Chapter Fourteen
As the miles ticked by, Micah grew more exuberant. As long as he kept his focus on Hope, his mood lightened. Just knowing he was moving closer and closer to her helped to mitigate the sadness of heading back to the house where he’d spent so much time with Ben and Anna. It distracted Micah from the weight of things left unsaid. Thoughts of Hope also took his mind off his two biggest concerns, both of whom were sitting in the back seat.
Moving back to Lancaster had energized Chloe, who’d been talking nonstop for the past four hours. She seemed to have adjusted to her brother’s silence. To make up for his quietness, she chattered to everyone else. Debbie, who enjoyed conversation as much as Chloe, kept a steady stream of words flowing between them.
Like a rock in the midst of that river, Jabin sat, rigid and unresponsive. If Chloe asked him a question and received no answer, she pretended to answer herself, pitching her voice lower to capture his speech. She sounded so much like him, Micah turned around several times, believing Jabin had spoken. But he remained sullen and still.
Although everyone expressed grief in different ways, Micah worried about Jabin bottling up all his misery. He needed to find a way to reach his nephew and help him release his sorrow.
They made several stops to let Chloe run off some of her excess energy, but Jabin refused to get out of the car. Micah stretched his legs, and Debbie gossiped on the phone with friends. During their last pit stop, Chloe raced up to him, going so fast, she collided with his legs.
Glancing up at him with pleading eyes, she begged, “Can we stop to visit Hope and Isaac? I want to tell them we’ll be staying home.”
Micah checked the time. They’d make it to the Lancaster area around five. “It’ll be close to suppertime when we get there, so I don’t think it’s a good idea to do that today.”
Chloe threw back her head and wailed, “I need to tell them something.”
As much as Micah wanted to say yes, giving in to her demands or tantrums would encourage bad behavior. In some ways, they’d rewarded her for running away, and he didn’t want her to think she could control situations through her drama.
“We’ll visit them, but not today.” Although Micah would love to go today, he needed to restrain himself too and not barge in on them at an inconvenient time. “I have some things I need to ask Hope, so we’ll make plans to go later this week.”
He ushered a bawling Chloe back to the car. Jabin turned his head to look at her, his eyes filled with sympathy. The first emotion he’d shown in days. Maybe reaching him wouldn’t be as difficult as Micah had feared.
“Oh my goodness,” Debbie said. “I can’t drive with all that racket. We’ll never get to Lancaster at this rate.” She turned to face the noise. “Sounds like you don’t want to go home.”
Chloe’s sobs quieted to sniffles.
“That’s much better.” Debbie clicked her seat belt and started the engine. “Less than an hour to go.”
“That’s not long, is it?” Chloe asked through tears.
“Not if you find something interesting to do,” Micah assured her. “That makes time pass quickly.”
For him, Hope provided the necessary distraction that made the hour fly.
* * *
Chloe began her pestering as soon as she awoke the next morning. “When are we going to Hope’s?” became a chant she repeated over and over.
“We’ll see,” Micah answered as he milked the cows. He’d notified the neighbor yesterday that he’d be around to do the farm chores from now on.
Micah wished he had a reason to show up at Hope’s and transportation to get there. He couldn’t keep hiring drivers. They could use Ben’s old farm wagon temporarily, but they’d need a buggy.
Ben’s buggy was gone, and so was his buggy horse.
Micah blocked the horrible nightmare from his mind.
Maybe he should go buggy shopping today. He was pretty sure he remembered how to get to the shop in Bird-in-Hand. With a steep gravel slope in front acting as a shelf for the rows of gray buggies lined up, the big red shop stood out in his mind. They’d passed it on the main road many times when he was young, and Daed often pulled in on hot summer days because the sign out front said “Water for Your Horse.”
They’d go right by Hope’s on the way. Well, not exactly right by, but close enough. A mile or so detour wasn’t much. Not if it meant seeing her again.
Chloe continued to nag him as he carried the milk inside and started breakfast. To quiet her, he said, “We need to run some errands today. We could probably stop by Hope’s for a short while.”
“A short while?” Chloe whined. “I want it to be a long, long while.”
So do I. “But we don’t want to overstay our welcome.”
Hands on hips, Chloe demanded, “What does that mean?”
“If you stay too long, people might not want you to come back another time.”
“Huh. Hope would never think that.” Chloe tossed her head, sending all the loose strands fluttering.
He’d let her sleep with her bob in last night, but now he had no idea how to fix it this morning. He’d try to figure that out after breakfast.
Micah stirred the oatmeal, which was bubbling up and trying to explode over the edge. He’d watched Mamm do this several times, and he’d followed the directions on the container for measuring, but he didn’t remember her fighting a gushing volcano. He yelped as it overflowed onto the stove.
Lifting the pot in the air, he struggled to turn off the burner. Waterfalls of oatmeal cascaded onto the stove and floor.
“Why is oatmeal plopping on the floor?” Chloe wanted to know.
