For the next several days, Grace made every effort to spend more time with Anna. They’d baked cookies together and taken them over to the Wengerds’ place so Anna could play with Esta while Grace and Alma visited awhile. The next morning, Anna helped Grace feed and water the chickens in the henhouse. At the moment, Grace was sitting in one of the wicker chairs on the back porch, watching her daughter romp around in the yard with Heidi’s rambunctious pups.
Anna seemed to be accepting her new life better these days—accepting Grace better, too.
“Thank You, God,” Grace murmured as she took a sip of tea from the mug she held. She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. Bless my husband, Lord, and bring him home soon.
“Are you sleepin’?”
Grace startled at the sound of her father’s deep voice, and she turned to face him. “I was watching Anna play with Heidi’s pups.”
Dad took a seat in the chair beside her and set his cup of coffee on the small table between them. “Watching with your eyes closed, huh?”
Grace smiled. “Actually, I was talking to God.”
“Ah, now that’s a good thing. I’ve been doing a lot of that myself here of late.”
“Because of the attacks on our family?”
He shrugged. “There’ve been no more for some time. I’m sure that trouble is over.”
“What about the pressure cooker exploding the other day?”
“That was an accident, plain and simple.”
“An accident?” Grace could hardly believe her ears.
“The gauge must have been faulty, or maybe the valve was broken.”
“You replaced the gauge with a new one, so I don’t see how it could have been faulty.”
“Maybe it happened because your mamm left the cooker on the stove too long and it overheated.”
She touched his arm. “I’m sure that wasn’t an accident, and neither were the other things that have happened to us.”
“I know you believe the reporter had something to do with it, but I’m equally sure he didn’t. The things that were done before were most likely done by some rowdy English fellows who’ve probably been the cause of a few other destructive things that have been done in our area.”
“I still think Gary might be the one responsible, but since I have no proof, I guess there’s not much I can do about it.” She released a weary sigh. “I’m just glad no one was hurt when the pressure cooker blew up. It would break my heart if something happened to Anna.”
“God was watching over your mamm as well as your dochder; there’s no doubt about that.” He smiled, but a muscle in his cheek quivered, letting her know he was more concerned than he was letting on. “It’s silly of us to think it could be this person or that. It’s just speculation on all our parts.”
“That’s true, but—”
“Only God knows the truth, and He will handle things in His way, His time. You’ll see.” He leaned back in his chair and took a drink of his coffee.
Grace mentally scolded herself for being overly suspicious of Gary, but she shuddered to think what could have happened to Anna if she’d been sitting on the other side of the table. The child could have been cut by the broken glass or burned by the hot steam that shot from the pressure cooker when it exploded. Thank You, God, for watching out for my little girl.
Dad motioned in the direction of Cleon and Grace’s new home. “Since Cleon’s brothers have been coming over to help me work on your place the last couple of weeks, I believe we’ll have it ready for you to move in by the time Cleon gets home.”
She stared at the silhouette of the two-story structure sitting near the back of her folk’s property—the place she had hoped would be her and Cleon’s happy home. “I appreciate all the work you’ve done on the house, and when it’s done, Anna and I will move in, but I’m not sure about Cleon.”
Dad frowned. “What do you mean? It’s Cleon’s home, too, and I’m sure when he returns from his business trip, he’ll be glad to find the house has been finished.”
Grace nibbled on her lower lip as she contemplated the best way to voice her thoughts. “I’m … uh … not sure Cleon will ever return home. His last letter let me know how hurt he still is, and he said something that made me think he might decide to leave the Amish faith and go English.”
“What did he say?”
“That he’s still feeling confused and wonders if maybe he’s meant to do something else with his life besides what he’d planned.”
“He could have been referring to the honey business. Maybe he’s having trouble lining up customers and is thinking about doing some other kind of work.” Dad pointed in the direction of his shop. “Cleon’s carpentry skills are pretty good. Maybe he would consider coming to work for me.”
“You already have Luke working for you, Dad, and I don’t think you have enough work right now to keep three men busy, do you?”
He shrugged. “Never know what the future holds.”
Grace wrapped her arms around her stomach as she was hit by a sudden wave of nausea. She’d been feeling a little dizzy lately and kind of weak but figured it was because she hadn’t been eating much since Cleon left. Then again, it might be caused by stress or a touch of the flu.
Dad placed his hand on her shoulder. “Try not to worry so much. Just pray and leave the situation in God’s hands.”
Grace squeezed her eyes shut and willed her stomach to settle down. It was easy enough for Dad not to worry; it wasn’t his mate who’d gone off to Pennsylvania.
“Say, aren’t you one of those Amish fellows?”
Cleon turned to the middle-aged English man who shared his seat on the bus and nodded. “Jah, I’m Amish.”
“I thought so by the way you’re dressed. And from the looks of that beard you’ve got going, I’d say you might be newly married.”
Cleon scrubbed a hand down the side of his face. “Jah, I’m married.”
“Me, too. Been with the same woman for close to twenty years. We’ve got three great kids—two boys and a girl. How about you?”
“I’ve only been married a couple of months.” Cleon chose not to mention Anna. She was Grace’s child, not his. Truth was, he and Grace might never have any children.
“Where you from?”
“I live in Ohio, between Berlin and Charm.”
“Holmes County, right?”
“Jah.”
“I heard that’s the largest Amish settlement in the United States.”
Cleon nodded.
“So what are you doing in Pennsylvania?”
“I’ve had business here.”
The man studied Cleon intently. “Do you farm for a living?”
Cleon shook his head. “I raise bees for honey, and we also use the wax to make candles.”
“Ah, I see. Were you trying to set up some new accounts, then?”
“Jah.”
“I’m in sales, too. I sell life insurance.” The man stuck out his hand. “My name’s Lew Carter, and I work for—”
“I don’t mean to be rude, but I’ve got no use for life insurance.”
The man looked stunned. “If you’ve got a family, then you ought to make some provision for them in case something were to happen to you.”
“The Amish don’t buy any kind of insurance. We take care of our own.” Cleon turned away from the man and stared out the window at the passing scenery. Maybe it was time to finish up his business here and face his responsibilities at home.