Chapter Fifteen
“You will wear yourself out,” Dan said. “No man can put in ten long, hard hours on the jobsite, and spend another five here, poring over the books. Keep this up and you will drop like a felled tree. And neither of us can afford that. Let it go, man. Just let it go, and have faith that once word gets out about the Royal Valley, a few dollars lost in Cumberland will not matter.”
Max drove a hand through his hair. He should have been up front weeks ago, when he found the error that led to the low bid, a bid so low that the owner would have been a fool to hire another firm. It was no surprise that Dan’s numbers hadn’t added up; supervising fifteen smaller jobs while Anki slid in and out of depression was enough to distract anyone. But when Max pointed out the slipup, Dan misunderstood, and not wanting to add to Dan’s burdens, Max had taken the blame.
Unfortunately, underbidding the Cumberland job was just one of many errors Dan had made lately. He’d delivered materials to the wrong site. Twice. Ordered eight yards of concrete instead of eighteen. But why torture either one of them by adding to the list!
Max picked up the full-color trifold brochure that Dan had ordered . . . without discussing it with him. It’s what the corporate-type contractors are doing, he’d said; to compete with them, they had to look like them.
“Until we complete the development,” Max said, waving it in the air, “and buyers see for themselves that our work is higher quality than the competition, this . . .” He threw down the pamphlet. “. . . is not worth the glossy paper it is printed on.”
“We have spent years building a good reputation in the industry. No one will know about the mistake. And it is not as though we have cheated anyone ... but ourselves. So let it go, Max. Just let it go.”
It went against everything in him, but Max dropped his pencil into the big mug on his desk and grabbed his jacket. “You are right. Go home, Dan. That is what I am going to do.”
“Come with me. It is suppertime. Willa has been a bit ... off lately. I think maybe because she misses you.”
Hearing it felt good, so good that he almost decided to take Dan up on the offer. Finding a way to replace the money lost to the low bid didn’t look very promising. But he could find out what had been bothering Willa and help her through it.
Thanksgiving was only two days away. Two days to catch up on his sleep. To pray for God’s guidance. She deserved the best of him.
And if she’d have him, Max intended to give it to her.
* * *
“Only one more call,” Alice said, “and you’ll be free of me!”
“I hope not. I’ve come to think of you as a friend.”
“I feel the same way, but I’m not supposed to admit it. It’s unprofessional, you know?”
Coming from the usually all-business social worker, that was high praise.
“So tell me all about school. You’re about to wrap things up, right?”
“I take the CNA exam day after tomorrow.”
“You don’t sound nervous. That’s good. Real good.”
“I studied a lot, and Emily has taught me a lot.”
“After your certification arrives, will you keep working at the Baker Clinic, or look for a job in the city?”
It felt good, knowing that Alice believed she’d pass the test. “Thanks for the vote of confidence. And yes, I’m staying. I love it there.”
“Sounds like you love Pleasant Valley, period.” Alice’s gruff chuckle filtered through the phone. “What about that young carpenter you told me about? Anything developing between you two?”
“He’s great. Terrific. I like and respect him a lot.”
“A non-answer if ever I heard one!”
“I’m hoping that once I’m baptized . . .”
“So you’re serious about staying in the community?”
“Hard to believe, isn’t it, after the way I behaved when you told me about this place.”
“The day I dropped you off at the Hofmans’, I made a bet with myself that you wouldn’t last a week.”
“Oh?”
“You owe me a hot fudge sundae, girlie!”
The women shared a moment of friendly laughter, and then Alice said, “When is the baptism?”
“As close to New Year’s Day as possible.”
“I get it. New beginnings, fresh starts, and all that.”
“Exactly.”
“How’s that adorable little girl of yours? Bet she’s grown a bunch since I saw her last.”
“I’ve had to let down the hems on all her dresses. And she’s on the verge of forming sentences.”
“I don’t doubt it for a minute. Smart cookie, that kid of yours. How does she like it there?”
“She fits right in. Loves everyone, and everyone loves her.”
“Including Max?”
It surprised her a bit, hearing that Alice remembered his name. “She adores him.” And so do I!
“I’m happy to hear things are going so well for you. And ... how’s Anki doing?”
“We’re all looking forward to Thanksgiving, when we can state out loud how grateful we are that she’s having more good days than bad.”
And it was true ... mostly. But even if it wasn’t, Willa had to be careful. After the first of the year, she’d complete her nine months of parental supervision, required to keep the state from taking control of Frannie. She was close, so close to complete freedom, and didn’t want to say anything to give Alice the impression that Anki’s instability might negatively impact the baby. Much as she’d like to tell her friend about the stranger lurking around the diner, Willa didn’t mention that, either: If Alice suspected the man had been sent by Joe, she could view that as a threat to Frannie’s well-being.
“I’m happy for you, Willa. You’ve worked hard, completely turned your life around. I hope things work out for you and the carpenter, because if anyone deserves happiness, it’s you.”
“Thanks, Alice.”
“Well, better get back to work. I have a dozen check-in calls to make before I start my rounds.”
“Surprise visits, eh? Tell me . . . why haven’t you come to Pleasant Valley since that first day? I mean, you said yourself that you didn’t think I could make it here.”
“I’ve been there. Four times.”
“Really? Why didn’t you stop by and say hi?”
“Didn’t have time, for one thing.”
Willa decided that if there were other things, she’d rather not know what they were.
“I’ll call you after the first of the year, and we’ll set things up so you can buy me that sundae, and I can hand-deliver the paperwork that says our professional association has come to an official end.”
“I’m already looking forward to it.”
“I have to tell you, Willa . . . I’ve been in this business for nearly thirty years, and it’s rare to see a client succeed the way you have. I never met your mother, but from what you’ve told me, I know she’d be as proud of you as I am.”
Willa carried the glow of those words with her for the rest of the day.
More than ever, she looked forward to Thanksgiving, when she could share her hopeful, happy news with Max.
