Edith bit her lip against a sob. It wasn’t right to dredge up her past resentment—not after she’d forgiven her father years ago, at Mamm’s insistence. Dat was standing close enough behind her that she could feel the disapproval radiating from his body as he awaited her compliance. She dared not mention the vow she’d made to that strikingly handsome stranger.
Promise me that you’ll mother these kids—and that you’ll hear me out when I return, all right?
His voice still echoed in her mind, mysterious and compelling.
Asa Detweiler had no idea how desperately Edith longed to be a mother—or that she’d agreed to care for these twins to satisfy her own selfish desires. She’d believed him to be sincere and compassionate, but she dared not mention that to her father, either. Cornelius Riehl had lost a large part of his heart and soul when Mamm passed away, but that didn’t mean he’d lowered his expectations for his three daughters. If anything, he held them to higher standards now that Mamm wasn’t around to buffer his gruffness, his moods.
“You know how it’ll be, Edith,” Dat said softly. “Every day you allow these babies to stay will make it that much harder for you to give them up. They belong with their family. Surely Will’s wife’s mother will wonder where her grandchildren have gone—”
“She’s not speaking to him!” Edith blurted, knowing it was the wrong thing to say. “She was there when Molly passed from cancer, breathing another man’s name. The shock of it sent Molly’s grandmother to the hospital with a heart attack, so the whole family’s in an uproar. I can’t just—”
“Once again, we see that Will has alienated those who might’ve helped him in his time of need,” her father pointed out. “Any man worth his salt would look after these helpless babies rather than dumping them on someone else. But he knew you’d relieve him of his parental responsibilities, didn’t he? Knew you were too kindhearted for your own
gut
.”
“Is it really such a sin, being kindhearted?” Edith protested. “Had we three girls been little when Mamm passed, you would’ve found another wife—”
“That’s a lie, and you know it!” he blustered, grasping her shoulders. “Your mother was the only woman in this world for me. Don’t you dare presume to understand the depth of my love—and my grief—for her!”
Edith swallowed hard. “I’m sorry. I—”
“I’m leaving this room because I can’t stand the racket—or the smell—any longer,” he muttered beneath the babies’ wailing. “Find a way to quiet them. When your sisters get home, we’re packing up these detestable dirty diapers and supplies, and we’re returning the whole kit and caboodle to Gingerich. I don’t want to hear another word to the contrary.”
Edith held her breath until her father’s heavy footfalls had gone down the hallway and stairs. As she burst into tears, she held the babies tenderly, still swaying with them, wondering how they would survive without a stand-in mother to care for them. Will was caught up in his own troubles, understandably wounded by his wife’s final words—by her betrayal of his trust—not to mention being overwhelmed by the cancer that had claimed her when she should’ve been experiencing the joy of motherhood.
She had to convince Rosalyn and Loretta to help her with the twins while they sought wisdom and aid from the women of Willow Ridge. If the three of them put their heads together, surely they could find a way to change Dat’s attitude. Surely they could keep the twins quiet enough that Dat could work on his clocks undisturbed in his basement workshop during the day and sleep uninterrupted at night.
“That’s a tall order,” Edith murmured as she gently laid the babies on the towel she’d spread across her bed. She tenderly smoothed their mussed brown hair. “You’ve got to help me with this, understand? We’ll go downstairs for your bottles, but you’ve
got
to stop crying.”
As she stroked their cheeks, Louisa and Leroy gradually got quieter, hiccuping and sucking in short breaths. They seemed small for their age, their expressive faces puckered with concern as they gazed up at her.
Lord, if I’ve ever needed Your help, it’s now
, Edith prayed as she gazed at them.
Bring me a sign, a solution. Anything to soften Dat’s closed, lonely heart.
Chapter Three
Luke Hooley gazed around the crowded Grill N Skillet dining room with a sense of great satisfaction. While it was traditional for an Old Order wedding feast to be held at the home of the bride’s parents, he and Nora had insisted on hosting the event at Willow Ridge’s recently rebuilt and expanded café because it would be a real treat for their friends and family. Josiah Witmer had roasted two hogs, beef briskets, and countless chicken quarters, which he was serving along with the side dishes his sister Savilla had created.
