I’m so uffgschafft,” Ruth said a couple of days later as she followed Martin into their little rental house. Martin set the box he’d been carrying onto the kitchen counter and grinned. “I’m real excited, too.”
“I like it here.” Her nose twitched. “Even if it does smell like schtinkich paint.”
“Jah,” he agreed, “but it won’t take long for the smelly odor to settle down.”
“I’m looking forward to setting out my hope chest items, as well as all the wedding gifts we received.”
He pulled her into his arms and kissed her tenderly. “You make me feel so happy. I’m thankful God brought us together.”
Ruth nestled against his chest and sighed. “I hope He gives us many good years together.”
He nuzzled her cheek with the tip of his nose. “Many good years and lots of kinner to love.”
“Jah.”
He pulled away slowly. “As nice as this feels, we have some work to do if we’re going to make it over to my folks’ for supper by six o’clock.”
“Your mamm said she was planning to fix your favorite meal—stuffed cabbage rolls.” She poked him playfully in the ribs. “And I wouldn’t want to make you late for that.”
He chuckled and gave her another hug.
“We won’t get any work done that way.”
He surveyed the small kitchen, and his face sobered. “Both of our families were a big help in getting our things moved over here yesterday, and then your daed brought us that load of wood for our stove last night. I think we ought to have them all over for a meal sometime after the first of the year.”
“Since I’m no longer working at the bakeshop, I’ll be home all day and will have time to cook up a storm.” Ruth smiled. “I think it would be good if we had Abe and his family over soon, too. It would be a nice break for Sue.”
Martin drew her into his arms again. “You’re such a thoughtful fraa. Have I told you how much I love you?”
“Only about a hundred times since our wedding.”
He snickered. “But that was two days ago. I’m going to need to say it at least a hundred more times before this day is out.”
“And I’ll never tire of hearing it,” she murmured.
“Are you busy, Dad?” Martha asked as she stepped into her father’s woodworking shop. “I’d like to ask you a question.”
He looked up from the cabinet he was sanding and smiled. “I’ve got work to do, but I’m never too busy for you.”
She moved quickly across the room, stopping briefly to say hello to Cleon, who was staining a rocking chair.
“What would you like to ask me?” Dad gave the cabinet door a few good swipes with the sandpaper he held.
“It’s about my dog business.”
He chuckled. “Why am I not surprised?”
“Guess I do talk about my dogs quite a lot.”
“That’s okay. I know how important they are to you.”
She showed him the newspaper in her hand. “I spotted an ad for a pair of cocker spaniels in the paper this morning. Now that I’ve made some money working for Cleon’s mamm, I thought I might buy them. Just wondered what you thought of the idea.”
Dad shrugged. “Guess it would be all right, but remember, your other dogs haven’t made you any money.”
She nodded. “I know, and I’m thinking of selling Flo or trading her at one of the dog auctions.”
“Suit yourself. She’s your dog.”
Martha stared at the newspaper as she contemplated how to bring up her other idea.
“You got something else on your mind?”
“Jah.”
“Then raus mit—out with it.”
“I was wondering if you’ve thought about the idea of me boarding some dogs. That might give me a steady income.”
His eyebrows drew together. “Boarding dogs would mean building more kennels, and that would be a lot of work.”
“I know, but I’ll help in whatever way I can.”
“I’d be willing to build the extra kennels she’ll need,” Cleon put in.
Dad shook his head. “I can’t ask you to do that. You’ve already got too much going, what with working for me, your beekeeping business, and helping Grace with those two young ones of yours.”
“I could ask Martin about helping,” Martha said.
“He’s newly married and has a job working for Abe,” Dad said.
“How about Luke? He’s good with wood, and—”
“Absolutely not!” Dad’s face turned red, and a muscle on the side of his cheek began to pulsate. “I don’t want that troublesome fellow anywhere near you.”
“But, Dad—”
He waved the piece of sandpaper in front of her face. “Do not ask Luke Friesen for anything; you hear?”
She nodded as a lump formed in her throat. There’d been no proof that Luke was responsible for any of the things that had happened to them. In fact, everything had been quiet around their place for some time.
“I don’t think you need to board any dogs right now,” Dad said. “Maybe in a few months, I’ll reconsider. By then, I might have the time to build some extra kennels.”
Martha opened her mouth to say something more but decided against it. Instead, she whirled around and rushed out the door.
“That was a great meal, Mom.” Martin leaned back in his chair and thumped his stomach. “Danki for fixing my favorite dish.”
Mom nodded and looked over at Ruth, who sat in the chair beside her. “If you want to keep my son happy, you’ll need to fix stuffed cabbage rolls at least once a week.”
“Or more,” Martin said with a chuckle.
“I’ll be happy to fix cabbage rolls anytime Martin wants, but I doubt I can make them as tasty as yours,” Ruth said. “Do you have a special recipe, and if so, would you be willing to share it with me?”
“Jah, sure, only I don’t have the recipe written down. It’s right here.” Mom tapped the side of her head and smiled.
Martin’s dad nodded. “My wife’s a good cook. Most everything she makes comes from memory.”
“Maybe someday I’ll have all of Martin’s favorite recipes memorized.” Ruth looked over at Martin and gave him one of her prettiest smiles.
Martin grinned, thumped his stomach again, and looked over at his mother. “So, Mom, what’s for dessert?”