* * *
“Hey. Dude. Are you Max Lambright?”
On his hands and knees, hammering deck boards onto a cabin porch, he said, “I am . . .”
“They told me at the bake shop where to find you. Name’s Joe, by the way.”
Standing, Max dropped a handful of nails into his work apron’s pocket and met the man’s eyes.
Somehow, he knew that this was Joe, the man who’d turned Willa into a drug addict. Who’d abused her ... until she escaped from him. “What can I do for you?”
“I showed this picture around at Shorthorn’s diner in Oakland. Guy at the register recognized her, said he works part-time at the medical supply place, and saw her in there with you.”
A month or so ago, after hearing Emily complain about having to wait for a week for a delivery too large to fit in Li’l Red’s bed, he’d offered to drive Willa to retrieve it.
“A picture you say?”
Joe took a step closer, handed Max a wrinkled photograph: Willa, wearing snug jeans and a form-fitting white sweater, a smoking cigarette between two fingers of her left hand, a bottle of beer in the other. She looked weary and troubled, nothing like the lively, happy woman who’d stolen his heart.
“Well? You know her or not?”
Tempting as it was to pocket the photo, Max handed it back. “Why are you looking for her?”
“She owes me. Big-time.”
“Owes you what?”
“Thirty grand, not that it’s any of your business. I’m here to get it back. Every. Stinking. Dime.”
Max knew that after running away from Joe, Willa had been on the run for nearly a year before arriving in Pleasant Valley. He also knew that she’d worked assorted odd jobs . . . until Frannie came along. With a baby to care for, it wouldn’t have taken long to spend the money inherited from her mother. But he didn’t believe for an instant that she’d stolen that money. Despite being Amish, Max had heard about the dark underworld this man called home, a world where thirty thousand dollars could change hands in mere minutes. Joe must be desperate to tell such an outrageous lie to repay someone even more terrifying than himself.
“What will you do if you find her?”
“Not if, but when.”
Max’s heart pounded hard. “And then?”
Joe’s eyes narrowed to slits. “She caused me a lot of trouble, leaving the way she did. So like I said, she owes me.”
Max got the message, loud and clear. Yes, Willa had made mistakes. Big, serious, life-altering mistakes. But she’d changed, one hundred percent. After all the hard work she’d put into turning her life around, she didn’t deserve to pay the price Joe would demand.
“How long have you been looking for her?”
Max read his surprised expression to mean that his money problems were fairly recent—and so was the idea of using Willa to solve them.
“That, Amishman, is none of your business.”
Anger and fear burned in the other man’s eyes, and Max knew he’d been right: Joe had double-crossed someone even more evil than himself, and stood to pay a high price if he couldn’t make things right, and fast.
“What if I gave you the money you need?”
Joe snorted. “Why would you shell out thirty grand for some used-up broad who’d do anything, anything, for a fix?”
Max couldn’t even picture Willa in that condition! “Because . . . she’s a friend.”
One brow rose high on his forehead. “Ah-ha. Is that so.”
The words, the tone of voice, the look on Joe’s face all said that he believed Willa had traded one addiction for another.
“Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. I will not be able to get the money until Saturday morning.”
Frowning now, Joe said, “So . . . you’re serious?” He pulled out a cigarette, squinted into the smoke as he added, “I don’t care where the cash comes from, long as I get it. So, your money, your timetable.”
Max had always lived frugally, and despite Dan’s low-bid error, his cut of the company’s profits had added substantially to his savings balance. Withdrawing that much would still leave him with enough to pay his bills. Not much, but enough.
“Saturday, then. Right here.”
“The bank opens at nine. I will meet you at ten.”
“You’re sure she’s worth it?”
Of course she was, and he’d gladly pay double the amount—triple, even—if it meant getting this sorry excuse of a man out of Willa’s life, once and for all.
A horrifying thought entered his head: What if Joe came back, again and again, demanding similar payments? Even if he wrote up a contract of sorts, he couldn’t very well expect this criminal to honor it.
Between now and Saturday, he’d have to trust God to supply him with a rock-solid idea, one threatening enough to terrify Joe as much as he’d terrified Willa.
“I hear she has a kid now . . .”
Max wasn’t about to provide this sad excuse for a man with any information about sweet little Frannie.
“Girl, right?”
He didn’t deserve to know even that much about her.
“Guess she’d be, what, one? One and a half?”
Max shifted the hammer from his left hand to his right. Oh, how satisfying it would feel to draw back and land a good hard blow to the side of Joe’s smirking, haughty face!
“Saturday, ten o’clock,” he said, putting his back to Joe.
“I’ll be here. And if you shortchange me, I’ll make it my life’s mission to find her and the kid. I won’t get much for her, used up as she is, but kids—whoa!—kids go for big bucks!”
Max watched him drive away, then dropped to his knees, held a nail in place, and drove it into the two-by-four with one brutal hammer blow. By now, he was trembling with rage. I will ask Your forgiveness for the things I am thinking, Lord, but right now . . .
Another nail disappeared in just one ferocious whack.
Right now, he needed to get a handle on this rage, because tomorrow, he’d spend most of Thanksgiving with the Hofmans and the Bakers, and the last thing he wanted was for Willa to know that Joe had come looking for her ... and sweet Frannie.
* * *
“I hope we’re not getting here too early . . .”
“Willa, of course not. Come in!” Sarah said.
Emily, standing beside her mother-in-law, held out her arms, and Frannie fell willingly into them. “How would you like to visit with Rafe and Gabe, little miss?”
The baby repeated her friends’ names, and tugged at her bonnet straps. “Off!”
Laughing, Emily fulfilled the request as Willa said, “I have some things in the truck. Soon as I carry them in, Sarah and I will join you.”
“Yes,” the older woman said. “I could use a cup of coffee.” She looked at Willa. “It is good of you to help with the meal.” One bushy gray eyebrow rose on her forehead as she added, “I just hope you are a good cook!”
“We’ll soon find out, won’t we!”
