The Rescued (7 page)

When forced to explain, Mattie couldn't seem to find the words. “I . . . I'm not sure. He just seems different. Like yesterday. One minute we were sitting here talking and the next he dashed off like he'd been stung by a bee.”

Mamm Becky eyed her for a moment, as if Mattie were the one being strange. Then she shrugged. “Maybe Adam is finally ready to think of marrying again.” She paused for what seemed a long moment. “You know,” she said gently, “maybe you should be thinking that way, too.”

Mattie blinked, her mind stuttering to understand what her mother-in-law had said. Marry again? “But—it's only been two years since Ben . . .”

“Nearer three years, Mattie.” Mamm Becky patted her hand. “I don't mean to upset you. But I want you to know that Ben's family thinks it's a gut idea for you to marry. We all mourn Ben's loss, but you are a young woman still, with kinder who need a daadi.”

Her instinctive reaction was to protest. “The kinder have plenty of men in their lives. Their grossdaadi, their cousins, Adam . . .”

“That's so,” Mamm Becky said. “But not someone to call Daadi.” Her faded blue eyes filled with tears, and Mattie realized how hard the words were for her to say. “And you need someone, especially now. It's not right that you should be dealing with this struggle alone.”

Was her mother-in-law assuming that Mattie couldn't do it? Well, it wasn't anything she hadn't thought herself, but still, she didn't like hearing it from someone else. A tiny flicker of anger sparked.

“I won't marry someone just because these are difficult
times. That wouldn't be right for anyone. And I couldn't feel about anyone else the way I felt about Ben.”

Mamm Becky seemed to sigh. “Mattie, first love is a wonderful thing, but there are other reasons to marry. Family is more important than one person, just as the church is more important than one. Nobody is saying you should chust jump into marrying. But when there's someone who already cares about you and the kinder like Adam—”

“Adam!” She couldn't have been more surprised if her mother-in-law had suggested the man in the moon. “How could I think of Adam in that way? He is Ben's little cousin. He's years younger than I am.” Didn't Mamm Becky see how ridiculous that was?

“Five years,” Mamm Becky said. “I know. Five years is a big gap when you're a child. But five years means nothing when you're both grown. And Adam has lost his first love, just as you have lost yours.”

Mattie was shaking her head, feeling as if her mind were shaking, too. This was impossible. How Adam would laugh if he heard it! Or would he be embarrassed instead?

One thing was certain-sure. She was going to feel awkward around him until she could manage to forget the whole idea.

•   •   •

This
time when the blade of the milk tank stopped, it didn't start again. Isaac stared at it for a full minute, willing it to come back on again. They weren't even finished milking, and this had to happen. By then, Onkel Simon had noticed something was wrong and stepped away from his milking station, followed quickly by Joseph.

Isaac glared at the motor and drew back his leg to give it a kick.

“Don't.” Joseph stepped in front of him. “You might break something.”

“It's already broken.” Isaac's temper rose, but behind the temper was a sharp edge of fear. A crucial piece of machinery, the contract with the dairy—

“Let Joseph have a look.” Onkel Simon touched his arm reassuringly. “The boy is wonderful gut with fixing things. Maybe he'll be able to see what's wrong.”

Isaac glanced at his brother and nodded. “Ja, that's so. Take a look, Joseph.”

By that time the other two boys had joined them, staring hopefully at Joseph. The cows, aware that something had gone wrong with the usual morning routine, turned their heads as well.

If it bothered Joseph to have everyone watching, he didn't show it. He squatted by the motor, checking the outside connections and then removing the cover to peer at its innards. For a few minutes he frowned, his hands moving from one thing to another. Then he made a satisfied noise and gave something a twist, and the motor rumbled back to life. The blade began its steady movement.

“Gut job, Joseph.” Onkel Simon clapped the boy on the shoulder as he replaced the cover. Joseph rose, grinning as Levi and Paul tried to copy the motion.

