A Miracle of Hope (The Amish Wonders Series) (12 page)

Josiah scribbled a note to Ellen and shoved it into his pocket. He figured she would be gone to one of the women’s get-togethers and this would be a perfect time to leave the dish on her doorstep with the note about Lindie. By now, Rebecca would have spread the news of his marriage to the other women, but he figured he owed Ellen a personal explanation since she had more than once suggested they merge their families.

Josiah set the buggy brake and climbed off the bench. He carried the dish up the porch steps, set it down next to the door, then dug his hand into his pocket for the note.

The door opened and Ellen stood in the threshold smiling. “Josiah.” She opened the door wider. “Please,
kumm
in.”

He picked up the dish and stood. “I was driving by and I thought I would return this.” He handed her the dish and shoved the note into his pocket. “I thought you would be at a women’s get-together.”

“Little Ted woke up with a fever. I decided he shouldn’t be around the other children.” She motioned for him to enter.
“
Kumm
inside so the
haus
doesn’t fill with cold air, or do you need to get your laundry basket?”

“
Nay
, I didn’t bring any clothes.” He stomped the snow from his boots and entered. Her late husband was a true woodcraftsman. Her house was filled with the fine furniture he’d made over the years.

“Take your coat off and I’ll make some
kaffi
.”

“I can’t stay.” He cleared his throat. “Have you talked with Rebecca lately?”

“
Nay
. Is something wrong?”

He looked down at the braided rug. “I thought maybe she told you I got married last week.” When he looked up, her eyes were wide. “Lindie is from Ohio. We didn’t want a big wedding with a lot of fuss.”

“I see.” Ellen set the dish on the kitchen counter, then wiped her hands on her apron. “I suppose that would make sense
nett
to wish for a big fuss. After all, second marriages are never the same as . . . well, we both know it isn’t the same as when two people are young and starting out together.”

He didn’t consider himself old, but he understood what Ellen meant. “I should be heading back home.”

“So what did Simon think of you remarrying?”

Josiah shrugged. Simon had seen through Ellen’s advances immediately and had made his disapproval known.

“Well, I look forward to meeting her. How many children does she have?”

“None yet.” He looked at the floor, hoping she noticed how uncomfortable the topic was for him.

“I made an extra apple crisp.” She picked up the dish sitting next to the stove and handed it to him. “Please
wilkom
your
fraa
to our district for me and let her know I’m looking forward to meeting her.”

According to the battery clock on the kitchen wall, Josiah had driven his buggy out of the yard exactly one hour and twenty-three minutes ago. Lindie peeked out the window, then pulled away when she didn’t see him. Rushing to the window every time she heard a noise was nonsense. She needed to busy herself in other ways. She had already entered the invoices and payments received in the logbook, and had returned all the dishes to their proper cabinets. He should be relieved by that. The kitchen stove had enough wood, but the woodstove in the sitting room needed its fire built up. She tossed a couple of logs on the hot embers as the front door opened.

A gust of cold air rushed in with Josiah. He held a glass dish, this one smaller, and not empty like the one he snatched off the counter.

“It’s starting to snow,” he said.

“So I see.” She wasn’t interested in the contents of the dish, but his hands needed to be freed so he could remove his coat and hat, both of which were covered with a fine powder of snow. She didn’t want little puddles all over the floor, so she crossed the room and reached for the glass dish. She would have peeled back the foil and looked, but she didn’t want to appear too curious. Whatever it was, it needed heating. “I’ll take this into the kitchen. I suppose you prefer eating this instead of what I have in the oven.”

“
Nay
,” he said, hanging his hat on the wall hook. Josiah tipped his face up and sniffed. “Chicken?”

Lindie nodded.

He shook his arms out of the coat. “It smells
gut
.”

“Denki.”
She turned and raised the foil slightly, but she still couldn’t decipher what the woman had sent home with him.

“Where’s Hannah?”

“She’s still in her room.” She lifted the dish a little higher as she walked to the kitchen.

“It’s apple crisp.” He passed her and headed toward the bedroom. A few minutes later he returned to the kitchen. He tipped the empty chili bowl in Lindie’s direction and arched his brows.

“Josiah, I couldn’t let her go hungry. Please don’t be upset.”

He gently lowered the dish into the sink.
“Denki.”

“You’re
nett
angry?”

“Do you remember the other day when I told you I would try harder?”

“You asked me to have patience, but this isn’t about—”

“I really do want to work harder to get along.” He stepped closer, his expression somber. “I know this isn’t easy for you either.” He cleared his throat. “But I still need your patience.”

The serenity in his voice warmed her insides. “I, ah . . . the chicken should be done cooking.” She hurried to set the table. “What about Simon? Does he know it’s time for supper?”

“He already ate.” Josiah shrugged. “That’s what he told me when I was feeding the horses and putting up the buggy.”

Her mind raced with thoughts of what his buggy ride might have to do with his changed mood. But she lacked the courage to ask.

“I’ll tell Hannah it’s time to eat.” He left the room, and when he returned, Hannah was at his side. She’d stopped scowling, but throughout the meal, she made no attempt at communicating with either Josiah or Lindie.

Once the meal ended, Lindie stood. “Do you want some apple crisp?”

“Nay.”
Josiah slid his chair away from the table. “I think I’ll go to bed early. Church is tomorrow.”

Lindie’s pulse raced. Tomorrow she would finally meet the woman who had sent the food.

Chapter Nine

T
he buggy rattled over the wooden bridge, jostling Lindie on the bench. Hannah wiggled on the seat, smiling. It was the first time she’d seen the child smile. At least one of them was enjoying the bumpy ride. Lindie might too, if she wasn’t tied in knots over meeting the church members. She didn’t even know the name of the woman who was causing her such stress. Was it too much to hope they would all be friendly like Rebecca?

