Eunice walked out from the barn, wiping her hands on a greasy rag. She’d been working on a windmill’s gearbox, and she must have been completely focused because she hadn’t heard anyone drive up. Which explained why she was surprised to see Zebedee Mast and her father standing on their front porch.
As she walked toward them, Zeb shook hands with her father, then turned to jog down the porch steps.
“Zeb.”
“Hey, Eunice.”
Her dat turned to go inside, but Eunice caught the beginnings of a smile as he turned away. Now what was he up to? She knew that smile, and it usually foreshadowed one of his matchmaking schemes. But he’d given up on matchmaking. Hadn’t he? He’d already purchased her bus ticket for Kentucky.
She was moving to Kentucky.
Glumly, she turned her attention back to Zeb. “Guess I didn’t hear you drive up.”
“About ten minutes ago. I wanted to drop off some papers with Amos.”
“Papers?”
“Ya.” He nodded as if that single word explained everything and continued on to his buggy.
Eunice hurried after him. “What kind of papers?”
“Oh, employment.”
He attempted a smile, but to Eunice it looked more like something someone would paint on a scarecrow.
“Employment?” She forced her voice down. “You’re going to work at the market?” Her father owned the Shipshewana Outdoor Market—the largest outdoor market in the Midwest. He employed a lot of local people—both Amish and Englisch. But Zeb?
“I am.”
“But...why?”
His cheery bravado fell away, and he slumped against the side of the buggy. “Need the money, honestly. I guess you haven’t heard. My folks are selling the farm.”
“What?”
“I know. Still sounds bizarre to me, like a dream, or rather a nightmare. They’re moving pretty soon actually.”
“Where are they going?”
“Virginia.”
“Why are so many old people moving? We’ve had at least three elderly couples move to Sarasota in the last year. What’s the big deal with Florida?”
“I don’t know about Sarasota, but Virginia was on the list the doctor gave to Mamm.”
“There was a list?”
“California.”
“Not many Amish there.”
“Hawaii.”
They both laughed.
“Colorado and Virginia.”
“I heard there’s a small community in Colorado. A town called Monte Vista.”
“Yup. There are three there in total—Westcliffe, La Jara and Monte Vista.”
“But your parents didn’t choose Colorado.”
“Nope. Mamm’s schweschder, my aenti, lives in Virginia. So that’s where they picked. It’s a big change, but Mamm says her arthritis hurts all the time here in Indiana, and Dat...” Zeb sighed. “He just wants to make Mamm happy.”
“I’m sorry, Zeb. I didn’t know.”
“My bruder and I are trying to come up with enough money for a down payment.”
“You need a down payment?” Eunice was trying to catch up, but this was a lot to take in at once. Beneath her questions for Zeb ran the constant refrain she’d struggled with the last twenty-eight days. Why did things have to change?
“It will have to be a proper sale as my parents need the money for a new, smaller place in Virginia. I was hoping being employed at your dat’s market would bolster my bid on the place. You know, the bank has to consider whether you’re a gut risk or not. But what I really need is more cash, and that will take a few months of working. In the meantime, if another buyer submits a contract first...”
“Oh.” Eunice didn’t spend much time thinking about money. Okay, she never thought about it. She was twenty-five years old and lived with her father. Soon she’d be twenty-five years old and living with her aenti. Either way, money wasn’t exactly an issue.
Zeb’s situation was different.
Zeb was her age, but he was already a widower. His wife had died of cancer. Now he was raising his five-year-old son alone. “What will you do with Josh while you’re working?”
“Honestly, I don’t know. Sorta taking it one step at a time. I wanted to be sure I had a job first, before I looked for childcare.”
“Amish don’t really do childcare. Usually family helps.”
“My only family is my bruder.” Zeb shrugged. “I can’t imagine Samuel watching after Josh.”
“I can’t either.” Eunice thought Samuel was a nice guy but rather distracted. He was always losing his bike or forgetting where he parked the family buggy or leaving his hat somewhere. The fact that he was older than Zeb, older than Eunice, and still rode a bike rather than owning a horse and buggy spoke to the fact that he wasn’t exactly mature, nephew-watching material.
“Could be worse,” Eunice said. “Your family could be shipping you off to Kentucky.”
“Still no beau?”
She glowered at him, and he held his hands up—palms out. “Didn’t mean that the way it sounded. Sorry.”
“No beau. No full-time job.”