Willa made quick work of carrying bags of flour and sugar, vegetables, and canned goods into the kitchen. She’d already been up for hours, baking bread and rolls, making stuffing, and roasting the turkey so they’d only need to be warmed up once they arrived at the Bakers’ house.
“It truly is good of you,” Sarah said again. “Peeling potatoes and slicing carrots is not as easy as it used to be.” She held out withered, arthritic hands. “The work gets done, but these old things pay the price. Phillip chose a bride just in the nick of time, if you ask me!”
She pulled out a chair and, as Sarah sat, Willa placed the package of green beans on the table. “Just snap a few, and if your fingers ache, I’m more than happy to take over.”
“You will make a good Amish woman,” Sarah said. “And if Maximillian ever gets up his nerve, you will make a good Amish wife, too.”
Now really, Willa thought, how am I supposed to react to that! In place of a response, Willa poured Sarah a mug of coffee.
A quick scan of the room made her smile, because even on a gray day like this, the room felt bright and sunny, thanks to big windows and overhead lights. The pale blue stripes that trimmed Emily’s stoneware caught her eye. Neat stacks of plates, bowls, and mugs gleamed on the shelves of the glass-doored hutch. Below them, on the sideboard, a matching soup tureen, butter dish, and gravy boat had been arranged on a rectangular white-on-white runner. If ever she had a home of her own, Willa would love to own a set just like it.
After refrigerating the perishables, she filled another two mugs with coffee. “Come sit with Emily and me in the parlor,” she said to Sarah.
“You go. I will finish the beans.”
Willa noticed that Sarah had barely made a dent in the pile, and as she made her way to the parlor, wished for a way to ease the older woman’s aches. Rounding the corner, she found Emily sitting cross-legged in the playpen, helping Rafe and Frannie stack wooden blocks.
“I brought you coffee,” Willa said, “but maybe you’d rather have a bottle of milk.”
The women shared a moment of laughter as Emily climbed out.
“I can’t imagine how much harder things like that will be in four or five months!”
Willa met her eyes, read the teasing glint, and said, “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
Emily tiptoed to the low table between the padded wood chairs and waved Willa closer. “I’m just dying to tell someone, but you have to give me your word ... you won’t tell anyone. Especially not Phillip.”
Hand raised as if taking an oath, she said, “Your secret’s safe with me.”
One hand on her belly, Emily said, “I’m pregnant. And it’s . . .” She looked around, to make sure Phillip wouldn’t overhear, and added, “. . . and it’s twins!”
Willa leaped up from her chair and threw her arms around her friend. “What! Is there something in the water up here? Twins? Really?”
“I’ve suspected for a few weeks, but yesterday, my ob-gyn confirmed it.”
“So that was the mysterious errand you had to run!” Willa returned to her seat. “Oh, Em. I’m thrilled for you. But why haven’t you told Phillip yet?”
“I wanted to surprise him. He told me just the other day—don’t let on that you know!—that he was going to wait until everyone had said a blessing, then make us all take turns sharing what we’re most thankful for.”
“What a sweet thing to do.”
“That’s my Phillip . . . sweet as they come.”
“The timing couldn’t be more perfect, now that Max is all finished adding three new bedrooms and a bathroom to your second floor.”
“Oh, no kidding. That’s something else to be thankful for.” She sipped her coffee. “I can’t imagine how hard it must have been for Sarah, for all the people who once lived by Old Order rules. I mean really ... no indoor plumbing, in the dead of winter, with little children in tow!”
Willa nodded. “I still can’t believe it. Twins!”
“Shh! Sarah moves like a cat, and if she hears, the surprise is doomed!”
Again, the women laughed.
“You took your exam, right?”
Willa nodded. “Yes, yesterday. I think I passed, but we’ll find out soon enough.”
Emily waved away her uncertainty. “You passed. No doubt in my mind. Are you going to announce it today?”
“No.” She felt the heat of a blush creep into her cheeks. “I’d kind of rather wait and share it with Max before I tell anyone else.”
“So the Hofmans don’t know?”
She shook her head. “Not yet.”
“Well, aren’t we a couple of secret-keepers!”
Now, the children stood up in the playpen and joined in their mothers’ laughter.
“He has no idea what’s coming his way,” Emily said, winking at Rafe.
“Yeah, but he’s walking pretty well on his own now. By the time those two are born,” she said, pointing at Emily’s stomach, “he’ll be able to outrun them, easily!” She got to her feet. “I need to get the pies into the oven. Why don’t you stretch out on the sofa, and when I’ve finished, you can help me set the table.”
Emily sent a grateful smile Willa’s way. “You’re a good friend, Will, and I love ya to pieces!”
She found Sarah at the sink, rinsing the beans. “The smell takes me back,” the woman said, “to when I was a little girl, sitting on a stool beside my groossmammi’s rocking chair. The woman could snap a peck of beans in an hour!”
During the next hour, the women chatted quietly, Willa asking questions about Old Order ways, Sarah only too happy to highlight the positives.
“Well, nothing to do now but set the table,” Willa said, hands on her hips. “I’ll get Emily. She said she wants to help.”
Willa found her dozing on the sofa. In the playpen, Frannie and Rafe snoozed contentedly.
“Everybody’s fast asleep,” she whispered to Sarah.
“She is with child. I know it.”
Emily had said the woman moved like a cat; had she overheard something?
“She behaved the same when little Rafe was on the way. Besides, there is a look in her eyes.” Sarah untied her apron, hung it on a peg, and walked toward the hallway. “I will change my dress. Sloppy me! I got it all wet, washing the beans!”
“Take your time,” Willa said. “We have things well under control.”
She proceeded to open and close drawers until she found the one that housed tablecloths. After arranging the plates, flatware, and tumblers, she stood back. Everything looked lovely, she thought, admiring her work. When Max saw it, would he agree with Sarah . . . that she’d make a good Amish wife?