But he wasn't looking at them. He was looking at Isaac as if he was waiting for something.

Isaac grabbed him in a one-armed hug, shaking him a little in his pleasure. “You saved the day, for sure, little brother. Gut work.”

Joseph ducked his head, looking a bit embarrassed at all the attention, but his smile touched Isaac's heart. It startled him, making him realize how long it had been since he'd been in such harmony with his little brother. He should never let distance grow between them, no matter how the boy exasperated him at times. Like Onkel Simon said, it was most likely teenage growing pains.

They told the story to Judith and little Noah over breakfast, with lots of embellishments from the two boys to help it along. It was good, feeling that they were all happy with one another.

He glanced across the table at Joseph, marveling at how the boy was growing. He must have shot up six inches in as many months, and Judith had taken to putting deep hems in his pants so she could let them down. He'd be a man almost before they knew it.

Isaac lingered over a second cup of coffee after the others had left, with Levi and Paul scurrying to get ready for school while Onkel Simon headed home and Joseph carried Noah upstairs piggyback to get dressed.

Judith, at the sink cleaning up, glanced over her shoulder at him. It almost looked as if she wanted to say something and wasn't sure she should.

Guilt tightened his chest. That was his fault, wasn't it? Small wonder if his wife was worried about saying the wrong thing to him, after the way he'd been acting lately. He'd been like a bear with a sore paw, and he knew it only too well.

It wasn't Judith's fault that Joseph's birthday had been a difficult time for him, and it wasn't her fault that he'd spoken of things he'd resolved never to say to anyone. So it wasn't right to take his mood out on her.

He moved over to the sink, setting his cup down in the
dishwater that seemed to occupy her attention. The graceful curve of her neck reminded him that it was one of the first things he'd noticed about her. He put his palm on her nape, feeling the warmth of her soft skin. Judith glanced up at him, eyes widening.

“I wanted to say—” Ach, where were the words he needed? “I guess I've been sort of grouchy lately. I . . . I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel bad.”

She turned from the dishpan, her hands still wet and soapy. “You know that if you feel unhappy, then I do as well.”

Her response seemed to clutch at his heart. He took her hands in his, soap and all, and held them close to his heart. “Denke, Judith.” He bent to touch her lips with his—lightly at first, and then not so lightly.

When he drew back they both were smiling. “What would the kinder say if they came back down and saw us?” he said. He dropped a kiss on the hands he still clasped. “I'd better get busy. I told Onkel Simon I'd come and help him finish the fencing today, since he'll be off to the produce auction early tomorrow. And we need to take the wagon over to Schultz's for a load of fence posts.”

She nodded. “Before you go—it was helpful, ja, Joseph knowing how to fix the motor on the milk tank?”

“More than helpful,” he agreed.

“I was just wondering if it might be a gut idea for him to take one of those vocational classes the school district offers. Maybe something to help him learn more about machinery and how to take care of it. Then you wouldn't have to call the repair shop when something goes wrong.”

He paused, frowning. “I don't know. I'd hate to see
anything take him away from the farmwork. Anyway, how do you know he'd even be interested in such a thing?”

“I don't think it would take all that much time.” Judith's face was so earnest, as if this was something very important. “And he actually mentioned it to me after seeing those brochures they have on the bulletin boards around town. You know how he's always liked tinkering with things, ever since he was a little boy.”

“Taking them apart to see how they work, and then trying to figure out how to put them back together again.” He shrugged. “Let me think on it. I should get going, but maybe tonight we can talk to Joseph and decide if it's the right thing for him.”

Judith flashed him a smile so brilliant it startled him. “Gut. I think Joseph will like the idea, if you say so.”

He headed out the back door, a little perplexed by how the conversation had gone. Still, this suggestion of Judith's might not be such a bad idea. Machinery was an inevitable part of running a dairy operation these days, so maybe Joseph should learn a bit more about it.