As Luke slipped behind the steam table to chat with Josiah, his stomach rumbled. “You two have outdone yourselves,” Luke remarked as the young man set out fresh pans of steaming mashed potatoes and creamed celery. “Everyone’s raving about your grilled meats, and the way you’ve offered the traditional wedding foods along with your specialties.”
Josiah flashed a wide smile. “Can’t have pulled pork without some baked beans and slaw, ain’t so? But Savilla was right—folks are gobbling up the wedding ‘roast’ she made with chicken and stuffing, too. I suspect we’ll run out of the creamed celery before the second sitting of guests makes it through the line.”
“We’ll have plenty of other food, though,” Savilla assured Luke. Her dark eyes sparkled as she set down a bowl of chunky homemade applesauce. “I was astounded when I saw how many different kinds of pies Naomi and the other gals made for us. And Miriam’s wedding cake is the prettiest I’ve ever seen.”
Luke glanced toward the
eck
—the raised table in the far corner, where the wedding party sat—and had to agree that the tiered cake his sister-in-law had made was even grander than the one she’d baked for his and Nora’s wedding last winter. His brother Ben’s wife was out of the restaurant business now, raising their baby daughter Bethlehem, but she still enjoyed sharing her baking skills whenever she had the chance. Miriam’s former partner Naomi Brenneman kept the Grill N Skillet’s kitchen organized and running smoothly during the daily lunch and supper shifts, which had allowed the Witmers to expand into some catering, as well.
“It’s just fabulous, the way you two have grown your business these past months—and attracted so many more folks to Willow Ridge for the rest of our shops, too,” Luke remarked. “When Ira and I opened our mill and store last year, we had no idea how busy we’d be, or how many regional farmers we’d need to hire to grow specialty grains for us.”
“Not to mention your cage-free chickens and eggs,” Savilla said. “We’re really glad to have local suppliers for those because we know the eggs haven’t been sitting in cold storage somewhere—and the meat’s so fresh. Here—” She grabbed a golden-brown chicken quarter with her tongs and put it on a small plate. “This’ll tide you over until you and Nora come through the line for your dinner.”
Luke laughed, tickled by her sense of humor and hospitality. “You don’t have to ask me twice,” he teased. “Nora’s having such a
gut
time visiting, it might be a while before we sit down.”
As he ambled along the outside edge of the dining room, where the tables had been placed end-to-end and covered with long white tablecloths, Luke bit into a perfectly seasoned chicken thigh with a groan of satisfaction. When he spotted his wife, with her auburn hair tucked up under her
kapp
and her freckled face alight with a smile, he let his gaze linger on her. Last spring at this time he’d been footloose and determined to remain uncommitted—a bachelor of thirty determined to live in a state of never-ending
rumspringa
—yet now he craved the company of his unconventional wife, and was contentedly immersed in the Mennonite faith they shared.
As though sensing his attention, Nora turned and smiled at him. Luke’s heart fluttered. The crowd ceased to exist for a few moments as her green eyes made him hold his breath. When he saluted her with a chicken leg, they both laughed and went on about their visiting. As he glanced at Millie, so like her mother, and at his younger brother Ira while the newlyweds accepted plates of pie from Naomi Brenneman, Luke sent up a prayer.
Let them find the same happiness You’ve granted me with Nora, Lord.
“Quite a party you’re puttin’ on for the happy couple,” a familiar voice behind him said.
Luke turned as his older brother Ben clapped him on the back. “It’s the least I can do, considering how you’ve helped pay for their new home.”
“Oh, let’s not forget that the aunts kicked in on that, as well as Ira.” Ben smiled mischievously. “I felt sorry for you and Nora, what with bein’ newlyweds yourselves—maybe lettin’ Ira and Millie move into your place rather than expectin’ them to bunk in the apartment above the mill.”
“Aunt Nazareth and Aunt Jerusalem are so glad to see both of us younger bucks belonging to a church—and married—they said their house money was a thank offering to God,” Luke remarked with a chuckle. “Ira and I did keep them on pins and needles for a long time.”