Zeb was five-foot-ten with a thin build and unruly, brown hair. In fact, his hair reminded Eunice of Bethany’s son, Daniel. The boy had a real mop of curls even though he was only seven months old. Zeb’s deep blue eyes often seemed troubled, like they were now. Zeb was usually worried about something. She supposed life had taught him to be on guard against the unexpected.
“What will you be doing at the market?” Eunice asked.
He attempted a smile which looked sort of pathetic. Weren’t they just the pair. Anyone walking by would think that someone had died.
“I’ll be the Amish-Englisch liaison.”
“Liaison?” Eunice started laughing. She couldn’t help it. Zeb’s offended look only made her laugh harder.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing. It just sounds—well, it sounds more Englisch than Amish.”
“I guess.”
“What will you do?”
“Amos wants to start behind-the-scene tours at the market.”
“Ah. Very mysterious happenings there, for sure and certain. That should be a real hit. They can see how to clean out a horse stall, milk a cow or run a cotton candy machine.”
“Go ahead and make fun.” And now the beginnings of a real smile softened his features. “Amos started advertising last week, and he already has had a lot of interest. He’s been holding off selling tickets until we could work out my hours. I think the tours are going to be popular.”
“Seriously?”
“Yup. I’m about to be a very busy tour guide.”
“How do you feel about that? Leading tour groups around isn’t exactly the quintessential Amish job.”
“I love when you use big words like that.”
“Whatever. You used liaison.” She bumped her shoulder against his.
They’d always been like that—best of friends in school, competing with one another, hanging out together. Other girls didn’t seem to know what to do with Eunice. She was too mechanically minded and definitely not interested in quilting or baking. As for other boys, they’d kept a wide berth as if she might have a contagious disease. Only Zeb had accepted her for who she was—a not-so-Amish Amish girl.
When he’d married and moved away, she’d lost her best friend. When he’d moved back to Shipshe, he was different—hurt and angry and introverted. This was the most she’d seen him smile in a while. Maybe the job at the market would be good for him.
“I’m sure you’ll be a great tour guide.” She nodded toward the barn. “I’m working on Ezekiel’s windmill. Guess I better get back to it.”
She didn’t go back into the barn though. As Zeb drove away, she remembered the expression on her dat’s face. She’d need to address that, and the sooner the better. It was probably time for dinner anyway. She’d need to forage around in the refrigerator and come up with something.
If it weren’t for her schweschder Becca making twice what her family needed, they’d be stuck eating sandwiches. Cooking had never been a part of Eunice’s skill set, though she’d spent much of one summer trying to learn how to meal plan, prep and cook. Ha. That had resulted in a lot of terrible-tasting food. Finally, her oldest schweschder, Sarah, had shooed her off to the barn, and Eunice had resumed doing what she was good at—fixing broken things.
Sarah was married now. All of her schweschdern were married.
Eunice and her dat had been making the best of an unusual situation—a widowed father and one remaining, unwed doschder who couldn’t cook. She thought there might be some chicken casserole left over that they could reheat for dinner.
Her dat was sitting at the kitchen table, paperwork spread around him. Eunice sat down across from him and waited for him to look up.
“How was your day?” he asked.
“Gut. And yours?”
“Gut.”
He waited. She waited.
Finally he tidied the papers and stuck them into a folder. “Did you want to talk about something?”
“Ya, I do.”
Now his smile broadened, causing the skin around his eyes to crinkle, and Eunice had to work to hold on to her aggravation.
She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “I know what you’re doing.”
“You do?”
Instead of answering that question, she began ticking names off on her fingertips. “Gideon. Aaron. Ethan. Noah.”
“All wonderful men—and employees. Though technically, Ethan isn’t employed by me anymore. Only when he has extra time on his hands and can—”
“It won’t work, Dat.”
“What won’t work?”
“Setting me up with Zeb. How could you? Zeb and I are best friends. At least, we were best friends before he married and moved away.”
“You’re not still friends?”
“Of course we are, but Zeb is different now.”
Amos nodded and his expression grew quite serious. “Grief is a difficult thing. Zeb needs time, and he also needs a job. It’s the least I can do to help the young man.”
“A tour guide?”
“I’ve been thinking of starting tours for some time.”
“Uh-huh.”
“If you’re thinking that I’m matchmaking, maybe you’re projecting your own hopes onto me.”
“I am not.”
“So you’re not interested in Zeb romantically?”
“You need to listen to me, Dat. Zeb is my friend. One of my only friends.”