W
hat
about the celery?” Judith asked, putting down her pencil for a moment to replenish the lemonade glasses in front of her two cousins. She, Rebecca, and Barbie had been sitting around the Wegler's kitchen table for the past hour, engrossed in listing the hundreds of details involved in planning an Amish wedding.

“You sound like my daad,” Rebecca said. “If he's asked me once, he's asked me a half dozen times. I keep telling him people understand that he didn't know about the wedding in time to plant a garden full of celery, but he's fretting.”

“Would it be so terrible if there were an Amish wedding meal that didn't include the creamed celery?” Barbie scrunched up her nose. “I'm not crazy about it.”

“It's traditional,” Judith reminded her. “People expect it.”

Barbie's disdainful sniff spoke volumes about her opinion of tradition.

Judith ignored her, knowing that more often than not, Barbie was just trying to get a reaction from her older cousins.

“Anyway, there's the chicken and filling, too, and the cooks need celery for it. I was thinking that probably Isaac's Onkel Simon could work a deal for it at the produce auction. After all, what's important is to have the food, not who grows it.” She deliberately didn't say “traditional” food, not wanting another comment from Barbie.

“That would be wonderful kind of him,” Rebecca said. “Matthew and I would be just as happy to have a small wedding, but our families would be so disappointed if we did.”

“Anyway, there's no such thing as a small Amish wedding,” Barbie said, her lively face expressing a sense of the impossible. “Your daad wouldn't dream of not inviting the whole church.”

“And folks are wonderful happy for you and Matt, so it would be a shame not to let them share the day.” Judith made a note next to the celery on her list, pleased to see that they'd made significant progress on assigning the numerous tasks related to a wedding.

All in all it had been a satisfying afternoon. They'd accomplished a great deal, and thinking about Rebecca's wedding effectively kept Judith from worrying about what Isaac was going to say to Joseph.

“About our dresses—” Barbie began. “I suppose I couldn't convince you to do something other than blue?”

“No, you couldn't,” Rebecca said firmly. “I don't know why you're complaining. With your blue eyes, the color is perfect for you. Now, don't let's have any argument. I want to make the dresses for both of you, and my mother and grandmother are eager to help.”

“But it's so much work, and you're busy,” Judith protested, knowing the amount of time that would be involved in sewing three dresses. By custom, the bride and her side-sitters wore the same dresses, usually sewn by the bride, which were exactly like the dresses they wore every other day. After the wedding they would just become another dress, probably worn for church Sundays for a time and then for daily use.

“I want to do it.” Rebecca reached across the table to clasp each of them by the hand. “You two are closer than sisters to me, and it will be a labor of love. Besides, it will keep Mamm and Grossmammi happy for hours.”

“Well, I won't argue,” Barbie said. “Sewing has never been my favorite pastime.” She rose, stretching, and glanced out the window to where Rebecca's kinder played with Judith's boys in the yard. “By the way, did you ever find out about the class Joseph was interested in?” Her color heightened, and she cast a glance at Rebecca. “Oops. I forgot it was supposed to be a secret.”

“That's the trouble with trusting you,” Judith teased. “You talk so much that everything spills out eventually. I don't mind if Rebecca knows, anyway.”

“I know you were a little worried over Joseph, but you don't have to tell either of us anything you don't want to,” Rebecca said.

“No, no, it's nothing.” She didn't want to have them worrying. It was enough that she did. “Joseph wants to take a course in repairing machinery or some such thing, and he was afraid Isaac would say no.” Judith felt her lips curling up in an involuntary smile. “But I mentioned it to Isaac, and he promised to discuss it with Joseph tonight. I would just like to see the two of them agreeing on something for once.”

“I'm glad.” Rebecca glanced at the clock and began to gather
up her things. “Look at the time. The afternoon has flown by. I'd best be getting home to see about supper.”

Judith walked outside with them. Both had come in their buggies, since it was too far to walk, and they'd want to get home before car traffic started getting busier.