Stop it, ninny! You’re not supposed to get all bigheaded over stuff like this! And anyway, she still hadn’t found an opportunity—or the courage—to tell him how she felt. “Well, you’re not Amish yet,” she said to herself, “so you can enjoy it for the moment.”
“Talking to yourself, eh?”
Willa whirled around, thrilled and stunned and giddy at the sight of him, standing in the doorway. Beside him, sitting at attention, Rascal smiled.
“What’re you two doing here?”
“We, ah, we were invited . . . right?”
“Well, sure. Yeah. Of course. I only meant . . .” She stooped to pat the dog’s head. “You smell fantastic. Did your dad give you a bath today?”
“Not everyone approves of dogs coming inside, and since the Bakers have always welcomed him, I thought it was a good idea.”
“Who wouldn’t welcome this gorgeous boy!” Straightening, she glanced at the clock. “Oh wow! I can’t believe it’s already one o’clock!”
His tone was apologetic. “I am early, I know, but I made something for you, and wanted to give it to you while we were alone.”
Until now, she’d been so distracted by his beautiful face that she hadn’t noticed how he’d hidden one hand behind his back. Willa watched as he extended his arm and held out a small wooden box.
“It’s beautiful, Max,” she said, stroking the smooth, burled wood. On the lid, he’d engraved her initials. How odd that the cedar lining had been so precisely mitered that she’d need a magnifying glass to see the joints, yet the W and the A were off-center. “You made this? For me?”
“Yes, and yes.”
“How did you know my middle name is Ann?”
“I asked Anki.”
“Does it open?”
“Well, sure. Yeah. Of course,” he teased, echoing her earlier comment. “A box that does not open would be of little use to you, now would it? And by the way . . . I would have wrapped it, if I had paper. A bow. Or a clue how.”
As she lifted the lid, a faint woody scent wafted into her nostrils. She removed a slip of paper that fit perfectly inside and read aloud, “‘Congratulations, Willa’?”
“I do not remember printing a question mark . . .”
“Congratulations for what?”
“You passed your exam, yes?”
Despite his crazy schedule, he’d remembered. And made a gift, specifically for the occasion. Tears of gratitude stung her eyes. “I think so, but I won’t know for weeks yet.”
“You passed. I am sure of it.”
She put the note back where she’d found it and closed the box. “I love it. Thank you, Max. I’ll treasure it always.”
“Do you know what it is for?”
“Not jewelry, especially not after I’m baptized.” She hugged it to her chest. “I know! Frannie loves putting coins into silly prize machines, turning the crank, watching the little toy fall out. I’ll keep coins in it!”
He shook his head.
“No?”
“I will make Frannie a coin box of her own. This one,” he said, pointing at it, “is for business cards.”
“Business cards?” She stifled a nervous giggle. “What would someone like me need with business cards?”
“Someone like you? Caring, hard-working, precise . . .”
“Cut it out, Max. You’re making me blush.”
“So? Pink is a good color on you.” He pointed at the box again. “You’ll give the cards to your patients, so they will know how to reach you when aches and sprains trouble them.”
Emily’s patients, she thought, already know how to get in touch . . . by walking into the clinic....
“This must have taken hours,” she said, opening, closing, then hugging it again. “You’ve been working from dawn until dusk on the jobsites. When did you find the time?”
He took a step forward and wrapped his fingers around hers. “People make time for what is important.”
Could he feel her pulse pounding in her fingertips? Could he hear the breaths, rasping short and quick from her throat? He’d gone to a lot of trouble, painstakingly crafting this perfect treasure . . . had put a lot of thought into creating something meaningful, just for her. Willa had never been more certain of anything in her life: She loved this man!
“Max, I lo—”
“I thought you were going to call me so I could help you set the table,” Emily interrupted.
It took a second or two for Willa to gather her thoughts. “You were sleeping so peacefully—the kids, too—that I didn’t want to disturb you.”
“You know what? You’re one of the most thoughtful people I’ve ever known.” Emily moved in close to see what Willa and Max were holding. “Oh, it’s just gorgeous, Max. Did you make it?”
He nodded as Willa said, “It’s for my business cards. After my certificate arrives.”
Grinning, Emily said, “See there? Max believes you passed, too!”
He held her gaze. “Emily is right.”
Was it her imagination, or was he looking at her as if seeing her for the first time?
“I’m sure you thanked him properly,” Emily said.
“Properly?”
Emily slid an arm around his back, around Willa’s, and pushed them together. “There now. Pucker up, girl, and show the man how much you like your present.”
Max leaned down just enough to graze her lips with his. “I am glad you like it.”
Overcome with emotion, Willa said, “Like it? Why, I love it, but not nearly as much as I lo—”
“It smells like Thanksgiving in here,” Phillip said. Rubbing his palms together, he added, “When do we eat?”
Emily linked her arm with his. “Not for another hour yet.”
He looked at the tiny box. “What’s that?”
“Max made it for Willa. A graduation gift of sorts to hold her business cards once her CNA certificate arrives.”
“If it arrives,” Willa said.
But Phillip continued with, “A visible show of confidence, eh, Max, old boy?” Grinning mischievously, he said, “Good thinking, m’friend! That oughta earn you a thank-you kiss.” He winked. “Or three.”
Just then, Dan rapped on the back door window. “Are we late?” he asked, opening it wide.
A cold blast of wind blew into the room, and Emily quickly ushered them inside. “Get in here,” she said, closing the door, “where it’s warm.”
As Emily and Willa hung the coats on the entryway’s pegs, Anki asked, “Is this little alcove part of the work you did here, Max?”
“It is.”
“I like it. Good way to keep the dirt and grit out of the kitchen.”
“Come spring,” Dan said, “I’ll build one for you if you like.”
One shoulder lifted in a half-hearted shrug. “A lot can happen between now and then.”
Emily and Willa exchanged a worried look, and before anyone could pick up on it, Emily said, “Let me show you what else this talented carpenter did.” Leading the way into the hall, she held a finger over her lips. “The kids are napping, so shhh.”