Micah had no idea. Except that he’d held the pot out in the air because he hadn’t wanted the oatmeal to fall into the flames. He hadn’t succeeded. A charred smell permeated the air. The blobs that had fallen before he rescued the pot had burned.
“That oatmeal smells stinky. I don’t want to eat it.”
Neither did Micah, but they had little choice. “We won’t be having the badly burned bits. They’re stuck to the stove.”
Mamm had been right when she’d suggested having one of the women from church come in to help. But the only two he knew well enough to ask were the last ones he wanted underfoot.
Maybe Hope would be willing to teach him a few things. He shook his head. It wouldn’t be fair to ask her to do more than she already had.
Somehow, he carried a resisting Jabin to the table, opened a jar of applesauce from the pantry to put on the oatmeal, and served slightly singed oatmeal with warm milk straight from the cows. After breakfast, he ran a sinkful of soapy water and dumped in the pot and bowls. He’d let them soak and deal with the stove later.
Getting Jabin dressed and tackling Chloe’s messy hair exhausted him. He ended up winding the loose ends around her bun, hoping they’d stay. Chloe complained bitterly that he was doing it all wrong.
“I know, Chloe, I know. I wish I’d paid more attention when your mammi was doing Elizabeth’s and Mary’s bobs.” The only thing he remembered was his sisters placing their foreheads down on the kitchen table and Mamm’s fingers flashing back and forth, twisting, folding, and wrapping. But Micah had no idea how to make all those mysterious moves.
They’d only been up a few hours, and already Micah was exhausted. He now had a new appreciation for his mamm, who’d made raising five little ones seem easy.
Jabin had disappeared while he wrestled with Chloe’s hair, and after a frantic search, they found him in the barn, petting the cow. He planted his feet when Micah told him it was time to go, so Micah left him there while he hooked up the farm wagon.
He was shaky enough about hitching up the horse without adding extra stress. He also didn’t want the children to see him trembling. Daed always handled this at home, but here, he was on his own. And if he got a buggy, he’d have to do this twice today.
Mumbling a prayer, he steered clear of Daffy’s back legs. Please, Lord, give me the courage. Then, asking for God’s protection, he inched around the horse, keeping as far away as he could to do what needed to be done, and backed away.
Micah waited until his pulse and breathing returned to normal—or as close to normal as possible. Then he waved Chloe and Jabin toward the wagon. “Time to go.”
Chloe rushed over, but Jabin ignored him. Chloe called to Jabin, “Hurry, Jabin. We’re going to Hope’s house.”
A mutinous expression on his face, Jabin dragged his feet but eventually reached the wagon. Micah considered it a victory that he didn’t have to carry his nephew from the barn. Jabin stiffened when Micah lifted him in, but he sat where he was placed.
“I need to get something,” Chloe announced as Micah hopped into the wagon.
Micah debated between driving off and listening to her fuss the whole time or giving her a few minutes to get what she wanted. He decided waiting would be the easiest.
When she returned carrying Hope’s Dutch Blitz cards, he was glad he’d been patient. Returning the cards might make a good excuse for visiting.
The ride to Hope’s didn’t take as long as he expected. He stopped in surprise when they reached the driveway. A huge sign announced horse therapy. Micah had never heard of such a thing. And at an Amish farm?
Just seeing the word horse written on the sign was enough to kick-start the old panic. He’d seen the large horse barn and assumed they had a lot of horses, or that they boarded them, but he hadn’t dwelled on it. Now he was forced to face reality. The woman who interested him had built her life and business around horses. And he was deathly afraid of them.
* * *
The nine o’clock free lesson had ended, and they’d just signed up another student! Hope tried to act nonchalant when inside she was celebrating. This time she made sure to put the desk between them when she told Logan the news.
“Fantastic!” Logan rounded the desk, and irritation flashed in his eyes as she held the cashbox as a shield against his advances.
Tucking the bills into the correct slots in the cash tray allowed her to fend him off until she slid it into the drawer. She stayed bent over after the money had been stowed and opened the file drawer on the other side, which blocked Logan’s access to her. “Last night I organized all our tip sheets.” She waved a hand to the manila folders with neatly printed tabs she’d alphabetized.
Logan lowered his outstretched hands, evidently realizing her intent. “That was a good idea.” He didn’t sound enthusiastic.
Hope suspected his reaction had more to do with her avoiding him than his disinterest in her new filing system. She pointed out several tabs. “We don’t have tip sheets for these yet.”
“I won’t have time to work on them today,” he said stiffly, backing away from the desk. “I have plans.”
She closed the file drawer and sat up. “There’s no rush. So far, we don’t have any students who need them, which means we can complete them when we have time.” Tapping a finger on the calendar, she pointed out two new students who’d be coming for introductory lessons that week. “I signed them up yesterday evening.”
“Good,” he said in a clipped tone. “Or should I say gut?”
Was he mocking her Deutsch accent? “Either one would be fine. Wunderbar would work too.” She smiled at him to show she remained unruffled.
“Sorry,” he muttered.
Now that he’d moved a safe distance away, Hope stood. “I hope you enjoy your plans for the rest of the day.”