Ben, who’d preached the main sermon at the wedding today, shrugged. “I was older than you boys—thirty-five—before I found my Miriam,” he said with a nostalgic smile. “Who knew we’d all meet our matches and set up businesses when we came to Willow Ridge? It’s a
gut
thing God knew what we needed and got us to the right place at the right time,
jah?
”
“And who could’ve predicted that I’d give up my English life to join the Old Order and open a clinic here?” Andy Leitner chimed in as he came to stand with them. “Every time I see my kids’ smiles—and the rosy glow on my Rhoda’s face as she swells with our new baby—I have to pinch myself and give thanks.”
“We’re blessed to have ya here takin’ care of us,” Ben said with a nod. Then his smile brightened with curiosity. “Say, Andy, have ya heard anything about that acreage down the road from your corner—directly across from the Riehl place and Bishop Tom’s—goin’ up for sale?”
“I’ve heard the English family who owns it is selling because the
dat
and
mamm
can’t manage living there by themselves anymore,” Bishop Tom said as he joined them. “Guess they’re goin’ to something called an assisted-living facility.”
“Why aren’t those kids lookin’ after their parents?” Ben asked with a shake of his head. “I can’t imagine havin’ to move away from the farm you’ve lived on most of your life, into a place where ya don’t know the other residents—or the ones who’ll be taking care of ya, either.”
Luke considered this information as he looked across the crowded café to see his brother Ira smiling into his new bride’s freckled face. “Might be worth my while to check into that land,” he mused aloud. “Not sure what I’d do with the house that’s on it, but the tillable acres would be a
gut
place for raising more of our specialty grains for the mill, or—”
Behind them, the bell jangled when the door was thrown open. “Where’s Andy Leitner?” a woman cried out. “We’ve found a fellow thrown from his horse alongside the road, out cold!”
Andy rushed toward the door, and Luke felt compelled to go with him. His Aunt Nazareth, now Bishop Tom’s wife, had hollered over the happy chatter of the crowd, and she appeared winded from sprinting to the Grill N Skillet. “After we ate, Jerusalem and I were walking over to the barn so she could see our little goats when we spotted a tall black horse, saddled but without its rider,” she explained as the three of them hurried out to the road. “Then we noticed a fellow sprawled over in the grass—”
“Stay here and catch your breath, Nazareth,” Andy insisted as he smiled at her. “I’ll meet up with your sister as soon as I get my horse hitched to the clinic wagon.”
“Wonder who it could be?” Luke asked as he and Andy loped down the highway toward the clinic at the next corner. “Most of the locals are still at the wedding dinner or visiting out back of the restaurant.”
“Naz didn’t seem to know him. Could be an out-of-town guest—or just somebody passing through on a pretty day,” Andy said. “
Denki
for coming along, Luke.”
Minutes after they reached the Leitner barn, they were rolling down the gravel road that ran past the Riehl place and the bishop’s pasture, where cud-chewing Holsteins gazed over the fence at them. Luke had always been in awe of Andy’s specialized wagon, which was a small clinic on wheels—allowed by Bishop Tom because it was a horse-drawn vehicle their local nurse could drive to medical emergencies or house calls. Luke’s pulse accelerated with the mare’s hoofbeats as he gazed up the road. Aunt Jerusalem’s white
kapp
caught the sunshine as she waved her arm above her head.
“Wow, that’s an impressive horse,” he murmured. “Percheron by the looks of it—although he seems to have a limp.”
“Might want to have Ben take a look at the horse after we see to its owner,” Andy murmured. “The guy’s sitting up now. Let’s keep him still until I figure out how badly he’s hurt.”
Andy stopped the wagon a couple of yards from where Luke’s Aunt Jerusalem stood, her face etched with concern. “Glad ya got here so quick, Andy,” the middle-aged woman remarked. “Now that he’s sittin’ up, he seems determined to be anywhere but here.”
The man had coal-black hair and a grass-stained shirt that stuck out around his suspenders. One side of his face was badly bruised, and he had an open wound in his forehead. He appeared dazed as he looked up at them, and he was placing his hands on the ground as though he intended to push himself up. “Where am I?” he asked hoarsely. “I have no idea how I came to be—”
“Don’t stand up!” Andy insisted as he sprang from the wagon seat. “I’ll check you over for broken bones and such. I’m a nurse, by the way. Andy Leitner.”