“Where is Gabe?” Max wanted to know.
Phillip chuckled. “In his room, building a city with his blocks and trucks and trains.”
Upstairs, as they walked from room to room, Willa complimented Max’s attention to detail, noting perfectly mitered corners and nearly invisible nail holes.
“See, this is why I partnered with him,” Dan joked. “His work makes us both look good!”
Laughing, they stepped into Gabe’s room. The boy’s face lit up as he wrapped Emily in an affectionate hug. “Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!” he told the rest of them.
Each adult returned the greeting . . . except for Anki, who stood near the window, staring out at the steel-gray sky.
“Snow is coming,” she said, her breath forming clouds on the glass. “It will not be pleasant, I fear.”
“But it’ll be fun,” Willa said, “watching the kids play in it tomorrow.”
“Something for the memory book,” Max agreed, tapping his temple.
What was going on in that handsome head, she wondered, to cause the worry frown on his striking face? She glanced at Phillip, at Dan and Emily, to see if they’d noticed, too. Seeing no visible evidence of it, Willa shrugged it off as a figment of her imagination. But half an hour later, as they gathered around the big round table, Willa wished her imagination would take a break!
The children, emulating the grown-ups, bowed their heads and closed their eyes, lips moving in silent prayer. When the blessings ended, Phillip stood and began slicing the turkey as Willa and Emily passed mashed potatoes, gravy, steamed vegetables, and home-baked rolls, and the children chattered. Once the plates had been filled, conversation between the men turned to work and the oncoming storm, while Emily and Willa discussed their plans to rearrange the clinic’s waiting room furniture to make room for additional chairs.
And Anki sat, stiff and silent as a statue, staring out the window. When Phillip cleared his throat, she looked at Willa like a woman waking from a deep sleep.
“In honor of the day,” Phillip said, “I think each of us should share something we’re thankful for. Gabe, would you like to start?”
The boy squinted one eye and gave it a moment’s thought. “I’m thankful Emily helped me get the operation that gave me a healthy heart.” Turning, he said to his grandmother. “Your turn, Groossmammi.”
“Ah, yes. I also am thankful for your healthy heart, Gabriel. And for myself?” She looked at Phillip. At her daughter Hannah and son-in-law and their sons. “I am thankful that each of you keeps God in your hearts.”
Hannah, Eli, and their boys expressed gratitude for a safe home, enough work to keep the wolf from the door, and good health. Dan gave thanks for good friends, and Anki, much to everyone’s surprise, gave thanks for Willa, who repaired the mess she’d made of her hair.
Max said, “Much as I hate to sound redundant, I, too, am grateful for good friends.” And he was looking directly at Willa as he said it.
“Willa?” Phillip coaxed.
“I’m thankful for the Hofmans, who opened their home to Frannie and me, and made us feel like family. And now,” she said to Phillip, “we get to hear from the man who put us all on the spot with his little ‘why are you thankful’ game!”
Once the good-hearted laughter ended, Phillip said, “I am surrounded by all that I’m grateful for . . . a loving wife, boisterous boys, and true friends.”
That left just one person, and before she began to speak, Emily looked at Willa, and winked. “Like Phillip,” she said, “I’m thankful for everyone in this room, and ... and for the babies that will soon join us.”
Phillip got up and, hands on her shoulders, said, “What?”
“I knew it!” Sarah shouted.
“We’re going to have another baby?” Phillip said.
“No, sweetie. I said babies. Plural.” She patted her belly. “Twins.”
He repeated the word, but no sound came out. And then he said, “Twins?”
Drawing her close, he kissed her, and didn’t step back until he heard Gabe say, “Two brothers?”
Emily knuckled tears from her eyes and returned to her seat. “Or two sisters. Or one of each!”
“Did you hear that, Rafe? We’re about to get brothers. Or sisters.” He looked at Emily. “Will they match?”
Laughing, she mussed his hair. “They might be identical, sweet boy, but they might not.”
Phillip remained on his feet, looking stunned and overjoyed, muttering things like “Babies” and “twins” and “I can hardly believe my ears!”
Max got up, too, and wrapped his friend in a fierce hug. “Congratulations, Phillip. I am happy for you and Emily.”
Soon, Dan and Eli joined them, and the room pulsed with raucous laughter, good-natured shoves, and affectionate slaps on the back.
Willa had heard that the Amish preferred not to give in to public displays of affection. Thank goodness these Amish believe in it! Because watching the brotherly exchange was a beautiful thing to see. It seemed a shame that only the men were enjoying the Bakers’ good news, so Willa got up, gathered Sarah, Hannah, Emily, and Anki by the hand, and led them in a merry circle dance. Rafe and Frannie sat, wide-eyed and fascinated by the adults’ celebration. Gabe must have felt left out, too, because within seconds, he’d joined the manly merriment on the other side of the room.
“Enough foolhardiness,” Sarah announced. “The workday begins early tomorrow, and we have much to do, right here, right now. Men and children into the parlor so we women can roll up our sleeves and get busy with the cleanup!”
Willa filled the dishpan with hot, soapy water. “Good,” Emily said. “You wash and I’ll dry.”
“And I will supervise in the parlor,” Sarah teased. Turning to Anki, she added, “Will you wrap up the leftovers?”
“I am happy to.” Immediately, she walked to the opposite side of the big kitchen to focus on her assignment.
For a long while, Emily and Willa chatted above the steady whoosh of running water, the clatter of plates, the rasp of steel wool on pot bottoms, the clank of pans. And then Emily leaned close to whisper, “I’m such an insensitive idiot!”
“Why?” Willa whispered back.
“I went on and on about the babies, and then we all went on and on, and poor Anki—”
“I have finished,” she announced. “You will find the leftovers stacked in the refrigerator.”
Emily slid an arm around her. “Thanks, friend. Please, won’t you take some home?”
“No, no ... our pantry and fridge are filled to overflowing.”
