresses into a ponytail. “I’m gonna run next door and use the bathroom before Cassie goes to work.”

Mari nodded; they’d been using their neighbor’s bathroom since the electric was disconnected. Darlene went out the front door, inviting an arctic blast in, and Mari shivered.

She sure hoped it would be warmer in Delaware. Wisconsin winters were brutal. If it wasn’t for the kerosene heater, they couldn’t have stayed there the past two days. She rewrapped the wool scarf she wore and gazed around. There wasn’t anything about the old single-wide trailer with its ratty carpet and water-stained walls that she was going to miss. She had very little to show for eighteen months in Friendly’s Mobile Home Park: few belongings and no real friends. She and Darlene had become housemates only because they worked on the same assembly line at the local plant and were both single mothers. They weren’t really friends, though. They were just too different.

Feeling the need to do something besides stand there and feel sorry for herself, Mari grabbed a broom and began to sweep the kitchen. She couldn’t wash out the refrigerator or wipe down the cabinets, but she could sweep at least. That didn’t take water or money, which was a good thing, because she didn’t have either. She almost laughed out loud at the thought.

Money had been short since the plant closed and her unemployment ran out. Even shorter than it had been before. Jobs were scarce in the county. Mari had picked and sorted apples, cleaned houses and even tried to sell magazines over the phone. She read the want ads every day, but employment for a woman with an eighth-grade education and few skills was nearly impossible to find.

She pushed her hand deep into her pocket to reassure herself that Sara Yoder’s letter was still there and that she hadn’t just dreamed it. Sara, an old acquaintance from her former life, was her only option now. If it hadn’t been for Sara’s encouraging letters and her unsolicited invitation to come stay with her in Delaware, Mari didn’t know where she and Zachary would be sleeping.

Mari swallowed hard. She shouldn’t dwell on how bad things had gotten, but it was hard not to. First her car had died, and then she couldn’t keep up with her cell phone bill. She’d found a few days of work passing out samples of food in a supermarket, but, living in a rural area, without transportation, it was impossible to keep even that pitiful job. Her meager savings went fast; then came the eviction notice.

Mari had tried her best these past few years, but it was time to admit that she was a failure. A bad mistake, poor judgment and a naive view of the world had gone against her. She had nothing but her son now, and she was worried about him. Worried enough to move a thousand miles away.

At nine years old, Zachary was becoming disillusioned with her promises and forced optimism. She was always saying things like “When I find a better job, we’ll rent a place where you can have a dog.” Or “I know it’s a used bike, but maybe next year I’ll be able to buy you the new bike that you really wanted for your birthday.” Secondhand clothes, thirdhand toys and a trailer with a leaky roof were Zachary’s reality. And her bright, eager child was fast becoming moody and temperamental. The boy who’d had so many friends in first and second grade now had to be dragged away from watching old DVD shows on the TV and coaxed to get out of the house to play. In the past month, he’d brought home two detention notices, and most mornings he pretended to have a stomachache or a headache in an attempt to avoid school. She was equally concerned about the envy Zachary had begun to exhibit toward other boys in his class, boys who had name-brand clothing, cell phones and TVs and PlayStations in their bedrooms.

She’d wanted to dismiss Zachary’s unhappiness as just a stage that boys went through. A few bad apples in his classroom, a difficult teacher, an ongoing issue with a school bully, would make anyone depressed. But those were all excuses.

Mari knew she had to do something different. She couldn’t keep relying on neighbors or roommates to keep an eye on Zachary while she worked odd shifts and weekends. She needed a support system, someone who cared enough about them to see that he got off to school if she had to leave early, someone to be there if he was sick or she had to work late.

Mari had thought she could raise him alone, but she was beginning to realize she couldn’t do it. Love wasn’t enough. It was her concern for her son that had given her the courage to agree to move to Delaware. She needed to provide for her child, and she needed to give him what he had never had: structure, community and a real home where he wouldn’t be ashamed to bring his friends.

Seven Poplars, Delaware, the town that Sara Yoder had moved to, had become a refuge in Mari’s mind, the hope of a new beginning. In her dreams, it was a place where she and Zachary could make right what had gone wrong in their lives. Sara had offered her a room in her home and the promise of a job. There would be a tight-knit community to help with Zachary, to watch over him, to teach him right from wrong. And if it meant returning to the life she’d thought she’d left behind forever, that was the sacrifice she would make for her son’s sake.

The groan of brakes one street over told Mari that Zachary’s bus had entered the trailer park. She put away the broom and began to stack the few bags they had on the couch. Sara had hired a van and driver to take them to Delaware.

The door banged open and Zachary came up the steps and into the trailer, head down, his backpack sagging off one shoulder.

“I hope you had a good last day.” She tried to sound as cheerful as she could as she closed the door behind him to keep out the bitter wind. “There’s still a couple of things—” She halted midsentence, staring at him. He wasn’t wearing a coat. “Zachary? Did you leave your good coat on the bus?” Her heart sank. It wasn’t his good coat; it was his only coat. She’d found it at a resale shop, but it was thick and warm and well made. “Where’s your coat?”

He shrugged and looked up at her with that expression that she’d come to know all too well over the past months. “I don’t know.”

Mari suppressed the urge to raise her voice. “Did you leave it on the bus or at school?” She closed her eyes for a moment. There was no time to go back to school to get his coat before the hired van came for them, and she had no way to get there even if there was.

Zachary dropped his old backpack to the floor. He was wearing a hooded sweatshirt, hood up, but he had to be cold. He had to be frozen.

“I’m sorry about the coat,” he muttered, not making eye contact. “But it wasn’t all that great. The zipper kept getting stuck.” He hesitated and then went on, “It wasn’t in my cubby this afternoon. I think one of the guys took it as a joke. I looked for it, but the second bell rang for the buses. I knew I’d be in trouble if I missed my ride home.” He swallowed. “I’m sorry, Mom.”

She took a breath before she spoke. “It’s all right. We’ll figure something out.” She dropped her hands to her hips and glanced down the hall. “You should see if there’s anything left in your room you want to take. Check under the bed. The van will be here for us soon.”

Zachary grimaced. “Mom. I don’t want to go. I told you that. I won’t have any friends there.”

And how many do you have here? she thought, but she didn’t say it out loud. “You’ll make new friends.” She forced a smile. “Sara said the kids in the neighborhood are supernice.”

He wrinkled his freckled nose, looking so much like his father, with his shaggy brown hair and blue eyes, that she had to push that thought away. Zachary was his own person. He wasn’t anything like Ivan, and it was wrong of her to compare them.

“You’re talking about Dunkard kids,” he said.

“Not Dunkards. That’s not a nice word. I’m talking about Amish kids. It’s an Amish community. Sara is Amish, and she’s—”

“A weirdo,” Zachary flung back. “I told you I don’t want to go live with her. I don’t even know her. I’ve seen those people in town. They wear dumb clothes and talk funny.”

Mari pulled her son into her arms and held him. He didn’t hug her back, but at least he didn’t push her away. “It’ll be all right,” she murmured, pulling back his hood to smooth his hair. “Trust me. You’re going to like it there.”

“I’ll hate it.” He choked up as he pressed his face against her. “Please don’t make me go. I don’t want to live with those weirdos,” he sobbed.

“Zachary, what you don’t realize,” Mari said, fighting her own tears, “is that we are those weirdos.”

Seven Poplars, Delaware, three days later...

The rhythmic sounds of rain drumming against the windows filtered through Mari’s consciousness as she slowly woke in the strange bed. She sighed and rolled onto her back, eyelids flickering, mind trying to identify where she was. Not the trailer. As hard as she’d worked to keep it clean, the mobile home had never smelled this fresh. Green-apple-scented sheets and a soft feather comforter rubbed against her skin. Mari yawned and then smiled.

She wasn’t in Wisconsin anymore; she was in Delaware.

There was no snow, but there was rain. They were farther south, and the temperature was warmer here. They’d driven through a winter storm to get to Delaware. The van drivers, a retired Mennonite couple, had been forced to stop not for the one planned night, but two nights because of icy conditions and snow-clogged roads. Mari and Zachary had finally arrived, exhausted, sometime after eleven the previous night.

