His Amish Sweetheart. Jo Ann Brown

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СКАЧАТЬ the last of the pie was gone, the table cleared and thanks given once more, Nathaniel knew it was time to leave. Everyone had to be up before the sun in the morning.

      As he stood, he asked as casually as he could, “Esther, will you walk to my buggy with me?”

      Her brothers and mamm regarded him with as much astonishment as if he’d announced he wanted to discuss a trip to the moon. Did they think he was planning to court her? He couldn’t, not when he couldn’t give Esther kinder. She loved them. He’d seen that at the school.

      “I’ve got a few questions about your scholars visiting the farm,” he hurried to add.

      “All right.” Esther came to her feet with the grace she hadn’t had as a little girl. Walking around the table, she went to the door. She pulled on her black sneakers and bent to tie them.

      The night, when they stepped outside, was cool, but crisp in the way fall nights were. The stars seemed closer than during the summer, and the moon was beginning to rise over the horizon. It was a brilliant orange. Huge, it took up most of the eastern sky.

      Under his boots, the grass was slippery with dew. It wouldn’t be long before the dampness became frost. The seasons were gentler and slower here than in northern Indiana. He needed to become attuned to their pace again.

      Esther’s steps were soft as she walked beside him while they made arrangements for the scholars’ trip. He smiled when she asked if it would be okay for the kinder to have their midday meal at the farm.

      “That way, we can have time for desk work when we return,” she said.

      “I’ll make sure I have drinks for the kinder, so they don’t have to bring those.”

      “That’s kind of you, Nathaniel.” She offered him another warm smile. “I want to say danki again for helping me stop the fight this afternoon.”

      “Do you have many of them?”

      “Ja, and Jacob seems to be involved in each one.”

      He frowned. “Is there something wrong with the boy that he can’t settle disagreements other than with his fists?” The wrong question to ask, he realized when she bristled.

      “Nothing is wrong with him.” She took a steadying breath, then said more calmly, “Forgive me. You can’t know how it is. Jacob has had a harder time than most kids. He lives with his onkel, actually his daed’s onkel. The man is too old to be taking care of a kind, but apparently he’s the boy’s sole relative. At least Jacob has him. The poor boy has seen things no kind should see.”

      “What do you mean?” He stopped beneath the great maple tree at the edge of the yard.

      She explained how Jacob’s parents had been killed and the boy badly hurt, physically and emotionally. Nathaniel’s heart contracted with the thought of a kind suffering such grief.

      “After the accident,” she said, “we checked everywhere for other family, even putting a letter in The Budget.”

      He knew the newspaper aimed at and written by correspondents in plain communities was read throughout the world. “Nobody came forward?”

      “Nobody.” Her voice fell to a whisper. “Maybe that’s why Jacob is angry. He believes everyone, including God, has abandoned him. He blames God for taking his mamm and daed right in front of his eyes. Why should he obey Jesus’s request that we turn the other cheek and forgive those who treat us badly when, in Jacob’s opinion, God has treated him worse than anyone on Earth could?”

      “Anger at God eats at your soul. He has time to wait for your fury to run its course and still He forgives you.”

      “That sounds like the voice of experience.”

      “It is.” He hesitated, wondering if he should tell her about the chemo. It was too personal a subject to share, even with Esther.

      She said nothing, clearly expecting him to continue. When he didn’t, she bid him good-night and started to turn away.

      He put his hand on her arm as he’d done many times when they were kids. She looked at him, and the moonlight washed across her face. Who would have guessed a freckle-faced imp would mature into such a pretty woman? That odd sensation uncurled in his stomach again when she gazed at him, waiting for him to speak. Another change, because the Esther he’d known years ago wouldn’t have waited on anything before she plunged headlong into her next adventure.

      “Danki for agreeing to teach me about alpacas.”

      He watched her smile return and brighten her face. “I know how busy you are, but without your help I might have to sell the flock.”

      “Herd,” she said with a laugh. “Sheep are a flock. Alpacas are a herd.”

      “See? I’m learning already.”

      “You’ve got much more to learn.”

      He grinned. “You used to like when I had to listen to you.”

      “Still do. I’ll let you know when I’ve contacted the scholars’ parents, and we’ll arrange a day for them to visit.” She patted his arm and ran into the house, her skirts fluttering behind her.

      With a chuckle, he climbed into his buggy. He might not know a lot about alpacas, but he knew the lessons to come wouldn’t be boring as long as Esther was involved.

       Chapter Three

      Nathaniel stepped down from his wagon and past the pair of mules hooked to it. There would be about twenty-two kinder along with, he guessed, at least one or two mamms to help oversee the scholars. Add in Esther and her assistant teacher. It was a small load, so it would give the mules, Sal and Gal, some gentle exercise. Tomorrow, he needed them to fetch a large load of hay. He’d store it in the barn to feed the animals during the winter.

      The scholars were milling about in front of the school, their excited voices like a flock of blue jays. He was glad he’d left his mutze coat, the black wool coat plain men wore to church services, home on the warm morning and had his black vest on over his white shirt. His black felt hat was too hot, and he’d trade it for his straw one as soon as he got to the farm.

      A boy ran over to be the first on the wagon. He halted, and Nathaniel recognized him from the scab on the corner of his mouth. It was the legacy of the punch Benny had taken from Jacob Fisher last week.

      “Gute mariye,” Nathaniel said with a smile.

      The boy watched him with suspicion, saying nothing.

      “How’s the lip?” Nathaniel asked. “It looks sore.”

      “It is,” Benny replied grudgingly.

      “Have your mamm put a dab of hand lotion on it to keep the skin soft, so it can heal. Try to limit your talking. You don’t want to keep breaking it open.”

      The boy started to answer, then raised his eyebrows in a question.

      “A СКАЧАТЬ