Chapter Ten
Gabe fumed about Matthew over the next two days. If only he had a way to help Priscilla. He had no idea how to contact the man, and he worried Priscilla might not stick up for herself. He did the only thing he could do—pray.
Every time Priscilla came to mind, Gabe sent up another plea to God. And because she remained in his thoughts most of the time, many, many prayers floated heavenward.
The phone rang just before closing on Friday, and a woman asked for the owner. After his experiences with Defarge and Fleurette, Gabe considered not revealing his identity. But it wouldn’t be honest to lie.
“I’m the owner,” he said. “Gabe Kauffman.”
“Wonderful. I’m Alyssa McDonald with the Central Pennsylvania Star. We do print, online, and TV news for the area. I understand you own a camel farm. I’d like to learn more because I’m sure readers and viewers of our lifestyle section would be fascinated.”
Air wheezed in and out of Gabe’s lungs in the same erratic pattern as the woman’s rapid-fire words. He needed to answer her.
Alyssa breezed on without pausing for breath. “Would you be available for an interview one day next week? What about Monday? The story would get you a lot of press.”
Gabe clenched the phone in his hand and tried not to hyperventilate. How could he say no? Being featured in the news could help grow his business, but what if he couldn’t answer any of her questions? He still hadn’t managed to croak out a reply.
“Either ten a.m. or four p.m. would work well for me.” Alyssa made it sound like he had no option but to cooperate.
He needed to respond. If he took an afternoon appointment, Priscilla might be able to attend. Having her here would help.
“Four.” The word exploded into the receiver. Ach, he’d made a fool of himself.
“Wonderful. I’m excited about this opportunity.”
“I’ll be bringing Jake Davis along. He’s a great shot. Maybe you’ve seen some of his work.”
Shot? Guns? Gabe’s mind raced. But she’d said work? Ach, no! She must mean photos. Most reporters in the area understood the Amish belief about not taking photographs. But what if she or Jake was new? He didn’t want her showing up with a cameraman expecting to get pictures of him.
“Four on Monday, then. I appreciate your willingness to do this.”
“No.” Ach, that sounded like he was turning down the interview. “I mean no photos.”
“None?” she practically shrieked into the phone. “People will want to see the camels.”
He’d done it again. “Camel photos? Oh. I meant—I meant people.”
A trill of laughter drifted over the phone line. “Right. Yes, yes, I’m aware the Amish don’t want to be photographed. I planned to have our cameraperson shoot some footage of the farm and inside the store and barn. No one needs to be in any of the shots.”
“I see.” He could have kept quiet.
“I did hope, though, to see camel milking and take some pictures of you from behind, if you’d be all right with that.”
Gabe didn’t particularly want his picture, even of his back, splashed across the papers. The last time someone had snapped his picture for the newspaper . . .
Roiling started in Gabe’s gut and crawled up toward his mouth. Acid burned in his chest. That picture had been from behind too.
“Are you there?” Alyssa’s question startled him.
Gabe’s mind had traveled miles away and back in time. “J-jah, um, yes.” Not entirely true. Although he remained aware of the phone biting into his palm as he squeezed it too tightly, most of him remained stuck in the past.
“Great. See you at four on Monday. If anything comes up between now and then, just give me a ring on my cell.” She rattled off numbers so fast Gabe could barely discern them, let alone jot them down.
By the time it dawned on him he should pick up a pen, she’d already said goodbye and hung up. Gabe sat there, dead phone in hand, fighting to drag himself back from the edge, before the past closed over him like quicksand.
Then he began sinking. Down, down, down into the depths. Thrashing and flailing only made you go under faster. Soon muck would close over his head, and he’d drown. He needed a lifeline.
Lord, help me.
Priscilla’s face drifted into his awareness. Her sweetness. Her calmness. Her caring.
Inch by inch, he pulled himself free. He replayed her last visit. Her logic in figuring out the milk dilemma, her bravery in confronting Fleurette, her fierceness in defending him.
The way her smile set off sparks. The way her eyes lit a blaze. But for now, her magnetic pull dragged him back into the room. Back into normality.
Tomorrow he’d see her again because she had a milk pickup scheduled. Focusing on that, he released the regrets of the past.
Being around Priscilla always lifted his spirits, and he could ask her about coming on Monday to help with the newspaper reporter. For now, though, he pushed the upcoming interview from his mind. After all Priscilla had done for him, he wished he could do something for her.
He had to find a way to help her keep her job. Someone needed to make Matthew tell the truth.
Lord, if I can do anything at all, please show me how.
* * *
Priscilla tossed and turned most of the night, waking well before dawn on Saturday morning. Gabe’s words still haunted her. He’d claimed the scholars needed her. If they did, should that be her first loyalty? Or should she keep Matthew’s secret and protect his job and his mamm?
Daed came into the kitchen as Priscilla finished drying the breakfast dishes. “Dochder, we need to talk when you’re done there.”