“She’s right,” Willa agreed. “There isn’t room for anything more!”
Anki flipped on the back porch light and peered into the yard. “I do not like the looks of this weather. I am going to ask Dan to take me home.”
Anki started walking toward the parlor, but stopped halfway there, turned, and faced Emily. “I am truly happy for you. For Phillip and Gabe and little Rafe, too. News of your twins is a blessing, so of course you want to rejoice. That does not make you insensitive.”
And with that, she left the room.
Despite lowered voices, running water, the clatter of plates, and the grate of steel wool against pot bottoms, Anki had overheard everything. Willa’s heart ached for her, and judging by the look on Emily’s face, she felt the same way.
“Stop worrying,” Willa said. “She’s stronger than she looks.”
“Still . . .” Brow furrowed, Emily looked toward the parlor. “If she shows signs of backsliding, call me, no matter the time.”
“Let’s hope I won’t have reason to call, because you need uninterrupted sleep, now more than ever!”
They joined the others in the parlor just as Dan burst in through the front door. “Tried to start up the truck and get the heater going,” he said, dusting snow from his shoulders, “but either the battery is dead or the ignition is acting up again.”
“Leave it here,” Phillip told him, “and I’ll have a look at it tomorrow.”
“Good idea,” Max put in. “I am happy to drive you and Anki home.”
“But that will take you miles out of your way ... in the opposite direction!”
“It is no bother, friend.” He shrugged. “This house is bigger than it once was, but not big enough for overnight guests.”
“Good point.” Dan met Anki’s eyes. “Are you ready to go?”
“I am.”
Everything about her, from her stance to her facial expression to the wooden tone of voice told Willa that Emily’s worries hadn’t been groundless: Anki very well might be moving toward another downward spiral.
As Willa dressed Frannie for the ride home, Emily thanked her for all she’d done to make this a Thanksgiving to remember. She said her own thank-yous and good-byes and followed the Hofmans to the driveway.
The snow was coming down hard, burying the last stubborn black-eyed Susans and low-growing shrubs under a thick blanket that sparkled, diamond-bright, in the headlights’ beams. Every tree branch, fence post, and roof bore the weight of it, and as it spewed steadily from the black sky, the frigid wind whirled it into spirals that skipped and bounced across the yard like white tornadoes.
Max brushed snow from her driver’s-side window. “My truck has four-wheel drive,” he hollered over the howling gusts. “Just steer into the tracks it will make, and you should have decent traction.” His blue eyes glowed with concern. “Slow and steady,” he said, “and you’ll be fine. But please, Willa, be careful.”
She glanced into the rearview mirror and saw Frannie’s perfect, angelic face.
“I will.”
An easy promise, because the future—for Frannie, for herself, and God willing, their life with Max—would depend on it.
* * *
Max led the way, dragging his feet through the powdery drifts, effectively plowing a lane that Willa could follow to the front porch. He held the door as she carried the baby into the parlor, where Dan, still in his overcoat, was down on one knee, stoking the fire.
She thanked Max for making the short trek easier, then said, “I’ve never seen snow like this.”
“Some years are easier than others.” He flicked snow from her shoulders, Frannie’s, too. “You will stop shivering once you get out of these wet coats.”
He started down the steps, and although she realized it was best that he get home before the weather worsened, Willa’s heart ached a little. Dan and Max had utilitarian cell phones, used only for the business, but neither had home phones. At times like these, she wished that wasn’t the case, so he could call and tell her he’d made it home safely.
“Be careful, Max. It’s coming down like crazy.”
“I will ... once I leave here. Before I go, I want to shovel a path to the woodpile and bring in a couple armloads of wood.”
The woodstove door closed with a metallic clank and Dan got to his feet. “I can do that,” he said. “The longer you wait, the harder your drive will be.”
“No sense in both of us getting soaked. Stay put. I will be right back.”
“Thanks, friend,” Dan said, closing the door behind him. He took off his coat, gave it a couple of shakes, and hung it on the wall peg. “Good man, that Max,” he told Willa. “Good enough that he actually believes he can go home tonight.”
“You think he’ll have to stay?”
He looked out the window. “That footpath he made has already disappeared. So have the tire tracks in the driveway.”
Standing beside him, she looked outside. “This is a normal Oakland winter?”
Anki said, “A few years ago, two hundred sixty-two inches fell. And a few years after that, two hundred and five!”
Dan chuckled. “Anki! Just look at the girl’s face—you are scaring her!”
“I am only stating facts.”
Facing Willa, he said, “Changed your mind about making Pleasant Valley your home, eh?”
She could hear Max, stacking logs on the porch, then walking right back into the biting wind and swirling snow to make sure his friends wouldn’t need to trudge through knee-deep drifts to stay warm tonight. Oh, how she loved that bighearted man!
“It’ll take a lot more than the threat of snowstorms to make me leave this place.”
Dan studied her face. “You know? I believe you.”
Frannie, whimpering, rubbed her eyes. “Aw, are you sleepy, sweet girl? It has been a long, exciting day, hasn’t it!” Scooping her up, she started for the stairs. “Anki, if you’ll put on a kettle of water, I’ll make us some cocoa just as soon as I put her to bed.”
“Cocoa? From scratch?”
“The bottled stuff will do in a pinch, but a night like this calls for homemade.”
Anki stood for a moment, hands clasped under her chin, and in that moment, Willa got a glimpse of the young, carefree girl Anki had once been. It gave her hope that with time and love and prayer, that kind of innocent joy might again light her features, often.
All too soon, the cocoa was gone, and as Max rose, Rascal followed him to the door.
When she asked, “Where do you think you’re going?” Rascal looked up at her.
And looked at Max when he replied, “Why, home, of course.”
“In the middle of a blizzard? Are you out of your mind!”
Rascal woofed softly, as if in agreement.
“Well, I cannot stay here all night.”
“Why not? I’ll make up the couch for you. Not as comfy as your own bed, but better than taking a chance on crashing into a tree—or worse—out there!”