Mari rubbed her eyes and glanced around the bedroom; there were two tall walnut dressers side by side on one ivory-colored wall and simple wooden pegs on either side of the door for hanging clothing. Simple sheer white curtains hung at the windows. It was a peaceful room, as comfortable as the beds. An Amish home, she thought sleepily, as plain and welcoming as her grandmother’s house had always been but her uncle’s never had. And this one had central heat, she realized as she pushed back the covers and found her way to the chair where she’d laid out her clothes the night before.

She could hear Zachary’s steady, rhythmic breathing. She considered waking him, but decided that he needed his sleep more than he needed to be on time for breakfast. Sara had told her that they ate early so that Ellie could be at the schoolhouse on time.

Ten minutes later, face washed and teeth brushed, Mari came down the wide staircase to find Sara in the living room. “Good morning,” Mari said.

“I thought you’d sleep in.” Sara, short and sturdy and middle-aged, smiled. She was tidy in her blue hand-sewn dress, black stockings and shoes, and white apron. Her crinkly dark hair was pinned up into a sensible bun and covered with a starched, white prayer kapp. “But I know the girls will be happy to have you join us for breakfast.”

“Should I wake Zachary?” Mari rested her hand on the golden oak post at the foot of the steps.

“Let the child catch up on his sleep. I’ll put a plate on the back of the stove for him. What he needs most is plenty of rest first, then pancakes and bacon.”

The sound of a saw cutting wood on the other side of the wall startled Mari, and Sara gave a wave of dismissal. “As you can hear, we’re in the midst of adding a new wing onto the house. I apologize for the noise this time of the morning, but the boys like to start early so they can get in a full day’s work and still get to their chores at home after. Hope they won’t wake Zachary.”

“It’s fine,” Mari said. “Once he’s asleep, he sleeps hard. Never hears a thing.”

“Good. When I bought the house, I thought that it would be big enough,” Sara explained, folding her arms across her ample bosom. “But I didn’t realize how many young people would want to stay with their matchmaker. I’ve got a girl living here now, Jerushah, who leaves for her wedding in Virginia in a few days.”

Sara was speaking English, for which Mari was grateful. Deitsch was the Alemannic dialect brought to America by the Amish and used in most households, but she hadn’t spoken Deitsch in years, and Zachary didn’t understand it at all. That was another adjustment he’d have to make if they remained in the community for any length of time, which she hoped wouldn’t be necessary. In light of Zachary’s reluctance to make the move to Delaware, the language difference was something she hadn’t mentioned. Mari suddenly felt overwhelmed.

What had she been thinking when she’d agreed to come to Seven Poplars? A new school, new customs and a different language for her son? How could she expect a nine-year-old, raised in the English world, to adjust to living among the Amish? Even temporarily? Zachary had never lived without modern transportation, electricity, cell phones and television. And he’d never known the restrictions of an Old Order Amish community that largely kept itself separate from Englishers.

But what choice had she had? Apply for state assistance? Take her child into a homeless shelter? She could never blame those mothers who had made that choice, but if it came to that, it would snuff out the last spark of hope inside her. She would know that she was as stupid and worthless as her uncle had accused her of being, the same uncle who had offered to let her come home if she put her baby up for adoption.

Mari mentally shook off her fears. It never did any good to rethink a decision. She would embrace the future, instead of looking backward at her failures. She would make this work, and she would secure a better life for her and her son. “So the job at the butcher shop that you mentioned in your last letter...it’s still available?”

“Sure is.” Sara’s lips tightened into a firm pucker while her eyes sparkled with intelligence and good humor. “Not to worry. I told you that if you came to Delaware, we’d soon straighten out your troubles.”

In spite of her jolly appearance, Mari knew that Sara Yoder was a woman who suffered no nonsense. Fiftyish and several times widowed, shrewd Sara was a force to be reckoned with. Like all Amish, her faith was the cornerstone of her life, but she’d been one of the few who’d not condemned Mari when she’d gotten with child out of wedlock and run from her own Amish community.

“Thank you.” Mari sighed with relief.

“Enough of that. You’ll do me credit. I’m sure of it. Now, come along and have a good breakfast.” Sara bustled toward the kitchen, motioning for Mari to follow. “And don’t worry about the job. I told Gideon that he’d best not hire anyone to run the front of the store until he’d given you a fair shot at it.” She glanced back over her shoulder, her expression clearly revealing how pleased she was herself. “I found the perfect wife for Gideon, and he owes me a favor.”

Sara had written that Gideon was looking for someone to serve customers, take orders and deliveries, and act as an assistant manager of his new butcher shop, where he’d be featuring a variety of homemade sausages and scrapples. Sara had explained that he needed someone fluent in English and able to deal easily with telephones and computers, someone who could interact with both Amish and non-Amish. She hadn’t mentioned what the wages or hours would be, but Sara had assured her that Gideon would be a fair employer. And, most important, someone would always be at Sara’s house to watch over Zachary while she was at work.

The smell of dark-roasted coffee filled the air. Sara’s home was a modern Cape Cod and laid out in the English rather than the Amish style, but in keeping with Plain custom, she had replaced the electric lights with propane and kerosene lamps. As Mari walked through the house, she felt herself being pulled back into her childhood, although the homes she’d grown up in were never as nice as this. Sara’s house was warm and beautiful, with large windows, shining hardwood floors and comfortable furniture. Sara had apologized that Mari and Zachary had to share a room, but it was larger and nicer than anything either of them had ever slept in. Mari only hoped that someday she could find a way to repay the older woman’s kindness.

“There you are!” Ellie declared as they entered the kitchen. “I was hoping to see you before I left for school.” Ellie, the vivacious little person Mari had met the previous night, stepped down from a wooden step stool beside the woodstove and carried two thick mugs to the long table that dominated the room. She couldn’t have been four feet tall. “How do you like your coffee, Mari?”

“With milk, please,” Mari replied, returning Ellie’s smile.

It was impossible to resist Ellie’s enthusiasm. With her neat little figure, pretty face, sparkling bright blue eyes and golden hair, Ellie was so attractive that Mari suspected that had she been of average height she would have been married with a family rather than teaching school.

Already at the kitchen table was shy and spare Jerushah, the bride-to-be whom Sara had spoken of. “Sit down, sit down,” Sara urged. “Ellie has to leave at eight.” Sara gestured toward the silent, clean-shaven Amish man at the end of the table. “This is Hiram. He helps out around the place.”

Hiram, tall, thin and plain as garden dirt, kept his eyes downcast and mumbled something into his plate, appearing to Mari to be painfully shy rather than standoffish.

Ellie pushed a platter of pancakes in her direction. “Don’t mind Hiram. He’s not much for talking.”

“Shall we take a moment to give thanks?” Sara asked.

Mari bowed her head for the silent prayer that preceded all meals in Amish households. That would be another change for Zachary. Oddly, she felt a touch of regret that she hadn’t kept up the custom in her own home.

“Amen,” Sara said, signaling the end of the prayer. And although they were all strangers to her, except for her hostess, Ellie and Sara began and kept up such a good-natured banter that it was impossible for Mari to feel uncomfortable. Again, all the conversation continued in English. Jerushah’s barely audible voice bore a Midwestern lilt with a heavy Deitsch accent, but Ellie and Sara spoke as if English was their first language. Hiram didn’t say anything, but he smiled, nodded and ate steadily.

“You have the buggy hitched?” Sara asked Hiram. “Rain’s let up, but it’s too cold for Ellie to be walking.”

“Ya,” Hiram answered. No beard meant that he wasn’t married, but Mari couldn’t have guessed his age, somewhere between forty and fifty. Hiram’s sandy hair was cut in a longish bowl-cut; his nose was prominent and his chin receding. His ears were large and, at the moment, as rooster-comb red as Sara’s sugar bowl. “Waiting outside when she’s ready,” he said between bites of egg.

Hiram had slipped into Deitsch, and Mari was pleasantly surprised to realize that she’d understood what he’d just said. Maybe she hadn’t forgotten her childhood language.

One bite of the blueberry pancakes and Mari found that she was starving. She polished off a pancake and a slice of bacon, and she was reaching for a hot biscuit when she became aware of the sound of an outer door opening and the rumble of male voices.