In the bustle of collecting children and overcoming their pleas to play a little longer, Judith realized that someone was missing who should be there.

“Where is Joseph?” She directed the question at the kinder, to be met with shrugged shoulders on the part of the older ones.

Noah came running to tug on her skirt. “He's riding his scooter, Mammi.”

A tiny alarm jingled in her thoughts. “Riding where?” Her voice had become sharp enough to have them all looking at her. She glanced around at the young faces. Levi didn't meet her eyes.

She went to her oldest, bending to clasp his shoulders. “Levi, do you know where Joseph is?”

He hesitated, looking down at his bare feet. “I . . . I . . .”

“Levi, this is important.” Why had Joseph picked this moment to disappear, just when she had nearly persuaded Isaac to let him do what he wanted? “If you know, you must tell me.”

Levi's face puckered, making her want to hug him close and soothe him. “He went to the machine works to see Fred Yoder.” His gaze met hers, and his blue eyes were swimming with tears. “It's not a bad thing, is it, Mammi?”

“No, of course it's not a bad thing.”

But she was afraid that it would be in Isaac's view. For some reason, he'd never cared much for Fred, and the idea that Joseph would be spending time with Fred and his successful business instead of here on the farm with him would be . . .
well, she wasn't sure how he'd react, but she did know that this was the worst possible time for Joseph to upset him.

She hugged Levi, forcing a smile, and brushed the silky hair off his forehead. “Go and say good-bye to your cousins now.”

“Don't look that way, Judith.” Barbie caught her arm and gave it a little shake. “It's not the end of the world when a teenager goes off someplace without telling you.”

“No, but obviously Judith thinks it's serious, so we must help,” Rebecca said.

Judith bit her lip, trying to think. Was she overreacting? “I just wish he hadn't picked today to go off to the machine shop, of all places. If he's not back for the milking, Isaac will be angry, just when he's thinking about letting Joseph take that class he wants.”

“What can we do?” Rebecca asked, practical as always.

“Nothing.” Judith shook her head, trying to make her brain work. “If only I could get Joseph back here before Isaac comes home—”

“Maybe you can.” Barbie's eyes danced, causing Judith instant wariness.

“The kinder . . .” she began.

“I'll stay with the young ones,” Barbie said briskly. “You take my buggy. It's all ready, and you can go get Joseph and give him a good scolding if need be. Go on, hurry.”

Undecided, Judith glanced at Rebecca, who nodded.

“It does seem the best solution.” Her lips quirked. “Barbie does have some bright ideas, ja?”

Judith hesitated, but what else was she to do? Stand back and see yet another quarrel between Isaac and Joseph, just when things were looking better?

“All right. Denke, Barbie. If Isaac comes home before we're back—”

“Don't worry. I'll handle him.”

That was just what Judith was afraid of. With a quick good-bye to the others, she hurried to Barbie's buggy.

The road to the village seemed longer than it ever had. At least her destination was on this side of town, so she'd be less likely to run into folks who would expect her to stop and chat.

But what had taken Joseph to the machine shop? He barely knew Fred, she'd have thought. Was this a continuation of his childhood interest in how things worked?

Judith clucked to the mare, who seemed to know that Barbie was not the one holding the reins. Perhaps Joseph thought Frederick could give him some guidance on which vocational course to take. The idea made her feel a little better, although he shouldn't have done that without at least telling her. The little boy who'd told her everything had grown into a young man who was surprisingly adept at keeping secrets, and that knowledge grieved her.

Finally the cement-block building she was watching for came into view on the right side of the road ahead. It looked as if it had started life as one small shop and then kept growing as Frederick's business expanded.

More than one person in the church harbored questions about how close to the line of being Amish Frederick came in his business as he took on contracts from Englisch companies. Still, the bishop apparently had been satisfied by Fred's explanations, and all of Fred's employees were Amish, each earning a good living from his work.

