Her Secret Amish Child. Cheryl Williford

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СКАЧАТЬ shaking, Lizbeth followed a waitress in and ushered Benuel into the small booth upholstered in cheap red leather. Fredrik flopped down across from them a few moments later, making himself comfortable as he ordered a glass of tea and one of the cook’s famous sweet rolls.

      “What would you two like? Sweet tea, a Coke?”

      “We’ll have ice water, danki,” she answered, watching Fredrik’s face. She searched for and found the bump on his nose. She’d caused the break when she’d thrown a basketball at him years ago.

      She relaxed. He still didn’t seem to recognize her, but there was no reason he would. She’d been dishwater blond as a teen, and full of life. Nothing like the rake-thin, ordinary, mouse-blond woman she’d become, with her unremarkable face that drew no second glances.

      “Can I have Coke?” Benuel blurted out.

      She gave her son a warning look. He shouldn’t be asking for treats. Not after running off. Unsure, she fought an inner battle, trying to decide whether to be hard on the troubled child and not knowing when to hold firm to her convictions. She hadn’t been allowed to discipline Benuel in any way while her husband was alive. He or his mother always stepped in, took control of the boy. Punished him for her mistakes.

      Benuel’s hopeful expression vanished. His forehead took on a sulky frown. She reached to pull him closer, but he pushed away with a grunt of annoyance.

      “My treat,” Fredrik offered.

      She looked across the table at Fredrik. His grin was easygoing, relaxed. “Danki, but nee. He has to learn to obey.”

      Fredrik made a face at the boy, his nose crinkling up in a comical way. Benuel giggled slightly and then ducked his head. Silence had been a firm rule enforced by Jonah and his parents back in Ohio. Children should be seen and seldom heard. Especially her child.

      Lizbeth watched the all-too-familiar lift of Fredrik’s brow, the way his lips curved as he laughed at Benuel’s reaction to his teasing. His smile revealed a tiny chip on his front tooth. He’d fallen his last summer in Pinecraft. He’d chased her, trying to get his straw hat from her hand, and slipped on wet stones.

      “How about some pancakes with strawberries? They’re my favorite. Come on, Mamm. Let the boy enjoy life.”

      He had no idea the inner conflict she endured, the indecisiveness she fought regarding Benuel’s discipline. Her reply came out harsher than she intended. “I am letting the boy enjoy life. Benuel’s being disciplined for running away and can’t have sweets right now. He’ll be having plain food for the rest of the day as his punishment.”

      The bell over the café door rang. Lizbeth glanced over and then jumped up, rushing into her father’s waiting arms.

      “I’ve been looking all over for you, girl,” John Schwarts scolded, but gave his daughter another tight hug that spoke of his love for her. “You should have waited at the church. I told you I’d be a bit late.”

      “I’m sorry, Daed. It got so hot. We came in for a quick cold drink of water.” She looked at Fredrik over her father’s shoulder and saw a glimmer of recognition in his eyes. He finally knew who she was. Something to worry about later, she thought, lowering her gaze.

      Her cheek nuzzled against her father’s barrowed chest as she listened to the sound of him breathing, the beat of his heart. It had been five long years since she’d left the safety of his arms. It was good to be home.

      “It’s no matter,” he responded, as he slid in beside Fredrik. “So, what are you doing here? I thought Mose told me you were working early today.”

      Fredrik had the decency to look a little embarrassed. He glanced over at Lizbeth.

      She gently shook her head, praying he wouldn’t say anything about their near accident. She already had Fredrik thinking she was a bad mamm. She didn’t need her daed thinking it, too.

      “I was...ah...am working early today. I just thought I’d stop and get a cold glass of tea first,” Fredrik stammered, pulling his summer hat off and setting it on his lap. “Lizbeth was kind enough to share a booth with me. It’s pretty busy in here.”

      The waitress hurried over and interrupted the men’s chatter. Lizbeth took a deep, calming breath. Her daed looked good. His new wife, Ulla, must have been taking fine care of him.

      John smiled his grandson’s way. “So this is Benuel. How are you, soh?”

      Benuel frowned and then looked away, all the while tapping his fingers on the table. “I’m not allowed to speak to strangers,” he muttered.

      Lizbeth patted her daed’s hand. “He’ll warm up. It’ll just take him a while.”

      “Ya, sure. I understand. You were always a bit standoffish with strangers at his age. We’ll get to know each other at the chicken farm, won’t we, Benuel?”

      Benuel ducked his head, his ginger-colored hair falling in his eyes as he nodded slightly.

      Fredrik spoke up, ending the awkward moment. “You going to work at the church tomorrow, John?”

      “Certain-sure, I am. That roof’s leaking like a sieve when it rains.”

      Lizbeth took the glass of water handed to her by the waitress, slid Benuel’s water to him and watched her father’s face light up as he talked about future church repairs with Fredrik.

      It was so good to be back home. Her daed had changed very little. Oh, he’d gotten some grayer, a bit more round at the middle, but he looked happy.

      Benuel kicked her leg under the table. She flinched. “Drink your water, and keep your legs under you,” she instructed, warning him with her eyes.

      “He’s as fidgety as those new roosters I bought.” John laughed.

      Lizbeth tried to act normal. Her father didn’t understand, didn’t know about Benuel’s medical issues yet. She realized she’d have to tell him about the boy’s ADHD issues, but now wasn’t the time, not with Fredrik Lapp sitting there, listening to every word said. “He’s a hyper young man, that’s for sure,” she said and pushed Benuel’s water closer to him. She hoped she’d never have to tell her daed about the things she and the boy had seen and been through while in Ohio.

      Benuel swished his hand across the table, knocking over the water glass. He smirked Lizbeth’s way, rebellion written across his young face. “I’m sorry,” he said, righting the glass as cold water and chips of ice streamed into her lap.

      * * *

      Fredrik watched Lizbeth’s face redden, saw the way her hands shook as she grabbed napkins to sop up the spill. He still couldn’t believe this woman was the Little Lizzy he’d grown up with. She’d changed. And here she was, back in town, with a rowdy little boy. Her son had knocked over the glass on purpose. Fredrik was sure of it, and he could tell John knew it, too. The older man’s forehead was creased into an irritated scowl. Turning his head, he looked at the kinner closely. Benuel’s expression had become calm again, almost serene. As if nothing had happened.

      That boy needed a talking-to, but Fredrik could tell by the look on Lizbeth’s face that she wasn’t going to discipline him in front of СКАЧАТЬ