Chapter Twenty-Seven

The next morning, Cullen hammered away, more to think than to see his that horseshoe stock remained full. Grace would be joining him for Christmas breakfast at Abram and Elli’s and if she felt up to it, they could go to church together. Tonight he needed to finish her gift. The sanding was complete, but the cradle still needed at least two coats of varnish.

The sound of an engine broke through the quiet valley morning. Moving the slightly bent length of steel aside where it would not cool too quickly, he stepped out into the open as the red truck pulled up to the house. Englisch came often to see his work or to order steel and welded signs for their homes or business, but the day before Christmas told him this Englischer wanted him to perform a miracle. Some men just didn’t prepare as well as others.

He walked toward the truck, a nice cherry red with all the bold elaborations money could buy. At least maybe this person could afford last-minute gifts, but if it would make him late for dinner at Grace’s, he would decline. The door swung open and just as Cullen sided the vehicle, out stepped a man, a few years younger than himself, wearing a uniform. Cullen slowed to a stop, his welcoming smile swallowed up by good ol’ gravity, right before the earth stopped moving. Even the cardinals that had chirped playfully all morning were as silent as a snowflake.

The man turned, just now catching Cullen’s presence.

“Good morning.” The soldier went to meet him and offered an outstretched hand. When his dark eyes took in the full look of Cullen, his pace slowed, his hand suspended in air. Cullen followed the target of his unease to the hammer still clenched in his hand. To a man like that, Cullen must look like the perfect enemy. Maybe he was.

“Sorry to disrupt whatever you were doing. Are you a carpenter?”

“A blacksmith. Carpenters usually don’t use this kind of hammer.” Cullen replied, his tone absent of its normal friendliness to strangers.

“I should have guessed by the size of ya.” A laugh spilled from his young face. He moved forward again, offering that hand. “My name is Jared Castle. And you are?”

“Cullen Graber.” Cullen shook Jared’s hand a little more firmly than usual. Jared tilted his head curiously, studying him in full. The apron, the straw hat, all foreign by the look of him. “You’re a soldier?”

“Yes. Well, sort of.” Jared scoured the landscape, the structures, Cullen’s house, then settle back on him. “You live here alone?” That was none of his concern, and Cullen lifted a brow to say so without the words. “Sorry. I’m sure you don’t get many normal people visiting out this far; I was just needing directions. If you can point me the right way, I will be out of your hair and you can get back to hammering away.”

“Normal people?” No wonder this man had left Grace as he had. She was not even considered normal in his eyes. The thought burned inside Cullen, and surely his face reflected the insult.

“Oh, what is it you call us again? English?” The hint of sarcasm was recognized. “Listen, I’m just looking for a friend. She’s supposed to be living with you people. I stopped at a few houses back there—” He pointed back out of the valley. “And after two door slams, one old lady growling at me and telling me I didn’t belong here, and a kid who refused to speak to me but pointed this way, I kind of hoped you might give me a straight answer.”

“Does this friend know of you coming?” Cullen crossed his arms. Did he dare lie, send this person along to keep Grace to himself without the temptations of the man she once loved to influence her? No, that would not be right. No matter how easily Cullen could make this problem go away, it was not his decision to make.

“No. It’s a surprise. Couldn’t very well call Grace up, ya know.” He chuckled again. Jared’s disrespect was astounding. How Grace had ever fallen for such a man was beyond him.

“Grace has done well here,” Cullen said. Jared laughed again, dark eyes dancing. Cullen snapped silently.

“Grace is a resourceful gal. I imagine she can do well, anywhere. Is she here? You have her locked up inside that house or something?”

Was that humor? Cullen worked out a challenging grin but refused to speak until he could decide between what was good and what was right. He didn’t like either scenario. Where was his faith now?

“Listen. I take it you know her.” Jared paused, appearing as if he was trying to read Cullen’s thoughts. Good luck with that. “And that you know who I am, by the looks of you. But Grace and I have some things to discuss, and they have nothing to do with you, or anyone else here in Amishville. I have traveled a long way, and I will find her one way or another.”

