The screen door creaked and the wooden porch moaned as Jolene tiptoed out of her house, carrying baking supplies to the carriage. She would fix breakfast for Lester and his two remaining guests, but she also had to make her pastries for the bakeshop while at Lester’s this morning.
Crickets chirped softly, and silvery moonlight sliced through the darkness. The early morning air smelled of honeysuckle, and she paused for a moment to thank God for another day of life.
May I use it well, Father.
After retrieving the key to Lester’s attic and putting it safely in her pocket, she’d spent the rest of yesterday quite focused. She wouldn’t be able to escape to the attic to paint while Lester had houseguests. But she consoled herself with the truth that if not for Lester, she wouldn’t have had the freedom and the privilege of being allowed to paint. So she would have to get by without sneaking to the attic to paint until the houseguests were gone.
How would her parents feel about her secret? They’d had an open-mindedness that wasn’t typical. The older Jolene became, the more she saw who her parents had really been. They were quite liberal thinkers by Amish standards, but they’d chosen to tuck themselves under the authority of the Amish church. They didn’t feel as the bishop did about art. He stood on the scripture “thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image.” Her parents felt that the verses referred to worshiping the image as if it could save them, and that’s not what art was about. But they submitted to his authority, not allowing her to paint or draw because the bishop was their authority. If her Daed had known she wouldn’t move to a district with a bishop who allowed artwork, he wouldn’t have given her the paintbrushes. Would he disagree with her decision to paint anyway?
One time when her Mamm was responding to a question from an Englisch neighbor about the Amish way of life, Mamm had said, “I can tell you how the Old Order Amish view each topic, and then I can tell you how we view them.” Mamm was one of a handful of educated Old Order Amish people. She had only an associate’s degree in nursing, but she had that because the bishop had come to her, asking that she earn a GED and then attend nursing school. The mortality rate for women giving birth and their newborns was too high, and the families needed some type of nurse to answer their abundance of health-related questions. So the bishop felt that God wouldn’t mind if she increased her learning as long as she used it to serve the Amish community.
Would her parents understand her need to skirt the bishop’s authority, or would they be disappointed in her? She used to ask herself that question all the time, but as the years passed and her contentment grew, it didn’t come up anymore … until she feared being found out because Lester had a houseful of guests.
Her privacy aside, she felt that yesterday had been well spent despite having to call the blacksmith shop and leave a message for Van. His uncle said he’d gone to visit his parents in Ohio, of course taking his wife and children, so he might not be able to help after all. She guessed that depended on how long he intended to visit. When his Daed needed his help, Van and his family sometimes went there for a full month or more. Anger rumbled deep within her. If he liked it there, and apparently he did, why had he stayed in Winter Valley after marrying Donna? It only made Jolene’s life harder. She rebuked herself and tamped down her frustrations. It was his life, and it wasn’t hers to question.
His uncle had said he’d get the message to Van. The idea of having to ask a favor of him made her shudder. When she’d made the decision to keep her siblings together, she’d feared he would never marry her. But she hadn’t expected to lose his friendship within six months or to see him marry someone else within a year of her parents’ death. Or …
Her hands began to tremble, and she clasped them together, refusing to give in to the anger that tried to surface. Stop, Jolene. It did no good to rehash things that had taken place many years ago. Van had needed to pull away from her and find another.
She understood. Truly. But when he left that night, she wiped the tears from her face and decided never to call him again. If the hens stopped laying eggs, the cow stopped giving milk, or the horse ran off or became lame—all of which had happened over the last ten years, plus much more—she would figure it out or do without, refusing to call Van. And she’d stuck to that decision.
Until yesterday.
But she wouldn’t let Lester down. He’d been too good to them over the years, and since he wasn’t a relative, he’d been giving for no reason other than the love in his heart. So she would do her best to help Andy Fisher in any way he needed, including actually working with the wild horses.
Going back to get the last items for today, she went up the porch stairs, and Hope stumbled out the front door. Jolene steadied her and waited a moment. “You got your footing?”
Hope blinked, patted Jolene’s hand affectionately, and silently gestured toward the buggy. Jolene released her, suppressing a chuckle. Hope wasn’t a morning person. Besides, what teen was ready to get up before daylight? But it couldn’t be helped.
After grabbing the blueberries and some whipping cream from the gas-powered refrigerator, she climbed into the rig and drove toward Lester’s. It took nearly forty-five minutes to get there, and she wondered if she and Hope should plan to sleep there on the really long days.
Hope slid across the seat toward her and propped her head on Jolene’s shoulder, ready to doze off. “Having to start this time of day is cruel. Lester knows that, right?”