“That’s not true. You have plenty of friends.”
“No, I have acquaintances.” She let out a frustrated sigh. “I’m okay with that. I’m like a round peg in a land of square holes.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
“It means that I don’t plan to lose Zeb’s friendship by indulging schoolgirl daydreams.”
“You had daydreams about him?” The smile was back.
“I do believe that you are incorrigible. In case you’ve forgotten, you already purchased my bus ticket. I leave in two days. Admit it—you failed in finding me the perfect man. So off to Kentucky I go.”
Amos held up his hands in surrender. “I understand that you’re not excited about the move, but we had a deal. You had—”
“Thirty days, I know.”
“Which means you have—”
“Two left.” Hmm. Maybe a beau would fall out of the sky. Or a job offer would appear in their mailbox. She’d had no luck looking for a full-time job. Lots of part-time stuff out there, but nothing that she could claim would support herself if need be.
“It’s true that I worry about you. I’m not going to live forever you know.” And like a wind that swept across the fields, his smile fell away and that familiar look of worry crept into his eyes.
It was a look she couldn’t resist.
A look that she and Sarah, Bethany and Becca, even Ada had seen too often. Eunice remembered precious little about her mother since she had been four when her mamm had died from cancer, but she was well aware that her father was a very special person. He had always been there for her, had shouldered the duties of two parents, had kept his five daughters’ best interests at heart.
Maybe that also explained why she couldn’t be angry with him about this forced move. He really thought it was best for her. How did you fault someone for loving you?
She stood, walked around the table and kissed him on the cheek. “Danki. But there is nothing for you to worry about.”
Eunice understood that her dat cared for her very much. She also knew that her marrying prospects were nonexistent. She had come to terms with that, and one way or the other, he would have to come to terms with it too. Moving to Kentucky wasn’t likely to change a thing.
Zeb was unharnessing Beauty—a dapple gray mare with one white sock—when Joshua dashed into the barn. His son was five years old, small for his age and the joy of his heart.
“Dat!” Josh wrapped his arms around Zeb’s legs. “Where did you go without me?”
“Business.” He tussled Josh’s blond hair—a shade that reminded him of the boy’s mother, Suzanne.
“What kind of business?” Josh walked over to Beauty and proceeded to scratch the mare’s neck.
Zeb handed him a grooming brush. Josh grinned as if he’d been given a new toy, found his stool, pulled it over next to the horse and began brushing in short, gentle strokes.
“I accepted a job today,” Zeb explained. “That’s where I went. To tell the man—to tell Amos Yoder—that I had agreed to take the job. I’m going to be working at the market. You went there with me last weekend. Remember?”
“Sure.”
“The job Amos offered me will be a gut one.”
“So you’ll be gone during the day?”
“I will—only three days a week at first.”
“Okay. Can I go with you?”
“Nein. You’ll stay...”
“With Mammi?”
“For the first few weeks.” Actually he wasn’t sure of his parents’ exact move date. They had talked to a real estate agent in Halifax County, and the agent had found them a rental. It would do for the first few months. Until they had the profit from the sale of the farm.
“Next year I’ll go to school.”
“Yes, you will.”
“Okay.” He clamored off the stool and walked over to his father, held up his right hand for Zeb to slap.
It was all Zeb could do not to laugh at the Englisch gesture and the serious expression on his son’s face. He high-fived his little boy.
“Deal then,” Josh said. “You’ll go to work, and I’ll help Mammi.”
“Deal.”
Then Josh said the words that landed like an arrow in the center of Zeb’s heart. “Do you think Mamm would have liked Beauty?”
“Ya.”
“I do too.” He reached up to wrap his arms around the horse’s neck and remarkably Beauty put her head down as if to make it easier on the child. “Mammi’s baking cookies. I better go see if I can help.”
“Put the brush and stool up first.”
“Right.” He put the brush in a small cubby, then ran back and snagged the stool, placing it next to the cubby, then ran out of the barn.
His son was at the age where he ran everywhere. It didn’t matter if he was going a dozen steps away or a hundred. He literally dashed from here to there, there to here. His energy was something that always amazed Zeb.
Do you think Mamm would have liked Beauty?
Josh mentioned his mother at least once a day, often more than that. Immediately after Suzanne’s death it had been once an hour. Zeb had spoken to his parents about it, and they had suggested he speak with Ezekiel. He’d called his old bishop from the phone booth near his home in Lancaster, Pennsylvania. That’s where he’d lived with Suzanne. Where Josh had been born. Where Suzanne was buried.