That was what Cullen was afraid of.

…

“Betty, you and John didn’t have to kumm up here and check on me. Martha said I am doing fine, and I can even kumm to Christmas breakfast at Elli’s,” Grace said, as John helped Betty out of her coat and black bonnet covering. Betty held a plate in one hand and a white bag looped around her arm in the other. She offered the plate to Grace. “You do too much for me. Makes me faul.”

“You should know by now that she worries about you up here alone day and night,” John added. “She worries half the community will starve and figures to feed them all. Just accept the fudge, Grace; you can’t tell her nee.” John’s dark hair and brows appeared to belong to one man while his deep auburn beard looked like another. Much thinner than Grace thought someone living under Betty’s abundant cooking skills would be, but he did work construction full time and ran a calving operation from home.

“She spoils me,” he said. Grace accepted the plate of fudge—peanut butter, chocolate, and maple, all arranged in checkerboard fashion.

“John and Matthew butchered a few of the older hens yesterday.” Betty held out the bag. “I thought you might want one. Nothing like fresh chicken soup before a winter snap to keep a body warm and healthy.”

Grace’s mouth watered at the thought, and she accepted the bag with gratitude. She had already planned on cooking rabbit this evening, thanks to Cullen’s good hunting skills, so she tucked the freshly butchered chicken in the fridge she finally had afforded a propane tank for.

“You ladies visit; I’m going to sneak over the hill and talk to a man about some horseshoes,” John said before tipping his hat and stepping back out into the cold.

“I see you have been preparing for the wee one,” Betty said, sifting through the small baby gowns and cloth diapers and burping cloths.

“I wish there was more, but…” Grace paused, hoping she didn’t sound ungrateful for what material Betty gifted her.

“Kinner don’t care about abundance, except in hugs and love,” Betty said.

Grace hoped that was true, because her child would have little but love and hugs. Yet she would supply them amply.

“So have you decided?” Betty laid a small light-green gown down and settled into a chair. Grace brushed away one of her kapp strings tickling her neck and pulled two teacups from the cabinet.

“Decided?” Grace poured two cups of peppermint tea and set one in front of Betty before sitting at the other end of the table. Betty’s dark hair framed her oval face. In the lamplight of the room, a few shimmers glinted to life.

“If you will make Walnut Ridge a home for you and your boppli or if you will both be leaving us.” Put that way, Grace felt the stab of guilt she was certain her friend had not meant to deliver but had nonetheless. Betty was far from cruel, but it was apparent from the moment she and John had stepped into the room that Betty was downtrodden. Did she really care that much if Grace stayed or went?

“Daed expects it. He wants me home after I am able to travel.”

“So you will be leaving us?” Her head lowered.

“I don’t want to, Betty,” Grace admitted, reaching across the table and taking her hand. “You all have been so kind to me. You have made me feel like…”

“Family? That is because you are, Gracie. Tess has never been happier all her life until you came to live with all of us. I think having you near and the boppli, would be good for her.” Great, more guilt.

“I don’t think I had anything to do with Aenti Tess being happy.”

“But you did and she is. Tessie has just been a certain way for so long, it is hard for her to show it. You should know she sees that we all know what you need, how you are feeling each week, and how many times our sweet and handsome Cullen delivers wood to your door. He has fine skills in carpentry, too, does he not?” Betty eyed the cabinet, the chair, even the table that now supported considerable weight. Betty would have made a right good salesman. Grace blushed.

“I didn’t think Tess noticed that much.” Grace replied.

“She can see the hillside from her kitchen window.” Betty laughed, her teacup clattering on the tabletop but surprisingly, none spilled. “We women thought maybe you would stay now that you have so much reason to.”

“You mean Cullen.” Little got past these women, indeed. Did they truly see something between them worth pursuing?

