The Amish Widow's Rescue Read online

  The apprehension in the pleading green eyes touched Elijah. The little boy had just seen his daed taken away, and his mamm had run out the door, leaving him with a stranger. The child was more than just hungry. He needed reassurance. A reassurance Elijah couldn’t give.

  Most people would probably sweep the children into a hug. Elijah battled that instinct. He’d vowed never to let himself get attached to a child. Never again. He couldn’t endure the pain.

  Yet he couldn’t let a child suffer. He squatted down and set his hands on the little boy’s shoulders. Elijah’s heart ached, but he kept his hands in place. He needed to move beyond his own agony to help these little ones.

  “My name is Elijah,” he said. “What’s yours?”

  “Weev-I.”

  “Levi?” Elijah guessed, and the small boy nodded. A tiny thrill of victory. He’d cracked the code of the boy’s words. “And your sister?”

  “Wib-bee.”

  With more confidence, Elijah said, “Libby,” and was rewarded with another nod.

  Good. They’d managed to communicate. “All right, Libby and Levi, let’s get something to eat.”

  When Elijah stood, Levi reached for his hand. Elijah endured the swift, sharp pang that shot through him at the touch. His eyes stung, but he forced himself to smile at Libby, who still stood in the kitchen doorway, sucking hard on her thumb, staring at the front door.

  Was she hoping for her parents’ return? Elijah could tell her from personal experience that didn’t always happen. Sometimes parents walked out the door never to come back.

  * * *

  Grace wrapped her arms around herself as the ambulance sped toward the hospital. She had to sit in front so the EMTs could work on Melvin. What was happening to him back there? What would she do if he needed to stay in the hospital? Or what if he—? Her mind shied away from the thought.

  Instead she focused on her children. She’d gone off without feeding them supper. And she’d left them in the care of a neighbor who was practically a stranger. They’d lived next door to him for four years, yet she’d barely ever seen him outside except in the fields. He belonged to their church district but never attended services although the elders encouraged him to return and send his family. Despite her own sporadic attendance since Melvin’s weight gain, she’d heard gossip about Elijah and his daed keeping to themselves, but she’d never heard anything bad about him. He helped at barn raisings, although he didn’t socialize much, and he made generous donations to fund-raisers when people at church had financial needs, so he must have a good heart. But should she have trusted him with her children?

  The ambulance, siren screaming, pulled into the emergency entrance, and Grace stood to one side as the paramedics rushed Melvin’s stretcher into the hospital. She followed them, and the driver pointed her to the window.

  “You’ll need to give them your husband’s information over there,” he said as they hurried past.

  The next few hours passed in a blur. Only one moment stood out in stark contrast—the doctor’s grave face as he said, “I’m sorry.” The rest of his speech was drowned out by the roaring waves of dizziness and nausea.

  * * *

  Elijah led the two children into the kitchen and lifted them onto the benches after Levi pointed out their usual places. Then he picked up the milk pails Grace had left by the door and poured the liquid into the clean bottles on the table. Every other surface in the kitchen was covered with jars of jam. Cardboard boxes filled with jam jars lined one wall. He’d heard she sold jam, but he didn’t realize the size of her business. How did she manage it in this small kitchen? And how did she have time for her family?

  He opened the propane refrigerator to store the milk and stopped in shock. The shelves were practically empty. What mother would let her children go hungry? He gritted his teeth. He’d always assumed mothers who stayed home with their children took better care of them. Maybe not all of them did.

  The eggs from Grace’s chickens filled the shelf in the door. Those and the bottles of milk he set inside were all he had to make supper. Scrambled eggs would be easy.

  After he’d whipped them up with a fork and poured them into a sizzling pan, he alternated stirring them with searching for bread to go with them. Finally, he found half a loaf in a bread drawer with two rolls. Evidently, she’d been too busy making jam to start supper. Or bake or buy bread.

