THE CAB STOPPED IN FRONT OF A TWO-STORY, WHITE clapboard house. Stephen noticed a burgundy minivan parked near the path leading toward the front door. A rock driveway led out to the road where a modest sign by the mailbox read PARADISE INN.
“Here we are.” The cabdriver looked over his shoulder and told him the fare.
Stephen paid. “Thanks. Keep the change.” With his bag on his shoulder, he started up the driveway. The minivan rumbled down the driveway, and the couple inside waved as they passed.
Stephen nodded as he continued up the path to the front door and knocked. After a minute he peeked in the small window nearby. Seeing no movement, he glanced toward the road and wondered if he should’ve asked the taxi driver to wait. Yet he assumed the Yankee couple who had left in the van were guests. If so, then the proprietors should be at home.
“Hello?” He rapped on the door again. “Is anyone home?”
The house remained silent, and Stephen decided to investigate the property. He headed to the back, where he found a smaller house, a couple of barns, a henhouse, and a fenced pasture. Beyond the barn was an apple orchard, and the bright red apples were a beautiful complement to the cool fall weather.
A movement caught his eye. A young woman was hanging laundry on a clothesline spanning from the back porch to the peak on the largest barn. She was clad in a traditional Amish frock and apron, and seemed to move without thought as she hung out the sheets.
Suddenly she noticed him standing there and gasped. “You startled me.” Then she smiled. “May I help you?”
At first Stephen couldn’t speak. He was mesmerized . . . the slender frame, angelic face, and sandy blond hair sticking out from under her kapp were hauntingly familiar. He blinked.
“May I help you?” she asked again.
“I’m looking for a place to stay,” Stephen said. “Do you have any rooms available?”
She hoisted the laundry basket onto her hip. “I do. Follow me.”
“Danki.” He climbed the steps and moved through the back door into the kitchen.
The woman placed the basket on the floor and then handed him a piece of paper. “These are our rates. How long will you stay?”
Stephen read the price list and shook his head. “I’m not sure.”
She lifted her eyebrows, causing a wrinkle to pop up above her eyes. Here he was trying to escape the painful memories from home, and the woman before him could have passed for . . .
“I’m looking for work.” He studied the prices. “Why do some rooms cost more?”
“The price is based on the size of the room.”
He nodded. “What’s in your smallest room?”
“A single bed, a bureau, and a small desk.”
“I’ll take it.” He held out his hand. “I’m Stephen Esh.” When he touched her hand, he was overcome by the impulse to not let go.
“Willkumm to the Paradise Inn. I’m Hannah King. Follow me, I’ll show you the room.”
While climbing the stairs, he felt one of the steps shift and squeak under his weight.
“You have a loose stair.”
“Ya,” she said with a sigh. “I know.”
“I can fix it if you’d like.” He was already feeling anxious and wanted to get his hands busy on something productive.
“Danki, but I’ll see to it.” She stopped at the end of the hallway. “Here’s your room.”
“It’s perfect.” He took a quick peek inside before he turned back to her. “I saw a Yankee couple leaving in a van. Are they guests here?”
“Ya. They’re from New Jersey.”
He dropped his duffel bag on the floor and stepped over to the bureau to examine a few brochures. He glanced at the bed and noted that it looked comfortable. He hoped he’d get a good night’s rest. It would be the first in a long time.
Stephen could feel Hannah’s eyes on him. He wondered how she saw him. Probably as a normal guy, maybe even an eligible bachelor. But the Lord knew that wasn’t the case.
Hannah took in Stephen Esh’s height and broad shoulders. He had a handsome face and a pleasant demeanor, but his steely blue eyes had a sadness about them. She also noticed dark circles under his eyes and wondered if he’d slept well. She’d never had a guest complain that the beds weren’t comfortable. She made a mental note to ask him later.
“Will you be eating supper with the other guests tonight?” she asked as she walked toward the door.
“That’d be nice.” It had been awhile since he’d visited with Yankees. He enjoyed hearing about their way of life. He would never leave his faith because he loved being Amish, but he’d never met a Yankee who wasn’t friendly and easy to talk with. The corner of his mouth lifted, and he shrugged. “Could I possibly pay you to make me something for lunch?”
“You don’t need to pay me. I have plenty of food, and I love to cook. Come to the kitchen after you settle in.”
Hannah pulled out the fixings for chicken salad. The morning had been a little too exciting, what with the bird, the bathroom, and her newest guest with the sad eyes. She assumed he was a bachelor, since he was clean-shaven, and she knew from his clothing and his speech that he was an Amish man from Ohio. What was he doing so far from home? Hannah knew it was best to keep her distance from the guests, so she pushed that thought aside and focused on cutting up the chicken. One thing she knew for certain was that her mamm was not going to be happy that a single man was here for an extended stay. Never mind what the bishop would say.
But she was the manager of the inn, and it provided the financial support she needed to care for her parents. That and the extra eggs they sold to neighbors who weren’t raising their own chickens. Although her family had operated the bed-and-breakfast for nearly a decade, Hannah had taken over its management a year ago when her daed had a stroke. He had loved to talk with the people who came to stay here, showing them around the property and telling them about the Amish ways. She and her mother were still adjusting to his new condition.
She put the sandwich, chips, and a pickle onto a plate, then filled a glass with water. The faucet was still dripping. She would have to remind her brother to fix it when he came by later.
Hannah fetched the laundry basket and headed outside to finish hanging the clothes. She hummed to herself while she worked, and the crisp fall air tickled her nose. She was finishing up when the storm door squeaked open.
Stephen made his way toward her, his hands shoved in his pockets. Her heart leapt unexpectedly, but she stuffed down this unfamiliar reaction. “Gern gschehne.”
“I cleaned up. The plate and utensils are in the drain board.”
“You didn’t have to do that. Danki.”
He gestured toward the kitchen. “I worked for my uncle’s plumbing company back home, so I know everything there is to know about pipes and faucets. I’d be froh to fix the leaky faucet for you.”
“Danki, but you don’t need to.” Hannah wondered why he was so anxious to do all these home repairs.
He jammed a thumb toward her parents’ house. “That’s the daadi haus?”
She nodded.
“Do you live there?” Stephen asked, but then cleared his throat. “Sorry, I don’t mean to pry.”
“That’s okay.” She pointed to the inn. “I live here on the first floor. My bruder, Andrew, is married and has his own farm a few miles away.” She picked up the empty laundry basket and made her way to the back door.
Stephen followed.
“I need to find some work. Do you have a list of Amish businesses around here?” he asked as they entered the kitchen.
“Ya.” Hannah grabbed a few flyers and brochures from a stack she kept on the counter for her guests and handed them to Stephen. “I have some work to finish up before I start supper.” She grabbed a stack of white sheets from the hall closet and climbed the stairs, her mind distracted by this mysterious guest.
She figured he must be trying to keep busy. The question was why?