“My carpenter crew.” Sara slid a second pancake onto Mari’s plate. “Better put on a second pot of coffee, Ellie.”

Mari suddenly felt self-conscious. She hadn’t expected to meet so many people before eight in the morning her first day in Seven Poplars. Now she was glad that she’d chosen a modest navy blue denim jumper, a black turtleneck sweater and black tights from her suitcase. And instead of her normal ponytail, she’d pinned up her hair and tied a blue-and-white kerchief over it. She wasn’t attempting to look Amish, but she wanted to make a good impression on Sara’s friends and neighbors. Not that she’d ever been one for the immodest dress many English women her age went for; she’d always been a long skirt and T-shirt kind of girl.

Five red-cheeked workmen crowded into the utility room, stomping the mud off their feet; shedding wet coats, hats and gloves; and bringing a blast of the raw weather into the cozy kitchen.

“Hope that coffee’s stronger this morning, Sara,” one teased in Deitsch. “Yesterday’s was a little on the weak side. It was hard to get much work out of Thomas.” The speaker was another clean-shaven man in his late twenties or early thirties.

“That’s James,” Sara explained in English. “He’s the one charging me an outrageous amount for my addition.”

“You want craftsmanship, you have to pay for it,” James answered confidently. He strode into the kitchen in his stocking feet, opened a cupboard door, removed a coffee mug and poured himself a cup from the pot on the stove. “We’re the best, and you wouldn’t be satisfied with anyone else.”

“Nothing wrong with Sara’s coffee,” chimed in a second man, also beardless and speaking English. “James is just used to his sister’s. And we all know that Mattie King’s coffee will dissolve horseshoe nails.” He glanced at Mari with obvious interest as he entered the kitchen. “This must be your new houseguest. Mari, is it?”

“Ya, this is my friend Mari.” Sara introduced her to the men as they made their way into the kitchen and began to pour themselves cups of coffee. “She and her son, Zachary, will be here with me for a while, so I expect you all to make her feel welcome.”

“Pleased to meet you, Mari,” James said. The foreman’s voice was pleasant, his penetrating eyes strikingly memorable. Mari felt a strange ripple of exhilaration as James’s strong face softened into a genuine smile, and he held her gaze for just a fraction of a second longer than was appropriate.

Warmth suffused her throat as Mari offered a stiff nod and a hasty “Good morning,” before turning her attention to her unfinished breakfast. She took a piece of the biscuit and brought it to her mouth, then returned it untasted to her plate. She kept her eyes on her pancake, watching the dab of butter slowly melt as she felt the workmen staring at her, no doubt curious about her presence at Sara’s. Mari didn’t want anyone to get the idea that she’d come to Seven Poplars so Sara could find her a husband. That was the last thing on her mind.

“Thomas would rather drink coffee than pound nails any day,” Ellie teased as he took a seat at the table.

“And who wouldn’t, if they were honest?” Thomas chuckled. “Pay no attention to her, Mari. Any of these fellows can tell you what a hard worker I am.”

“I hope you’re not disappointed we’ve got rain instead of snow this week.” James pulled out a chair across from Mari. He unfolded his lean frame into the seat with the grace of a dancer. He wasn’t as tall as Thomas. His hair was a lighter shade, and his build was slim rather than broad, but he gave an impression of quiet strength as he moved. “I know you had plenty of snow in Wisconsin.”

“I don’t mind the rain,” Mari heard herself say. “And I definitely appreciate the warmer temperature.”

Her comment led to a conversation at the table about the weather, and Mari just sat there listening, wondering why she felt so conspicuous. Everyone was nice; there was no need for her to feel self-conscious.

“Well, I hate to leave good company,” Ellie said, getting to her feet. “But if I’m not at school when Samuel’s boys get there to start the fire, they won’t be able to get in.” She tapped the large iron key that hung on a cord around her neck. “They’ll be wet enough to swim home.” After putting her plate in the sink, she picked up a black lunch box and a thermos off the counter. “Are you ready, Hiram?”

Hiram wiped the last bit of egg from his plate with a portion of biscuit and stuck it into his mouth. “Ready.”

Ellie smiled at Mari. “See you after school?”

“Of course. Unless...” Mari glanced back at Sara. “Unless I’m supposed to go to work today.”

“Ne,” Sara assured her. “Not today. Gideon and Addy have just thrown open their doors, so the pace is still slow. Gideon said tomorrow would be fine. Give you a chance to settle in.”

“Going to be working for Gideon and Addy, are you?” James remarked as he added milk to his coffee from a small pitcher on the table.

Mari slowly lifted her gaze. James had nice hands, very clean, his fingers well formed. She raised her gaze higher to find that he was still watching her intently, but it wasn’t a predatory gaze. James seemed genuinely friendly rather than coming on to her, as if he was interested in what she had to say. “I hope so.” She suddenly felt shy, and she had no idea why. “I don’t know a thing about butcher shops.”

“You’ll pick it up quick.” James took a sip of his coffee. “And Gideon is a great guy. He’ll make it fun. Don’t you think so, Sara?”

Sara looked from James to Mari and then back at James. “I agree.” She smiled and took a sip of her coffee. “I think Mari’s a fine candidate for all sorts of things.”


Chapter Two (#ulink_fe81bcc4-0d1c-592b-846f-fbdd2e2d96d5)

The following morning dawned cold and clear. Mari had risen early to help with breakfast and make certain that Zachary was dressed and fed before she left him in the care of Sara for the day. “Wake up, sweetie,” she said, shaking him. “Time to rise and shine.”

“I want to sleep some more.” Zachary tried to roll over, away from her.

“Nope.” She put her arm around him. “No can do. I start work this morning.”

Zachary rubbed his eyes. “I don’t like it here. I want to go home.”

Mari ruffled his hair. “We can’t, and you know that. We can’t go back to Wisconsin because there’s no money and nothing to go back to.”

“Can’t I go with you to work?” He stared up at her with large, sleepy eyes. “I don’t know these people.”

“You’ll be fine.” Mari got up and laid out a pair of jeans and a faded flannel shirt for him. “Sara has been good to us, and she’s doing everything she can to make this easier. I told you she’d be keeping an eye on you for a few days while I’m at work. As soon as I can, I’ll get you enrolled in a new school. You’ll make friends, and before you know it, I’ll have enough money so that we can move into a place of our own.”

Zachary’s chin quivered, and he looked as if he was about to burst into tears. “My stomach hurts,” he said, not sounding very convincing.

“Don’t even try that trick.” She’d heard his attempts at malingering before, only to see him devour two bowls of cereal once the school bus went by. “What you need is breakfast. Sara makes great pancakes.”

He looked up at her. “I don’t want pancakes. I want to go home.”

She sighed. “I know this is hard—it’s hard for me, too.” Though maybe not for the same reasons, she thought to herself. She hadn’t been prepared for how comfortable she would feel in Sara’s house. She leaned down and kissed his forehead. “I need you to try, Zach. Can you do that for me?”

His eyes narrowed. “For how long do I have to try?”

She thought for a moment. She hadn’t really given herself a timeline. Had she subconsciously done that on purpose? “Three months,” she said off the top of her head. “Promise me that you’ll do your best to help me make this work.”

He considered. “Three months is a long time. How about one month?”

Mari shook her head. “Not long enough. We have to get our feet back on the ground. I have to earn and save money to get us started again. And even though Sara has been nice enough to let us stay here, I still have to pay for our food and such.”

They were both quiet for a second, and then he said, “All right, Mom. Guess I can try.”

“Is that a promise?”

“Three months,” he said. “But if it doesn’t work, if I still hate it, then what?”

Mari walked to a window and stared at the barnyard below. James and his crew had just arrived and they were unloading tools from a wagon. Her gaze fell on James’s broad shoulders and lingered. She turned back to Zachary. “I don’t know what we’ll do then,” she answered him honestly. “If we can’t make it here in Seven Poplars, I don’t know what we’ll do.” She turned back to him. “But I’ll think of something. And that’s a promise.”

“Okay.”

“Good.” She smiled at him. “I knew I could count on you. Sara told me that there will be a van here at eight o’clock to pick me up, so we have to hurry. Up and into your clothes, favorite son.” She gave him a tickle under his chin.

“I’m your only son!” Giggling, Zachary rolled out of his bed and scrambled for his clothes.