Ezekiel had been a guiding force throughout Zeb’s young adulthood. He had even married Zeb and Suzanne, and he’d traveled the six hundred miles with Zeb’s family to attend Suzanne’s funeral. It was the bishop who had given Zeb the best advice regarding his young son. “He’s processing what he’s lost. Give him the space and time to do that.”
He would.
He absolutely would.
Josh had been three years old when his mamm had died from uterine cancer. At first, Zeb was too deep in his own grief to understand how it had affected his little boy. He understood that some crying was normal. He’d cried a good bit in those first few days himself. Then the grief had settled like a stone in his soul, and he’d stopped crying.
Josh had taken longer to recover. He’d lost interest in playing, in eating, in everything. It had been frightening to see his son hurting and not know how to help him.
He’s processing what he’s lost. Give him the space and time to do that.
It was one of the reasons he’d moved back to Shipshewana. He’d hoped the change in location would help his young son recover. The good news was that Josh had become interested in life again, but he still mentioned his mamm every day.
Zeb could relate to a little of what his son must be experiencing. He hadn’t lost his mother, but he’d lost the woman that he’d planned to spend the rest of his life with. He was very sure that if he were given all the space in northern Indiana and all the time in the world, it wouldn’t help him process what they had both lost.
It was still completely unfathomable to him.
How had his life gone so terribly wrong? How had tragedy found him? And how was he supposed to move forward when his heart was still very much in Lancaster?
He didn’t think being an Amish tour guide would help in that regard. But it would provide some much-needed income. He was grateful that Amos had offered him the job. Quick on the heels of that offer was Eunice’s reaction to the news. Did she not think he’d make a good tour guide? Did she think he’d be a terrible employee? Did she think he should be home with his son?
Eunice Yoder was a mystery to him.
She was unlike any woman he’d ever met.
He wasn’t a bit surprised that she hadn’t married yet. Eunice managed to intimidate most men simply by her reputation. She could fix any mechanical device found on an Amish farm and a few that weren’t. She must want more than that though. Surely she planned to marry one day, to have a husband and children.
“Not my business,” he murmured under his breath.
He had plenty of problems of his own. He didn’t need to borrow someone else’s.
Zeb’s bruder, Samuel, walked into the barn at that moment.
“You’re home from the market early,” Zeb said.
His brother was three years older, worked on both the auction side of Amos’s market and the RV side. Then, if he had any time left at all—which he usually didn’t—he helped around the farm.
“It’s nearly five.” Samuel plopped onto the stool next to the workbench. “I wasn’t about to miss one of Mamm’s last meals.”
“Don’t remind me.”
Samuel shrugged, a gesture that only served to irritate Zeb more. “Not much we can do about it, bruder. They’re moving. Might as well accept it. Mamm has boxes stacked all over the house. We’ll be lucky if they leave us a can opener.”
“Why this sudden desire to up and move and just...just leave us? Don’t you find it all a bit strange?”
“Not really. Lots of Amish retire to places where the winter isn’t so harsh.”
“But we’re here. Josh is here.”
“And I’m sure they love us and Josh very much. But you’ve seen Mamm’s hands in the morning. Cramped up so tightly that she can barely hold a coffee cup. I say, if the warmer weather stands any chance of helping her arthritis, they should go.”
“You’re right.”
“I usually am.”
Zeb glowered at him, and Samuel laughed. “I didn’t create this situation. I’m just reminding you of the facts.”
“Thanks for that.”
“How did it go with Amos?”
“Fine.”
“So you’ll start in a couple days?”
“I’ll help around the auction until the first tour which is on the sixteenth.”
“Huh.” Samuel took his hat off, slapped it against the workbench.
“What?”
“What do you mean what?”
“You didn’t come out here to chat with me about Mamm’s packing.”
“True enough. Have you found a sitter for Josh yet?”
“Nope.”
“Mamm wants you to consider Tabitha. Says she’s a sweet girl, and she’s already minding two other children. So Josh will have kids to play with.”
“Not going to happen.”
“Because?”
“Because Tabitha is only sixteen. She’s a kid herself.”
“Mamm’s worried that you’re ignoring the problem.”
Zeb had been tidying the area where they groomed the horses. Now he sank back against the barn wall and let his head fall into his hands.
“I’m not ignoring the problem. I don’t know anyone here that well, not well enough to trust them with Josh.”