As Martin and Ruth drove home in their buggy, her head lolled against the seat, and her eyes drifted shut.
“You sleepy?” he asked, reaching over to take her hand.
She yawned. “A little.”
“It was a good supper we had, jah?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Did you get that recipe for stuffed cabbage rolls written down?”
“It’s right in here.” Ruth tapped the black handbag lying in her lap. “When do you plan to make them?”
Her eyes snapped open. “Martin Gingerich, your belly’s still full of cabbage rolls and dutch apple pie, and you’re already asking when there will be more?”
He snickered. “It’s a good thing I’ve never had a problem with gaining too much weight.”
She poked him gently in the ribs. “You might have a problem if you keep eating the way you did tonight.”
“I doubt it. Ever since I was a boy, I’ve been able to eat whatever I want without gaining a bunch of weight.”
“Well, there’s a first time for everything.”
He shrugged. “Would you still love me if I were chubby?”
“Jah.”
“If my hair started falling out and I went completely bald, then would you love me?”
“Of course.”
“How about if I jabbed myself with a knife while cutting a hunk of leather and got a nasty scar that made me look ugly. Would you love me then?”
Ruth pursed her lips. “You shouldn’t even tease about such things. Just thinking about you getting hurt makes me feel grank.”
He leaned closer and nuzzled her neck. “Sorry.”
She pointed to the hill up ahead, and the buggy jostled. “You’d better keep your mind on your driving, or you might run off the road.”
“All right, I’ll be good.” He gave her a quick wink. “For now, at least.”
Ruth smiled as she relaxed against the seat and snuggled under the warm quilt tucked around her legs. This stretch of road was beautiful during the day—with plenty of trees on both sides, well-kept farms, and fields of fresh-cut hay along the way. During the night, however, she couldn’t see much. But that was okay. She and Martin were together, and that was all that mattered.
Ruth’s head drooped against Martin’s shoulder. She was nearly asleep when he nudged her and said, “We’re home.”
She shivered and rubbed her hands briskly over her arms. “Guess I should have worn a coat instead of my shawl tonight. The quilt kept my legs warm, but not the upper half of my body. I can almost taste the cold.”
“Never heard it put quite that way before.” He smiled. “If the weather keeps getting colder, we’ll soon have snow.”
“Maybe you should forget about your plans to go fishing with Abe tomorrow,” Ruth said. “I sure wouldn’t want to fish in weather this chilly.”
“Abe promised Gideon he could go, and I’m looking forward to it, as well.”
She shrugged. Truth was, she’d hoped she and Martin could spend his day off together—maybe get the house organized.
Martin hopped down from the buggy, then came around to Ruth’s side and helped her down. “I’ll get an armload of wood and bring it up to the house as soon as I put the horse away. It’ll be good to have a nice warm fire this evening.”
“Okay. See you inside.” Ruth sprinted to the house, where she lit the gas lamps to dispel the darkness. It was almost as chilly inside as it was outside, so she grabbed a dahlia-patterned quilt from the sofa and wrapped it around her shoulders, then took a seat.
The gas lamps sputtered and hissed but brought her no warmth. “What we need is a fire,” she murmured.
Martin entered the house a short time later, but his hands were empty.
“Where’s the wood you said you would bring in?” she asked.
He shrugged, then shook his head. “It’s gone.”
“How can it be gone?”
“I don’t know, but it is—every last piece.”
Her forehead wrinkled. “Did you look all around?”
He nodded. “There was no wood in sight, but I did see some large tire marks near where the pile used to be. I think whoever took it might have been driving a truck.”
Ruth’s heart pounded. “Oh, Martin, you don’t suppose whoever took it is the same person who did all the horrible things at my folks’ place, do you?”
Martin took a seat on the sofa beside her. “More than likely it’s one of my friends—maybe the same ones who blew up the outhouse at our wedding.” He touched her hand. “It’ll probably be back by morning.”
“Maybe we should go see Dad and tell him what’s happened.”
“What good would that do?”
“He’s the one who gave us the wood. It’s only right that he knows it was stolen.”
Martin shook his head. “I don’t think that’s necessary.”
“Why not?”
He squeezed her fingers. “I’m your husband now. It’s my job to look out for you. Besides, your daed didn’t seem to care much about the attacks that were done at his place. What makes you think he’ll care that our wood was taken?”
Ruth’s mouth dropped open. She’d never expected to hear her husband speak out against her father, and she told him so.
“I’m not speaking against him. I’m just stating facts.”
Ruth folded her arms and stared straight ahead. “I think he does care about the attacks. He’s just chosen to turn the other cheek and trust God to protect our family.” She pursed her lips. “I think he has the right to know that the wood he gave us is gone.”
“Maybe so, but it can wait until morning.”
She shivered. “But I’m cold.”
“Then let’s go to bed and get warm under the quilts.”
“You can go to bed if you want to,” she said, rising to her feet.
“Where are you going?”
“I’ve got work to do in the kitchen.”
“What kind of work?”
“We’ve still got boxes that need to be unloaded and put away.”
“They’ll be there in the morning, Ruth.”
“I want to do them now.”
“It’s too cold in here to be milling about the kitchen. Let’s turn off the gas lamps and head upstairs to bed.”
Ruth was tempted to argue, but she didn’t want the two of them to spend the night mad at each other. Besides, Martin was right—they could empty boxes in the morning. Maybe by then the wood would be back.