A short time later, Mari was downstairs pouring orange juice at the kitchen table for Zachary. “I’m so glad my new boss is providing transportation to work. I was wondering what I’d do until I could buy a car.”

Sara passed the plate of pancakes to Hiram so he could have another helping. “It was Addy’s idea that Gideon hire a driver to pick up all his workers and drop them off at the end of the day. Good way to make sure everyone’s on time.”

“Addy’s Gideon’s wife,” Ellie explained.

Jerushah nodded. “Gideon’s wife,” she repeated.

Mari buttered a slice of rye toast. “I suppose I expected the Amish employees to walk or come to work by buggy.”

“Most of us do use horse and buggy to get around,” Sara said. “At least locally.”

“Or a push scooter,” Ellie put. “I usually ride mine to the school, unless the weather is bad.”

“We’d rather keep the horses and buggies off the main roads,” Sara explained. “Because of the traffic. But we like horse power, especially for visiting back and forth in our community and for worship services or grocery shopping. Farther than Dover and most people usually hire a driver. And it’s reasonable if more than one family shares the price.”

“And if the employees drove a horse to Gideon’s shop, the animals would have to stand outside all day,” Hiram added. “Not good.” It was a long speech for him, Mari realized, and as if he’d used up his allotment of words, he reddened, put his head down and concentrated on his third stack of pancakes.

The loud sounds of hammering and sawing drifted from the direction of the addition. “I hear they’re at it already,” Mari said.

“Ya.” Sara added sugar to her coffee. “James is a hard worker.”

Zachary slid his plate back. Mari noticed that he’d eaten part of a pancake and pushed his scrambled eggs around, but he hadn’t really eaten much. “Can I go watch the men working?” he asked.

“I think you’d better stay in the house out of their way. I’m sure they don’t want boys around. Dangerous tools and stuff,” Mari explained.

“Oh, let him,” Sara suggested gently. “Like as not, they could use some help. There’s always something another pair of hands can do, even if it’s just fetch and carry. How else is a boy supposed to learn how to do something, if not by watching and learning?”

“Please, Mom?” Zachary begged. “I won’t touch anything. Please? There’s nothing to do in here. I can’t watch a DVD or play a video game. What am I s’posed to do?”

Mari felt her cheeks grow warm. “I’m sorry, Sara,” she apologized, meeting her hostess’s gaze. “I explained to him about electricity, that you didn’t watch television or listen to the radio, but—”

“But it’s all new to him,” Ellie finished for her.

“So spending time with James’s crew might be the best place for him.” Sara added a pat of butter to the top of her pancake. “Unless he wants to help me and Jerushah wash clothes.” She raised her eyebrows at him.

The look on Zachary’s face made it clear he wasn’t interested in doing laundry. He turned to his mother. “Please, Mom?”

“If you’re certain you won’t be a nuisance,” she said, relenting. She met her son’s gaze. “Promise me that you’ll stay back out of the men’s way?”

“I will, Mom. Honest.” He got to his feet, picked up his plate and carried it to the sink.

“Put what you didn’t eat into that pail for the chickens.” Sara pointed to a stainless-steel container with a lid sitting just inside the utility room. “Nothing goes to waste here.”

“Chickens eat eggs?” Zachary asked. “Yuck. Cannibals.”

“Chickens eat most anything,” Hiram said. “Even boys if they sit still long enough.”

Zachary glanced at him, curious and suspicious at the same time. “Would they?”

“Ne, Zachary,” Sara assured him with a chuckle. “My chickens would not eat you. I think you are probably too tough to chew.”

Zachary laughed, realizing that Hiram had been teasing him, and made a dash for the back door.

“Get your heavy hooded sweatshirt,” Mari called after him, making a mental note that she needed to ask Sara where she could buy a decent used coat for him.

“I’m not cold.”

“Your hoodie,” Mari insisted, rising as she glanced at the clock on the wall. If she wanted to be outside waiting for the van when it came up the lane, she needed to get ready to go. “I don’t want you catching cold. Tomorrow or the next day, we’ll register you for school.”

“Not this week,” Zachary protested. “We just got here. I don’t want to start a new school in the middle of the week.” He stood in the doorway and scowled at her.

“It isn’t your decision,” Mari reminded him quietly. “I’m the mother.” She closed her eyes for a second, suddenly remembering with a sinking feeling that she’d never made arrangements to have his records forwarded. She’d intended to call, but then in all the commotion of packing to leave, it had slipped her mind. She wondered if there would be a phone she could use in the butcher shop. Surely there would be. But what if her new boss didn’t want employees using his phone? A lot of places she had worked didn’t allow personal calls.

“We’re not staying here that long,” Zachary said. “So there’s no sense in me starting school anywhere.” He headed for the back door again. “I’m just going to stay here and build stuff with the men until we go back to Wisconsin.” Seconds later, the back door slammed with a bang.

“I apologize for Zachary’s behavior,” Mari said to Sara and the others at the table. “He’s never like this. Honestly.” She exhaled, resting one hand on her hip. “At least not often. Excuse me.” She turned to follow him.

“Grab a coat on your way, Mari,” Sara ordered. “Plenty in the laundry room. If he’s going to catch his death, there’s no need for you to, as well.”

A minute later Mari opened the back door and was hit with a blast of cold air. This might not be Wisconsin, but it was still January and bitter. She was glad she’d taken Sara’s advice and taken a barn coat from the assorted outer garments hanging on the wall. She’d also gotten one for Zachary; it would be big on him, but at least it would be warm. There was no way she was going to let him outside in just jeans and a flannel shirt.

Mari crossed the porch and then went down the steps to the sidewalk that ran around the house. She followed it to the new construction, a two-story addition, and caught sight of her son at once. He was standing near a pile of new lumber watching as two men eased a new window into place on the ground floor. “Zachary!” she called.

He turned and hurried across the barnyard. Either he hadn’t heard her in the wind or he was pretending he hadn’t heard her. She exhaled, debating whether or not to go after him. She didn’t have time for this this morning. How was it that children picked the worst times to misbehave?

She was still debating when James came walking toward her.

Suddenly she felt flustered, standing there in the yard with a boy’s coat in her hand. “My son...” She lifted the coat and then lowered it. “He’s staying here today while I work. Sara’s going to keep an eye on him. She said it was okay if he came outside to see what your crew was doing.”

“But he forgot his coat.” James’s kind eyes were now twinkling, as if he and Mari were sharing some sort of private joke between them.

She felt herself relax a little. “Actually, his coat is in Wisconsin.” She exhaled. “Long story.”

James glanced in the direction Zachary had just gone. “What’s his name?” He slipped a hammer back into his leather tool belt and smiled at her reassuringly.

She hugged the barn coat against her chest. “Zachary.”

James nodded. “Eight or nine?”

“Nine.”

“Hard age. Changes are tough for boys. But he’ll be fine. He just needs time and patience to adjust.”

James’s accurate perception of the situation surprised her. “He’s a good kid, really,” she said. “It’s just...a lot for him. For both of us,” she amended. “Moving and all.”

“And you need him to show more maturity than he’s doing right now.”

“You must be a father.” She looked at him and smiled, then felt awkward. James had no beard. If he had no beard, he was unmarried. If he didn’t have a wife, he shouldn’t have a child, and she’d just inferred that—

“Nephews,” he explained, smoothly ignoring her mistake. “Four of them.”

“Nephews,” she echoed. “Then you know how boys can be.”

He rested a broad hand on his tool belt. “Sometimes boys can try a mother.” James stood there for a minute, then said, “Would it be okay if I talked to him? I could take the coat to him. He’s got to be freezing.” He held out his hand.

“I don’t know. It’s nice of you to offer, but—” She stopped and started again. “It’s just that he doesn’t know you.”

“But I’m a man.” He took the coat from her. “It may be he just needs to talk, one man to another.”

The van driver would be here any minute to pick her up for work. She needed to run inside, brush her teeth and grab her lunch box. But she didn’t know if she felt right, just leaving Zachary with this man she didn’t know very well. Of course she wasn’t really leaving him with James. Sara was there and it had been Sara’s suggestion that Zachary hang out with the workmen; it had to be safe.

