Читать книгу A Husband For Mari - Emma Miller - Страница 9
ОглавлениеThe following morning dawned cold and clear. Mari had risen early to help with breakfast and make certain that Zachary was dressed and fed before she left him in the care of Sara for the day. “Wake up, sweetie,” she said, shaking him. “Time to rise and shine.”
“I want to sleep some more.” Zachary tried to roll over, away from her.
“Nope.” She put her arm around him. “No can do. I start work this morning.”
Zachary rubbed his eyes. “I don’t like it here. I want to go home.”
Mari ruffled his hair. “We can’t, and you know that. We can’t go back to Wisconsin because there’s no money and nothing to go back to.”
“Can’t I go with you to work?” He stared up at her with large, sleepy eyes. “I don’t know these people.”
“You’ll be fine.” Mari got up and laid out a pair of jeans and a faded flannel shirt for him. “Sara has been good to us, and she’s doing everything she can to make this easier. I told you she’d be keeping an eye on you for a few days while I’m at work. As soon as I can, I’ll get you enrolled in a new school. You’ll make friends, and before you know it, I’ll have enough money so that we can move into a place of our own.”
Zachary’s chin quivered, and he looked as if he was about to burst into tears. “My stomach hurts,” he said, not sounding very convincing.
“Don’t even try that trick.” She’d heard his attempts at malingering before, only to see him devour two bowls of cereal once the school bus went by. “What you need is breakfast. Sara makes great pancakes.”
He looked up at her. “I don’t want pancakes. I want to go home.”
She sighed. “I know this is hard—it’s hard for me, too.” Though maybe not for the same reasons, she thought to herself. She hadn’t been prepared for how comfortable she would feel in Sara’s house. She leaned down and kissed his forehead. “I need you to try, Zach. Can you do that for me?”
His eyes narrowed. “For how long do I have to try?”
She thought for a moment. She hadn’t really given herself a timeline. Had she subconsciously done that on purpose? “Three months,” she said off the top of her head. “Promise me that you’ll do your best to help me make this work.”
He considered. “Three months is a long time. How about one month?”
Mari shook her head. “Not long enough. We have to get our feet back on the ground. I have to earn and save money to get us started again. And even though Sara has been nice enough to let us stay here, I still have to pay for our food and such.”
They were both quiet for a second, and then he said, “All right, Mom. Guess I can try.”
“Is that a promise?”
“Three months,” he said. “But if it doesn’t work, if I still hate it, then what?”
Mari walked to a window and stared at the barnyard below. James and his crew had just arrived and they were unloading tools from a wagon. Her gaze fell on James’s broad shoulders and lingered. She turned back to Zachary. “I don’t know what we’ll do then,” she answered him honestly. “If we can’t make it here in Seven Poplars, I don’t know what we’ll do.” She turned back to him. “But I’ll think of something. And that’s a promise.”
“Okay.”
“Good.” She smiled at him. “I knew I could count on you. Sara told me that there will be a van here at eight o’clock to pick me up, so we have to hurry. Up and into your clothes, favorite son.” She gave him a tickle under his chin.
“I’m your only son!” Giggling, Zachary rolled out of his bed and scrambled for his clothes.
A short time later, Mari was downstairs pouring orange juice at the kitchen table for Zachary. “I’m so glad my new boss is providing transportation to work. I was wondering what I’d do until I could buy a car.”
Sara passed the plate of pancakes to Hiram so he could have another helping. “It was Addy’s idea that Gideon hire a driver to pick up all his workers and drop them off at the end of the day. Good way to make sure everyone’s on time.”
“Addy’s Gideon’s wife,” Ellie explained.
Jerushah nodded. “Gideon’s wife,” she repeated.
Mari buttered a slice of rye toast. “I suppose I expected the Amish employees to walk or come to work by buggy.”
“Most of us do use horse and buggy to get around,” Sara said. “At least locally.”
“Or a push scooter,” Ellie put. “I usually ride mine to the school, unless the weather is bad.”
“We’d rather keep the horses and buggies off the main roads,” Sara explained. “Because of the traffic. But we like horse power, especially for visiting back and forth in our community and for worship services or grocery shopping. Farther than Dover and most people usually hire a driver. And it’s reasonable if more than one family shares the price.”
“And if the employees drove a horse to Gideon’s shop, the animals would have to stand outside all day,” Hiram added. “Not good.” It was a long speech for him, Mari realized, and as if he’d used up his allotment of words, he reddened, put his head down and concentrated on his third stack of pancakes.
The loud sounds of hammering and sawing drifted from the direction of the addition. “I hear they’re at it already,” Mari said.