Jolene chuckled. Since the Englisch volunteers and Humane Society people had left last night a few hours after dinner, Jolene was certainly capable of fixing breakfast for those at the farm—Lester, Andy, and Tobias. Even Andy’s brother, Levi, had a driver pick him up around ten last night. He didn’t want his wife and Daed to have the full brunt of the morning’s responsibilities on the horse farm with a group of new and rowdy horses. Andy seemed to fully agree with him. None of the volunteers could help today. They had regular jobs to return to. Most had used vacation days to help with the horses thus far. And those within the Humane Society had two issues keeping them away. Some were due in court today to testify in a case concerning animal abuse, and the others had to return to their regular duties, which included dealing with a pack of possibly rabid dogs that had been abandoned in an old apartment.
The realization of such cruelty to animals turned Jolene’s stomach. Didn’t life dish out enough pain without people turning on each other and helpless animals? The busy schedule of the Humane Society meant those people could provide no service to Andy for at least a few days. Unfortunately, last night Lester kept assuring Andy that whatever he needed, Jo could help. Andy didn’t complain about the idea. Actually, he seemed grateful.
But what was Lester thinking? She appreciated the confidence he put in her, but it was misplaced. Her knowledge of horses was limited to knowing they needed oats, hay, and water. Oh, and she was quite skilled at knowing when a horse stall needed cleaning and telling her brothers to see that it got done.
After all, in her estimation it was man’s work, best left to those who could lift a bale of hay and roll a wheelbarrow full of manure out of the barn without whining about it, which she couldn’t do. In her defense, her brothers couldn’t tote a basket of wet laundry to the line or wash dishes without whining about that.
So fair was fair.
Realizing she needed to find a man to help Andy, last night after she’d finished washing the dinner dishes and getting Lester’s kitchen in order for today, she had gone by her brothers’ places—first Josiah’s and then Michael’s—asking if they could help Andy Fisher. They couldn’t. Once she was home, she’d asked Ray. He’d seemed tired and sad and had told her he couldn’t do it either. If Lester weren’t so hard on his many male relatives, Andy could find the needed help.
So she searched through her books and found one on training horses, which recommended several things. One suggestion caused her to gather her work clothes for today and put them in a horse’s stall last night. Since the rogue horses didn’t like humans, it made sense that it might help if she didn’t smell so strongly of lavender soap and Downy fabric softener. When she went back inside, she read the book until she fell asleep. Now both her clothes and the book were tucked under the driver’s seat of her carriage.
But her heart was with Ray.
His sullen, sad mood of late nagged at her. What was going on?
She pulled into Lester’s driveway. “Hope,” she whispered, patting her sister on the cheek.
She stirred. “Wake me at noon, please.”
“Sure no problem.” Jolene opened the door to the rig. “But first help me tote the boxes of stuff inside … and help make breakfast, bake pastries for the shop, and do laundry.”
“Very funny.” Hope was the only girl Jolene knew who could frown while laughing.
“I was quite sure you’d like it.” They grabbed their stuff and tiptoed inside. Lester never locked a door. The smell of the old house and the way the moonlight fell across the rugs and floors reminded her of Mammi and Daadi’s house when she was growing up. Poor Hope never had a chance to get to know her grandparents, and her memories of their parents were a couple of granules. Was Jolene doing a decent job of parenting Hope? Was it Jolene’s fault that Ray seemed unhappy?
They set their boxes on the kitchen table. Jolene opened a drawer and fumbled around, trying to locate the matches in the dark. This was their assigned spot, and she’d put them in this drawer before leaving last night. Where were they?
Hmm. Giving up, she moved to the drawer where Lester tossed the occasional loose, unused match. Soon she felt the thin, rough edges of one. That would get her started. She continued searching the drawer until she touched the smooth, waxy roundness of a candle. After using the lone match to light the gas stove, she held the wick to the flame. Once the candle was lit, she used it to light several kerosene lanterns.
She and Hope moved around as quietly as possible while setting the table, brewing the coffee, frying bacon, and making pastries and blueberry biscuits. Pancakes needed to come hot off the griddle, and since no one was up yet, they decided to make biscuits. Those could be eaten cold and still be good.
While cracking a dozen eggs into a bowl, she looked out an open window. Dark had given way to the gray light of day. Fog rolled across the lower valley, and the sounds of nature—birds, horses, and cows—grew louder as the dawn grew brighter.
Hope came up behind her, placed her hands on Jolene’s shoulders, and rubbed them. “You have to be a little weary this morning. Naomi and I left hours before you did last night.”
Naomi had a husband to prepare supper for. Jolene couldn’t allow Lester or the needs of feral horses to come ahead of that. And Hope was worn-out by the time they had fed dinner to sixteen people. Growing bodies of teens needed more rest than adult bodies, so Jolene had asked Naomi to drop off Hope at home.