“He’ll be fine,” James said gently, seeming to know exactly what she was thinking. “Go to work and Zachary will be here waiting for you when you get home with a smile on his face. You’ll see.”

She met James’s gaze, and the strangest thing happened. She believed him.

* * *

James watched Mari hurry off into the house before turning back to study the six-over-six wooden-framed window Titus and Menno had just set in place. It looked straight to his eye, but he’d been accused more than once of being a perfectionist. “Best be sure before you nail it in place,” he said, picking up a level and tossing it to Menno. “You know Sara. She’d have us take it out again and reset it if it’s a sixteenth of an inch off.”

Menno grinned. “And she’ll be out here with her own level as soon as we leave.”

James chuckled and glanced in the direction of the barn where Mari’s boy had gone. “Get the next window in once you’re finished. I’ll be a few minutes. I might have found a young man to sweep wood shavings and the like.”

Leaving the men to continue their work, James crossed the yard to the barn and stepped inside. Out of the wind, with the heat of the animals to warm the space, it was almost comfortable. Light filtered in through a high window, but the stalls remained in shadow. At one end, a wooden partition divided the stalls from the hay and feed storage. His horse, Jericho, stood, ears erect and twitching, watching something of interest near the grain barrel.

James suspected that Zachary was hiding there, but he didn’t let on. Instead, he tossed the barn coat Mari had given him on a hay bale and approached the horse. Jericho nuzzled him with his nose, rubbing against James’s hand affectionately. “Good boy,” he murmured as he stroked the animal’s head. How a man could become attached to a motor vehicle, James couldn’t imagine. No pickup ever nickered a greeting in the early dawn or ran to its owner looking for a treat.

Jericho nudged him, and James dug into his pocket and came up with a piece of raw carrot. Holding his hand flat, he watched as the gelding daintily nibbled it.

“I didn’t know horses liked carrots,” Zachary said from the shadows.

“Apples, carrots, even turnips. But Jericho likes sugar cubes most of all.” James didn’t look in the boy’s direction.

Zachary climbed up the half wall of the stall and peered at the bay gelding. He was a little small for his age: brown hair, blue eyes. A nice-looking boy. But he didn’t look like Mari, and James couldn’t help wondering about his father.

“He’s pretty big,” Zachary said.

“Just under sixteen hands. He’s a Thoroughbred, foaled for racing. But he wasn’t fast enough, so he ended up at auction. That’s where I bought him.”

“They auction off horses?” Zachary stared at the horse.

“They do.” James glanced at the boy. He seemed wary, prepared to run if Jericho made any sudden moves. “Have you been around a lot of horses?”

“Not a lot of horses in a trailer park.”

“Probably best. Not a lot of pasture in a trailer park.” He looked past Zachary to where bales of sweet timothy hay were stacked. “Toss Jericho a section of that hay, will you?”

Zachary didn’t move from the stall’s half wall. “That his name?”

“It is.”

“Horses on TV have better names.”

James leaned on the gate. “Such as?”

Zachary thought for a minute. “Lightning. Thunder.”

“Thunder. Hmm. Don’t know if I’d feel easy hitching a horse named Thunder to my buggy.” James glanced Zachary’s way. “Nippy out here. You can put that coat on if you want.”

“Nah. I’m good.” Zachary slid down, broke off a section of the hay bale and stuffed it through the railing. Closing his eyes, the horse chewed contentedly. “He’s pretty neat. For a horse. But buggies are dumb. Why don’t you buy a car?”

“I had a truck once, but I sold it when I bought Jericho.”

Zachary’s eyes got big. “You had a truck?”

“A blue Ford F-150 pickup,” James answered.

Zachary watched Jericho eat, seeming to be fascinated. “Horses are too slow.”

“Depends on how big a hurry you’re in, I suppose. Sometimes, you notice things you’d miss if you were in a hurry.”

“It must be boring. Being Amish. No video games or Saturday cartoons.”

“No, we don’t have those things. But we do lots of things for fun. Baseball, fishing, ice-skating, hayrides, family picnics and work frolics.”

“What’s a work frolic?”

James noticed that while Zachary’s voice gave the impression of boredom, his blue eyes sparkled with curiosity. “Well, say someone needs a new barn. Either lightning has struck his old one and burned it down, or a family is starting out on a new farm. A work frolic would be when the whole community pitches in to help build that barn. There might be as many as fifty or more men all working at once.”

Zachary frowned. “Sounds like a lot of hard work.”

“If you’re with friends, all laughing and joking, it is fun. There’s nothing like watching a barn rise up from an empty pasture in one day.” He smiled. “And then there’s all kinds of great food. Fried chicken, shoofly pie, ice cream. And we have games after we eat—tug-of-war, softball, even sack races. Winter is a slow time, because of bad weather. But if you’re here in May, you’ll see lots of work frolics.”

“Oh, we won’t be here,” Zachary assured him. “We’re going back to Wisconsin. I’ve got friends there. In my old school.”

The boy’s voice sounded confident, but the expression in his eyes told another story, and James felt a tug of sympathy in his chest. “Must have been rough, leaving all those buddies behind.” He leaned on the stall gate. “Coming to a new place where everything is strange. I can see how you wouldn’t much care for it.”

“I’m not saying this to be mean, but the whole Amish thing?” Zachary said. “It’s kinda weird.”

James nodded solemnly. “I can see how you’d feel that way. Everybody dressing differently, eating different food.”

“The food’s not bad.”

“I guess your mom’s a good cook.”

“The best. Great. But Darlene wasn’t,” Zachary clarified. “She and her daughter lived with us at the trailer until we got evicted. Darlene couldn’t even cook mac and cheese out of a box.”

James grimaced as much from the idea of Mari and her son being evicted as the thought of macaroni and cheese out of a box. “I don’t think I’d enjoy her cooking,” he told Zachary.

“Who would?” Warming to his tale, Zachary elaborated. “One time, Mom got this coupon for a free turkey. If you buy enough stuff, the supermarket gives them to everybody. It’s not charity or anything.”

“No,” James agreed. “It wouldn’t be if anyone could get one.”

“Right. But you had to buy so many groceries and save the receipts. Anyway, Mom got this turkey for Thanksgiving, but she had to work, so Darlene tried to cook it herself.” Zachary made a face. “Can you believe she didn’t take the guts out? She just stuffed the bird in the oven with the plastic bag of guts inside and ruined it.”

James chuckled. “Sounds bad.”

“It was.” The boy kicked at the bottom rung of the stall rhythmically. “You said you sold your truck. How come they let you have a truck? Mom said Amish drive buggies.”

“They do. If you want to be a part of the Amish community and the church, you have to agree to follow the rules. And the rules say no cars and no electricity.”

“They think cars and TV are bad?”

James shook his head slowly. “Not necessarily bad, just worldly. Things like electricity link us to the outer world. They take us away too easily from the people and things that mean the most to us.”

“So how’d you have a truck? I’d guess you got in big trouble.”

“Some but not much.” James took his time answering, taking care with the words he chose. “When you become a young man or a young woman in the Amish community, you get to decide how you want to live. Do you want to be Amish, or do you want to join the English world? No one can force you to be Amish, so many Amish young people go out into the world to see if they like it better than this one. That’s what I did. I left Seven Poplars and got a job working construction.”

“You just packed up and went?”

James nodded again. “I did. My sister begged me not to go. She’s older than I am, more like a mom than a sister, because our mother died when I was little.”

“No mom. Tough,” Zachary said. “My father died, but I never knew him, so I didn’t care much.”

“Your mom didn’t remarry?” James asked.

“Nope. And she doesn’t go out with guys like Darlene did. Mom says I’m her guy.” He gave a little smirk.

James smiled to himself. He was glad to know that Mari wasn’t attached; maybe because he didn’t like the idea of her being with someone who clearly hadn’t been taking good care of her. He tapped the toe of his boot against the stall. “Listen, I have to get back to work, but I was wondering if you’d be interested in helping us out today. We need somebody to sweep, fetch nails and tools. Stuff like that.”

Zachary’s eyes narrowed. “Would I get paid?”

“If you do the work, sure. I know you’ll be going back to school soon, but—”

“I’m not starting school here,” Zachary interrupted. “I tried to tell Mom that.”

“You and your mom butt heads a lot?”