Priscilla had a good idea of what they needed to discuss.
Her sister finished washing the last pot. “I’ll leave you alone then.” After sending a sympathetic look in Priscilla’s direction, Sarah slipped from the kitchen. She must assume Daed planned to lecture Priscilla.
Priscilla sat near Daed at the table and endured another pitying glance.
He planted his elbows on the table. “I’m afraid we made a mistake not telling your mother the truth. I don’t feel right keeping things from her. And I’m also worried about her response to you.”
“Don’t worry about me.” Priscilla had gotten used to Mamm’s criticism. She tried not to let it bother her.
“Still, I don’t like to see her making wrong assumptions about you.” He cleared his throat. “Any man would be honored to marry you. And I’m not just saying that because you’re my daughter.”
“Could we wait until after the school board meeting?” Priscilla closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead. She couldn’t handle a barrage of questions. Mamm was sure to want every last detail. Right now, she needed every ounce of her energy to get through the meeting.
“Of course. I’ll be praying that all goes well. I’d also like you to pray about whether or not God wants you to reveal Matthew’s secret.”
“I don’t know if they’ll believe me. Not after all this time.”
“They may not, but I can back up your story. It would be better for them to hear it from Matthew, though.”
“Well, that’s not going to happen, because he didn’t even tell the truth when he confessed.” Saying those words brought back his betrayal.
Dad must have noticed her jitteriness. “Why don’t you weed the garden this morning? Keeping busy can help to take your mind off the situation.”
Priscilla rose from the table. “Danke.”
If only she could go to Gabe’s and collect the Saturday milk delivery. Unfortunately, Mamm had taken the buggy to do some errands, so visiting Gabe would have to wait until later that afternoon.
Priscilla took Daed’s suggestion, hoping it would distract her, but kneeling beside rows of plants, doing a mindless job that occupied only her hands, not her brain, did little to keep her mind from straying. Most of the time it went directly to the worst-case scenario.
* * *
Soon after Gabe entered the store that morning, a middle-aged Amish woman tapped at the door.
“Is it all right to come in? I see your hours are nine to four today, but the sign in the window still says Closed.”
Gabe held the door open and waved her into the store even though it wasn’t nine yet. “My nephew usually takes care of the sign, but I’ll do it now.” As soon as she was inside, he flipped the sign to Open and then held the door for Tim, who scooted through a minute later.
“How come you changed the sign? I’m not late, am I?”
Placing a finger over his lips, Gabe motioned with his head to where the lady stood examining the shelves.
“Oh, I see,” Tim whispered.
His voice low, Gabe said, “The camel’s milk is in the refrigerator. Why don’t you fill the bottles while I help the customer?”
Tim scuffed a toe. “You don’t trust me?”
“What?” Gabe had no idea what he meant.
“I let that Fleur-lady steal. Now I can’t help with customers?”
Still keeping one eye on the woman who appeared to be idly browsing the shelves, Gabe knelt and set his hands on Tim’s shoulders. “I trust you completely. And you can take care of the customers the rest of the day without my help. I just—”
The woman turned and looked as if she wanted to ask a question.
“May I help you with something?” Gabe rose and headed toward her, while Tim scampered through the metal door into the refrigerator.
“I hope so,” she said. “Do you know if the owner will be in today?”
“He definitely will.” Gabe held out a hand. “Pleased to meet you. I’m the owner.”
Instead of shaking his hand, she stood there staring at him. “I saw the sign outside. You’re Gabriel Kauffman?”
“I am.”
“My daughter didn’t mention how old you were, and I certainly didn’t expect you to be this—this, um, young.” Flustered, she gazed at his outstretched hand. “I’m sorry. I’m Esther Ebersol.” She pumped his hand enthusiastically. “I’m glad to meet you.”
Daughter and Ebersol rang a bell. Wasn’t Priscilla’s last name Ebersol? That was a common last name in Amish country, but he could trace a faint resemblance in the plump, lined face in front of him.
“You look like her—or rather, she looks like you.”
Esther patted the small graying wings of hair that peeked out from beneath her kapp. “Why, danke, that’s so kind of you.” She examined Gabe. “You look too young to be married yet.” She glanced at his unshaven chin. “I mean, I can see you’re not married.”
A clue the Englischer had missed. “I’m twenty-four, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
“Twenty-four? A perfect age. I mean for a business owner.”
From the moment Esther walked through the door, Gabe had sensed she’d come for something other than camel’s milk, but this conversation certainly seemed to be taking a bizarre turn. Discovering she was Priscilla’s mamm made it even stranger.
“Was there something I can help you with?” Perhaps that would remind her of what she’d come for.
“You own this whole farm”—she waved at the fields outside the window—“yourself ?”
Gabe nodded, then added, “Well, the bank owns some of it, of course, but I aim to pay off that bill as quickly as possible.”
