Читать книгу An Amish Christmas Promise - Jo Ann Brown - Страница 15

Carolyn woke to the cramped space in what once had been—and would again be—stables. The barn, along a ridge overlooking the village, was owned by Merritt Aiken, who had moved to Evergreen Corners after retiring from some fancy job in California.

The stables had become a temporary home for five families who’d been left homeless in the flood. Her cot, along with the two smaller ones the children used, left little room for any possessions in their cramped space in two stalls. They had only a few changes of clothing, donated by kind members of the Mennonite congregation.

Carolyn had been able to rescue Hopper, the toy rabbit Rose Anne had slept with since she was born. Somehow in the craziness of escaping the flood, she’d grabbed the wrong thing from Kevin’s bed. Instead of his beloved Tippy, a battered dog who’d lost most of his stuffing years ago, she’d taken an afghan. Kevin had told her it was okay.

“I’m too big for a stuffed toy anyhow,” he’d said.

She’d guessed he was trying to spare her feelings. That had been confirmed when the children were offered new stuffed toys. Kevin had thanked the volunteers and taken a bear, but it had been left on the floor by his cot. She’d caught sight of the stains of tears on his face after he’d fallen asleep and known he ached for his special toy.

It was too great a burden for a little boy to bear. The weight of everything they’d lost pressed down on her. It was difficult to act as if everything could be made right again. All she had from a week ago was the heart-shaped locket that had belonged to her sister and contained baby pictures of the children. It had taken her almost a month to get accustomed to wearing the necklace without feeling she was doing something wrong. A proper plain woman didn’t wear jewelry, but she hoped God would understand she was fulfilling her sister’s dying wish to keep the children close to her heart.

She clenched the gold locket as she savored the familiar scents of the barn. The dried hay and oats that had been a treat for the horses consigned to a meadow out back were a wonderful break from the odors closer to the brook. She let herself pretend she was a child again and had fallen asleep in her family’s barn on a hot summer afternoon.

But she wasn’t in that innocent time. She and the children were homeless, and she feared Leland would care enough about Kevin and Rose Anne to come to Vermont.

Assuming they’d been on the news, and he’d seen the report. Maybe he’d missed it.

Help me keep these children safe, she prayed.

The image of Michael Miller flashed through her mind, startling her. Why had she thought of him when she imagined being safe? It must be, she reassured herself, that he represented the Amish life she’d given up. Or maybe it was because he was going to be rebuilding their house. She shouldn’t be envisioning his strong shoulders and easy smile, which had made her feel that everything was going to be okay simply because he was there.

She pushed herself up to sit. Was she out of her mind? Her sister and mamm had been enticed by good looks and charming talk, and both had suffered for it. Though Daed had never struck Mamm, at least as far as Carolyn knew, he’d berated her whenever something went wrong. Even if it’d been his fault. That abuse had continued until his death and had worn her mother down until she died the year before Carolyn left Indiana.

Carolyn heard the children shifting as they woke. She dressed and hushed Kevin as she helped him and his sister get ready for the day care center at the Mennonite meetinghouse’s community center. The children had been going there while she helped prepare breakfast for the displaced and the volunteers.

After they’d made their beds and folded their nightclothes on top of the blankets, she held her finger to her lips as she led the way out of the barn.

Some of the people in the large barn were still asleep. With worries about when they’d have a home or a job to return to, many found it impossible to sleep through the night. She’d woken often during the long nights and heard people pacing or talking in anxious whispers. But, just as she did, the resilient Vermonters kept on their cheerful faces during the day.

Kissing the children and getting kisses in return, Carolyn watched as they joined the others at the low tables where they’d be served breakfast soon. She wasn’t surprised Rose Anne chose a seat right next to Taylor, the librarian’s foster daughter. Rose Anne and Taylor whispered in delight at seeing each other. Her niece had asked to have her hair done like Taylor’s pom-pom pigtails, but Rose Anne’s hair was too straight.

Carolyn waved to the women and one lone elderly man working at the day care center that morning.

Jenna Sommers, whose hair was as black as her foster daughter’s, wove through the tables toward her, motioning for Carolyn to wait. More than one child halted the town’s librarian and asked when she was going to read to them. Assuring them she would if they ate their breakfast, she was smiling as she reached the door where Carolyn stood, trying not to look impatient to get to work.

“Good morning, Carolyn,” Jenna said in her sweet voice, which could alter to a growl when she read a book with a big dog or a giant in it. “I hear the team has arrived who is building you a new house.”

“That’s what Tony told me yesterday.” Carolyn shifted uneasily, overwhelmed with the generosity. And how the thought of spending time with Michael Miller accelerated her heart rate. “There are other people who need a home as much as we do.”

“I don’t know what the policies are for this new group, but I’ve heard the MDS helps the elderly and single mothers first.”