“No, not so much. I mean, she’s great and all. Really. But when she can find a job, she works a lot. Overtime. Sometimes two jobs at the same time. So a lot of times, I was with babysitters and after-school care. Mom thinks I’m a kid still. She’s kind of bossy.”

James had to press his lips together to keep from chuckling. “My sister can be like that.”

Zachary grimaced. “Girls.”

“Hard to understand them sometimes.”

“Yeah. But I could probably help you out until Mom figures out we don’t belong here.”

“I don’t know your mother well, but she seems like she cares a lot for you. Like she’s trying to do the right thing.”

“She’s the best. But this was a bad idea, coming here. It’s better back in Wisconsin. You’re probably nice people and all, but we like cars and TV and electric. I hate it when the electric gets turned off in our trailer.”

“Gets turned off?” James asked.

“You know.” Zachary frowned. “When you can’t pay the bill.”

Now it was James’s turn to frown. He could imagine how hard it must have been for Mari as a parent, trying to care for her son. “That happen a lot?”

“Mom does her best. Electricity and car insurance are expensive. We make out all right. It’s just that Mom lost her job and then we got kicked out of our trailer for not paying. But something will come along. It always does.” The boy reached out boldly and patted Jericho’s broad back.

They were both quiet for a minute. Sara had told him a little about Mari the week before, that she and her son needed a fresh start, but she hadn’t told him that Mari had lost her job and her home. His heart went out to her. He couldn’t imagine what it was like for a woman to be alone with no family, no friends, trying to raise a boy properly.

James glanced at Zachary again. “Sounds like what I’m hearing you say is that you might like to earn a little money. And be a help to your mom.” He didn’t know that the bit of pocket change Zachary might earn would really help Mari’s situation, but he did know that even a boy Zachary’s age wanted to feel as if he was needed. “Take some of the strain off her?”

“Yeah. That would be good,” Zachary agreed.

James crossed his arms over his chest. “And from me and my crew.” Again, he was quiet before he went on, “Zachary, I think your mom was pretty upset when she left for work. This move, losing her home and all, has been pretty tough on her. I think maybe she could use a hug from you when she gets home.”

“Probably.” Zachary looked thoughtful.

“I don’t know why you quarreled, but a man’s got to show respect to his mother.”

Zachary looked up at him. “I’m a boy, not a man.”

“But you’re old enough to have responsibilities. And it looks to me as though the most important one is to take care of her. Treat her right.”

He twisted his mouth thoughtfully. “Guess I should say sorry when she comes home tonight.”

“Sounds good to me. So let’s shake on it, you doing some work for me.” James extended his hand and Zachary took it. Zachary had a firm grip, and James liked that. “But if you’re serious about working with my crew, you’d better go put that barn coat on. All of my men come dressed for work, no matter the weather.”

“Okay,” Zachary agreed. He grabbed the jacket and put it on. “What’s your name?”

“James. James Hostetler.”

“I’m Zachary. Zachary Troyer.”

“Glad to have you on my crew, Zachary.” He didn’t allow his amusement to show in his expression. Zachary Troyer, he mused. Not so different from us after all. James had never met a Troyer who wasn’t Amish or who didn’t have Amish ancestry. Maybe Zachary wasn’t as far away from home as he thought.


Chapter Three (#ulink_fd4af7f5-bc67-586e-a164-b0512866e75c)

When the van dropped Mari off at Sara’s after work, she had them let her off at the end of the lane to give herself a couple of minutes to decompress. Her day had been hectic and overwhelming; but she was definitely going to like the job. Gideon and Addy Esch were good people to work for, just as James had said they would be. Gideon laughed and teased her so much, she wasn’t always sure how to take him. And Addy had seemed pleased with her, though it was obvious she was going to be the one who would be a stickler for doing things the way she liked them. Still, it had been a fun first day at work, and Mari was looking forward to seeing everyone at the shop the next morning.

Inside Sara’s house, Mari found the kitchen a beehive of activity. The delicious smells of baked ham, biscuits and gingerbread swirled through the kitchen. Pots steamed and dishes clattered as Sara, Jerushah and Ellie stirred and tasted. Mari was pleasantly surprised to find that Zachary was part of the activity, carefully placing silverware on either side of blue-and-white willow-pattern plates at the large table. And just as James had predicted, he seemed perfectly content.

“How was your day, Zachary?” Mari walked over to the table. She wanted to hug him or at least to ruffle his hair, but she didn’t want to embarrass him in front of the others.

“It was good,” he said enthusiastically. “I helped work on the addition! I learned how to use a level and how to swing a hammer.” He talked faster and faster as he went, as if he had so much so tell her that he was afraid he’d leave something out. “James’s hammer was kind of big, but he said he had one at home my size that he’d bring tomorrow. Not a toy hammer. A real one. One that fits better in my hand. A good weight for me, James said. He said I could call him James. That’s okay, right? He says that’s the way they do it here. Amish people. Kids call adults by their first names.”

Mari couldn’t resist a big grin. Zachary was so excited and happy that she barely recognized him as the sulky boy who had ridden in the van with her from Wisconsin a few days ago.

“And, oh!” Zachary put down the handful of silverware and dug in his pocket, coming up with a five-dollar bill and some ones. “See. I made money, too.” He pushed it into her hand and beamed at her. “For you. You know. To buy us stuff we need.”

Tears sprang to Mari’s eyes. Zachary could be such a kindhearted boy. She didn’t know why she worried so much about him; he really was a good kid. “Honey, you earned that money,” she said gently, holding it out to him. “It’s yours to buy what you want. You could save for a handheld video game or something like that.”

He thought for minute and then shook his head. “I think we better save it for a car, but I can hang on to it for us.” He put the money back in his pocket and reached for the silverware, then dropped his hands to his sides.

Mari knew that look on his face. He’d done something wrong. Her heart fell. If Zachary couldn’t behave himself when he was at Sara’s, she didn’t know what she was going to do. She exhaled. “You have something to tell me?” she asked quietly.

He nodded, staring at the floor. But then he looked up at her. “I just wanted to say I was sorry.” He spoke so softly that Mari had to lean over to hear him. “I shouldn’t have been mean to you this morning. I should have gone and gotten my hoodie when you told me to.”

“Oh, Zachary.” Mari couldn’t help herself. She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tightly. “I know this is hard, and I’m so proud of you.” She kissed the top of his head before letting go of him.

“James says it’s important that a man know how to say he’s sorry.” He picked up the silverware and went back to setting the table.

Mari just stood there for a minute, her heart just a little too full for words.

“What a good boy you are to want to give to your family,” Sara pronounced enthusiastically. “I know your mother appreciates it.” Then to Mari she said, “Glad to have you home—supper’s almost ready. We’re all eager to hear about your first day.”

“Let me run upstairs and clean up,” Mari said as she retreated from the kitchen. “I’ll be right back down.”

In the room Mari shared with Zachary, she hung up the two new plum-colored aprons bearing the butcher shop’s logo. Then she slipped out of her work sneakers and into the only other pair she had.

As Mari tied her shoes, she thought about her day. It had been overwhelming but fun, too. She just hoped she’d be able to live up to Addy’s expectations, which were pretty high. But she knew she could do it. She would do whatever she needed to do and learn whatever they wanted her to learn. The other employees were pleasant, including the butchers who worked in the plant, and she thought that dealing with a mix of Amish and English customers would be interesting. She did have experience taking orders because she’d worked at another job several years earlier where she sat at a computer all day selling items advertised on television. But she much preferred working face-to-face with people, and she liked meeting new challenges.

The job would be fine, she assured herself as she ducked into the bathroom to wash her hands and tidy up her hair. She and Zachary had been through a lot of bad stuff, but things were looking up since they moved to Delaware. It had definitely been the right decision; she knew that now. And maybe Zachary was beginning to see that, too. She was so relieved to come home to Sara’s and find him smiling instead of sulking in their room. And the idea that he wanted her to have his money and then had apologized for his behavior that morning... It made her heart swell. And it also made her realize that she had some thanking to do, as well.

Once presentable, Mari hurried back downstairs and into the kitchen. “Sara, what can I do to help get supper ready?”

“Could you go outside and hunt down James—you remember which one is James?” Sara arched an eyebrow.