His miserable expression made her wonder if he’d only said that to save face or to make her jealous. He obviously didn’t understand she had no interest in Englischers. Maintaining the space between them, she walked him to his car. “I’ll see you tomorrow for our first real lesson at four. Or, if you want to come early, we could work on some new benefit sheets.”
“I may be busy, but we’ll see.” He slid into the driver’s seat and turned on the engine.
The car jerked to a start and rolled down the driveway faster than usual, spitting gravel under its wheels. Logan had almost reached the street when a farm wagon pulled in. He slammed on his brakes and swerved to the right to avoid hitting it. When he turned onto the road, he’d slowed to a sedate pace.
She hoped avoiding his advances wasn’t going to make their business relationship rocky. She’d been so focused on Logan, Hope hadn’t paid attention to the wagon, but as it drew nearer, she was delighted to see Micah and the twins.
Chloe was waving frantically, and with a huge grin she couldn’t control, Hope waved back almost as eagerly. She hurried over to the wagon when Micah pulled to a stop. “I thought you left for New York.”
“We’re back again.” Micah signaled her with his eyes that he didn’t want to talk in front of the twins.
“I have Dutch Blitz, so we can play together.” Chloe waved the box in the air.
“Hope might have work to do,” Micah warned her.
“Why don’t you go into the house and ask my daed? I’m sure he’d love to play with you.” Hope motioned to Jabin. “You too, Jabin.”
He’d been sitting sullenly in the wagon, but after she smiled at him, he climbed down with a grimace and trudged toward the house.
“Is he still in pain?” Hope asked.
Micah rubbed at the wrinkles between his brows. “He might be, but he’s not talking, so I can’t say. I believe most of it is emotional, not physical.”
Hope wanted to reach out to him, and to Chloe too. “If you’d be all right with it, I could do a little therapy with the twins to help them with their grief.”
Micah hesitated. “I’m not sure about that. I never heard of this horse therapy stuff. Is it dangerous?”
If she wasn’t mistaken, he was fighting to keep his voice from shaking. Something about doing therapy must scare him, but what? She wanted to reassure him. “No, there shouldn’t be any danger, especially not for children like Chloe and Jabin, who’ve always been around horses. And our mares are extremely gentle and used to being around children.”
Micah didn’t look convinced.
His reaction confused Hope. She expected to have conversations like this with some of the Englischers, but the Amish all grew up around horses. By age three or four, most Amish children were feeding the horses and doing barn chores. She wished she could figure out what was troubling him.
Micah still hadn’t responded, so she tried to convince him to let her help. “My heart goes out to Chloe and Jabin after—” Hope squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the terrible image. “I’m concerned about both of them. Their circumstances are different than most, and horse therapy can help with grief.”
“Could it possibly help Jabin? He’s completely shut down and refusing to talk.”
“Expressing their feelings is important for children after a tragedy. The ones who bottle up their feelings sometimes have a harder time adjusting. Often horses, as nonjudgmental listeners, give quieter children a safe place to begin expressing their emotions.”
“How do you know so much about children’s reactions?” The admiration in Micah’s eyes sent shivers through her.
“I’ve been reading and taking classes, and Logan has been helping me. We’ve been creating tip sheets to explain the benefits for different needs. He and I can work up one on grief to show you.” She wished they’d done that already. Micah seemed to need a lot of convincing.
“You know, Micah, a therapist recently told me about a widow who brought her two children for grief therapy. The mother spent an hour alone with a horse, and when she came out, tears were dripping down her cheeks, but being with the horse had transformed her. She hadn’t been able to cry or express her feelings until she had that time by herself in the stall.”
While she was talking about being alone with the horse, Micah’s expression changed, and he stepped backward. A look of terror flared in his eyes. What had she said that upset him? Maybe she’d misread his reaction, and hearing about two fatherless children had brought back memories of the accident.
His voice a bit shaky, Micah asked, “You don’t leave children alone with the horses?”
Not usually. Although she had allowed Chloe private time with Molly. “During lessons, Logan and I stay in the stall. If the child is on horseback, we have two volunteers who act as sidewalkers and stay beside the rider, and another one leads the horse. Logan and I both accompany them too.”
When he hesitated, she said, “Unlike Chloe and Jabin, some of the Englisch students have never been around horses, so they need a lot of extra supervision. Amish children grow up caring for horses and are comfortable around them.”
“Not always,” he muttered. A worried frown creased his brow. “I’m willing to try anything to help Jabin, but I don’t want him to get hurt.”
“I promise he’ll be safe. There’s no way I’d take a chance of him getting hurt.”
“I know you wouldn’t.” He held her gaze for a few long beats.
Beats that made her tingle. She broke his gaze. “I’d like to see if I could help, and I’d be extra-careful with Jabin and Chloe.”
Although his eyes still looked wary, he said finally, “I trust you with them.”
Despite his misgivings, he’d just given her a precious gift: his trust. Hope would do everything in her power to be worthy of it.