“Ya.” Sara added sugar to her coffee. “James is a hard worker.”
Zachary slid his plate back. Mari noticed that he’d eaten part of a pancake and pushed his scrambled eggs around, but he hadn’t really eaten much. “Can I go watch the men working?” he asked.
“I think you’d better stay in the house out of their way. I’m sure they don’t want boys around. Dangerous tools and stuff,” Mari explained.
“Oh, let him,” Sara suggested gently. “Like as not, they could use some help. There’s always something another pair of hands can do, even if it’s just fetch and carry. How else is a boy supposed to learn how to do something, if not by watching and learning?”
“Please, Mom?” Zachary begged. “I won’t touch anything. Please? There’s nothing to do in here. I can’t watch a DVD or play a video game. What am I s’posed to do?”
Mari felt her cheeks grow warm. “I’m sorry, Sara,” she apologized, meeting her hostess’s gaze. “I explained to him about electricity, that you didn’t watch television or listen to the radio, but—”
“But it’s all new to him,” Ellie finished for her.
“So spending time with James’s crew might be the best place for him.” Sara added a pat of butter to the top of her pancake. “Unless he wants to help me and Jerushah wash clothes.” She raised her eyebrows at him.
The look on Zachary’s face made it clear he wasn’t interested in doing laundry. He turned to his mother. “Please, Mom?”
“If you’re certain you won’t be a nuisance,” she said, relenting. She met her son’s gaze. “Promise me that you’ll stay back out of the men’s way?”
“I will, Mom. Honest.” He got to his feet, picked up his plate and carried it to the sink.
“Put what you didn’t eat into that pail for the chickens.” Sara pointed to a stainless-steel container with a lid sitting just inside the utility room. “Nothing goes to waste here.”
“Chickens eat eggs?” Zachary asked. “Yuck. Cannibals.”
“Chickens eat most anything,” Hiram said. “Even boys if they sit still long enough.”
Zachary glanced at him, curious and suspicious at the same time. “Would they?”
“Ne, Zachary,” Sara assured him with a chuckle. “My chickens would not eat you. I think you are probably too tough to chew.”
Zachary laughed, realizing that Hiram had been teasing him, and made a dash for the back door.
“Get your heavy hooded sweatshirt,” Mari called after him, making a mental note that she needed to ask Sara where she could buy a decent used coat for him.
“I’m not cold.”
“Your hoodie,” Mari insisted, rising as she glanced at the clock on the wall. If she wanted to be outside waiting for the van when it came up the lane, she needed to get ready to go. “I don’t want you catching cold. Tomorrow or the next day, we’ll register you for school.”
“Not this week,” Zachary protested. “We just got here. I don’t want to start a new school in the middle of the week.” He stood in the doorway and scowled at her.
“It isn’t your decision,” Mari reminded him quietly. “I’m the mother.” She closed her eyes for a second, suddenly remembering with a sinking feeling that she’d never made arrangements to have his records forwarded. She’d intended to call, but then in all the commotion of packing to leave, it had slipped her mind. She wondered if there would be a phone she could use in the butcher shop. Surely there would be. But what if her new boss didn’t want employees using his phone? A lot of places she had worked didn’t allow personal calls.
“We’re not staying here that long,” Zachary said. “So there’s no sense in me starting school anywhere.” He headed for the back door again. “I’m just going to stay here and build stuff with the men until we go back to Wisconsin.” Seconds later, the back door slammed with a bang.
“I apologize for Zachary’s behavior,” Mari said to Sara and the others at the table. “He’s never like this. Honestly.” She exhaled, resting one hand on her hip. “At least not often. Excuse me.” She turned to follow him.
“Grab a coat on your way, Mari,” Sara ordered. “Plenty in the laundry room. If he’s going to catch his death, there’s no need for you to, as well.”
A minute later Mari opened the back door and was hit with a blast of cold air. This might not be Wisconsin, but it was still January and bitter. She was glad she’d taken Sara’s advice and taken a barn coat from the assorted outer garments hanging on the wall. She’d also gotten one for Zachary; it would be big on him, but at least it would be warm. There was no way she was going to let him outside in just jeans and a flannel shirt.
Mari crossed the porch and then went down the steps to the sidewalk that ran around the house. She followed it to the new construction, a two-story addition, and caught sight of her son at once. He was standing near a pile of new lumber watching as two men eased a new window into place on the ground floor. “Zachary!” she called.
He turned and hurried across the barnyard. Either he hadn’t heard her in the wind or he was pretending he hadn’t heard her. She exhaled, debating whether or not to go after him. She didn’t have time for this this morning. How was it that children picked the worst times to misbehave?