Carolyn had learned MDS stood for the Mennonite Disaster Service. The organization, which was celebrating its seventieth anniversary, had already sent people to evaluate where their volunteers could best be used, and she had sat through an uncomfortable interview. She was grateful people wanted to help her and the children. Having the community pitch in after a tragedy was what she’d been accustomed to while growing up. She was accustomed to such generosity.

What bothered her was that she wasn’t a single mother. She was a single aunt.

Rubbing sleep from his eyes, Michael followed his friends into the long, low building attached to the simple white meetinghouse. The Mennonite chapel had no tower or steeple, and the windows were clear glass. He was curious about what the sanctuary looked like, but his destination, as his rumbling stomach reminded him, was breakfast in what the locals called the community center.

Rows of tables in every possible shape and size had been pushed together to allow for the most seating. Chairs and benches flanked them. Upholstered chairs were placed next to lawn chairs with plastic webbing. He wondered if every house in the village had emptied its chairs and tables into the space.

Many were filled with people intent on eating. He could understand because the aromas of eggs, bacon and toast coming from the kitchen were enticing.

As enticing as...

He halted the thought before it could form, but it wasn’t easy when he noticed Carolyn Wiebe smiling at a man and a woman who were selecting generous portions of food at the window between the dining area and what looked like a well-stocked commercial kitchen. Her dark eyes sparkled like stars in a night sky, and her smile was warmer than the air billowing out of the kitchen. He found himself wishing she’d look his way.

“Over here?” asked James before Michael could wonder why he was acting like a teenage boy at his first youth singing.

Looking at where his friend was gesturing, Michael wasn’t surprised none of James’s brothers were seated nearby. James hadn’t said anything, but it was clear he was annoyed with his three older brothers who’d swooped down from their homes in Ontario and insisted James join them in volunteering. He’d heard James had moved to Harmony Creek Hollow to get away from his family, though James had been happy when his younger sister had moved in with him earlier and now taught at the settlement’s school.

Michael pushed thoughts of James’s family from his head as he walked with his two friends to a round table between two rectangular ones. The three chairs on one side would work for them. He nodded to an older couple who sat on the other side before setting his hat on the table.

“The sweet rolls are fine this morning,” the white-haired man said. “You’ll want to check them out, but you may want to be careful.” He winked and grinned before digging into his breakfast again.

Michael wasn’t sure why the man had winked until he went to the serving window and saw Carolyn was handing out cinnamon rolls topped with nuts and raisins to each person who walked by. When she noticed him, she greeted him with the same smile she’d offered each person ahead of him.

“Gute mariye,” he said, then said, “Good morning.”

She laughed. “You don’t need to translate. Anyone could guess what you were saying. After all, it didn’t sound like you were asking for a second roll.”

“Can we have two?” asked Benjamin from behind him.

“The rule is take all you want,” she said with a smile, “but eat all you take.”

Benjamin took a half step back and spooned more scrambled eggs onto his plate. When James arched a brow, he said, “Hey, I’m a growing boy.”

“I’ll have two rolls please, Carolyn,” Michael said.

“Just remember the rules.” Her smile became sassy, and he saw the resemblance between her and her son.

He couldn’t keep from smiling back as their gazes met and held.

A nudge against his back broke the link between them, and Michael wasn’t sure how long he’d stood there savoring her smile. He grabbed flatware rolled into a paper napkin before striding to the table.

“I told you to be careful,” chided the old man with a grin as he stood and helped his wife gather their dishes. “Something sweet can knock a man right off his feet.”

Michael hoped his friends hadn’t heard the comments, but they laughed as they sat beside him. He bent over his plate for grace and watched from the corners of his eyes as James and Benjamin did the same.

Before they could tease him further, Michael began talking about the orientation session they were required to attend after breakfast. He didn’t give either man a chance to change the subject, but he wondered why he’d bothered when he saw the grins they wore as they ate. He wasn’t fooling anyone, not even himself. He looked forward to getting to know Carolyn better, but that’s where he’d have to draw the line.

She was involved in her Mennonite congregation, and he had no idea if he intended to remain Amish. She didn’t need to have him dump his mess of a life on her when she was trying to rebuild everything that had been lost.

She was a total mess.

But so was everyone else in Evergreen Corners.

Carolyn laughed as she thought of how Gladys Whittaker, their mayor, never used to appear in public without every hair in place. Since the flood, mud on her face seemed to be the mayor’s favorite fashion accessory. Elton Hershey had had stains on his pants when he gave the sermon on Sunday. Nobody had complained about their kindhearted pastor, because everyone was fighting to get rid of mud from their clothing, too.

She squatted by the brook that had changed course. There was talk that the water would be forced back into its proper channel, but it was a low priority while people needed places to live.

Washing mud off her hands, Carolyn winced as her back reminded her of the hard work she’d done. She’d joined five others cleaning out a house that had been inundated. Once they’d gotten the mud off the floors, they spent hours removing soaked drywall before mold could grow inside the walls. She’d carried the heavy pieces of wet plaster to a pile in the yard while someone else had sprayed the two-by-fours with a mold killer.

