The Amish Midwife's Courtship. Cheryl Williford

tank. What am I going to do? I have no choice but to run all the way, or disturb Mose.”

      “Stop panicking and listen. Does your mamm keep gas around for the lawn mower?”

      “I don’t know. Our neighbor, Herr Zucker, cuts the grass, but he does use our mower.” Molly headed for the shed just inside the fenced backyard. She pulled a long string on the wall. Light pooled a golden glow around her. She lifted a gas can off the metal shelf, shook it and then ran back to the cart.

      Isaac stood barefoot next to the cart, his pajama bottoms soaking up the dampness from the grass underfoot. He had the cart’s gas cap in his hand.

      She avoided looking directly at him and poured the gas in the cart’s tank. Isaac screwed on the cap and then surveyed her from head to toe. “You don’t look like any midwife I’ve ever seen.”

      “And how many have you seen?” Molly asked, sliding into the driver’s seat.

      He scratched his head and yawned wide. “Only you.”

      She started the sluggish engine and began to slowly back up. “Thank you so much, Isaac.”

      “I didn’t do anything. Just took off the gas cap and put it back on.” He started walking toward the back door, his one crutch taking all his weight.

      “You saved the day and you know it,” she called over her shoulder and drove off into the night, her medical bag bouncing in the basket.

      Glancing back, she watched the glow from the house light turn Isaac into a dark shadow as he slipped into the back door, his shoulders stooped. Why did the man have such a hard time accepting compliments? Didn’t he realize how important it was to have a midwife arrive before the baby? She smiled as she drove on into the darkness. Whether he wanted to admit it to himself or not, he was her hero tonight, and she’d show him her appreciation somehow.

      * * *

      “Food’s up.”

      Molly scrubbed the last of the dried egg yolk off the table and headed toward the kitchen’s service window. Each step was painful. The new shoes she’d bought on sale tested her patience. She couldn’t wait to get home, take them off and soak her feet in a hot tub of shiny, fragrant bubbles.

      Willa Mae, the owner of the popular cafe since Hurricane Katrina had displaced her, stuck a sprig of parsley on the edge of the plate of steaming home fries and perfect over-easy eggs. She pushed it toward Molly. “Table six, and make it snappy. He seems in a hurry.”

      Putting on her friendly waitress smile, Molly took the plate and hurried over to the lone man sitting in the front booth by the door. His back to her, she placed the large plate in front of the newspaper the dark-haired man was reading and cheerfully rattled off, “Here you go. Fries and eggs. Hope you enjoy them.”

      “I would have enjoyed them more ten minutes ago.” The man’s hand rattled his empty coffee mug to express his neglect.

      “I’m so sorry, sir. We’ve been a bit busy and I... Isaac? Was tut Sie Hier?”

      Pulling his plate closer, he folded his newspaper and looked at Molly. “Why do you think I’m here? I’m hungry and want my second cup of coffee.”

      She hadn’t seen Isaac since he’d repaired the cart for her the day before. “Why didn’t you eat at home? Mamm made pancakes with hot apple-butter early this morning.”

      “I’m a solitary man. I like my own company,” he grumbled as he cut his eggs into perfect bite-sized squares. He leaned over the plate to get the full benefit of a fork full of eggs and home fries. “Now, can I have some coffee to wash down my breakfast?”

      “Ya, of course. I’ll get you coffee right away.”

      Taking a fresh carafe of coffee off the heater, Molly hurried back, reminding herself of the café’s customer service policy. The customer is always right. She’d agreed with the policy when she’d taken the job a year ago, but some days it took perseverance and a cool head to be friendly and courteous to certain patrons who passed through the café door.

      She grimaced as the toe of her built-up shoe hit the edge of Isaac’s booth, but kept a smile plastered on her face. “Let me pour you a fresh cup of coffee.” She went to pour, and before she could stop him, he reached for the tiny container of milk next to his cup.

      Hot coffee splashed his wrist and shirt cuff. He jerked his hand away and reached for a napkin. “Do you really work here, or are you following me around, making sure I get hurt at least once a day?”

      She spoke before she thought, her temper spiked by her throbbing toes and his grumpy words. “Has anyone ever pointed out how rude you are?” She put the carafe on the table harder than necessary. Her hands on her narrow hips, she glared at him, her smile gone. “If not, let me be the first. You are no ray of sunshine, Isaac Graber, and in future I’ll make sure another waitress comes to your table to abuse you.”

      “That’s fine.” He sipped at his coffee and completely ignored her.

      “Fine.” Molly turned on her heel and marched back to her section of the café, her fists clenched, and feeling more like a petulant child than a grown woman.

      Willa Mae flipped several pancakes and then motioned Molly over to the service window. “You’re as red as summer sandals. What happened? That guy get fresh with you?”

      “That guy is Isaac Graber, one of my mamm’s new boarders. Sometimes he makes me so mad.”

      “Let me guess. Did he pinch your backside, child?”

      “No, not at all. He’s...” Molly’s voice trailed off as she searched for the right word. “He’s not exactly weird, you know, just kind of friendly one minute and helpful and then he goes all strange and acts the fool.”

      “Oh. I get it. He’s not showing enough interest in you and you’re mad.”

      Molly straightened her kapp, tied her apron on a bit tighter and snapped, “Nee, that’s not it at all. He keeps accusing me of hurting him on purpose, like I spend my whole day thinking up ways to cause him pain.”

      “You hitting on my customers?”

      “You know perfectly well I’m not. Well... I did hit him in the head with a dust mop the other day, but that was completely his fault, not mine.”

      Sliding a plate of golden pancakes Molly’s way, Willa Mae smiled, her dark weave shiny after standing over the hot grill all morning. “This story just keeps getting better and better. Tell me everything. When are you two making your announcement in church?”

      Molly shot her best friend and boss a look that said it all. “These pancakes go to your gentleman at table six. Enjoy!” Willa Mae grinned.

      * * *

      Four hours later a midday band of rain swept in from the coast, surprising Isaac and leaving him a prisoner in his own shop. An hour passed. Not one customer came through the shop door. His early-morning meal at the café was nothing but a pleasant memory.

      He rubbed his stomach. The wonderful aroma of hot pizza mingled with the less appealing odors of grease and dirt, but still his stomach stirred. An hour later it continued to rumble loudly, begging for lunch. He downed another bottle of water and tried not to think about food, especially the pizza shop next door. He wasn’t about to trust his leg and poor balance on the slippery sidewalk outside. He would wait until the rain stopped.

      There wasn’t much he could do to pass the time while still on crutches. He called several cleaning businesses and wrote down price quotes. Sticker shock took away some of his appetite. The amounts asked to clear out the trash from the old building was enough to buy another electric golf cart. He’d need more carts to lease to the snowbirds pouring into Pinecraft from the north. The winter tourist season would quickly pass. Every day the bike shop wasn’t open he was losing money—money he needed for a permanent place to live.

      A feeling of defeat swamped