She was still debating when James came walking toward her.
Suddenly she felt flustered, standing there in the yard with a boy’s coat in her hand. “My son...” She lifted the coat and then lowered it. “He’s staying here today while I work. Sara’s going to keep an eye on him. She said it was okay if he came outside to see what your crew was doing.”
“But he forgot his coat.” James’s kind eyes were now twinkling, as if he and Mari were sharing some sort of private joke between them.
She felt herself relax a little. “Actually, his coat is in Wisconsin.” She exhaled. “Long story.”
James glanced in the direction Zachary had just gone. “What’s his name?” He slipped a hammer back into his leather tool belt and smiled at her reassuringly.
She hugged the barn coat against her chest. “Zachary.”
James nodded. “Eight or nine?”
“Nine.”
“Hard age. Changes are tough for boys. But he’ll be fine. He just needs time and patience to adjust.”
James’s accurate perception of the situation surprised her. “He’s a good kid, really,” she said. “It’s just...a lot for him. For both of us,” she amended. “Moving and all.”
“And you need him to show more maturity than he’s doing right now.”
“You must be a father.” She looked at him and smiled, then felt awkward. James had no beard. If he had no beard, he was unmarried. If he didn’t have a wife, he shouldn’t have a child, and she’d just inferred that—
“Nephews,” he explained, smoothly ignoring her mistake. “Four of them.”
“Nephews,” she echoed. “Then you know how boys can be.”
He rested a broad hand on his tool belt. “Sometimes boys can try a mother.” James stood there for a minute, then said, “Would it be okay if I talked to him? I could take the coat to him. He’s got to be freezing.” He held out his hand.
“I don’t know. It’s nice of you to offer, but—” She stopped and started again. “It’s just that he doesn’t know you.”
“But I’m a man.” He took the coat from her. “It may be he just needs to talk, one man to another.”
The van driver would be here any minute to pick her up for work. She needed to run inside, brush her teeth and grab her lunch box. But she didn’t know if she felt right, just leaving Zachary with this man she didn’t know very well. Of course she wasn’t really leaving him with James. Sara was there and it had been Sara’s suggestion that Zachary hang out with the workmen; it had to be safe.
“He’ll be fine,” James said gently, seeming to know exactly what she was thinking. “Go to work and Zachary will be here waiting for you when you get home with a smile on his face. You’ll see.”
She met James’s gaze, and the strangest thing happened. She believed him.
* * *
James watched Mari hurry off into the house before turning back to study the six-over-six wooden-framed window Titus and Menno had just set in place. It looked straight to his eye, but he’d been accused more than once of being a perfectionist. “Best be sure before you nail it in place,” he said, picking up a level and tossing it to Menno. “You know Sara. She’d have us take it out again and reset it if it’s a sixteenth of an inch off.”
Menno grinned. “And she’ll be out here with her own level as soon as we leave.”
James chuckled and glanced in the direction of the barn where Mari’s boy had gone. “Get the next window in once you’re finished. I’ll be a few minutes. I might have found a young man to sweep wood shavings and the like.”
Leaving the men to continue their work, James crossed the yard to the barn and stepped inside. Out of the wind, with the heat of the animals to warm the space, it was almost comfortable. Light filtered in through a high window, but the stalls remained in shadow. At one end, a wooden partition divided the stalls from the hay and feed storage. His horse, Jericho, stood, ears erect and twitching, watching something of interest near the grain barrel.
James suspected that Zachary was hiding there, but he didn’t let on. Instead, he tossed the barn coat Mari had given him on a hay bale and approached the horse. Jericho nuzzled him with his nose, rubbing against James’s hand affectionately. “Good boy,” he murmured as he stroked the animal’s head. How a man could become attached to a motor vehicle, James couldn’t imagine. No pickup ever nickered a greeting in the early dawn or ran to its owner looking for a treat.
Jericho nudged him, and James dug into his pocket and came up with a piece of raw carrot. Holding his hand flat, he watched as the gelding daintily nibbled it.
“I didn’t know horses liked carrots,” Zachary said from the shadows.
“Apples, carrots, even turnips. But Jericho likes sugar cubes most of all.” James didn’t look in the boy’s direction.
Zachary climbed up the half wall of the stall and peered at the bay gelding. He was a little small for his age: brown hair, blue eyes. A nice-looking boy. But he didn’t look like Mari, and James couldn’t help wondering about his father.
“He’s pretty big,” Zachary said.
“Just under sixteen hands. He’s a Thoroughbred, foaled for racing. But he wasn’t fast enough, so he ended up at auction. That’s where I bought him.”
