Читать книгу A Man For Honor - Emma Miller - Страница 14

Chapter Four

Honor glanced out the window to where her three red-cheeked boys were playing in the snow. Justice had climbed up on the gate, and Tanner was pushing it open and shut while Elijah threw snowballs at them both.

At least, she guessed he was attempting to throw snowballs. His aim was good, but he hadn’t quite mastered the art of forming fresh snow into a ball. It was probably for the best, she thought, because no one was crying yet. Even Greta, who was in the barnyard, tossing shelled corn to the chickens and ducks, seemed to be having a good time.

Honor was glad. It wasn’t often that she saw Greta enjoying herself. The girl had been so homesick when she first arrived that Honor had seriously considered sending her home. However, Silas’s sister had made it clear that she had a lot of mouths to feed and the wages Honor paid Greta were a blessing to the family. There were nine children still at home, and the father was disabled, his only income coming from what he earned fixing clocks. And as inexperienced as Greta seemed to be with most chores, she was better than no help at all for Honor.

“Have you got time to help me for a couple of minutes?” Luke asked, interrupting Honor’s thoughts. “This would go faster if you could hold that end of the board.”

She glanced at him standing at a window, a freshly cut board in his hand. She tried not to smile. She still didn’t want him here, but she was astonished at the amount of work he’d gotten done in only three days. And it was amazing how easily he seemed to be easing into the household. The children were already trailing after him as if they had known him their whole lives. That rankled most of all. “Of course,” she said as she put Anke in her play yard.

Honor wondered why she hadn’t found someone to do this carpentry work sooner. But she knew why. It was her own fear of spending all her savings, leaving nothing to live on, as Silas had warned she would. Silas had made all the financial decisions in their marriage. He’d even given her an allowance for groceries and household items. And now that she was free to make her own decisions, it had taken some time begin to trust her own judgment.

“Just hold this end,” Luke instructed, indicating a length of wood. “The kitchen will feel a lot snugger once these leaks around the window are patched. Just some decent framing and some caulk is all you needed here.”

It already felt a lot warmer. The first thing that Luke did every morning when he arrived was to chop wood and fill the wood box. She could cut wood, and she was capable of carrying it. But it was hard work. Luke made it seem easy. Of course, she had propane heat to fall back on, but firewood from her own property was free.

Honor grabbed her end of the board and held it in place.

“Something smells wonderful,” he said between the strikes of his hammer. The nails went in true and straight. “Downright delicious,” he persisted.

She sighed. “I’m making a rice pudding. I put it in the oven while you were rehanging the gate.”

He glanced out the window to where all three of the children were now swinging on the gate. “It looks like those hinges are getting a thorough quality-control inspection.”

Honor laughed. “That’s a nice way of putting it. Most people aren’t quite so charitable.”

“They ought to be. They’re fine youngsters.”

“Danke.” She thought so, even if they were full of mischief. But that was natural, wasn’t it? Boys were mischief makers. It was their nature.

Luke pushed another piece of trim into her hands. “Line the bottom of that up with the horizontal board.”

“Like this?”

“Just a little higher. There. That’s perfect.” He quickly drove several finishing nails into place. “A little paint and this window will give you another ten years of service.”

“I can do the painting,” she offered. “At least in here.” She wanted the trim and ceiling white. The walls were a pale green, lighter than celery. She liked green, and the white trim would set it off and make the room look fresh.

“You’re welcome to it, if you can find the time. Painting isn’t one of my favorite tasks. I can do it if I have to, but I’m happier with the woodworking.” He motioned to the corner of the room where he’d pulled up a section of cracked and worn linoleum. “The original floor is under here. White pine, I think. Wide boards. If we took up all the linoleum and refinished the floor, it would be a lot cheaper than putting down another floor covering.” He met her gaze. “What do you think?”

She considered. “A saving when there was so much money to go out would be a blessing, but...” She frowned, trying to think how to word her thought delicately, then just said what was on her mind. “You think the children will ruin it?”

“I suppose it’s possible,” he said with a twinkle in his eyes. “But more than one family of children has lived in this kitchen over the last two hundred years, so I doubt it. The hardwood would come up beautiful.”

“And plain?”

“As plain as pine.” He chuckled and she found herself smiling with him. “Plain enough to suit a bishop.”

“And we want to do that, don’t we?” she replied.

Staying within the community rules was a necessary part of Amish life, one that she’d never felt restricted her. Rather, it made her feel safe. The elders of the church, the preachers and the bishop, told the congregation what God expected of them. All she had to do was follow their teaching, and someday, when she passed out of this earthly existence, she would be welcomed into Heaven. It was a comforting certainty, one that she had dedicated her life to living.