“Jah. We all have prayed for his healing and all these years nothing came. Gott’s timing, not ours,” Betty said woefully. She sipped at her cup and lifted her gaze to Grace again. “We see it is time now, and not only for him but for you as well. He cares for you—that is plain to see—but we don’t know how you feel about him.”

Instead of feeling bothered by this, Grace was pleased these women cared about Cullen so much that they would dare inquire about such personal information. Betty made a good spokesperson for the group, despite being the softest heart of the lot.

“I care for him also, but he deserves a gut woman. One who has not jumped the fence and brought shame to her father’s haus.”

“But you are a gut woman. You have confessed before your church and endured the weeks of shunning placed on your shoulders. You are forgiven. Why do you still feel as if you are not?”

A tear slipped down Grace’s cheek. Forgiveness was not the issue, not any longer, but Cullen did deserve better, not a ready-made family.

“May I speak freely with you, in confidence?” Betty took her hand this time, squeezing it gently, and Grace nodded. “I would like to help you through this. I know a lot troubles your mind and your heart. Share thy troubles and the weight of them will be measured in halves.” Betty added the old saying all Amish knew by heart.

Grace floated her a smile and shared her troubles. “The father, the man who left me and wanted nothing to do with our child, wants to speak to me now after all this time ignoring me. I wrote him that I did not want to talk to him. Do you think that was wrong, sinful? He is the father.”

“Do you care for him?”

“Nee. He gave me attention I never had. It’s stupid, but I felt important with him. I thought it was love, but I know better now. And I could never leave my Amish faith. I could have left when I found out I was pregnant—we have family in Michigan who no longer belong to the community, and I could have written them for help, but I am Amish and endured the punishment I deserved in order to stay Amish. It was a bit harsher than I expected.”

“That it was.” Betty added. Grace reached behind her and rubbed the soreness from her back. Perhaps she had sat behind the sewing machine too long today.

“But Jared would never join our community as he once promised he would. It is not something he will do. I want my child to be raised Amish. I know so little of what tomorrow will bring, but I have faith that no matter, my boppli will be raised Plain.” A tear slipped down Grace’s cheek. “What I thought I felt for him was childish compared to…”

“Compared to what you feel for Cullen?” Betty asked.

Grace bit her lip at Betty’s continued questions. She did care for Cullen—loved him, she knew—but how could she admit to such after the way she had behaved already?

“Love is easy to recognize when it is real, is it not?” Betty asked.

“Jah, it is. No one has ever treated me like he has.”

“I have known that boy all his days. He was heart-hurt over Marty. He was just a boy then. And when his parents died, well…” Betty wiped her cheek with her sleeve. “It is hard to understand Gott’s will, and sometimes it’s harder, even for big strong men, to accept loss like that. But Cullen did. He took his time, but he dealt with all those losses the best way he could. And Grace, dear, he is ready to love you now.”

“I don’t know if I can even make a man like that happy. I mean, look at me.”

“I agree. You are hideous, little Grace.” Betty laughed again, and this time Grace did, too. “You are much of the same, Cullen and you. Stay with us here, Grace. I know you miss your sisters and you are being called home by your parents. But Gott has a plan, and it might be right here. You are old enough to decide for yourself. So I just ask that you pray about it and decide after talking to Gott.”

The sound of John returning with the buggy broke their sisterly time. Grace got to her feet and hurriedly added, “The Hiltys own this place and will not allow for me to remain now that I have refused Freeman.”

“Don’t you worry about that.” Betty waved her off and got to her feet. But that was a big part of it. With nowhere to live, how could she stay?

“Kumm to Christmas dinner. Cullen can bring you.” Betty stood to retrieve her coat and black bonnet. “And pray for guidance. Pray for direction. I think you will find all the answers there.”

“Danke, Betty. Danke for being such a wunderbarr freind to us.” Grace helped Betty into her coat and black bonnet and wrapped the woman in a hug. Yes, Grace really loved these women of Walnut Ridge. After Cullen, she might miss them most of all.