  Elijah turned off the burner while the eggs were still soft and slightly runny. He opened one of the jars of jam and spread it on the bread. She’d probably intended it for a customer, but Elijah’s irritation burned hot. She could can another jar. Her children needed to be fed.

  He set plates in front of Libby and Levi, and after they’d bowed their heads for prayer, they both ate ravenously. Had their mamm fed them a meal at noon?

  When they finished their supper, Elijah left the children at the table while he went to the sink to wash the dishes—a difficult task with jam jars stacked everywhere. How did she work in this kitchen? He filled the sink with suds.

  A loud crash was followed by glass shattering. Elijah whirled to see Levi standing on the counter by the stove, his eyes wide and scared. The floor glittered with shards of glass scattered in blood-red puddles.

  He clamped his mouth shut to keep from yelling. It can be cleaned up. Jam can be replaced.

  Levi’s lower lip quivered. “I’m soh-wee,” he said as he hung his head.

  Elijah’s heart went out to him. He cowered as if expecting punishment. “It was an accident. We’ll get it cleaned up.” He skirted the mess and reached out to take Levi off the counter.

  Levi cringed away, making Elijah sick inside. What kind of a life did this small boy have that made him so terrified of making mistakes?

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, picking up Levi. “I think maybe we should put you two in bed.” He had no idea when they went to sleep, but he couldn’t watch them and clean up this mess.

  He took them upstairs and got them ready for bed. As soon as he settled Libby into the crib, she curled up and closed her eyes. Levi rutsched until Elijah laid a hand on his back to stop the wriggling. Levi turned his head to look up at Elijah, his eyes damp.

  “Want Mamm,” he said in a plaintive voice that echoed the cry of Elijah’s heart and soul.

  What comfort could he offer this small boy? His mamm would return.

  “She’ll be back soon.” Elijah hoped she would. “If you go to sleep, when you open your eyes, she’ll be there.”

  How many nights had he tried that, only to be disappointed each morning?

  “P-womise?” Levi’s voice quavered.

  “I promise,” Elijah said, praying it wouldn’t be a lie.

  * * *

  Her head woozy and aching, Grace paid the Englisch driver who’d brought her home from the hospital. She stumbled into the house, and her heart stutter-stopped.

  How many days had she come through the front door, her nerves taut, to meet Melvin’s angry glares or tirades? She’d tensed up, expecting another rant, before it dawned on her she’d never face Melvin again. The thought brought a crazy mix of emotions. Sadness when she remembered their early years together. Relief as she recalled his most recent outbursts. Apprehension as she worried about facing life alone. Grief as she thought about her children growing up fatherless. But right now, she was numb.

  She stood in the center of the empty room. A room once filled with his irritation, his frustration, his rage. A room they all stepped into gingerly to prevent explosions. A room now without his demanding presence.

  The spot where he usually sat remained vacant. The only reminder he’d once been there, a deep crater in the fabric.

  Similar to the crater he’d left in her life.

  The silence of the house settled around her. Had the children gone to sleep? Where was their neighbor? For a few moments, panic filled her. What if he’d taken the children? They were all she had to live for now.

  Her heart in her throat, she stepped farther into the living room. She had one foot on the stairs, when a shadow moved in the dim propane light in the kitchen. Elijah! Why was he crawling around on the floor?

  Fearfully, she stepped into the room.

  He lifted his head and looked at her. “Are you all right?” He wiped one more spot and stood. “How’s—?” Her face must have given him a clue, because he stopped. “I’m so sorry.”

  The lump in her throat blocked her words. She only nodded, too dazed and shaken to respond.

  He shifted from one foot to the other, obviously uncomfortable. “The children are in bed. I fed them scrambled eggs for supper, and I must apologize for the accident.” He gestured toward the floor. “Some of the jam jars crashed on the floor. I cleaned up everything as best I could.” He seemed to be trying to fill the awkward silence.

  But Grace was struggling to make sense of his words. The only ones that registered were children, bed, accident, and jam.

  “I’d better be going.” He rinsed out the rag, hung it back on the hook, and headed for the door.

