Second Chance Amish Bride. Marta Perry

of the woods. She wouldn’t go far. She’d trail along, staying out of sight until they were nearly home, and then jump out at them.

      But it hadn’t worked out that way. Alice hadn’t reappeared. Jessie searched for her, at first annoyed, then angry, then panic-stricken. Alice had vanished.

      Jessie still cringed at the memory of telling her parents. They’d formed a search party, neighbors pitching in, combing the woods on either side of the path.

      Jessie had followed, weeping, unwilling to stay at the house and yet terrified of what the adults might find. She didn’t think she’d been quite so terrified since.

      It had been nearly dark when the call went up that Alice had been found. Alice wasn’t hurt. They’d found her curled up under a tree, sound asleep.

      Alice had clung to Jessie more than ever after that experience. And Jessie hadn’t dared let herself grow impatient—not once she’d learned what the cost of that could be. She was responsible for Alice, no matter what.

      Jessie tried to wipe away a tear and only succeeded in getting soapsuds in her eye. Blinking, she wiped it with a dish towel. She heard a step behind her.

      “Ach, Jessie, don’t let my nephew upset you.”

      She turned, managing to produce a slight smile for Zeb.

      Zeb moved a little closer, his weathered face troubled. “You think it would be better to talk more openly about Alice, ain’t so?”

      She evaded his keen gaze. “Caleb doesn’t agree, and they are his kinder.”

      Zeb didn’t speak for a moment. Then he sighed. “Do you know why I was so glad to see you today?”

      “Because you are a kind person,” she said. “Even Alice...” She stopped. She’d promised not to mention Alice.

      “Even Alice liked me, ain’t so?” His smile was tinged with sorrow. “This business of not talking about her—Caleb is making a mistake, I think. You can’t forgive if you can’t be open.”

      “Some things are harder to forgive than others.”

      “All the more important to forgive, ain’t so?” He patted her shoulder awkwardly. “Don’t give up. Promise me you won’t.”

      She didn’t know how she’d manage it, but she was confident in her answer. “I didn’t come this far just to turn around and go back home again.”

      Renewed determination swept through her. It seemed she had one person on her side, at least. And she wasn’t going to give up.

       Chapter Three

      Caleb woke early, disoriented for a moment at not hearing the clatter of carts and trays. He wasn’t in the hospital any longer. He was home. Thankfulness swept through him, replaced by frustration the instant he moved and felt the weight of the cast dragging him down.

      He was home, and those were the familiar sounds of going out to do the milking. He heard the rumble of Onkel Zeb’s and Daniel’s voices, and then the thud of the back door closing.

      The source of the sound switched, coming through the back window now. Thomas Schutz must have arrived—he was calling a greeting to the others, sounding cheerful despite having walked across the fields in the dark.

      Onkel Zeb was right about the lad. They should keep him on, even after Caleb was well enough to take on his own work. That would free Daniel to spend more time with his carpentry business instead of being tied to so many farm chores.

      Caleb sat up and leaned to peer out the window. Still dark, of course, but the flashlight one of them carried sent a circle of light dancing ahead of them. Caleb’s hand clenched. He should be out there with them, not lying here in bed, helpless.

      Stop thinking that way, he ordered himself. He might not be up to doing the milking or going upstairs to put the kinder to bed, but for sure there were things he could do. The sooner the better.

      Using his hands to move the cast, Caleb swung his legs out of bed and sat there for a moment, eyeing the wheelchair with dislike. He didn’t have a choice about using it, so he’d have to figure out how to do things with it.

      First things first. If he got up and dressed by himself, he’d feel more like a man and less like an invalid. His clothes were not far away, draped on the chair where Onkel Zeb had put them the previous night. That clamp-like gripper on a long handle was obviously intended for just such a situation. Maybe he should have paid more attention to the nurse who’d explained it to him.

      Getting dressed was a struggle. He nearly ripped his shirt, and got so tangled in his pants he was blessed not to end up on the floor. But when it was done, and he’d succeeded in transferring himself from the bed to the wheelchair, Caleb felt as triumphant as if he’d milked the entire herd himself.

      A few shoves of the wheels took him out to the kitchen. Fortunately Zeb or Daniel had left the light fixture on, since he’d never have been able to reach that. Well, he was here, and a few streaks of light were beginning to make their way over the ridge to the east.

      Jessie hadn’t appeared from the daadi haus yet. The small separate house was reached by a covered walkway. It was intended to be a residence for the older generation in the family, leaving the farmhouse itself for the younger family. When he and Alice had married, Onkel Zeb had moved in. Now Jessie was staying there, at least temporarily.

      Definitely temporarily. Given how irritable she made him, the sooner she left, the better.

      “The kinder need me. You need me.” That was more or less what Jessie had flung at him last night. Well, he was about to prove her wrong. He’d get breakfast started on his own. Even if he couldn’t go up the stairs, he could still care for his own children.

      Oatmeal was always a breakfast favorite. Fortunately, the pot he needed was stored in one of the lower cabinets. Maneuvering around the refrigerator to get the milk was more of a challenge.

      Feeling pleased with himself, he poured milk into the pot without spilling a drop. Now for the oatmeal. This would need the gripper, but he’d brought it out of the bedroom with him. Congratulating himself on his foresight, he used it to open the top cupboard door. The oatmeal sat on the second shelf. Maybe he ought to have someone rearrange the kitchen a bit to make the things he’d need more accessible. In the meantime, he could make do with what he had.

      Caleb reached with the gripper but found it wavering with the effort of holding it out with the whole length of his arm. A little more... He touched the cylinder of oatmeal, tried to get the prongs open and around it. Not quite... He leaned over the counter, focused on the elusive box, determined to get it down.

      He reached, grabbed at it, lost his hold, sent the oatmeal tipping, spilling down in a shower of flakes. The chair rolled with the imbalance of his body. He tried to stop it, and then he was falling, the floor rushing up to meet him. He landed with an almighty thud that felt as if it shook the house.

      For an instant he lay there, stunned. Then, angry with himself, he flattened his palms against the floor and tried to push himself up.

      “Wait.” A flurry of steps, and Jessie was kneeling next to him, her hand on his arm. “Don’t try to move until you’re sure you aren’t hurt.”

      The anger with himself turned against her, and he jerked away. “It’s not your concern.”

      “Yah, yah, I know.” She sounded, if anything, a little amused. “You are fine. You probably intended to drop down on the floor.”

      Apparently satisfied that he was okay, she reached across him to turn the chair into position and activate the brake. “Next time you decide to reach too far and overbalance, lock the wheels first.”

      Much as he hated to admit it to himself, she was right. He’d been so eager to show her he could manage that he’d neglected the