Lindie wrung her hands. In her former district, the families that lived close to each other tended to have a tighter-knit relationship than those who only saw each other on church Sunday. She hadn’t gone anywhere except the bus station and the bishop’s house since arriving. Josiah had said the district was small. It shouldn’t take her long to get acquainted.

Josiah glanced at her hands. “Don’t be nervous.”

As if she could stop herself. Had he forgotten about yesterday? He left the house with a woman’s clean dish and returned with apple crisp. Did he think they wouldn’t meet today? She intertwined her fingers, trying to hold her hands still.

Even Simon hadn’t offered her much more than a nod. He
ate his meals with them, but spoke only with Josiah. What was even more unsettling was how little he interacted with his granddaughter. Today Simon insisted on driving his own buggy, using the excuse that the bishop had asked to meet with him prior to the service.

“Really, you’ll get along fine with everyone.” Josiah smiled.

Lindie wanted to ask if that included his woman friend, but didn’t dare. She studied his smile. In the week and a half since she’d arrived, she’d already learned how to tell the difference between Josiah’s forced smile and his genuine one by the lines that developed—either grooving his forehead or appearing at the corners of his eyes. The trace wrinkles that she saw today should have put her at ease.

She twirled her finger around a loose thread on her cape. “Didn’t you warn me about raised brows?”

“Jah.”
He scratched his jaw. “I suppose that’s bound to happen.”

Her hands trembled holding the casserole dish. Bean casserole probably wasn’t a wise side dish to bring. The overcooked beans had turned mushy. She should’ve stuck with peanut-butter sandwiches and a simple dessert. She could have brought the uneaten apple crisp.

Molly trotted up the road’s incline with ease and crowned the hill. Then Josiah turned into the bishop’s driveway and stopped the buggy next to the barn.

In her district, dozens of buggies would line the host family’s yard on Sunday. Today she counted only six. This looked more like a women’s sewing frolic than a church service.

Josiah tethered Molly to the post as Lindie helped Hannah out of the buggy.

Lindie grasped her cape at the neck. Even though the wool
material scratched her bare skin, she found comfort and an odd sense of security wrapped in it. A crisp, clean glimmer of freshly fallen snow covered the ground. It would have been colder had the sun not taken an edge off the chill in the air.

“We should get seated. The service will be starting soon,” Josiah said.

Lindie wasn’t sure if he’d planned to arrive at the last minute to avoid a flood of explanations, but she was grateful. She and Hannah walked alongside Josiah to the barn. As was the same custom in her district, benches were arranged so that the men sat on one side of the barn, the women on the other.

As they entered the barn, her cheeks grew hot as all eyes turned to her. Just as Josiah had warned, brows were raised, some higher than others.

Josiah sat on the second row, aisle seat.

She spotted an empty space near the back. But on the aisle opposite Josiah, the bishop’s wife slid across the bench, opening a place.

“Lindie,” Rebecca whispered. “Sit here with me.”

Tapping Hannah’s shoulder, Lindie motioned for her to sit next to Rebecca, then once the girl was seated, Lindie sat on the end, directly across from Josiah.

It wasn’t long before the singing started. Josiah’s baritone voice soothed her frayed nerves. The three-hour service wasn’t much different from those in her district and this comforted her.

Simon stood to read the Scriptures. Now it made sense why Josiah’s father-in-law was asked to meet with the bishop prior to service. Simon was one of the district ministers. She hoped the meeting pertained to the service and not to her. Simon eyed her and Josiah during his short sermon. Lindie reached for Hannah’s hand, which helped disguise the shakiness in hers. At the house,
Simon hadn’t attempted to cover his disapproval, and the same held true during the service. He read verses from Hebrews and afterward posed the question, “Are you provoking one another in ways pleasing to the Lord?”

Lindie glanced sideways at Josiah, but his attention was locked on Simon. She prayed silently for Jesus to forgive her for upsetting Josiah yesterday.

The bishop gave the final message, then prayed. But before he dismissed everyone, he asked the congregation to remain seated while he made an announcement.

The bishop cleared his throat. “Will Brother Josiah and Lindie please stand.”

She froze. This wasn’t something her bishop would do in their district, unless he was calling someone to make a public confession. She rose from the bench, her knees wobbling under her dress.

Josiah stood. His broad shoulder touched hers.

“Let us welcome Brother Josiah’s new
fraa
, Lindie. They wedded a week last Monday.”

Had Josiah known the bishop would call them to stand? A deep-pink shade spread up his neck and across his face. He wiped his hands along his pant legs.

She heard murmuring behind them. This was much more than a few raised brows.

“She’s so young. She hardly looks marrying age,” someone whispered.

Lindie silently recited James 4:10.
Humble yourselves in the sight of the Lord, and he shall lift you up. Humble yourselves
—

The dismissed congregation stood. Several patted her on the shoulder and welcomed her to their district.

Josiah disappeared into the crowd of men.

“Where is your home district?” one woman asked.

“Middlefield, Ohio.”

“You’re a long ways from home. How do you like it here?” the woman on Lindie’s right asked.

She opened her mouth to respond, but a blond-haired woman chimed in first. “How do you think she likes it? She’s married to Josiah.”

The women laughed. Except one. A dark-haired woman, Lindie guessed to be in her midthirties, who stared with narrow, dissecting eyes. The laundry-folding baker, she presumed.

Hannah tugged Lindie’s dress sleeve. Although Lindie welcomed the distraction, she couldn’t follow Hannah’s quick hand movements.

Lindie craned her neck to where she’d last seen Josiah, but the men had disappeared from the barn. She smiled at Hannah and reached for her hand, then faced the women. “Excuse us, please.” She guided Hannah to the door. If she had to guess what Hannah was saying, she wanted to do so in private.