Her hands ached as well as her elbows, shoulders and back. It’d be quicker to count the muscles that didn’t hurt. Taking care of two children and raising chickens and baking hadn’t prepared her for such physical work.

Hearing the flap-flap sound of a helicopter, Carolyn glanced up. It was rising from the football field behind the school. She wondered what had been delivered. She hoped fresh milk. The children were complaining about the taste of powdered milk. There were a half-dozen dairy farms on the other side of the ridge, but no way to get to them. Too many roads and bridges had been destroyed, and what would have been a ten minute drive before the flood now took hours.

She stood, holding her hands against her lower back to silence the protest from her muscles. When she saw four chickens pecking at the ground, she smiled. Mr. Aiken had told them to feel free to use whatever they found in the barn. She’d seen a bucket of corn by one stall. A couple of handfuls might draw the chickens back. That would ease the children’s distress.

What Kevin and Rose Anne needed was a home. Their house hadn’t been big, and most of the ancient mechanicals had needed attention she didn’t know how to give. She and the children had become accustomed to faucets dripping. She’d locked off the back bedroom, fearful Kevin and Rose Anne would tumble through weak boards into the cellar. Now, the cellar hole was the sole remnant of the comfortable old house.

Seeing some broken boards heaped against stones at the brook’s edge, Carolyn went to pull them out of the water, one by one. If nobody else claimed them, she could use them to build a new chicken coop.

“For all I know, Father,” she said as she dropped another board on top of the two she’d pulled out, “these are what’s left of my old coop. But I want them to go to whoever needs them most.”

A shadow slipped over her, and Carolyn looked skyward. Was it going to rain again? Panic gripped her throat, threatening to keep her from drawing another breath.

“Would you like some help?” came a deep voice.

She turned. Michael’s light-blue shirt and black suspenders weren’t as filthy as her dress and apron were, and she guessed he’d come from the volunteers’ orientation class. The sessions were simple, but outlined who was in charge of what and when someone should seek help before making a decision. They had ended the chaos of the first two days after the flood.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said.

“You didn’t.”

“Something is upsetting you. I’ve seen more color in fresh snow than on your face.”

She let her sore shoulders relax. “Okay, you did scare me. I was deep in my thoughts.”

“This is all that’s left?” He looked down into the cellar hole. “There’s nothing but mud.”

“Everything washed away. The furnace, the water heater and the jars of fruits and vegetables I put up in August. I haven’t told the children yet. I know they aren’t going to be happy with grocery store canned vegetables.”

He wrinkled his nose. “Sometimes it seems you can’t tell the difference between the vegetables in the can and the can itself.”

“You’ve taken a bite out of a can?”

“Of course not.” He chuckled. “You don’t like exaggeration, ain’t so?”

She made sure her reaction to “ain’t so,” a common Amish term, wasn’t visible. “I’m a low-key person, Michael. I prefer to keep things simple.”

“And you’re exhausted.”

She resisted the yearning to check her reflection in the slow waters of the brook to see how bad she looked. “I guess that’s obvious.”

“Why wouldn’t you be tired? You were up early this morning to make breakfast for us, and now you’re taking care of your chickens.” His eyes narrowed as his gaze settled on the stack of wood. “Have you been pulling those out on your own?”

“I thought I could use the boards to build a chicken coop.”

“A gut idea.” Without another word, he waded into the water. He stretched out and grabbed a board beyond her reach.

Tears flooded Carolyn’s eyes as she watched him lift out the planks and set them with the others with an ease she couldn’t have copied. She blinked them away. She must be more exhausted than she’d guessed.

Five minutes later, the wood was stacked. She thanked him, but he waved aside her gratitude before bending to wash his hands in the brook as she had.

“What do you call this stream?” he asked as he straightened and wiped his hands on the sides of his black broadfall trousers.

“Washboard Brook.”

“Brook?” He shook his head, then pushed his brown hair back out of his eyes. “I never imagined anything called a brook could do all the damage this one has.”

“I didn’t, either. I don’t think anyone did.”

“You’ve never had a flood here before?”

“I’ve learned that if the snow up on the peaks melts really fast, we get some minor flooding. Puddles in yards and maybe a splash over onto the road where it’s low.” She flung out her hands. “Nothing like this.”

“Have you considered leaving?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Not once?”

Wanting to be truthful—or at least partially because she couldn’t mention Leland’s name—rather than making believe she could endure anything nature could throw against the town, she said, “I’ve got to admit when I watched our home collapse and get sucked down into the water I wanted to run as fast as I could in any direction away from the flood.”

“But you’re still here.”

“It’s home.”

“So you grew up here?”

Carolyn berated herself. She should have seen the direction their conversation could go and changed the topic before it touched on dangerous territory.

Knowing she must not appear to hesitate, she said, “No, but I’ve lived here for a while. For me, Evergreen Corners is home, and I hope it always will be.”

That was a prayer she said every night before sleep, because if she had to leave, it would be in an attempt to escape from Leland Reber once and for all.