“They auction off horses?” Zachary stared at the horse.
“They do.” James glanced at the boy. He seemed wary, prepared to run if Jericho made any sudden moves. “Have you been around a lot of horses?”
“Not a lot of horses in a trailer park.”
“Probably best. Not a lot of pasture in a trailer park.” He looked past Zachary to where bales of sweet timothy hay were stacked. “Toss Jericho a section of that hay, will you?”
Zachary didn’t move from the stall’s half wall. “That his name?”
“It is.”
“Horses on TV have better names.”
James leaned on the gate. “Such as?”
Zachary thought for a minute. “Lightning. Thunder.”
“Thunder. Hmm. Don’t know if I’d feel easy hitching a horse named Thunder to my buggy.” James glanced Zachary’s way. “Nippy out here. You can put that coat on if you want.”
“Nah. I’m good.” Zachary slid down, broke off a section of the hay bale and stuffed it through the railing. Closing his eyes, the horse chewed contentedly. “He’s pretty neat. For a horse. But buggies are dumb. Why don’t you buy a car?”
“I had a truck once, but I sold it when I bought Jericho.”
Zachary’s eyes got big. “You had a truck?”
“A blue Ford F-150 pickup,” James answered.
Zachary watched Jericho eat, seeming to be fascinated. “Horses are too slow.”
“Depends on how big a hurry you’re in, I suppose. Sometimes, you notice things you’d miss if you were in a hurry.”
“It must be boring. Being Amish. No video games or Saturday cartoons.”
“No, we don’t have those things. But we do lots of things for fun. Baseball, fishing, ice-skating, hayrides, family picnics and work frolics.”
“What’s a work frolic?”
James noticed that while Zachary’s voice gave the impression of boredom, his blue eyes sparkled with curiosity. “Well, say someone needs a new barn. Either lightning has struck his old one and burned it down, or a family is starting out on a new farm. A work frolic would be when the whole community pitches in to help build that barn. There might be as many as fifty or more men all working at once.”
Zachary frowned. “Sounds like a lot of hard work.”
“If you’re with friends, all laughing and joking, it is fun. There’s nothing like watching a barn rise up from an empty pasture in one day.” He smiled. “And then there’s all kinds of great food. Fried chicken, shoofly pie, ice cream. And we have games after we eat—tug-of-war, softball, even sack races. Winter is a slow time, because of bad weather. But if you’re here in May, you’ll see lots of work frolics.”
“Oh, we won’t be here,” Zachary assured him. “We’re going back to Wisconsin. I’ve got friends there. In my old school.”
The boy’s voice sounded confident, but the expression in his eyes told another story, and James felt a tug of sympathy in his chest. “Must have been rough, leaving all those buddies behind.” He leaned on the stall gate. “Coming to a new place where everything is strange. I can see how you wouldn’t much care for it.”
“I’m not saying this to be mean, but the whole Amish thing?” Zachary said. “It’s kinda weird.”
James nodded solemnly. “I can see how you’d feel that way. Everybody dressing differently, eating different food.”
“The food’s not bad.”
“I guess your mom’s a good cook.”
“The best. Great. But Darlene wasn’t,” Zachary clarified. “She and her daughter lived with us at the trailer until we got evicted. Darlene couldn’t even cook mac and cheese out of a box.”
James grimaced as much from the idea of Mari and her son being evicted as the thought of macaroni and cheese out of a box. “I don’t think I’d enjoy her cooking,” he told Zachary.
“Who would?” Warming to his tale, Zachary elaborated. “One time, Mom got this coupon for a free turkey. If you buy enough stuff, the supermarket gives them to everybody. It’s not charity or anything.”
“No,” James agreed. “It wouldn’t be if anyone could get one.”
“Right. But you had to buy so many groceries and save the receipts. Anyway, Mom got this turkey for Thanksgiving, but she had to work, so Darlene tried to cook it herself.” Zachary made a face. “Can you believe she didn’t take the guts out? She just stuffed the bird in the oven with the plastic bag of guts inside and ruined it.”
James chuckled. “Sounds bad.”
“It was.” The boy kicked at the bottom rung of the stall rhythmically. “You said you sold your truck. How come they let you have a truck? Mom said Amish drive buggies.”
“They do. If you want to be a part of the Amish community and the church, you have to agree to follow the rules. And the rules say no cars and no electricity.”
“They think cars and TV are bad?”
James shook his head slowly. “Not necessarily bad, just worldly. Things like electricity link us to the outer world. They take us away too easily from the people and things that mean the most to us.”
“So how’d you have a truck? I’d guess you got in big trouble.”