Sara hadn’t changed a bit since Mari had known her in Wisconsin. People said that Sara had more energy than a March snowstorm. Some called her interfering and headstrong for a woman, but Mari had always admired her. Now she was once more a widow, but even as a wife, Sara had been direct and known for speaking her mind. Very much like Addy seemed to be, Mari thought. Maybe that was why Addy and her husband spoke so highly of Sara and respected her opinion.

“I know who James is.” Mari suppressed a little smile. She had no idea what had gotten into her.

“Ask him if he would like to join us for supper. But not those Swartzentruber rascals. Just James. A new client will be arriving any moment. We’re a household of women except Zachary, and I don’t want him to feel awkward his first night here. A gaggle of women can be intimidating to a man.”

“Of course we have Hiram,” Ellie chimed in. The little woman was climbing on a three-foot stepladder to reach a serving plate in the cupboard.

“Ya, there’s always Hiram,” Jerushah said, “but he doesn’t have much to add to the conversation.”

“Exactly.” Sara smiled. “James said his sister and the boys were going to her mother-in-law’s tonight, so James will be on his own. Tell him that I’d consider it a favor if he could put his feet under my table and make Peter feel at ease. Peter’s mother advises me that he’s shy, so I doubt he’ll talk much more than Hiram. We need to make him feel more at ease talking with women. James will help him relax.”

“Whereas,” Ellie declared from her perch on the ladder, “Titus and Menno would delight in telling Peter tall tales of the homely women Sara wants to match him with.”

“Like they did with my prospective husband,” Jerushah put in shyly. “They nearly frightened my John into backing out of the arrangement before he’d even met me.”

“So no ham for Menno and Titus tonight.” Sara gave a firm nod of her head. “They can go home, have cold liver and onions and pester their own mother.”

“Like I do sometimes,” Zachary chimed in.

The women laughed, and Mari glanced at her son. What had gotten into Zachary? He talked when they were alone together, but he was usually quiet around strangers. Apparently he’d finished setting the table; now he was holding a towel for Ellie. She’d just come down off the ladder to find hot mitts and slide a gigantic pan of gingerbread from the oven.

“So Zachary worked with the men today, I hear,” Mari said. “I hope he wasn’t any trouble. James said it would be fine, but I don’t want to...” She searched for the right words as an image of James came to her and she felt her cheeks grow warm. What on earth was wrong with her, being so silly over some man she didn’t even know? Just tired, she supposed. “I just wouldn’t want to take advantage of anyone’s kindness,” she said.

“He was no trouble at all. What this house needs is some active children.” Sara went back to the refrigerator and removed pickles and a crockery bowl containing chowchow. “Not only was he no trouble but he was helpful. First he worked outside with the men. Then he came in and made the gingerbread for dessert.”

“Zachary made gingerbread?” Mari wanted to pinch herself to make certain she wasn’t dreaming. “I didn’t know he was interested in cooking.”

“Not cooking, Mom,” Zachary corrected. “Baking. Sara said if I learn to make really good gingerbread, they’ll sell it at the shop where you work and I could make money doing that, too.”

Ellie carried a pan of gingerbread to a soapstone-topped counter and set it down to cool. “Addy was telling me she thought Sara’s gingerbread would be a good seller. I know it’s a butcher shop, but they want a couple shelves of baked goods, too.”

“We didn’t make it from a box,” Zachary explained. “I mixed flour and eggs and ginger spice and stuff. It took a long time.”

“I can’t wait to taste it.” Mari offered Ellie a smile of gratitude.

It usually took Zachary a long time to warm up to strangers, but he was acting as though he’d known Ellie for ages. Ellie obviously had a real knack for dealing with children.

Mari heard the sound of a car coming up the driveway, and Sara turned from the stove. “That must be Peter,” she said, wiping her hands on her apron. “Ellie, watch that the potatoes don’t burn. I’ll just go out and welcome him. Mari, can you go fetch James?”

“Going.”

“Plenty of coats hanging in the utility room,” Sara instructed. “You might as well just save your own for good. On a farm, a sturdy denim is best, anyway.”

Mari found a coat and slipped into it. Though the style was certainly utilitarian and obviously Amish, Sara’s old coats were warmer than her own. Buttoning up, she dodged Hiram coming in with a bucket of milk and hurried across the back porch.

She walked around the house to find James using a power saw to trim a length of wood. Walking up makeshift steps into the still-open-to-the-elements addition, she called his name, but he couldn’t hear her over the loud whine of the power tool. She waited for him to finish the cut and turn off the saw before speaking again. The gas-powered generator was still running, but it was far enough away that the noise wasn’t too bad. “James?”

“Oh, hey.” He turned toward her and smiled. “Sorry I didn’t hear you, Mari. I was just finishing up here.”

He said her name correctly—just like Mary. Some people wanted to call her Maury because of the way she spelled her name. It was short for Maryann, but she’d never liked that name, so when she started writing the shorter version, as a child, she decided to use an i instead of a y.

Mari’s breath made small clouds of steam, and she pulled the coat tighter around her and suppressed a shiver. The walls and roof cut off some of the wind, but there was no heat. Her ears and nose felt cold, and she wondered how the carpenters could work outside in such bitter weather.

“What can I do for you?” James asked.

And then he smiled at her again, and she immediately became flustered. “Um, I— Sara—” Mari couldn’t seem to speak, and she had no idea why. Obviously it had something to do with James, but she didn’t understand her reaction. This was so unlike her.

Mari didn’t dislike men, but she certainly wasn’t in awe of them like other women her age she’d known. She’d learned that a woman who wasn’t looking for a boyfriend or a husband found life a lot easier. James was looking at her expectantly, but his expression was curious, not impatient. She glanced around at the half-finished space. There didn’t seem to be any of the other workmen there, which made her mission easier since Sara had specified James and not any of the others.

“Sara sent me to ask you if you’d join us for supper,” she said in a rush, then went on to explain why Sara was hoping that he’d join them.

James unplugged and wound the power cord for the saw. “I’d be glad to. I’d be having leftovers at home.” He noticed her looking at the saw. “You’re wondering about the electric saws and such.”

She nodded. Sara had a lot more modern conveniences than the Amish community Mari had come from in Wisconsin. Her uncle hadn’t even had a real bathroom; they still used an outhouse. Maybe this community was a lot more liberal, she thought.

“Gasoline-powered generators are okay,” he explained. “Makes the job go faster. I can build the traditional way when I need to, but Sara wanted this addition done as soon as possible.”

Mari took in the size of the structure. “She must be expecting a lot of company. Wanting more bedrooms.”

“She’s big business in Seven Poplars. Got a waiting list of folks wanting to come and stay and find a spouse.” James placed the heavy saw on a stack of lumber and covered it with a tarp. “So how was your first day at the shop?”

“Um. Good.” Her mind went blank. She studied him, wondering at his interest in her day. It had been a long time since anyone had asked her about her day.

James Hostetler appeared to be in his late twenties, maybe a little younger than she was. His height was average, maybe five-eleven, not as tall as the Swartzentruber brothers or Thomas. James was lanky, with slender, sinewy hands. His fair German complexion was suntanned, his eyes slightly oval and his hands and wrists calloused from a lifetime of manual labor.

James possessed a typical Amish face, more long than round; light brown feathery hair, very clean; a well-defined nose; and a wide, expressive mouth. He was handsome, though not overly so, with a friendly smile and the intelligent brown eyes she’d noticed on first meeting him. He moved easily, almost boyishly, with a bounce in his step. She didn’t know James and she didn’t give her trust easily, but she was inclined to like him. He seemed trustworthy, which wasn’t a trait she saw often in her world.

Not that she was interested in him in any romantic sort of way. Her life was complicated enough without that. She’d proven with Ivan, Zachary’s father, that she didn’t have good judgment when it came to choosing a partner. And she had quite enough on her plate without more complications. A man was the last thing she needed.

She found her voice. “My day was good,” she said. “Everyone was really nice. There’s a lot to learn. I don’t know anything about the business, but I want to know everything.”

“I’d think Gideon would be an easy boss to work for. And Addy is fair. She speaks her mind and some might fault her for that, but there’s not a mean bone in her body.” He removed his heavy leather work gloves and shoved them into his coat pockets. “This can’t be easy for you, losing your job, your home. Making the move with Zachary and starting over in a new town.”