  She managed a quiet danke before he turned the doorknob.

  “You’re welcome. And I’m sorry.” A blast of cold air blew through the kitchen. “Listen,” he said before the door closed behind him, “don’t worry about your animals. I’ll come over twice a day to feed and milk them. I know you’ll have a lot to take care of.”

  Before she could protest, he shut the door and took off across the yards. Grace stood, staring after him, frozen and numb. She had no idea how long she stayed there, gazing through the frosted window into the darkness.

  A whimper from the bedroom upstairs brought her back to the kitchen. Libby often moaned in her sleep. Too frightened of her daed’s temper, she rarely cried when she was awake. Her l
ittle daughter would never again have to face that fear.

  She turned to head upstairs to comfort Libby, but when she passed the huge empty spot on the counter, she stopped.

  Oh, no, not the jam. She lifted the lid of the trash can, and there, buried among trash and scraps, sharp slivers of glass reflected her fragmented life—now splintered beyond repair.

  Chapter Three

  As usual, Elijah rose before dawn to do his milking. He needed to fill the tank before the truck arrived to collect the milk, but he’d promised to help his neighbor. She’d be busy with viewing and funeral preparations today, so he needed to hurry over there.

  As soon as he was finished with his own chores, he jogged across both yards to her barn. In the summer, cornfields separated her barn from his, but now bits of stubble poked up through the last of the recent snowfall. Much of the snow had melted, but the frigid temperatures predicted for the rest of the week warned of coming storms. He hoped they’d hold off until after the funeral.

  Inside the barn, he headed to the farthest row of hay bales. He’d take them from the back, so if Grace had to feed the animals, she could use the bales closest to the animals’ stalls. He broke the top bale to feed the first horse, and a roll of bills dropped to the ground. Elijah’s eyes widened as wind whistling through the cracks near the barn floor blew hundred-dollar bills across the floor. He chased the money and stomped on it to keep it from floating into the horses’ stalls.

  He gathered the bills and counted them before rerolling them. What in the world was Grace doing with this wad of cash? Had she been pilfering it from the money her husband gave her for household expenses? She couldn’t be earning this much from jam-making, could she? If she had, why was she concealing it from her husband? Unless she’d been planning to leave him. Now that Melvin was gone, surely she’d change her plans. She wouldn’t leave two small children behind. At least he hoped not.

  Part of him yearned to hide the money to foil her plans, but she might need it for funeral expenses. He lifted a bale from the pile nearest the door to replace the one he’d taken. Then he inserted the money roll into the bale, hoping he’d placed it the same way she had. Once he’d poked it far enough inside, he pushed some hay into the hole to cover it. If she appeared ready to flee, he’d interfere. For the children’s sakes.

  He hated to be critical of someone who’d just lost her husband, but those children needed love and care. Most mamms put their children’s welfare first. Not all did, though. Speculating about Grace’s disregard for her offspring made Elijah’s blood boil. Nothing, except devotion to God, should ever come before motherly duties. Nothing.

  * * *

  Her eyes stinging from lack of sleep and unshed tears, Grace headed downstairs before dawn the next morning. She’d stayed up until the wee morning hours to inventory and replace the three kinds of jam from the jars that had shattered. She’d made full batches, so she’d have some extra. And she’d packaged all the jam orders that would be picked up this morning. Doing the mindless work of canning and packing had helped keep her mind off Melvin, but she’d operated in a fog, her body repeating the necessary motions, her mind unfocused, drifting, unable to concentrate.

  Today she’d stay busy to keep her mind off the upcoming funeral. Relatives and church members would help with the planning. Before they arrived, she needed to do the chores, clean the house, and fix breakfast for Libby and Levi. She’d also need to find time to sew some gray dresses for Libby and some new black ones for herself. She made a mental checklist so she wouldn’t forget any details. First, though, was the hardest task on her list: telling the children the news. Libby was too young to understand, but Levi would probably ask questions she couldn’t answer.