“Today will be a lot easier than yesterday as far as meals go.” She cracked the last of the eggs and began beating them with a whisk. “I’m glad of that. Still, you’ll be busy. Your main task is to stick with Tobias.”
“Ah, I’m the baby-sitter, but he’s not to know it. I can do that.”
“Exactly.” Although Hope was the youngest, she seemed to be a natural mother hen. “You’ll also need to help keep the kitchen clean and laundry done.” Jolene glanced at the clock and went to the oven to check the puff pastries. The biscuits needed more time, but the pastries were done.
Hope moved to the island across from her and sat on it. “Did you reach Van?”
She shook her head. “I left a message. He and his family are out of town.” Jolene set the baking sheet on the oven. “Naomi needs to take these to the bakeshop as soon as she arrives, so we have to fill these with cream as soon as they’re cool.”
“Does it bother you?”
Jolene moved the pastries to a cooling rack. “What? Baking pastries every morning?”
“Van.”
Jolene turned, studying her sister. Hope had been only four when Jolene and Van broke up. Did she have any memories of that time or just broken pieces of understanding from what others had told her?
Loud, quick thuds came from the stairs that led to the kitchen, and something rattled like a child’s toy.
Tobias bounded into the room, shaking the missing box of matches. “Something smells good!”
“There is much to choose from,”—Jolene gestured across the island and counters loaded with baked goods—“and if it’s okay with your Daed, you’re welcome to pick whatever suits you, but there is a price to pay.”
Tobias moved closer to the counters, looking over the various pastries. “If it costs money, my Daed will pay it. He’s always got lots of cash in his billfold.”
Andy eased into the room from the same back stairway. He favored his left knee, and his movements were stiff, probably from days of minor injuries, but he was clean-shaven, and he didn’t seem as weary today. He looked as interested in the percolator of coffee on the stove as his son was in the pastries. “He’s right.” Andy got his billfold from his pants pocket. “I have lots of cash.” He pulled out all the money—four one-dollar bills.
“You do.” Hope laughed. “That looks like what I have in my savings account.”
Tobias’s face went blank. “It’s not enough?”
“Sorry.” Jolene shook her head. “The cost is one missing box of matches.”
Tobias thrust them toward her. “It’s Daed’s fault.”
Jolene took the matches, choking back laughter. When she glanced at Andy, he was looking at the floor, shaking his head. His facial features, sandy-brown hair and beard, and his thin, muscular build made him really attractive. But the idea caught her by surprise. When was the last time she’d thought that about a man?
The sound of a cane against a floor echoed, and Tobias’s eyes got big. “I hear Uncle Lester coming down the steps.”
“He’s using the main staircase.” Jolene knew, because unlike the back stairs that entered the kitchen, the main staircase had wide treads and a really strong banister.
Tobias held up one finger. “I’ll be right back.”
He took off, and Jolene caught Hope’s eye. “From a child’s or teen’s perspective, parents have unlimited money. We are expected to pay for everything, and whatever can be blamed on us will be.” She put the matches in their drawer and got a mug from the cupboard.
Hope gave a nod toward Andy. “Did it hurt when your son threw you under the wagon?”
Andy seemed a little amused and perhaps a little unsure of their crassness. But maybe that was just his way—a sort of quiet thoughtfulness.
“Sorry if we’re too vocal.” Jolene poured coffee into the mug. They had cups and coffee on the kitchen table, but he was here and clearly interested in coffee. She set it on the island in front of him. “In our household we’re very outspoken against childlike behavior—even when the behavior is coming from the oldest adult in the room.”
Andy picked up his mug. “Levi says I should vent more.”
Jolene lit a fire under the awaiting skillet. Once hot, it would take only a few minutes to cook the eggs she’d already whisked. She then put the biscuits on a plate. “I think it’s a good idea to let out your pent-up thoughts and feelings”—she set the plate on the island—“just as soon as you return home.”
Hope giggled and hopped off the counter. “If you need an honest opinion, ask my sister. For every year she ages, she becomes a decade-worth of opinionated.”
Jolene winked at Hope. “That I do.” She shooed her. “Now get the biscuits, bacon, fruit, and cheese on the table, please.”
Hope disappeared into the dining room. Jolene poured the eggs into the skillet, making it sizzle.
“Denki for all of this.” Andy held up his mug and motioned toward the breakfast items.
“You’re quite welcome, although Naomi will take most of the pastries to the bakeshop when she arrives.” She turned off the oven and stirred the eggs with a wooden spoon. “Do you mind if Tobias chooses which pastry he wants?”
“Not at all. I remember being his age, and you’re reminding me of my grandmother. Her breakfasts looked and smelled delicious like this. I’m glad he’ll have this memory.”
Jolene continued to stir the eggs, but she raised one eyebrow at Andy. “I remind you of your Mammi?”
