The Amish Widower's Twins. Jo Ann Brown

him or dissolve into tears? That she was tempted to do both was something he must never know.

      As emotions rushed through his eyes, she waited for him to reply. He must know, as she did, that what he said next would set the tone of their future interactions. Interactions? What an unfeeling word! Yet such words would keep distance between them.

      “I didn’t know your Waglers lived on this farm,” Gabriel said.

      “We’ve been here over a year.” She raised her chin as if she could cut the differences in their heights, for he was almost a foot taller than she was. “Are you visiting someone here?”

      Please say ja, she begged silently.

      “No, we’ve decided to become part of this new church district.”

      It took every bit of strength Leanna possessed to keep her shoulders from sagging at the thought of having Gabriel, his wife and their boppli as her neighbors. She hadn’t been successful in banishing him from her thoughts. Now—seeing him at least every two weeks for church—he’d be a constant reminder of the worst betrayal she’d ever endured.

      God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. That psalm, which had offered her comfort, whispered in her mind.

      “Did you say something about goats’ milch?” She remembered what he’d said, but she didn’t want to talk about why he and his family had come to Harmony Creek Hollow.

      He looked relieved, but didn’t give her the smile that used to make her heart yearn to twirl about with joy. He remained somber as he answered, “The doktor suggested goats’ milch for my bopplin.”

      She heard a bleat from the milking platform. Charity had gotten tired of waiting and thought Leanna should know it, but Leanna couldn’t move.

      Couldn’t speak.

      Couldn’t think of anything but what Gabriel had just said. He had more than the one boppli he held with the ease of an experienced parent in the crook of one arm?

      She shouldn’t be surprised. Like her, he was a twin, but unlike her and her sister Annie, he and his brother weren’t identical twins. Twins were more prevalent in some families, so him being the daed of twins wasn’t unexpected. It was a reminder, however, of how far his life had changed since the last time they’d spoken...and how little hers had.

      She’d moved with her grossmammi and siblings, as well as her older brother Lyndon’s family, from Pennsylvania to northern New York. She’d bought and now tended a herd of goats that made her laugh with their antics when she wasn’t frustrated with their attempts to sneak through the fence. She had jobs cleaning houses for Englisch neighbors to help provide for the household.

      She remained unmarried, the sole member of the friendship group she, her sister and two friends had laughingly named Harmony Creek Spinsters Club to not find a husband after moving to the new settlement. The only romance in her life, other than a few attempts by her sister at matchmaking, were the novels she read before she went to sleep each night.

      She told herself to stop feeling sorry for herself. She had a gut life with a loving family and kind friends. She was a member of a devoted Leit who came together to worship and praise God.

      “...would be better for their digestion.”

      Realizing Gabriel had continued talking, Leanna struggled to listen past the roar of the windswept ocean that had taken up residence in her head. He was going to be living in Harmony Creek Hollow, so she must get used to him being nearby.

      But how?

      * * *

      Gabriel Miller wondered why nobody had warned him Leanna was part of the Wagler family living down the road from the farm he’d bought with his brother. Because the surname was common in Lancaster County, he hadn’t given a second thought to his new neighbors.

      He should have. And maybe a third and a fourth thought. He had no idea how he was going to get used to having pretty Leanna right next door. When they’d lived in Lancaster County, it had been an hour drive from his house to hers. The last time they’d spoken, he’d asked her to meet him at an ice cream shop in Strasburg, which was about halfway between their homes. That had never happened. Instead, he’d married Freda.

      Every time he walked out his door now, there would be a chance he’d see the sheen of Leanna’s black hair in the sunlight or hear her soft voice lilting with laughter and kindness. Two years ago, that would have been a cause for celebration. Now nothing was.

      A cry came from the boppli in his arms, and he gave Harley a teething biscuit. The little boy chomped on it, appeased. It was a sharp reminder, though, how Gabriel had to forget about the past and think about Harley’s and his twin sister Heidi’s suffering. The little girl managed better than her smaller brother, but last night both had been awake all night with stomachaches and vomiting. What they did get into their stomachs went through them so fast Gabriel was having a hard time keeping up with the laundry.

      Thank You, Lord, he’d prayed as he had washed out diapers, tiny clothing and soiled bedding, for having these troubles come to us in May. I don’t know how we would have handled it in the middle of the winter.

      “Do you sell the milch from your goats?” he asked as he had before. The sooner he got his business completed, the sooner he could get out of Leanna’s barnyard.

      “Ja.” The word seemed to spark a change in her because she lost her baffled expression and met his eyes.

      For the length of a single heartbeat, it was as if he’d been thrown back in time to when he’d seen her blue-green eyes crinkling with a smile across a hay-strewn barn. Forget that! He couldn’t let his mind get caught up in what had been. It was too late to change it anyhow.

      Again he had to force himself to focus on the stumbling conversation. How easily they’d once chatted! Today, he had to weigh each word before he spoke it. Otherwise, he might utter something stupid, like the truth he had promised never to reveal.

      “I’m looking to buy enough for both bopplin,” he said. “Around three pints a day. Do your goats give enough so you can sell me that much?”

      “Ja, but you’ll have to pick it up. I don’t have time to deliver milch to you.” She hesitated, then asked, “Where’s your farm?”

      “Next door, but closer to the main road.” He didn’t miss how she flinched. “Michael and I purchased the farm and moved in a couple of days ago. I’d assumed I could find formula for the bopplin, but everything seems to upset their stomachs.”

      Her gaze focused on Harley again. “They may be bothered by you using different water here. Are they eating solid food?”

      “Some, but we’re relying on bottles for the most part. That’s why it’s important I get something they can keep down.”

      “Goats’ milch is easy to digest.” Her voice sounded normal. He wished his did. “It has less sugar and trace amounts of the protein that causes troubles for those with sensitivities to cows’ milch. If you’re going to use it as a formula substitute, though, you’ll need to add in a few minerals and vitamins.”

      “You know a lot about this.”

      “My goats aren’t pets. When I decided to start a herd, I did a lot of reading to know what I was getting into. I’ve got several customers who purchase milch, though they’re adults, not bopplin.”

      “Gabriel...Miller...is...that you?”

      He looked over his shoulder to see who was speaking in a halting manner. Again he was astonished. He’d met Inez Wagler, the matriarch of the Wagler family and Leanna’s grossmammi, several times at haystack dinners and mud sales. The last time he’d seen her, two years ago, she’d been as spry as a grasshopper.

      Inez Wagler,