  Grace practically sleepwalked into the kitchen and reached out to turn on the lamp. Before she did, she stopped. A wicker egg basket sat in the center of the table. She blinked. Maybe she was still dreaming. Or she was overtired and imagining things. But when she opened her eyes again, the basket was still there. The white mound of eggs showed up as pale gray against the brownish wicker of the basket and the darkness of the kitchen.

  The clang of metal on the back porch startled her. The doorknob rattled, and her hands flew to her throat. Outside in the early dawn grayness, a dark, hulking shadow moved beyond the window glass. She never locked the back door, but Melvin usually slept nearby on the couch. Now that she was alone…

  The door eased open partway, and Grace’s heart skipped into double time. Elijah.

  “You startled me,” she said, then regretted it when he lifted the heavy metal milk can and set it inside the door. She’d forgotten he’d offered to do the barn chores.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t see a light in the kitchen, so I thought you were still asleep.” He hesitated in the doorway. “I apologize for walking in. I tapped on the door earlier because I didn’t want to leave the eggs outside to freeze.”

  “It’s all right. I really appreciate what you’ve done.”

  “I can help you pour this into containers, if you’d like.” He stomped the loose snow off his boots, stepped inside, and closed the door behind him.

  “Danke, but I can handle it.” Her hands still slightly shaky from the fright, she turned on the propane lamp. The light made her aching eyes hurt more. She turned away so he couldn’t see how damp and red-rimmed they were.

  “It’s heavier than the milk pails you usually use. And it’s no trouble for me to do it.”

  “You’ve done enough,” she protested.

  “I don’t mind. Why don’t you get out your containers? I can take care of this. I’m sure you have plenty of other things to do.”

  It seemed as if he didn’t intend to leave until the milk had been stored in the refrigerator. Grace set empty bottles in the center of the table. “You really don’t have to do this.”

  He held up a hand to stop her objections. “I’m happy to help.” Just before he reached the table, he stared at all the new jam jars on the counter where the broken ones had been sitting. “Where did those come from?”

  “I canned them last night.” The look in his eyes seemed to be questioning the wisdom of her choices. Grace lowered her gaze. She’d needed to do something to keep busy, to avoid thinking or feeling, to stay numb.

  * * *

  Elijah shook his head. Was her business so important that it took precedence over her tragedy? He had no right to judge. Everyone dealt with sorrow in their own way. He only needed to concentrate on doing what God commanded—to love his neighbor. And that meant helping her and her family however he could.

  But it wouldn’t be easy. The black dress highlighted her pale porcelain skin. Her large green eyes sparkled with moisture, but the dark circles underneath emphasized her fragility and her loss. He had to stop staring. He had no business doing that. She was a recent widow with a year-long mourning period ahead, and he was a confirmed bachelor with no interest in getting entangled with a woman—any woman—ever.

  He did need to be polite, especially after his accusatory look and words. Swallowing hard, he met her eyes and struggled to find something to say. Not spending time around people had left his conversational skills rusty. “How are you doing?” He’d meant to be solicitous, but as soon as the words left his mouth, he cringed internally. What kind of a question was that to ask someone who’d just lost her husband? Could he have been any more insensitive?

  Grace broke their gaze and stared down at her small, shapely bare feet. “I’m not sure,” she said hesitantly. “It’s like I’m in a thick fog, and nothing feels real.”

  Elijah sympathized. He’d been through that after Mamm…He curbed his thoughts. He wouldn’t allow himself to indulge in self-pity. Besides, all his attention should be on Grace and her needs. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  She brushed a hand across her eyes. “Not that I can think of, but danke.”

  Little feet pattered down the stairs and halted in the living room. Grace squinched her eyes shut for a moment. Elijah longed to reach out and squeeze her hand. He wished he could tell her it would be all right, but it wouldn’t. The children had already gone to bed before she came home last night, so she must not have told them yet. He should slip out now and give them all some privacy.