Читать книгу Her Amish Christmas Choice - Leigh Bale - Страница 15

The following morning, Julia glanced at the clock she’d hung on the wall in her spacious workroom. She blinked, hardly able to believe it was barely five o’clock. She’d been up for two hours already. Like many mornings, she couldn’t sleep, so she’d started work early.

After she completed several tasks, faint sunlight filtered through the dingy windows, highlighting the bare wooden floors with streamers of dust. She really must wash the windows today, before she painted the walls. That should brighten things up quite a bit. With the delays from yesterday, she feared Martin might not have time for everything needing to be done. Careful not to let Mom work too hard, Julia had helped her clear most of the boxes and junk out of the room, stacking them in the backyard. Above all, her priority was to get the soap room operational. But a hole in the roof could create worse problems down the road.

Squinting her eyes, she worked by kerosene light. She’d acquired an old stainless steel sink from the discount store in town and wanted it ready once Martin built the cabinets she required. Using a mild cleanser, she scrubbed at a particularly grimy spot. The sink’s two spacious tubs would accommodate the big pots she used for soap making.

Martin would be here in a few hours to finish the porch. Then he’d check the condition of the roof. After that, she wanted him to—

Tap-tap-tap.

She looked up, thinking the sound came from above. Had Mom awakened early and was doing something inside their apartment? She caught the deep timbre of a man’s voice coming from outside but wasn’t sure. It came again, followed by Hank’s unique accent. She glanced at the wall clock and discovered it was almost eight. Ah, her handymen were already here and the sun was barely up.

“Be careful with that paint, Hank. You don’t want to spill any.” Martin’s muffled voice reached her ears.

Sitting back, Julia set aside the soft sponge. In her warm slippers, she padded over to the window and peered out.

Martin and Hank stood side by side in front of the porch as they perused their handiwork. Each of them held a brush that gleamed with white paint. Martin also clutched the handle of a paint bucket. No doubt they’d been trimming the porch and front of the building. A feeling of elation swept over Julia. She couldn’t wait for it all to be finished.

Martin had rolled the long sleeves of his shirt up his muscular arms. A smear of white paint marred his angular chin. Hank also wore several smatters of paint on his forearms and clothes. In the early morning sunlight, Julia caught the gleam of bright trim on the post nearest to the window but couldn’t see the rest of the porch from this angle. And all that work had been done while she was cleaning the new sink.

Hmm. Dallin had never worked this hard. He’d rather laze around and borrow money from Julia, which he never paid back. Maybe it was a blessing she hadn’t married him after all.

Walking over to the front door, she flipped the dead bolt, turned the knob and stepped out onto the porch. In that short amount of time, Martin had climbed to the top of the rickety ladder leading up to the roof. Hank held the ladder steady from below. Busy with their labors, they hadn’t noticed her yet. She watched as Martin dipped his brush into a bucket of paint he’d set on the pail shelf, then touched up a spot high on the side of the awning. As he concentrated on his work, he pressed the tip of his tongue against his upper lip.

The ladder trembled.

“Hold it steady, Hank. Just a few more spots and we’ll be finished. Then we can start on the roof.” Martin spoke without looking down.

Fearing she might break his concentration, Julia didn’t say anything. A tabby cat crossing the road caught Hank’s attention. Julia knew the animal was named Tigger and belonged to Essie Walkins, the elderly widow who lived two houses down. Tail high in the air, the feline picked its way across the abandoned street. No doubt it was hoping to cajole Julia out of a bowl of milk. She’d fed the cat many times, much to her mother’s chagrin. Sharon didn’t like strays.

Seeing the feline, Hank abandoned his post and hurried toward Tigger. Without the boy’s weight to hold the ladder steady, it shuddered uncontrollably.

Julia gasped as Martin grabbed on to the gutter to keep from falling. She rushed over and gripped the sides of the ladder, staring up at him with widened eyes. The ladder stabilized but too late. The bucket of paint plummeted to the ground with a heavy thud. Julia scrunched her shoulders, hoping she wouldn’t get hit in the head by the falling object. Spatters of white struck the outer wall of the building, the mass of paint pooling in the middle of the wooden porch.

“Oh, no!” Julia breathed in exasperation.

Martin stared down at her with absolute shock. Likewise, Julia was so stunned that she was held immobile for several seconds. Then, Martin hurried down the ladder, his angular face torn by an expression of dread.