Esther beamed at him. “Gut, gut. It’s nice to have so much land to divide among your children.” She paused. “Although I guess you don’t have any.”
Gabe rubbed his beardless chin to remind her of his single status. “Not yet,” he said drily.
She tittered. “Well, of course not. But you do want children, don’t you?”
“Certainly. Doesn’t every man?” Well, maybe not some Englischers, but he’d never met an Amishman who didn’t want a big family.
“So, will you be starting a family soon?”
“Not until I’m married.”
“I expected that. I just meant—”
“Am I engaged? No, I’m not.” And not likely to be any time soon.
This almost sounded like a job interview for a husband. Had Esther’s purpose in coming here been matchmaking? Had Priscilla asked her to find out more about him? Or had Esther cooked this up on her own? In that case, Priscilla might be mortified to discover what her mamm was doing.
“It’s hard to believe you’re not courting anyone.”
Had he indicated that? He didn’t remember her asking about his dating status. Perhaps it was just as well she hadn’t, because even he had no idea how to answer that question.
But if Esther intended to set him up with Priscilla, he needed to let her know that was impossible. “With just opening this business, I need to spend long hours here. I don’t really have time to court.”
“You could use some help.”
He certainly could, but at the moment, he couldn’t afford to pay anyone other than his nephew.
“My daughter loves reading about camel’s milk. She talks our ears off about it. I’m sure she’d be willing to work here in the evenings. Maybe you know her? Priscilla? Priscilla Ebersol?”
“Of course I do. She does know a lot about camel’s milk.”
Now that he’d discouraged her matchmaking, she’d turned to job-hunting? He’d love to have Priscilla working here. She’d been an amazing ally last night with Fleurette.
“I’m afraid I don’t have a budget for hiring employees yet, but I’ll keep her in mind for when I do.” Actually, he kept her in mind more often than that. But it wasn’t something he’d share with her mother.
“Priscilla loves finding out more about camel’s milk and things like that. I’m sure if you asked her, she’d volunteer her time. Besides, she has her evenings free now that she and Matthew King have broken up.” Esther sighed, as if she regretted that.
“She’s better off without him,” Gabe snapped, then wished he could shove the words back into his mouth.
Her mouth hanging open, Esther stared at him. “You know about Matthew?”
“You mean about Priscilla dating him? Or about what happened in the apple orchard?”
Esther gasped. “Priscilla told you about that?”
She’d also warned him that only her daed and Matthew knew the whole truth, so Gabe guarded his answer. “Jah, she did.”
“But you still called her your wife? She said you did it in front of a customer.”
Knowing Priscilla had shared that comment with her family made Gabe happy. But the hopeful note in Esther’s voice alerted Gabe to a possible trap. A trap he needed to avoid. “We were only joking.”
“Oh.” Esther’s face fell. “I suppose with her past, no man will consider marrying her.”
“What do you mean?” Gabe couldn’t keep the indignation from his voice. “Any man would be privileged to marry someone as wonderful as your daughter.” Even me. If I were free to marry.
Beaming, Esther gushed, “You’re as wonderful as Priscilla said.”
She’d praised him to her family? He’d love to know what she’d told them.
“The real reason I came,” Esther confided, “is to invite you to supper tonight.”
Supper? Tonight? With Priscilla? His first instinct was to jump for joy and accept the invitation, but his brain urged him to proceed with caution. Priscilla’s mamm seemed to be trying to hook a husband for her daughter. A role he could never fill.
As if guessing the reason for his hesitation, Esther said, “My husband is fascinated by the benefits of camel’s milk, and I’m sure you’d like to meet Asher to see how your milk has helped him.”
Gabe would definitely like that. Spending more time around Priscilla would be a plus. And he could find out how her interview with the school board went. Besides, what did he have to look forward to but a long, lonely evening?
“Danke for the invitation.” He kept his tone neutral. “As far as I know, I’m free tonight.” Should he say he needed to check his calendar?
“Wunderbar. We eat at six, but feel free to come sooner.”
“By the time I’m done milking, it’ll be close to six.”
“We’ll see you then.” Esther headed toward the exit, then turned. “Ach, wait. Do you need our address?”
“Neh, I have it on the application for the milk.” If he were honest, he still remembered it. Gabe hoped the flush creeping up his neck didn’t give him away.
Just before Esther pushed open the door, Gabe asked, “Do you know the name of the orchard where Matthew works?”
Esther halted and faced him with wary eyes. “You’re not planning to ask him about what he and Priscilla—”
“Of course not.” But what could he say to alleviate her fears? “A Matthew King had a near-accident with one of my camels a week or so ago. I just wondered if it might be the same one.”
She stood there uncertainly for a moment—then gave him the name.
“Danke. I’ll check it out. With King being such a common name, I doubt it’s the same person, but I do need to talk to him.”
This Matthew King might not be the one who almost collided with Gabe’s baby camel, but it definitely was the Matthew King Gabe wanted to see.