Anke pulled herself to her feet and tossed a rag doll out of her play yard onto the floor. Luke scooped it up and handed it back to her. She promptly threw it a second time, giggling when he retrieved it yet again.

“It’s a game,” Honor said. “She’d keep it up all day if you’d let her.” She wiped her hands on her apron. “Look at the time. I’d best get the dumplings rolled for dinner.”

Luke handed the doll to Anke again, then tickled her belly through the mesh side of the play yard. The baby giggled. “She was born after her father passed, wasn’t she?” he mused.

Honor nodded. “She was.”

“It must have been terribly difficult for you, not having him with you. And after, when Anke was an infant.”

Honor thought carefully before she responded. She wasn’t going to lie to make her late husband out to be someone he wasn’t, but she wouldn’t disrespect him, either. “Silas was a good man, but he believed that small children were the responsibility of the mother. He said he would take them in hand when they were older.”

How old, she wasn’t certain. Tanner hadn’t been old enough to command his father’s attention beyond Silas’s insistence that their little boy hold his tongue at the table, in church and whenever adults were present. As for Justice and Elijah, she couldn’t recall Silas ever holding one of them in his arms or taking them on his lap. Not to read to them. Certainly not to snuggle with them. Looking back, she could see that her decision to marry Silas had been impulsive, she’d agreed without really thinking through her options. If she was honest with herself, the truth was, she married Silas because he was the first man to ask. After Luke.

“I’m so sorry that you had to—”

“Don’t be sorry for me, Luke,” she interrupted, shaking her head. “We all have trials to live through. They say that God never gives anyone more than they can bear.”

His green eyes filled with compassion. “I’m still sorry.”

“Silas left me a home and four healthy children. Riches beyond counting,” she murmured, turning away from him to take a dish towel from the back of one of the kitchen chairs. “I’m truly blessed.”

Luke was quiet for a moment and then said, “So what do you think?”

“About what?” She turned back to him.

“The floor? Will you be satisfied with the old wood planks?”

“How will you finish them?”

“A high-grade poly. But it still won’t cost much.”

She held up her hand. “Say no more. We can try it. If I don’t like it, I can always cover the floor again.” She lifted a heavy cast-iron kettle from the countertop.

“Let me get that.” Luke took it from her and carried it to the stove. “What’s going with those slippery dumplings?”

“Fried chicken, peas, mashed potatoes and biscuits,” she said, fighting a smile as she washed her hands at the sink. The man did like to eat.

“Mmm, sounds good. You don’t suppose you could spare a bowl of dumplings.”

“Didn’t Sara pack you a lunch?”

He grinned. “She did. But it’s a ham sandwich and an apple. Cold. Hot chicken and slippery dumplings sounds much tastier. Especially on a chilly day like this.”

He was right. It did. Her stomach rumbled at the thought of hot biscuits dripping with butter and chicken fried crispy brown. She loved to eat, too, and she had no doubt that by the time she reached middle age, she’d have lost her girlish figure. Not that she looked much like the slim, wide-eyed girl who’d married Silas King. Four children coming so quickly had added inches to her waist and hips. It was only long hours and hard work that kept her from becoming round.

“So, am I to fast on Sara’s charity, or are you willing to give me just the tiniest cup of dumplings?” Luke began plaintively.

He sounded so much like a little boy that Honor had to chuckle. “All right, all right, you can have dinner with us. But you’d best not waste Sara’s ham sandwich.” Honor began to remove flour and salt from the Hoosier cabinet she’d brought with her to the marriage. The piece had been her great-grandmother’s, and it had been carefully cared for over four generations. The paint was a little faded, but she loved it just the way it was.

“I’ll eat it on the way back to her house,” Luke promised. He tucked several nails into his mouth and finished up the last piece of trim work on the window frame. “I replaced the sash cord so the window will go up and down easier,” he said. “And you won’t have to prop it open with a stick anymore.”

“Danke,” she said. Now, if he could just do something with the ceiling. It was low, which made the room darker than she liked. And crumbles of plaster sometimes fell on them. Once, she’d had to throw away a whole pot of chicken soup when a big chunk dropped into their supper.

The kitchen was one of the worst rooms in the house. Silas had promised that he’d get to it, but he never had. The parlor, he’d remodeled. Partially. Silas had said that he was making it a proper place for the bishop to preach, but he’d never asked the bishop to come. Instead, the room had become Silas’s retreat from the children and from her. He would close the door and huddle in there with a blanket around his shoulders against the chill while he went over his financial records.

“What do you think?” Luke asked her.

Honor blinked. She wasn’t sure what he’d asked her but didn’t want to admit that she’d been woolgathering. “I’m not sure,” she ventured as she measured out three level cups of flour.

“It would save time. And I’d get more work done here because I could work until dark.”