“Ach, Julia! Are you all right? The bucket didn’t hit you, did it?” He rested a gentle hand on her arm, his dark eyes filled with concern as he searched her expression.

She shook her head. “No, it missed me. I’m fine.”

Satisfied she was okay, Martin stepped away. She could still feel the warmth of his strong fingers tingling against her skin. As he perused the mess, his lips tightened. Then, his gaze sought out his recalcitrant brother.

Hank stood in the middle of the vacant street, clutching the tabby cat close against his chest as he stroked the animal’s furry head. Tigger looked completely content as the boy walked over to them, smiling wide with satisfaction.

“Ach, look at this bussli. Isn’t she beautiful? I saved her from being hit by a car,” the boy crowed, his eyes sparkling.

“Him,” Julia corrected. “The cat’s name is Tigger and he’s a boy.”

Hank’s expression lit up with sheer pleasure. “Ach, Tigger. What a fine name.”

“Hank, there are no cars coming at this time of the morning. You were supposed to be holding the ladder for me, not chasing after die katz.” Martin’s voice held a note of reproach but was otherwise calm. He wore a slight frown, doing an admirable job of controlling his temper. In that moment, Julia respected Martin even more.

“I know, but I saw Tigger and didn’t want him to get hit by a kaer,” Hank said.

Julia glanced at the empty street. Since it was so early, there wasn’t a single car, truck or person in sight. But being an agricultural community, Julia knew that would soon change as farmers came into town early to transact their business. Since Tigger freely roamed the streets at all hours of the day, she wasn’t too worried he’d be struck by a car.

“You know how fast motor vehicles go,” Hank continued. “Remember what happened to Jeremiah Beiler last year when an Englischer’s car hit his buggy-wagon and broke his leg? It nearly kilt him and his dechder.”

“Killed, not kilt,” Martin corrected the boy.

“His deck-der?” Julia asked, confused by some of their foreign words.

“Daughters,” Martin supplied. “They were riding with him in the buggy when the car struck them from behind.”

“Oh,” Julia said.

“Ach, I couldn’t let this sweet kitty get hurt.” Hank nuzzled Tigger’s warm fur, completely oblivious that his efforts to protect the cat had endangered his brother’s life and created a big mess that would now have to be cleaned up.

Meeting Martin’s frustrated expression, Julia showed an understanding smile. “It’s okay. No harm was done. We’ll just tidy it up.”

Martin rested his hands on his lean hips and gazed at the splattered paint with resignation. He certainly wasn’t a man who angered easily. That was another difference between him and Dallin. Julia’s ex-fiancé had raised his voice at her numerous times while kicking things and slamming doors. She hadn’t liked it one bit. In retrospect, she was so grateful he was out of her life. But who would she marry now? Would there ever be a kind, hardworking man for her to love? She wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to trust another man.

“How exactly do we clean up the paint?” she asked, wondering if a thinner from the hardware store might remove the white stain from the wood.

“You don’t need to do a thing. I’ll get this straightened out as fast as I can and reimburse you for the waste,” Martin promised.

Again, she was impressed by his integrity. “There’s no need for reimbursement. The porch is all but finished and it doesn’t look like we lost much paint. In fact, everything looks great, except for the spill. Let me help you clean it up.” She reached for a bucket of rags sitting near the front door, grateful when Martin didn’t refuse her aid.

While Hank snuggled the cat, they shoveled the drying pool of paint into a heavy-duty plastic bag and set it in the waste bin to be disposed of later. Julia held the dustpan for Martin, wondering how they would get the streaks of white off the wooden porch. Since Martin was so good at his job, she decided to let him handle the problem.

“You’re up early,” Martin spoke as they worked.

Julia smiled. “I was thinking the same about you. There’s no need for you and Hank to come to work so early.”

He shrugged. “We’re always up early. I usually milk the cows and feed the horses before the sun rises. I had my chores at home finished and decided to get an early start here. I’m determined to repair your roof by the end of the day, although I didn’t expect this added chore.”

He chuckled and Julia stared. She thought the Amish were a very stern, serious people. She had no idea they laughed and was glad he found the situation amusing. After all, her mother had taught her there was no use crying over spilled milk. It was better to just clean it up and move on. It seemed that Martin was of the same inclination.