There was a new sign along the side of the building, she
noticed:
MACHINE WORKS.
She guided the mare to a hitching rail under the shelter of the trees along the parking lot. As she set the brake and hopped down, her thoughts raced. What was she going to say to Frederick? And, more importantly, to Joseph? With a silent prayer for guidance, she hurried to the office entrance.

The office area might belong to any Amish business, typically furnished with a long wooden counter, two desks, a bulletin board bearing hand-lettered notices of services offered, and a large calendar. No one was behind the counter, but she heard footsteps coming from a room beyond, probably in answer to the bell on the door.

A moment later Frederick himself appeared, his ruddy face creasing in a surprised smile when he saw her. Despite the added height and maturity, to say nothing of the beard, Judith could still recognize the mischievous boy who'd delighted in raising the teacher's ire with his pranks.

“Judith! You're the last person I expected to see today. How are you?”

“Fine.” She brushed past the question, intent on her errand. “Frederick, is Joseph here?”

“Joseph?” His eyebrows lifted, and Judith immediately saw that he wasn't sure how to answer.

“Don't bother looking surprised,” she said tartly. “I have to speak to him.”

“All right, all right.” He held his hands up, palms out in surrender, but his dark eyes twinkled. “I guess I wasn't very convincing.”

“I'm raising four boys, remember? I can tell when someone is evading a question.”

“Ach, you always did see right through me. If Isaac hadn't snapped you up so quickly—”

“Joseph,” she reminded him.

He nodded, opening a flap in the counter so that she could step through. “Come in back and we'll find him. He's around someplace, and you can see my little business.”

“Not so little,” she said as they emerged into a large storage area with racks bearing all sorts of metal parts whose use she couldn't imagine.

“We do all right.” Frederick gestured toward a row of boxes, clearly labeled and ready for shipping. “These are parts we made for an Englisch manufacturer. They were skeptical at first that we could produce quality products, but we convinced them.”

A young Amish man she vaguely recognized as a member of an adjoining church district glanced at them, nodded, and returned to his work, guiding a machine that was cutting a piece of metal in an intricate form. She gave Frederick a questioning look. “The machine is computerized, ain't so?”

He nodded. “All approved by the bishop and ministers. It's the only way to cut the precise parts, so it's necessary to the business.” He grinned. “It's not as if Ben here can use it to browse the Internet.”

“I wasn't questioning . . .” She felt herself flushing. “I didn't mean to sound disapproving. I'm just wondering what Joseph is doing here.”

Fred stared at her for a moment, a frown gathering on his face. “He hasn't talked to you, then. I've told him he should be honest with his family.”

Judith swung to face him, shaken by the implication that
he knew more about the boy she'd raised than she did. “What do you mean? Talked to me about what?”

“Don't put me in the middle, Judith,” Fred said quickly. “The boy should tell you himself.”

“It seems to me you've already put yourself in the middle. I will deal with Joseph, but I want to know your part in this, and I want to know it now.”

He shrugged. “Are you always this bossy? All right, I'll tell you. Joseph is fascinated with the work we do here, and he's talented. Very talented. He actually helped one of the men with the design for a new metal harness part that we'll be selling before long.”

Judith absorbed the impact of his words. Joseph's visit today wasn't a one-time thing, then. He must have been coming regularly. And keeping it secret.

“He's always been interested in such things. But I didn't realize . . .” She let that trail off, not sure she wanted to face the implication.

“You didn't realize that this is the work he wants to learn, ain't so?” Frederick's usually jovial voice was serious for once. “I tell you the truth, I've never seen a boy of fourteen with so much aptitude. I only wish one of my own kinder had the gift he does. I'd take Joseph on as an apprentice today if you and Isaac agreed.”

She closed her eyes for an instant, imagining Isaac's reaction to such an offer. “And what about the dairy farm? It's intended for Joseph. Isaac has worked so hard—” She stopped, knowing she didn't want to share her family's issues with Fred.