She turned to him, realizing she had no idea what he was talking about. “I’m sorry?”

“If I stayed at the mill instead of driving back and forth to Sara Yoder’s every day. Freeman invited me. He said I was welcome to stay in the farmhouse, but I didn’t want to be a burden on Katie. And they’re not married that long, so I think they should have their privacy. But...there’s a little house for a hired man. Just a single room. The boy who works for him still lives with his parents a mile away, so the place is empty. I offered to rent it from them, but Freeman wouldn’t have it. He says if I help them out a few hours on Saturday morning, when they have the most customers, I can live there for free.”

“It sounds a sensible arrangement, but you won’t be working on my house for long. What would you do then? Wouldn’t you be better situated closer to Dover?”

“The mill will be fine. I don’t know how long it will take to finish your house, but honestly...” He scratched his head. “There’s a lot that needs fixing around here, Honor. Some things, like that windmill, have to be rebuilt. I can’t go on using Sara’s mule. It’s not fair to her.”

“What were you doing for transportation in Kansas?”

“I have horses. A neighbor is keeping them for me until I can find someone reliable to transport them to Delaware. Freeman says I can keep them at his place once they arrive.” He shrugged. “Meanwhile, I can easily walk from the mill to your place.”

“In bad weather?”

“Rain and snow don’t bother me. After Kansas, Delaware weather will be mild.”

“I’ll remind you of that when you’re soaking to the skin and wading through mud puddles.” She shrugged. “Do as you please,” she said, but secretly she thought it was a splendid idea. Who could complain about getting more work out of a hired man? And that’s all Luke was, she told herself firmly. All he could ever be to her.

* * *

“You’re certain you don’t want to ride with us?” Freeman asked. “Plenty of room.” He stood just inside the door of the little house he’d helped Luke to move into the night before.

The small log structure stood in the shadow of the mill within the sound of the millrace and shaded by willows in summer and spring. Wood-floored and low-ceilinged, the single room contained a bed, a braided rug on the floor, a table and two chairs, a propane stove and a built-in cupboard. It was sparse but spotless with a cheery red-and-white quilt and plain white curtains at the two narrow windows. Hand-carved pegs held his coat, water-damaged hat and spare shirt. It was a solid place for a man who needed a roof over his head close to a certain woman’s house and one that Luke hoped he wouldn’t have need of for long.

Luke shook his head. “Ne, you and your family go on. I’ll be fine. I want to shine my boots and shave. I’ll catch a ride with Honor and the children.”

Freeman nodded. “I can understand how you’d rather go with them.” He grinned and glanced around the cabin. “I hope you’ll be comfortable here. Anything you want, you know you’re welcome to come up to the house. And we expect you to eat with us whenever the widow doesn’t feed you.”

He chuckled. “Sara Yoder thinks highly of you. And it’s not always easy to make an impression on our matchmaker. Well—” he slapped the doorjamb “—see you there. Sara’s Epiphany suppers are talked about all year. Every woman that comes brings her special dish, and we make up for the morning’s fasting by stuffing ourselves like Thanksgiving turkeys.”

“I can’t wait.” Luke remembered Honor saying something about the sweet potato pies she was planning on making the previous night, after he left and the children went to bed. “And thanks again for your hospitality,” he said to Freeman.

The miller tugged on his hat and went out, and Luke hunted up the shoe polish and cleaning cloth he’d seen on the shelf in the miniscule bathroom. He’d lost all his good clothes in the bus accident and hadn’t had the time to replace them. Until he bought a new wardrobe, he’d have to make do with the borrowed shirts and trousers that didn’t quite fit. Not that he wasn’t grateful to Sara and Hiram and Freeman for their kindness, but it was hard for him to be on the receiving end of charity when he’d been accustomed to being the one giving a helping hand to those who needed it.

Luke waited until he heard Freeman’s buggy roll out of the mill yard before donning his coat and hat. He hoped he hadn’t waited too long and missed Honor. But he was counting on the children to keep her from leaving early. He hadn’t exactly made arrangements to ride with her, and it would be a long walk to Sara’s if things didn’t work out. Or if Honor said no. Which he wasn’t even going to consider.

The wind was rising as he strode away from the cabin and past the mill. There would be no customers today. The “closed, come again” sign hung at the entrance to the drive. Across the way and down, at the dirt pull off, he saw a blue pickup parked, and beyond it, at the pond’s edge, a man and a small boy. It was too cold for fishing but they stood close together, tossing pebbles into the water and laughing about something.

A father and his son, Luke thought. A pang of regret knifed through him. If he’d not made the decision he had, Honor’s children might have been his own. He could have been the man standing with his son beside the millpond, laughing with him, lifting him high in the air. So many years lost...so many possibilities that could never be. He swallowed hard as a lump formed in his throat.