“She is right,” Dan said. “Only a madman would venture into this storm.”
He stared out the window. “I can hardly believe how much snow has fallen in the past half hour.” Facing Dan, he said, “Much as it pains me to admit it, you are right.”
“I can get the linens now, if you’re sleepy . . .”
“To be honest, I am wide awake.”
“Not me.” Dan got up, held a hand out to Anki, and said, “I hope you will get some sleep on that old thing.”
Max tucked his thumbs into his waistband. “As Willa said, it beats sleeping in a snowbank.”
“The highboy’s bottom drawers creak something fierce, and the noise is sure to wake Dan and Anki. I’ll just run upstairs now and grab your bedding.” Willa started walking toward the hall, then stopped. “Can I get you anything before I go upstairs?”
“You will be back soon—especially since you plan to run upstairs—so I should be fine.”
She wasn’t sure which appealed to her more . . . his full-blown smile or that roguish grin. At the moment, she thought, stacking linens in her arms, it was the grin that lit up his eyes. Since he’d be sleeping just a few feet from the woodstove, a summer-weight quilt would do. She chose the one with almost-turquoise accents that reminded her of his eyes. She grabbed an extra one, just in case, and headed back downstairs.
Max had just added a log to the fire when she walked into the parlor, and once she’d put the bedding onto Dan’s chair cushions, he said, “You are too kind to me.”
Willa chuckled. “Says the guy who let a near stranger borrow his truck, volunteered to drive Dan and Anki home in a blizzard, then braved the wind and snow to make sure we had enough wood to last the night.”
“I did what anyone would do.”
“Trust me,” she said, settling at one end of the sofa, “not everyone is like you.”
Leaving a cushion between them, he sat on the other end. “How long have you known about the Bakers’ twins?”
Give the man points for a quick topic change, she thought. “Not long.”
“I thought maybe that was why you did the lion’s share of the work today.”
“Emily offered their house, and it made perfect sense, since their dining room is larger than Hannah’s or the Hofmans’, but I didn’t think it was fair for her and Phillip to provide the house and the food and do the cooking, too.”
“I can still taste Sarah’s stuffing and candied yams,” he said, patting his belly. “And Hannah’s mashed potatoes. And that pumpkin pie . . .”
“It was a meal to remember, that’s for sure!”
“Well,” he said, drawing out the word, “all I can say is, I have not enjoyed Thanksgiving this much since I was a boy.”
Tucking her legs under her, Willa sat, facing him. “At your grandparents’ house?”
“Yes. We alternated holidays between my mother’s family and my father’s. Some years, more than forty of us shared the meal.”
“Forty! Oh, how wonderful that must have been!”
“It was. Crowded, but wonderful.” He paused. “What was Thanksgiving like in your family?”
“Quiet. Small. Real small.” She shrugged. “I never knew my father or his family, and once my mother lost her mom and dad, we didn’t celebrate.”
“That seems a shame.”
“Oh, Mom would have loved it, but she worked two and three jobs, and just didn’t have time. But one year,” Willa said, “I tried to surprise her. Saved up my pennies and went shopping, and after Mom left for her second job, I started cooking and baking. Turkey. Stuffing. Sweet potatoes. Rolls . . .” She laughed. “Burnt that bird so badly, I almost had to call the fire department!”
“Aw, what a shame. Were you able to salvage any of the meal?”
“Only to use the drumsticks as weapons against the rats in the alley!”
If he noticed that she’d just admitted having lived in a building that was home to people and rats, he gave no sign of it.
“How old were you?”
“Thirteen.”
“You know what they say ... it is the thought that counts. I am sure it left you with good memories, despite the charcoal bird.”
Giggling, Willa said, “My favorite memory of that day was Mom’s reaction. She didn’t get mad, not even when she realized I’d ruined her favorite roasting pan. It went into the trash bag with all the blackened food, and she laughed so hard while tossing it into the dumpster that she actually wet her pants.”
“She sounds like a remarkable woman, an outstanding mother.”
“Oh, she was.” The image of her mother brought tears to Willa’s eyes, but she blinked them away. “She’s the reason that I started making changes the instant I found out I was pregnant. I knew if I hoped to be even half the mother she was, I had to turn myself around.”
“You have succeeded.”
She was about to thank him for the compliment when Rascal whimpered and rested his chin on Max’s knee.
“Patience, boy,” he said, patting the dog’s head. “I need to shovel a space for you out there.”
The dog whined again as Max put on his coat and boots, and whimpered yet again as his master closed the door behind him. Willa got onto the floor and, sitting beside the dog, wrapped her arms around his neck. “Don’t worry, buddy, he won’t be long.” Leaning into her, Rascal exhaled a heavy sigh. “Yeah, I know how you feel. I miss him, too.” She hugged him a little tighter. “And just between you and me? We both love him.”
The minutes passed slowly, and when Max opened the door, his coat was caked with thick, heavy snow. “Let’s go,” he said, patting his thigh, and instantly, the dog followed him outside.
Once they returned, she dried the wet snow from Max’s hair and Rascal’s fur, then led them both toward the warmth of the stove. “You two stay put while I get us something warm to drink.” She winked at the pup. “Water for you—not as good as cocoa, I know—but chocolate isn’t good for dogs.”
While warming the cocoa, Willa remembered telling Rascal that she loved Max. It was time, she decided, that he heard it for himself. And time that she knew, once and for all, whether or not he felt the same way. She’d put it off far too long!
First, she placed a shallow pan of water near the five-foot braided rug that Rascal had made his own, and while he lapped at it, she carried steaming mugs of cocoa into the parlor.
“While it’s cooling,” she said, placing them on the coffee table, “I have something to tell you.”
And then the lights went out.
Coincidence, she wondered, or was the universe conspiring against her? Willa couldn’t help laughing.
“The electricity is out, and you think it is funny?”