She laughed, too, suddenly so grateful he was here. Since her broken engagement and her father’s death, she’d felt so alone in the world. It was nice to have someone capable to depend on.

“Well, accidents are bound to happen now and then,” she said.

“You’re very understanding.”

He stood to his full height and she gazed up into his eyes. With the early morning sunlight gleaming at his back, it highlighted his red hair and seemed to accent the shadows of his handsome face. She was caught there, mesmerized for several moments. Then, she mentally shook herself. After all, Martin was Amish and she wasn’t. They could never be more than friends. It was that simple.

“How will we clean the wood siding?” she asked, forcing herself to look away.

“I believe I have some sand paper in my toolbox. If I’m careful, I can take off just the bare layer of paint without damaging the wood and no one will know it was ever there.” He indicated the box sitting nearby.

Opening the lid, he pulled out a sheet of gritty paper and a hand sander. While Julia swept up the dust, he sanded the porch just enough to get the paint off. The work delayed them by an hour but Martin didn’t say a word when it came time to climb up and check the roof.

“Martin, I’m grateful for your dedication, but I’d like to suspend your next task for thirty minutes, please,” Julia said.

Poised at the bottom of the ladder, his forehead furrowed in a quizzical frown. “What do you need me to do?”

She smiled, resting a hand on the side of the ladder so near to his own. “I think it’s time we retire this rickety old thing. Would you mind going to the supply store and purchasing a good, solid ladder that will ensure our safety?”

A low chuckle rumbled inside his chest and she stared, mesmerized by the sound.

“Ja, I’d be happy to do that. I’ll go and hurry right back,” he said. “Come on, Hank.”

He stepped away from the porch, tugging on Hank’s arm to get the boy to follow him.

“But I want to stay here with Tigger.” The boy stuck out his chin, refusing to release his hold on the cat.

“If it would make things easier for you, Hank can wait here with me. He can help me fix breakfast,” Julia offered. Surely Hank wouldn’t get into as much trouble if he remained behind, and Martin would be quicker with his errand, too.

“We have already eaten at home. Our mamm fixed us a big breakfast before we left,” Martin said.

“Then perhaps Hank can help me finish cleaning out the workroom. I’m going to paint the walls today,” she said.

Martin hesitated, a doubtful expression on his face. “You’re certain you don’t mind watching him while I’m gone? He can be a bit of a handful at times.”

She waved Martin on. “Of course. We’ll see you in a while.”

Turning toward Hank, she indicated that the boy should follow her. “Come on, Hank. Let’s go upstairs and see if we can get a bowl of milk for Tigger.”

“Ja, I’m sure he’s hungry,” Hank said.

Smiling happily, the teenager followed her inside, carrying Tigger with him. Julia didn’t look back to see if Martin was still watching her, but she didn’t have to. She could feel his gaze resting on her like a leaden weight. And as she led Hank upstairs, she wasn’t sure why her chest felt all warm and buoyant inside.

Martin was gone a total of twenty minutes. Driving his horse and buggy, he pulled up in front of the supply store and whipped inside to peruse the selection of ladders. After choosing one that was sturdy but not too costly, he asked Byron Stott to put it on Julia’s account, then hurried back to Rose Soapworks.

He didn’t disturb Julia to find out where Hank was. Hoping to get some work done, he set the new ladder against the side of the house and scrambled up to the rooftop with his tool belt strapped around his waist. Bracing himself so he wouldn’t fall, he sat against the chimney and analyzed the problem. Sure enough, there was a hole in the roof. Not too bad. The tar paper and shingles had blown off and the wood beneath was starting to rot away. Martin knew he could fix it with little effort. And while he was up here, he’d replace the missing shingles in other areas before they became a bigger problem, too. When he was through, Julia’s roof would be ready to face winter.

Using the claw of his hammer, he pried up the decayed fragments and tossed them over the side of the house where they fell harmlessly to the ground below. Wouldn’t Julia be surprised when he finished the project by midday? Then he could build the shelves in her workroom.

“Martin?”

He jerked, startled from his task. Julia stood at the top of the ladder, holding on to the edge of the roof. Her eyes were wide and anxious, her face drawn with worry.

Something was wrong.

“You shouldn’t be up here. You might fall,” he said, wondering why he cared so much.

She blinked. “I… I need to speak with you on an urgent matter. It’s about Hank. Could you come down, please?”