She looked up at him. How did he know about her being evicted from her trailer?

He smiled. “Sorry,” he said, seeming to know what she as thinking. “Zachary told me all about it. I hope that’s okay. He’s a good kid, Mari,” he added thoughtfully. “I don’t think there’s any need to worry about him.”

She hesitated. “I wanted to thank you for letting Zachary help you today.” She looked down at her sneakers and them up at him again. “And...I don’t know what you said to him, but it must have been the right thing. I was afraid he’d be in a funk when I got home, but he’s not. In fact, he’s great. He seems so...happy. And he apologized to me for his behavior this morning.”

The easy smile reached his eyes, lighting them from within and revealing hints of green and gray that she hadn’t noticed before. If he’d been a woman, people would have said that they were her best feature. In a man, they were remarkable.

“Ya. We kept him pretty busy,” James went on. “He carried a lot of coffee, fetched some nails and did some sweeping. We worked on how to drive a nail properly.”

“He told me you were going to bring a hammer for him to use. He was really excited about it,” she said.

“Good.” James nodded his head slowly. “I like your Zachary. You must be very proud of him.”

“I am.” She smiled. “It wasn’t necessary to pay him.”

“But it was.” He settled his gaze on her. “He earned it. I try to give fair wages for good work.”

She pushed her cold hands into the pockets of the coat, trying to warm them. “It was still good of you to take the trouble to make things easier for him. Kids don’t like change, and he’s had more than enough of it.”

“He was no bother. He really wasn’t. In fact, it was fun having him with us today. I’m looking forward to spending time with him tomorrow.”

James squatted in front of a wooden toolbox on the ground just outside the addition and began to unload his tool belt and fit everything inside. It was an orderly box, his tools clean and well cared for. Mari admired that. She liked order herself, when she could find it in her life.

“Zachary has a quick mind,” James continued. “And he’s not afraid to get his hands dirty. It’s plain to see that you’ve done a good job with him.”

“I try.” She stood there for a minute watching him, then realized it was silly for her to just be standing there. She’d passed on Sara’s message. There was no reason for her to linger. She put her hands together. “Well, I hope you like ham,” she said. “I saw one in the oven. I think Sara and Ellie made enough food for half the county.”

“Sometimes it seems like half the county’s eating with them. Sara has an endless string of pretty young women and their beaus as dinner guests. She hasn’t been in Seven Poplars that long, but she’s made a lot of friends here, and there’s no doubt she provides a much-needed service.”

“Not for me,” Mari blurted out, then felt her face flush. “I mean, I’m not here to find a husband. That’s not why I came here. We’re old friends. From Wisconsin. She’s just giving me a hand until I can get settled here in Delaware. I came for the job.”

He glanced up from his toolbox. “That’s what Zachary told me.”

“I’m not married. I’m not even Amish.” She felt as if she was babbling. “Not anymore. I was, but—” She pushed her hands deeper into the coat pockets. “Not anymore,” she repeated.

He nodded, holding her gaze. There was no judgment in his eyes.

“But you were born to Amish parents.”

“Sara told you?”

James shook his head. “A name like Mari Troyer?” He smiled that easy smile of his again. “It’s not hard to guess what your background is.”

“I left that life a decade ago.”

“It’s hard, leaving. Hard coming back, too.”

“Oh, I’m not... I didn’t come to be Amish again. It’s not who I am anymore,” she added softly, wondering what it was about James that made her feel as if she could stand there in the bitter cold and discuss things she hadn’t talked about in years.

“I think the people who raised us, our parents and grandparents and their kin, they’re always a part of us, whether we want them to be or not.”

“I don’t know about that. I guess I’m part of the English world now.”

He thought for a moment before speaking. “Has it been kind to you, that world?”

She glanced away. The way he was looking at her made her feel nervous about herself. About things she believed to be true. “Not particularly, but it suits me.” She shrugged. “And I can’t come back. It’s too late.” She wrapped her arms around herself, feeling oddly wistful. “Zachary and I are just here for a little while. I’ve done fine out there. It was just that the plant where I worked closed down. Jobs were hard to come by.”

James hefted the heavy toolbox. “I’ll be pleased to join you for supper. Mattie, she’s my sister, and the kids went to have supper with their grossmama. Mattie and her mother-in-law get on like peas in a pod. And Agnes can’t get enough of the new twins.” He took a few steps and then stopped, obviously waiting for her.

“Your sister has twins?” She caught up with him. “How old?”

“Six weeks last Sunday. William, he’s the oldest, and Timothy. They’re good babies. It’s their big brothers who cause all the fuss in our house.”

“How old are they?”

“Roman is three, and Emanuel is twenty-two months.”

She couldn’t help chuckling. “Bet they’re a handful.”

“Emanuel takes close watching. Turn your back on that one and he’ll be up the chimney or have the cow in the kitchen.” They reached the back porch and James carried his toolbox up the steps and set it against the wall of the house. “It will be fine here until morning. Saves Jericho, he’s my horse, from hauling it home and back tomorrow.” He opened the back door and held it for her.

Mari walked through the doorway into the utility room. Instantly, she was wrapped in the homey smells of food and the sounds of easy conversation and laughter. She slipped out of the coat, hung it on a peg. James did the same and began to wash his hands in a big utility sink.

Mari walked through the doorway, feeling as if she was drawn into the embrace of Sara’s warm kitchen.

“Mari, James, this is Peter Heiser.” She indicated a thin, beardless man in his early forties sitting at the table. “I know you’ll help to make him feel at home here in our community.”

“Peter,” Mari said as she slid into an empty chair between Ellie and Zachary. “Nice to meet you.”

Peter’s mouth opened, then closed; then his lips moved, but no words came out. Sweat beaded on his acne-scarred forehead as he nodded in her direction. His pale brown eyes were wide and stunned in appearance, like a frightened deer caught in the headlights of a car. His lips parted again, and something like a croak emerged. Mari expected the poor man to leap up from the table and flee the kitchen at any second.

James came to his rescue, sliding into a chair. “Good to have you with us,” he said to Peter. “Everyone. Shall we?” He closed his eyes and slightly inclined his head, a signal for silent grace.

Mari reached for her son’s hand under the table. He gripped her fingers, his small hand warm, clinging to hers. She smiled at him reassuringly, and he nodded before closing his eyes and lowering his head in imitation of the men and women around him. Mari did the same.

* * *

Mari’s head was still bowed when James opened his eyes. She looked so relaxed in prayer. A brave woman and a good mother, he thought. He didn’t care what she’d said; life couldn’t have been easy for her in the English world. It never was for those born into a different one. Not that the Amish lifestyle was a perfect one. Nothing on earth was, he supposed. But it was obvious to him that Mari’s struggles must have been more difficult than his own, and he admired her for her pluck and fortitude.

Sara’s cheerful urging for someone to pass the ham jolted James from his musing. He caught Peter’s gaze and offered him a friendly smile. Poor Peter. No wonder he needed Sara’s help to find a wife. The man was obviously terrified of women. Hands trembling, Peter almost dropped the plate of meat into Hiram’s lap. Hiram caught it in time, moving faster than James had thought him capable. Peter went white and his ears reddened. He was so flabbergasted by his near mishap that he hadn’t even taken a slice of ham for himself. Hiram, who never missed an opportunity to fill his stomach, helped himself to two pieces.

“Ach, I forgot the butter,” Ellie said. She started to rise, but Mari was quicker.

“I’ll get it.” Mari moved gracefully to the refrigerator and came back with the butter, offering it to James.

James glanced at Peter and then back at Mari and wondered if Sara had any notion of matching the two of them. He doubted it. Sara was good at reading people; Mari’s personality was too strong. Peter needed a gentle woman, maybe someone a little older than he was, someone who could overlook his social deficiencies. And Mari had made a point of saying she wasn’t here to find a husband. James knew Sara well enough, though, to suspect that didn’t mean anything to her if she set her mind to it. Sara could be a determined woman, especially when it came to the idea of there being someone for everyone. Of course Mari would have to join the church to marry an Amish man, but that wasn’t a far-fetched idea, especially since she had grown up Amish.




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