Healing Their Amish Hearts. Leigh Bale

arm and pointed. Jesse could just make out a lone figure, walking ahead of them on the side of the road. From her plain dress, black tights, heavy shawl and bonnet, he could tell she was Amish. She carried a heavy bag in each hand. Probably walking home after shopping in town. But then he saw a flash of purple skirts and knew exactly who she was.

      Becca Graber.

      His shoulders tensed and he thought of driving on by without acknowledging her. But that would be too rude, even for him.

      As his buggy-wagon neared, she glanced over her shoulder and moved a safe distance off the road so she wouldn’t be trampled. He instantly regretted making her move as he watched her sidestep the muddy ground.

      When he pulled up beside her, she stopped and nodded, her hands too encumbered by the heavy bags to wave.

      “Hallo! Fancy meeting you out here on the road,” she said.

      Her voice held a happy lilt and he wondered vaguely if anything ever got her down.

      “Ja, fancy that. You look as though your arms are quite full. Can we offer you a ride home?” Though his voice held little enthusiasm, Jesse forced himself to say the words, knowing it was the right thing to do.

      She hesitated, glancing at the long road ahead. “Are you sure it’s no trouble?”

      He’d heard that she lived with the Fishers, who were her relatives. Dawdi Zeke, the eldest member of the Gmay at ninety-six years, was her grandfather. They lived nine miles outside of town and Jesse would pass right by their farm on his way home. Ironically, the Fishers were his neighbors. A fact that made it much too easy for Becca to drive over to their place whenever she wanted. He just hoped she didn’t make a habit of popping in during the supper hour.

      “Ne, of course not. We pass by your place on our way home. Climb in.” The moment he made the invitation, he regretted it. He didn’t want to give Sam’s schoolteacher a ride home. He wanted to be left alone.

      “Ach, danke so much. I didn’t realize how heavy these books would be when I was sitting in the library.” She handed the bags to him and he set them on the floor of the back seat.

      As she climbed up to sit with Sam in between them, Jesse saw her glance back at the wagon. It was filled with boxes and bags of groceries, shingles and other roofing supplies, as well as a large crate of live chickens. The hens had fluffed their feathers and huddled together for warmth as they clucked with impatience. He didn’t get into town often and had made the best of this trip.

      “I see you’ve been to the grocery store and got some hens too,” she said as she settled herself.

      “Ja.” He flicked the leads at the horse’s rump and they lurched forward.

      “That’s gut. At least you’ll have fresh eggs to eat if you burn the pork chops again.” She laughed, the sound high and sweet. There was no guile in her voice but simply a gentle sense of humor.

      Jesse would have smiled but he still couldn’t decide if he liked this woman. She was definitely likeable, if he weren’t still missing Alice so much.

      “Sam, I have something special for you.” She reached around and rummaged inside one of her burlap bags before pulling out the pile of books the boy had abandoned at the library.

      Sam made a happy sound in the back of his throat and took the books onto his lap.

      “And this is for you.” She pulled out the book Jesse had been perusing and held it up for his inspection.

      Jesse went very still. He wasn’t sure if he should be happy or sad. He’d wanted to check out the book but he didn’t want it forced down his throat by the pretty schoolteacher.

      “I know you were in a big hurry to get home, so I thought I could check them out for you,” she said.

      Hmm. Interesting how she was making this easy for him, as if he’d been indisposed so she’d done him a favor.

      “I had planned to bring them to you at church tomorrow. Now you can read this evening. But you’ll only be able to keep them for two weeks before they’re due back at the library,” she warned.

      She smiled and spoke so happily that Jesse didn’t have the heart to scold her for being presumptuous. Her gesture was kind and he realized she only had their best interests at heart.

      “Danke.” He spoke low, forcing himself to say the word.

      “You’re willkomm.”

      Turning in her seat, she perused the clear but chilly day. The afternoon sun had done its best to melt off the snow but slushy spots on the road would soon ice up as evening came on and he was eager to get home. Driving a horse and buggy at night was not safe. Cars and trucks traveled way too fast and might come upon them without seeing their reflective lights. He’d heard that Caroline Schwartz, the regular schoolteacher, had been driving a buggy at night when she was hit from behind. The accident had nearly killed the poor girl and they’d had to put her horse down.

      “Isn’t it a nice day?” Becca asked, then gave an exaggerated shiver. “But brrr, it’s so cold. Still, it could always be worse. At least it isn’t snowing again.”

      Jesse agreed but didn’t answer. He just listened as Becca talked on and on about inconsequential things. The weather. Their church meetings tomorrow. The end-of-year program she was planning for the school. The box social fund-raiser she’d been asked to coordinate so they could purchase playground equipment for the school. He glanced at her pretty profile, thinking once again that she was like a whirl of wind. And he wasn’t sure he liked that.

      “Did you walk into town this morning?” he asked.

      “Ne, my cousin, Jakob, gave me a ride. He needed to buy supplies too. But I wanted to stay longer and told him I’d walk home this afternoon. Since the weather was clear, he agreed.” She gazed out at the damp countryside. “I think at that time, I underestimated how cold it is outside. I walked everywhere when I lived in Ohio but I’m still not used to the colder weather in Colorado. And everything is so spread out here. My cousin’s farm is much too far from town to walk in the cold and I won’t make that mistake again.”

      He agreed. If she had been his cousin, he would not have let her walk nine miles on such a cold winter’s day. And though he would never admit such a thing, it kind of upset him that Jakob Fisher had been so derelict in her care. Since he’d lived here for a number of years already, the man should have known better.

      “I’m sorry. I’m talking too much, aren’t I?” she said suddenly.

      Yes, but he didn’t say so. He would never admit that he liked her incessant chatter. It had been so long since he’d listened to a woman talk about everything and nothing and it filled up the lonely void of the ride. With Sam not speaking, Jesse’s life had become overly quiet and he realized he was hungry to talk to someone. Anyone! Even if that someone happened to be Sam’s pushy schoolteacher.

      Before he knew it, they had arrived at the turnoff to the Fishers’ farm. Jesse wasn’t about to make Becca walk the muddy road leading to the house and he turned the horse down the lane. The two-story log structure looked just the same as his, except that it was in pristine repair. So was the large, red barn. The tidy property was outlined by long barbed wire fences and fallow fields waiting for spring plowing. Black-and-white milk cows stood in a corral, chewing their cud. Several draft horses stood together near a cluster of barren trees. In the summertime, he had no doubt the place would be burgeoning with green life.

      One day soon, Jesse hoped his own farm looked in this good a shape but he knew it would take time and lots of hard work for it to prosper. But he intended to do just that. Bishop Yoder had offered to coordinate a work frolic to help with some of the repairs but Jesse had politely refused. He’d come here for isolation and didn’t want a lot of people around his place asking a lot of questions about Alice and their girls. For now, he wanted to be left alone.

      “Danke for the