“No. That isn’t funny at all. It’s just . . .” Tell him, you nincompoop! Just tell him! “It’s just that I’ve been trying to tell you, for months, it seems, that I’m crazy, head over heels in love with you. And every time I try to get the words out, something—or someone—interrupts me. I’m beginning to think maybe it’s God’s way of saying, ‘Be quiet, you little fool, because this isn’t My will!’”
“God would never call you a little fool.”
That made her laugh harder still. “A big fool, then.”
“No. Because you are not a fool.” He drew her into a hug. “I have been wanting to say the same thing. And, as you said, there was a disruption of some sort, every time.”
Max pressed both palms to her cheeks and looked deep into her eyes, and a sob ached in her throat when she saw tears clinging to his long lashes. “I love you, too.”
Willa considered pinching herself, to make sure she wasn’t dreaming, that he’d really said the words she yearned to hear.
She cringed.
“Well now, that is not the reaction I expected!”
“I’m just bracing myself.”
“For . . . ?”
“A bolt of lightning. A meteor to land in the yard. Interference of some kind that—”
He silenced her with a kiss. A lingering, loving kiss that made her feel weak and powerless, like a marionette whose puppeteer had loosened the strings. She held on tighter, seeking his strength.
“It doesn’t matter what happens now,” he said. “It’s out in the open, finally.”
“Wait.” She stuck a finger into her ear and jiggled it. “Am I hearing things? Did you just use ... contractions?”
He blinked a few times, as if replaying his last words. “It seems you’re rubbing off on me.” Dropping a kiss onto her forehead, he added, “Do not look so worried. It isn’t a bad thing.”
She hoped not. Last thing Willa wanted was to change him, because in her mind, he was perfect in every way.
“I should light some candles. Lanterns. So that if Anki or Dan wakes up, they can find their way across the hall.”
“I can help.”
“But you won’t. For one thing, you have no idea where anything is. For another, I know where all the squeaky boards are . . . and how to avoid them.”
“I did not realize Dan is such a light sleeper.”
“He isn’t. But Anki is. And . . .” She stood on tiptoe and kissed him. “And I’d kind of like to be alone with you, so I can hear those beautiful words again. And again.”
“I love you.”
She rested her cheek against his chest, heard the steady beat of his big, loving heart. Much as she hated to leave the warmth of his embrace, Willa stepped back. “It won’t take long. I promise. Sit down. Relax. Drink your cocoa.”
Upstairs, Willa placed a small lantern on the bathroom vanity and lit it. She set another on the dresser where she stored Frannie’s clothes. She tiptoed back down the steps, put a fat candle in the center of the kitchen table. Now, in the parlor, she struck another thick wooden match and held it to the wick of each sconce that flanked the woodstove.
“There. That didn’t take too long, did it?”
He patted the cushion beside him. “Eleven minutes, if the grandfather clock is accurate.” And when she sat down, he slid an arm across her shoulders. “Guess what?”
“You don’t like scented candles?”
“As a matter of fact, I don’t, but—”
“Neither do I. Just call me a purist.”
“As I was about to say . . .” Touching his nose to hers, he said, “If I had known how easy it would be to say it ... how good it would feel to hear it ... I never would have waited so long.”
And then he said it. Three times in a row. And each time, she echoed the words.
Willa snuggled into his side. “Do you think that Dan and Anki felt this way, once upon a time?”
“Probably.”
“I hope so.” She remembered the way Anki had looked, listening as everyone cheered the good news of the Bakers’ twins. “And I hope she doesn’t slip back into her strange, private world, now that she knows about the babies.” She sat up, met his eyes. “Just the other day, at the clinic, when Naomi was leaving Emily’s office, she talked about her twins. Anki wasn’t happy to hear that, either.”
“Sad.”
“Definitely.” She nestled close again. “And it doesn’t help when people tell her she should accept her childlessness as God’s will.”
“Who says that?”
He sounded annoyed, and she loved him all the more for his protective nature. “The women at church. The bishop. Dan. All clumsy attempts at comforting her, I’m sure, but it hurts her.”
“Then we’re all blessed to have you here, looking out for her. It was good that you suggested reopening the shop. Maybe if she concentrates on all that she has instead of what she doesn’t have . . .”
And there it was again, that strange, troubled edge to his voice.
“Can I ask you a question?”
He lifted her chin on a bent forefinger, looking longingly into her eyes. “Anything. Any time.”
“Is something wrong?”
His brows drew together. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t know, exactly. It just seems ... I feel like there’s something on your mind. Something that involves me.”
“No . . .”
That’s what his lips said, but his eyes didn’t agree.
“Is it my past? I haven’t withheld the truth from anyone. So are you concerned that, even after the baptism, others will think you’ve chosen poorly?”
“The only opinions I care about are God’s, and yours.”
She had to smile a little at that. And yet ...
“Are you worried that as time passes, I’ll miss the modern world? That I might take my CNA certificate and find a job away from Pleasant Valley?”
“The thought never crossed my mind.”
“Then Max, what is it?”
He shook his head, reached for the mug, and sipped from it. “Too much work, not enough sleep, constant intrusions. . .” He winked at her, then took another sip. His features had grown serious when he said, “You should stop looking for problems, because believe me, life will surprise us with plenty of them.”
Like the buggy accident and fire that took his family? Willa wanted nothing more than to ease his mind. “You’re right.”
Satisfied—or so it seemed—he sat back and pulled her into his side. “We have a lot to talk about, don’t we.”
A wedding? Whether or not she’d continue working for the Hofmans? Would they encourage Frannie to call him Dad?
“You can say that again.”
“But not tonight.” Eyes closed, he kissed her temple. “I just want to sit here, basking in the knowledge that you love me, after all. And thanking God that you love me. Me.”
After all?
Willa heard the edge in his normally smooth baritone and couldn’t help but think it had something to do with her past.
It wouldn’t be easy, keeping her doubts to herself, but the only way to prove she’d stopped looking for trouble was to silence every nagging doubt that continued to pummel her mind.