His blue eyes grew large. “Not that you actually look anything like her.”
In an effort not to come across as flirting, she resisted teasing him. “Perhaps you should join Uncle Lester before you have shoe for breakfast while the rest of us eat a feast.”
“Good thinking,” he said as he left.
When the eggs were almost done, she turned off the fire and covered the skillet with a plate. While Hope finished getting the needed items on the table, Jolene prepared a platter of pastries for Tobias to choose from. “Tobias,” she called.
He ran back into the room.
“If you want a filling added to the cream horns, you have three choices. You can have vanilla,”—she lifted the appropriate pastry bag that held the filling—“custard, or chocolate.”
“I’m supposed to choose just one?”
She laughed. “If you like all three flavors, I could make one with a hefty glob of each. My mama used to do that for me when I was about your age, and I’ve done it for my siblings when they asked.”
“I like that plan. Your mama must’ve been nice. Sadie’s nice like that.”
Just Sadie? What about his Mamm? It seemed odd that after nearly twenty-four hours of knowing the Fishers, not one of them had mentioned Tobias’s mom. Jolene put the tip of the pastry bag into the flaky, golden-brown cream horn. “Sadie is your uncle Levi’s wife, right?”
“Yep. I like her. They ain’t been married long, but before her, my Mammi used to cook for us some, not breakfast though. Mostly casseroles for dinner, and she only made cakes and puddings for desserts.”
His grandmother did the cooking before Sadie? Was Andy a widower? It would make several things add up, like Andy’s desire to keep Tobias with him this summer and Andy’s need for a sitter. She’d assumed his wife was at home with a brood of children, perhaps too far along in pregnancy to travel. Jolene’s Daed and lots of others she knew tended to keep their sons close to them during the summer months—for bonding or apprenticeship reasons and for occupying high-energy boys when the Mamm was busy with younger ones.
But as the new possibility dawned on her, the hair on her arms and neck stood on end, and her heart rate increased as her curiosity rose. Her internal reaction surprised her. She’d had several widower suitors over the last ten years, mostly older men who were willing to help her raise her siblings if she would marry them and help raise their children. One man came from Indiana to get to know her, in hopes of finding a wife. But after spending a little time with each one, she had zero interest in being courted by them, let alone marrying them.
Jolene put down the bag of vanilla filling and picked up the one filled with chocolate. “Cakes and puddings are good too.”
“Ya. Mammi doesn’t cook much for us anymore. Does your mama ever cook for you?”
“No.” Jolene held the tip of the pastry bag out to Tobias, and without needing instructions he put his index finger directly under it. She squirted some onto his finger. “She’s gone.”
He licked his finger. “My Mamm’s gone too.”
Jolene’s heart quickened its pace. Her interest in Andy, however fragile, wasn’t at all like her, and it seemed really inappropriate. His heart could be broken, and here she was mentally eyeing the man and thinking of only herself. She hated when widowers did that to her—disregarded her heart as if she were no more than a workhorse or milk cow on an auctioning block.
Lester came to the kitchen door with a mug of coffee in hand. “It looks as if we’re ready to eat, right?”
“Oh.” Jolene would prefer a few more answers from Tobias first, but she knew Lester well. His polite question was actually a gentle command, and he gave only one gentle command before he started barking orders. “Ya.” She squirted the custard into the pastry and gave it to Tobias. “Take that to your plate.” She hurriedly filled a few more pastries.
Lester strode over and grabbed one. He popped the whole thing in his mouth and mumbled something—perhaps “that’s amazing.”
She dumped the skillet of scrambled eggs into a huge bowl. “Lester, is Andy a widower?”
He nodded and mumbled a couple of words that ended with widower—maybe trace widower. Her Mamm had used that term, but Jolene hadn’t heard it since then. It meant Andy had a deep mark from the loss. Lester licked his fingers and took a few drinks of his coffee. “A very sad and difficult situation for Andy, but Tobias was a toddler, so he has no recollection of her at all. Kumm. Let’s eat.”
Jolene entered the dining room, carrying a platter of pastries and a bowl of eggs, but she hadn’t felt this self-conscious since the day she had to attend Van’s wedding. With everything on the table—breads, meats, eggs, cheese, and fruit—she and Hope took a seat, and all of them bowed their heads during the silent prayer.
While heads were bowed, Jolene did something she hadn’t done in a decade. She opened her eyes to catch a glimpse of the man across from her. There was something compelling about him—something she’d noticed since they met. It wasn’t just his looks. He seemed to have a gentle, strong demeanor.
She closed her eyes, embarrassed by her thoughts. He could be seeing someone. Or maybe he would never be interested in her. Or perhaps he didn’t intend to marry again.
Actually, she knew almost nothing about him, but for the first time in her life, she liked the idea of getting to know a widower.