Noah's Sweetheart. Rebecca Kertz

was a softness about Mae’s expression that told Rachel how much her aunt enjoyed working with her daughters. As the King women worked, they chatted happily, giggling at something Nancy and then Charlotte said.

      Rachel felt her heart lighten at their laughter as she approached.

      After setting a layer of crust on the bottom of a pie pan, Charlotte looked up and saw her. “Rachel. Gut morning.”

      Rachel smiled. “Gut morning. May I help?” she asked.

      “You’re up,” Aunt Mae said with satisfaction. “Ja, you can help.”

      “You didn’t sleep well,” Charlotte said, her gaze sharp as she studied her cousin.

      “I’m sorry I overslept.”

      “You needed your rest,” her aunt said. “Would you like breakfast?”

      “I’d rather help with the baking.”

      Grinning, Charlotte and Nancy made room at the table for Rachel. “Here, Rachel,” Nancy invited. “You can work here.”

      Rachel slid between her cousins, grabbed a bowl of dough, and without instruction began to roll and cut out strips to make lattice for a strawberry pie that Charlotte was assembling. Working in the kitchen, she felt instantly at home.

      “It’s kind of you to have me.” She smiled at her cousins. “I appreciate your sharing.”

      “We don’t mind,” Charlotte said. “We are family.”

      “There is plenty of room,” Nancy agreed. “You are comfortable?”

      “Ja. The bed is gut. Yesterday it was a long journey from Millersburg to Lancaster.”

      “It is a long way. It has been many years since I have visited my brother’s family,” Aunt Mae agreed. “Your driver? He is a gut man?”

      “Ja, Aunt Mae, he is from Ohio, too, and has family in Lancaster County. We had to leave early, as his brother-in-law is ill and his sister needed help.”

      “Family is important. I am glad you had a driver who understands that.” She glanced at Rachel’s handiwork as she kneaded and rolled out pie dough. “Nice work. Your mudder, if I recall correctly, was a gut cook, but she does not enjoy it in the kitchen much. Who taught you to cook?”

      “Grossmudder. She loved to bake and insisted I help whenever it was baking day.” Rachel had enjoyed cooking and baking with her grandmother. Grossmudder had been a perfectionist when it came to her cakes, biscuits and pies, and she had instilled that trait in her eldest granddaughter. And Aunt Mae was right: her mudder did not like to cook, but she took care of her family, as a good wife should. Rachel and her siblings always ate well. But it was Grossmudder who shared her love of cooking and baking with her granddaughter, imparting a sense of understanding that family and good food went hand in hand.

      Rachel began to assemble the pie lattice, placing each dough strip carefully over the filling, spacing each evenly in a lovely woven pattern. When she was done, she stood back to eye her handiwork. “Bread, biscuits and pies,” she said with a smile. “Are we having company? Or are these all for family?”

      Nancy spoke up. “Nay. We sell baked goods to a new shop in Kitchen Kettle Village. We bring them pies at least once or twice a week. Our pies sell well, and the owner is pleased to have them.”

      “The bread, too? It smells delicious.”

      Aunt Mae grinned. “The bread is for dinner this evening.”

      Rachel grinned with pleasure. “I can almost taste it now.”

      An hour later, Rachel had rolled out dough enough for three pies, made a filling for one crust, cut out biscuits and stirred the ingredients of an upside-down chocolate cake into a pan. The smell of all this good food made her stomach growl.

      Charlotte chuckled. “I think you should take time for breakfast.”

      Her stomach protesting loudly again, Rachel said, “Ja. I think you’re right.”

      “Fresh biscuits out of the oven?” Aunt Mae asked.

      Rachel’s mouth watered. “Ja. A fresh biscuit sounds gut!”

      She ate her biscuit and sipped from her cup of tea.

      “Would you like another, Rachel? Or would you like eggs and bacon?”

      “Danki, but no, Aunt Mae. It’s too late for more than this.” She rose with plate in hand to wash it in the dish basin.

      Aunt Mae left the house to take Uncle Amos something to drink. Rachel’s uncle was working in the fields. The day was again lovely but a little warmer, and Amos would want something to quench his thirst.

      As she dried her clean plate, Rachel heard a knock resound loudly on the outside door. She couldn’t see who it was as she put away the dish and hung the dish towel over the drying rack.

      “Noah!” she heard Nancy exclaim, and Rachel felt her stomach flutter.

      “It’s nice to see you, Noah,” Charlotte said cheerfully. “Would you like a biscuit or piece of pie?”

      “I appreciate the offer, but no, Charlotte. After helping Dat early in the fields, I ate a huge breakfast.”

      Rachel heard every word spoken between her cousins and Noah Lapp, but she didn’t turn around. With the warmth she felt since Noah’s arrival, she knew her cheeks would be blazing red. Besides, he had come to visit with Charlotte, surely. Although both had behaved in the most appropriate manner in town, it seemed clear to Rachel that Charlotte and Noah were sweet on each other.

      “Gut morning, Rachel.” Suddenly Noah was next to her, overwhelming her with his presence. “Are you settling in nicely?”

      Forced to meet his regard, she nodded. “Ja. My uncle and his family have made me most welcome.” He smelled and looked nice, she thought as he turned to speak with Nancy. He must have bathed after working in the fields, for his shirt was clean, as were the dark triblend denim pants that he wore. She tried not to notice the way his suspenders fit over his shoulders. He had a firm jaw and a ready smile. His golden-brown eyes sparkled. His sandy-brown hair looked neatly combed beneath his banded straw hat.

      She recalled suddenly how he’d looked yesterday after he’d rescued her: tall, thin but strong enough to leap onto the back of a galloping horse and hold on. He had lost his hat during his wild ride when he’d leaned low for the reins. His hair had become tousled and windswept during his efforts to take control of the runaway horse and buggy. She recalled how her heart had hammered and the relief she’d felt when he’d straightened, triumphant.

      Watching him now, she felt the back of her neck tingle. What was wrong with her? Abraham Beiler. Noah Lapp. She frowned. Was one man any different from another? She was here as a schoolteacher. She would be content with teaching children other than her own.

      Startled by her own thoughts, she glanced to see if anyone was watching her. Her gaze encountered her cousin Nancy, who rewarded her with a little smile.

      “Rachel?” Noah’s voice brought her attention back to him.

      “I can’t thank you enough for coming to my rescue.”

      “It was my pleasure.” Noah smiled. Rachel looked well and content...and extremely appealing with flour on her nose and a dusting across the front of her apron. It was good to see that she suffered no lasting effects of her frightening experience the previous day.

      “Noah!” Aunt Mae exclaimed as she came in from outside. “I thought I saw you from across the yard.”

      He reluctantly drew his attention away from Rachel to grin at her aunt. “Gut morning, Aunt Mae. I thought to take Rachel over to see the new schuulhaus.”

      “That is a wonderful idea, Noah.” Aunt Mae appeared delighted.

      “What do you think, Rachel?” Noah asked.