“Some but not much.” James took his time answering, taking care with the words he chose. “When you become a young man or a young woman in the Amish community, you get to decide how you want to live. Do you want to be Amish, or do you want to join the English world? No one can force you to be Amish, so many Amish young people go out into the world to see if they like it better than this one. That’s what I did. I left Seven Poplars and got a job working construction.”
“You just packed up and went?”
James nodded again. “I did. My sister begged me not to go. She’s older than I am, more like a mom than a sister, because our mother died when I was little.”
“No mom. Tough,” Zachary said. “My father died, but I never knew him, so I didn’t care much.”
“Your mom didn’t remarry?” James asked.
“Nope. And she doesn’t go out with guys like Darlene did. Mom says I’m her guy.” He gave a little smirk.
James smiled to himself. He was glad to know that Mari wasn’t attached; maybe because he didn’t like the idea of her being with someone who clearly hadn’t been taking good care of her. He tapped the toe of his boot against the stall. “Listen, I have to get back to work, but I was wondering if you’d be interested in helping us out today. We need somebody to sweep, fetch nails and tools. Stuff like that.”
Zachary’s eyes narrowed. “Would I get paid?”
“If you do the work, sure. I know you’ll be going back to school soon, but—”
“I’m not starting school here,” Zachary interrupted. “I tried to tell Mom that.”
“You and your mom butt heads a lot?”
“No, not so much. I mean, she’s great and all. Really. But when she can find a job, she works a lot. Overtime. Sometimes two jobs at the same time. So a lot of times, I was with babysitters and after-school care. Mom thinks I’m a kid still. She’s kind of bossy.”
James had to press his lips together to keep from chuckling. “My sister can be like that.”
Zachary grimaced. “Girls.”
“Hard to understand them sometimes.”
“Yeah. But I could probably help you out until Mom figures out we don’t belong here.”
“I don’t know your mother well, but she seems like she cares a lot for you. Like she’s trying to do the right thing.”
“She’s the best. But this was a bad idea, coming here. It’s better back in Wisconsin. You’re probably nice people and all, but we like cars and TV and electric. I hate it when the electric gets turned off in our trailer.”
“Gets turned off?” James asked.
“You know.” Zachary frowned. “When you can’t pay the bill.”
Now it was James’s turn to frown. He could imagine how hard it must have been for Mari as a parent, trying to care for her son. “That happen a lot?”
“Mom does her best. Electricity and car insurance are expensive. We make out all right. It’s just that Mom lost her job and then we got kicked out of our trailer for not paying. But something will come along. It always does.” The boy reached out boldly and patted Jericho’s broad back.
They were both quiet for a minute. Sara had told him a little about Mari the week before, that she and her son needed a fresh start, but she hadn’t told him that Mari had lost her job and her home. His heart went out to her. He couldn’t imagine what it was like for a woman to be alone with no family, no friends, trying to raise a boy properly.
James glanced at Zachary again. “Sounds like what I’m hearing you say is that you might like to earn a little money. And be a help to your mom.” He didn’t know that the bit of pocket change Zachary might earn would really help Mari’s situation, but he did know that even a boy Zachary’s age wanted to feel as if he was needed. “Take some of the strain off her?”
“Yeah. That would be good,” Zachary agreed.
James crossed his arms over his chest. “And from me and my crew.” Again, he was quiet before he went on, “Zachary, I think your mom was pretty upset when she left for work. This move, losing her home and all, has been pretty tough on her. I think maybe she could use a hug from you when she gets home.”
“Probably.” Zachary looked thoughtful.
“I don’t know why you quarreled, but a man’s got to show respect to his mother.”
Zachary looked up at him. “I’m a boy, not a man.”
“But you’re old enough to have responsibilities. And it looks to me as though the most important one is to take care of her. Treat her right.”
He twisted his mouth thoughtfully. “Guess I should say sorry when she comes home tonight.”
“Sounds good to me. So let’s shake on it, you doing some work for me.” James extended his hand and Zachary took it. Zachary had a firm grip, and James liked that. “But if you’re serious about working with my crew, you’d better go put that barn coat on. All of my men come dressed for work, no matter the weather.”
“Okay,” Zachary agreed. He grabbed the jacket and put it on. “What’s your name?”
“James. James Hostetler.”
“I’m Zachary. Zachary Troyer.”
“Glad to have you on my crew, Zachary.” He didn’t allow his amusement to show in his expression. Zachary Troyer, he mused. Not so different from us after all. James had never met a Troyer who wasn’t Amish or who didn’t have Amish ancestry. Maybe Zachary wasn’t as far away from home as he thought.