“You grew up here.”
“I did, but Shipshe has changed. People have moved in, moved out, married, become widowed. I don’t know who would want to help me out, and before you start naming women, don’t. They’re either too young, or they’d see it as an overture of sorts.”
“Overture?”
“They’d think I’m interested.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“I’m not interested.”
Samuel stared up at the ceiling for a minute, then finally blew out a big breath. “I get that. I’m three years older, and I’m not ready to settle down.”
Zeb rolled his eyes. To Samuel, the world was a playground. Of course he wasn’t ready to settle down. That wasn’t exactly a news flash.
Samuel snapped his fingers. “I’ve got it. What about Eunice?”
“Eunice who?”
“Eunice Yoder, your boss’s doschder.”
“Oh. Yeah. I know who Eunice is.”
“So. What about her? I heard that Amos is sending her to Kentucky because she won’t marry or find a full-time job.”
That wasn’t exactly correct. Amos wasn’t insisting that she marry. He was insisting that she get serious about the next phase of her life. Zeb didn’t want to explain the distinction to Samuel though.
What was it Eunice had said to him earlier?
No beau. No full-time job.
He didn’t put his nose in other people’s business, which meant he didn’t know the particulars of Eunice’s situation. Only that if she didn’t get serious about growing up, her dat was going to insist she move. In fact, word was he’d already bought the bus ticket. Eunice was grown up, in Zeb’s opinion. She was just different. She was... Eunice.
Samuel dusted imaginary dust off the workbench, his eyes pinned on Zeb. “Well?”
“Well what?”
“Well, what do you think about asking Eunice?”
“I’m not sure that will work.”
“But it might.”
Instead of answering, Zeb tried to picture Eunice with a small child. He shook his head. “Can’t see it. You know Eunice.”
“Barely.”
“She’s good with machines...with windmills and solar panels and pumps.”
“Maybe Josh could help her with her work.”
“He’s five.” Zeb held up his right hand, fingers splayed, as if Samuel needed help understanding the number five. “What if he got hurt?”
“That wouldn’t happen.”
“It might. She just doesn’t seem like the motherly type.”
“But you’re not looking for a mother. You’re looking for a sitter.” When Zeb didn’t respond to that, Samuel stood and stretched. “Chicken casserole and fresh-baked bread for dinner. Don’t be late or there might not be any left.” Then he walked out of the barn.
Leaving Zeb to puzzle over the idea of Eunice Yoder watching his son.
It might work. It was possible that they could solve each other’s problem.
Eunice needed a full-time job, so she could stay in Shipshe. Zeb didn’t need a full-time sitter. But if she found another part-time job, if she could schedule her hours when he wasn’t doing tours...
It was possible that two part-time jobs would do the trick.
It was also true what he’d said to his bruder. Eunice did not seem like the motherly type.
But at least he knew her well.
He supposed he would feel okay leaving Josh in her care.
He sat down on the stool his bruder had been occupying and studied the pegboard full of tools above the workbench. A place for everything and everything in its place. That was a favorite saying of his dat’s.
Zeb strongly felt that his place—his and Josh’s place—was here in Indiana. It wasn’t back in Lancaster. There had been too many memories of Suzanne there. He’d felt immobilized by the constant reminders of her.
Here in Shipshe things were different. He could—for a few minutes every day—forget what he had lost.
Samuel didn’t understand what it was like for him.
Samuel had lived in Shipshe all of his life.
Most Amish women were married and had plenty of children of their own. The ones that weren’t...and there were a few in their church congregation, like Tabitha...were either young or searching for a man. He didn’t like the idea of leaving his son with a teenager. A woman who was older than that and unmarried would see any such request as an overture. They would think he was romantically interested in them.
But Eunice would know it was business.
Just business.
That was how he’d present it to her. They were both in something of a pickle, but maybe they could help each other out. That’s what friends did. Right? And they had been friends, a long time ago, when they were still in school.
Before Suzanne.
And the cancer.
And Josh.
He’d see her first thing in the morning. He’d see her before she boarded that bus. He was desperate and so was she. What could possibly go wrong?
A lot.
A lot of things could go wrong.
But he didn’t have the luxury of indulging those thoughts. He needed to make a decision, and he needed to do so before his job started in two days. Though his mamm was happy to watch Josh for the immediate future, she was pretty consumed with boxing things up for the move. He’d talk to Eunice.
Then he’d pray that it wasn’t a mistake.