Second Chance Amish Bride. Marta Perry

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 simplest precaution. While he was still fumbling for words to admit it, Jessie put her arm around him and braced herself.

      “Up we go. Feel behind you for the chair to guide yourself.” Her strength surprised him, but no more than her calm reaction to what he’d done.

      It took only a moment to settle himself in the chair again. He did a quick assessment and decided he hadn’t damaged himself.

      Jessie, ignoring him, was already cleaning up the scattered oats. He had to admit, she was quick and capable, even if she was bossy.

      “Aren’t you going to say you told me so?” he asked.

      She glanced up from her kneeling position on the floor, eyes widening as if startled. Then her lips curled slightly. “I have six brothers, remember? I’ve dealt with stubborn menfolk before. There’s no use telling them.”

      “I suppose one of them broke his leg, so that makes you an expert.”

      “Two of the boys, actually.” She finished cleaning the oatmeal from the floor and dumped a dustpan full into the trash. “Plus a broken arm or two. And then there was the time Benjy fell from the hayloft and broke both legs.” Jessie shook her head. “He got into more trouble than the rest of them put together.”

      He watched as she started over making the oatmeal. Yah, capable was the right word for Jessie. Like Onkel Zeb said, it was surprising no man had snapped her up by now. She was everything an Amish wife and mother should be. Everything Alice hadn’t been.

      Caleb shoved that thought away, even as he heard voices. The others had finished the milking.

      Jessie darted a quick glance at him. “No reason that anyone else needs to know what happened, ain’t so?”

      He had to force his jaw to unclamp so he could produce a smile. “Denke.”

      Jessie’s face relaxed in an answering grin.

      Onkel Zeb came in at that moment—just in time to see them exchanging a smile. He cast a knowing look at Caleb.

      Caleb started to swing the chair away, only to be stymied because the lock was on. Still, he didn’t have to meet his uncle’s gaze. He knew only too well what Zeb was thinking.

      All right, so maybe Jessie wasn’t as bad as he’d made out. Maybe she was deft and willing and good with children. But he still didn’t want to have her around all the time, reminding him of Alice.

      * * *

      Jessie’s heart had been in her mouth when she’d heard the crash in the kitchen, knowing Caleb must have fallen. She’d been halfway along the covered walkway, and she’d dashed as fast as she could for the house door. When she’d entered the kitchen...

      Well, it had taken all the control she had to put on a calm exterior. Even so, her heart hadn’t stopped thumping until he was back in the chair and she could see he was all right.

      She set a bowl of oatmeal down in front of him with a little more force than necessary. He was fortunate. Didn’t he realize that? He could have ended up back in the hospital again.

      A stubborn man like Caleb probably wouldn’t admit it, even to himself. Any more than he’d admit that he could use her help. Apparently it would take more than a broken leg to make him willing to have her near him.

      She slipped into her chair as Caleb bent his head for the prayer. Then she started the platter of fried scrapple around the table. Timothy took a couple of pieces eagerly, but she noticed that Becky didn’t serve herself any until she saw her father frown at her. Obviously Jessie wasn’t going to win Becky over easily.

      Jessie’s heart twisted at the sight of that downturned little mouth. Becky looked as if she’d been meant by nature to be as sunny a child as Timothy, but life had gotten in the way. If only Jessie could help...but there was no sense thinking that, unless she could change Caleb’s mind.

      The men were talking about whether or not it was too early to plant corn, all the while consuming vast quantities of food. Jessie had forgotten how much a teenage boy like Thomas could eat. He seemed a little shy, and he was all long legs and arms and gangly build. Tomorrow morning she’d fix more meat, assuming Caleb didn’t intend to chase her out even before breakfast.

      “Sam says he’ll komm on Monday and help get the corn planted,” Zeb said. “Told him he didn’t need to, but there was no arguing with him.”

      Jessie noticed Caleb’s hand wrapped around his fork. Wrapped? No, clenched would be a better word. His knuckles were white, and she guessed that the fork would have quite a bend in the handle when he was done.

      Caleb wouldn’t believe it, but that was exactly how she felt when he refused to let her help.

      Timothy tugged at her sleeve. “Can I have more oatmeal?”

      “For sure.” She rose quickly, glad there was something she could do, even if it was only dishing up cereal.

      “I love oatmeal.” Timothy watched her, probably to be sure she was giving her enough. “Especially with brown sugar. Lots of brown sugar,” he added hopefully.

      “A spoonful of brown sugar,” Caleb said firmly, coming out of his annoyance. Jessie met his eyes, smiling, and nodded, adding a heaping spoonful of brown sugar that she hoped would satisfy both of them.

      “Shall I stir it in?” she asked, setting the bowl in front of Timothy.

      He shook his head vigorously. “I like it to get melty on top.” He sent a mischievous glance toward his uncle. “Onkel Daniel does, too.”

      Daniel laughed. “You caught me. But I’ll need lots of energy at the shop today. New customers coming in to talk to me about a job.” He looked up at the clock. “Guess I should get on my way.”

      With Daniel’s departure, everyone seemed ready to finish up. Soon they were all scooting away. Left alone with the dishes, Jessie looked after them. She’d think Becky was old enough to be helping with the dishes. Probably her desire to take over didn’t extend to the dishes. She’d certain sure been doing that at Becky’s age. But she wasn’t going to be here long enough to make any changes.

      When she’d finished cleaning up the kitchen, Jessie followed the sound of voices to the living room. Becky stood backed up to the wheelchair, a hair brush in her hand. “It’s easy, Daadi. Just make two braids, that’s all.”

      Jessie stood watching, oddly affected by the sight of the vulnerable nape of the child’s neck. Caleb had managed to part Becky’s long, silky hair, and now he clutched one side, looking at it a little helplessly.

      Gesturing him to silence, Jessie stepped up beside him and took the clump of hair. For an instant she thought he’d object, but then he grudgingly nodded. Jessie deftly separately the hair into three strands and began to braid.

      Caleb watched the movement of her fingers so intently that she imagined them warming from his gaze. If he were going to be doing this he’d have to learn...but of course he wouldn’t. He’d find some other woman to take her place once he’d gotten Jessie out