The man’s dark eyebrows rose. “You look like an Amish man—but you’re a
nurse?
I must’ve really hit my head hard.”
Andy smiled as he ran his hands over the fellow’s neck and shoulders. “I get that reaction a lot. What can you tell me about your accident?” he asked as he gently grasped the man’s upper arms.
The stranger winced. “I’m foggy about that. I think I remember a buggy whizzing past me—must’ve spooked Midnight awfully bad—”
The gelding nickered in response to hearing its name.
“—and from there, it’s a blur,” the man finished with a sigh.
“Any idea how long you’ve been lying here?”
“Nope.”
Andy nodded and continued his examination. “Any idea where you are, what town this is?” he quizzed as he assessed the man’s eyes and pupils.
“Not really—except I’m on the ground and in a state of pain,” the guy added with a short laugh.
“We’ll fix that as soon as we can,” Andy assured him. “So, what’s your name? Where are you from?”
“Ah, my manners are slipping. I’m Asa Detweiler, and I live in—
ouch!
”
“Sorry,” Andy murmured. “I’m not finding any broken bones, but you’ve got some bruised ribs and a bloody forehead. You’re going to be sore for a long while.”
The guy sighed again as he refocused on Andy’s questions. “Clifford.”
Andy bit back a grin. “I assume we’re talking about a town rather than the big red dog that’s in a lot of kids books?”
Asa’s expression went blank.
“Sorry. I shouldn’t be teasing about stuff like that,” Leitner said.
“Clifford’s a little town a ways south of here,” Luke replied. He was relieved that Asa seemed to be regaining his memory despite his obvious discomfort. “Did you come up to Willow Ridge for the wedding festivities?”
Asa again appeared confused, but then his lean face settled into a scowl. “I wouldn’t liken my reason for being here to any sort of festivity,” he muttered. “And frankly, I’d rather not discuss it. If you’ll just let me get back on my horse—”
“Nope, can’t do that,” Andy insisted, holding Asa’s broad shoulders so he’d remain seated. “Since we don’t know how long you were out, I’m taking you to the emergency room for an MRI, in case you’ve got a concussion—”
“And your horse is in no shape to travel, either,” Luke chimed in. He led the tall black gelding a couple of yards and noticed it was favoring a leg. “How about if I take him over to my brother’s place? He’s our local farrier.”
The man seemed torn between concern for his horse and reluctance to stick around much longer, so Luke pointed in the general direction of Ben’s shop. “I’ll just lead him up the road a few blocks, and we’ll take it real slow. I’m Luke Hooley, by the way, and this is my aunt, Jerusalem Gingerich,” he added. “We’re glad she and Naz found you when they did. We’ll look after you and your horse until you’re both road ready, all right?”
“Gingerich, eh?” Asa murmured with a hint of suspicion.
“
Jah
, I married Vernon last year,” Jerusalem replied. “He’s the bishop of Cedar Creek, ya know.”
“Ah.” Asa smoothed his black hair away from his face as he assessed them all. He winced again as he shifted his position. “Guess I’m not too fired up about riding, now that you mention it—especially if Midnight’s lame,” he murmured. “I sure have to wonder who raced his rig past us so close—and so fast—that I got thrown to the side of the road.”
“And I have to wonder who would’ve
left
you this way, too,” Luke added. “Even Plain boys racing down the back roads for the sport of it would have the decency to stop if they made a horse throw its rider.”
“
Jah
, you’d think so,” Andy agreed. “Asa, for safety’s sake, we’re going to put you on a stretcher and carry you to the wagon.”
As Luke helped the nurse get their visitor into the clinic wagon, he couldn’t help wondering about the real story behind this incident. Had someone from Willow Ridge run this fellow’s horse off the road? And why had Asa reacted so sourly to the name Gingerich? Families by that name lived all over this part of Missouri.
Maybe Detweiler was hurt and confused—as any fellow would be after hitting the ground so hard—yet Luke also found himself speculating about the stranger’s reasons for being here. The shadow that had passed over Asa’s face when he’d refused to answer that question suggested ulterior motives . . . hidden hostility.