A Husband For Mari. Emma Miller

but Mari had always admired her. Now she was once more a widow, but even as a wife, Sara had been direct and known for speaking her mind. Very much like Addy seemed to be, Mari thought. Maybe that was why Addy and her husband spoke so highly of Sara and respected her opinion.

      “I know who James is.” Mari suppressed a little smile. She had no idea what had gotten into her.

      “Ask him if he would like to join us for supper. But not those Swartzentruber rascals. Just James. A new client will be arriving any moment. We’re a household of women except Zachary, and I don’t want him to feel awkward his first night here. A gaggle of women can be intimidating to a man.”

      “Of course we have Hiram,” Ellie chimed in. The little woman was climbing on a three-foot stepladder to reach a serving plate in the cupboard.

      “Ya, there’s always Hiram,” Jerushah said, “but he doesn’t have much to add to the conversation.”

      “Exactly.” Sara smiled. “James said his sister and the boys were going to her mother-in-law’s tonight, so James will be on his own. Tell him that I’d consider it a favor if he could put his feet under my table and make Peter feel at ease. Peter’s mother advises me that he’s shy, so I doubt he’ll talk much more than Hiram. We need to make him feel more at ease talking with women. James will help him relax.”

      “Whereas,” Ellie declared from her perch on the ladder, “Titus and Menno would delight in telling Peter tall tales of the homely women Sara wants to match him with.”

      “Like they did with my prospective husband,” Jerushah put in shyly. “They nearly frightened my John into backing out of the arrangement before he’d even met me.”

      “So no ham for Menno and Titus tonight.” Sara gave a firm nod of her head. “They can go home, have cold liver and onions and pester their own mother.”

      “Like I do sometimes,” Zachary chimed in.

      The women laughed, and Mari glanced at her son. What had gotten into Zachary? He talked when they were alone together, but he was usually quiet around strangers. Apparently he’d finished setting the table; now he was holding a towel for Ellie. She’d just come down off the ladder to find hot mitts and slide a gigantic pan of gingerbread from the oven.

      “So Zachary worked with the men today, I hear,” Mari said. “I hope he wasn’t any trouble. James said it would be fine, but I don’t want to...” She searched for the right words as an image of James came to her and she felt her cheeks grow warm. What on earth was wrong with her, being so silly over some man she didn’t even know? Just tired, she supposed. “I just wouldn’t want to take advantage of anyone’s kindness,” she said.

      “He was no trouble at all. What this house needs is some active children.” Sara went back to the refrigerator and removed pickles and a crockery bowl containing chowchow. “Not only was he no trouble but he was helpful. First he worked outside with the men. Then he came in and made the gingerbread for dessert.”

      “Zachary made gingerbread?” Mari wanted to pinch herself to make certain she wasn’t dreaming. “I didn’t know he was interested in cooking.”

      “Not cooking, Mom,” Zachary corrected. “Baking. Sara said if I learn to make really good gingerbread, they’ll sell it at the shop where you work and I could make money doing that, too.”

      Ellie carried a pan of gingerbread to a soapstone-topped counter and set it down to cool. “Addy was telling me she thought Sara’s gingerbread would be a good seller. I know it’s a butcher shop, but they want a couple shelves of baked goods, too.”

      “We didn’t make it from a box,” Zachary explained. “I mixed flour and eggs and ginger spice and stuff. It took a long time.”

      “I can’t wait to taste it.” Mari offered Ellie a smile of gratitude.

      It usually took Zachary a long time to warm up to strangers, but he was acting as though he’d known Ellie for ages. Ellie obviously had a real knack for dealing with children.

      Mari heard the sound of a car coming up the driveway, and Sara turned from the stove. “That must be Peter,” she said, wiping her hands on her apron. “Ellie, watch that the potatoes don’t burn. I’ll just go out and welcome him. Mari, can you go fetch James?”

      “Going.”

      “Plenty of coats hanging in the utility room,” Sara instructed. “You might as well just save your own for good. On a farm, a sturdy denim is best, anyway.”

      Mari found a coat and slipped into it. Though the style was certainly utilitarian and obviously Amish, Sara’s old coats were warmer than her own. Buttoning up, she dodged Hiram coming in with a bucket of milk and hurried across the back porch.

      She walked around the house to find James using a power saw to trim a length of wood. Walking up makeshift steps into the still-open-to-the-elements addition, she called his name, but he couldn’t hear her over the loud whine of the power tool. She waited for him to finish the cut and turn off the saw before speaking again. The gas-powered generator was still running, but it was far enough away that the noise wasn’t too bad. “James?”

      “Oh, hey.” He turned toward her and smiled. “Sorry I didn’t hear you, Mari. I was just finishing up here.”

      He said her name correctly—just like Mary. Some people wanted to call her Maury because of the way she spelled her name. It was short for Maryann, but she’d never liked that name, so when she started writing the shorter version, as a child, she decided to use an i instead of a y.

      Mari’s breath made small clouds of steam, and she pulled the coat tighter around her and suppressed a shiver. The walls and roof cut off some of the wind, but there was no heat. Her ears and nose felt cold, and she wondered how the carpenters could work outside in such bitter weather.

      “What can I do for you?” James asked.

      And then he smiled at her again, and she immediately became flustered. “Um, I— Sara—” Mari couldn’t seem to speak, and she had no idea why. Obviously it had something to do with James, but she didn’t understand her reaction. This was so unlike her.

      Mari didn’t dislike men, but she certainly wasn’t in awe of them like other women her age she’d known. She’d learned that a woman who wasn’t looking for a boyfriend or a husband found life a lot easier. James was looking at her expectantly, but his expression was curious, not impatient. She glanced around at the half-finished space. There didn’t seem to be any of the other workmen there, which made her mission easier since Sara had specified James and not any of the others.

      “Sara sent me to ask you if you’d join us for supper,” she said in a rush, then went on to explain why Sara was hoping that he’d join them.

      James unplugged and wound the power cord for the saw. “I’d be glad to. I’d be having leftovers at home.” He noticed her looking at the saw. “You’re wondering about the electric saws and such.”

      She nodded. Sara had a lot more modern conveniences than the Amish community Mari had come from in Wisconsin. Her uncle hadn’t even had a real bathroom; they still used an outhouse. Maybe this community was a lot more liberal, she thought.

      “Gasoline-powered generators are okay,” he explained. “Makes the job go faster. I can build the traditional way when I need to, but Sara wanted this addition done as soon as possible.”

      Mari took in the size of the structure. “She must be expecting a lot of company. Wanting more bedrooms.”

      “She’s big business in Seven Poplars. Got a waiting list of folks wanting to come and stay and find a spouse.” James placed the heavy saw on a stack of lumber and covered it with a tarp. “So how was your first day at the shop?”

      “Um. Good.” Her mind went blank. She studied him, wondering at his interest in her day. It had been a long time since anyone had asked her about her day.

      James Hostetler