Redeeming Grace. Emma Miller

tucked his gloves into his coat pockets and hung his coat on a hook near the door. “I didn’t come empty-handed,” he said to Hannah. “Clarence just butchered two days ago. He insisted on giving me a ham and a pork loin. I left them in the cold box on the porch. You’re welcome to them, and I know you can use them with company coming.”

      “Grace.” Johanna nudged her. “Could you set a plate for John and pour him some coffee?”

      Grace nodded. “Sure.” John smiled and winked at her as she got up, and she felt herself blushing. What was it about him that made her feel as if she had two left feet? She’d always been more at ease around men than women. But John Hartman was different. When he looked at her, her wits scattered like fall leaves in a windstorm.

      “Don’t put yourself out for me,” he said. “I know where Hannah keeps the cups.”

      “No,” Grace insisted. “You sit. You’re company.” Thinking about John was distracting, but it made her feel good that Johanna had asked for help. It made Grace feel warm inside to welcome someone into the house. For a few minutes she could almost convince herself that she had always been one of them.

      “Look at you,” he said, making a show of staring at her. “Dress and apron, prayer cap.”

      Grace’s throat clenched. Was he making fun of her? “Hannah gave them to me,” she said. It came out a whisper.

      John saw that his teasing had upset her. “I think you look fine,” he said with another warm smile. “More than fine. I think you look...”

      “Plain?” Hannah said, coming to his rescue.

      “I was going to say pretty,” he answered. “And Plain. Nice. The blue brings out the blue in your eyes.”

      Now everyone was staring at her. Woodenly, she walked to the stove and reached for the coffeepot.

      “Watch it!” John warned, lunging across the room and throwing out a hand to block her arm. “You need a hot mitt. You don’t want to burn yourself.”

      Grace yanked her arm back almost as fast as she would have if she had been burned. For a second, their gazes met, and she saw the real concern in John’s eyes. Then she took a step back. “Sorry,” she managed. “I didn’t think.”

      “Ne,” Susanna said. “You don’t want to get a burn. Becca did. Becca burned herself on the stove. She got the blister. Mam had to put medicine on it.”

      John found a hot mitt and handed it to Grace.

      “Thank you,” she said. “That was dumb of me.”

      “Not dumb,” he answered in a deep, rich voice. “We all make silly mistakes.” He opened a cupboard door, removed a mug and held it out to her. She forced her hands not to tremble as she filled the cup nearly to the brim. “Thank you, Grace Yoder,” he said.

      Rebecca giggled.

      “Come back to the table, you two, before breakfast turns to ice,” Hannah called. “You say both calves were heifers, John?”

      He gave Grace a warm grin before turning back to the table. “Pretty calves, both of them. Big. A little tired, but they were both on their feet and nursing when I left the barn. Clarence is lucky. They’ll make a fine addition to his dairy herd if he decides not to sell them.”

      “Late in the year for calves,” Irwin said between mouthfuls of pancake.

      “Or early.” John took a chair. “Clarence didn’t intend for her to calve in November. He said Reuben’s bull broke down the fence between their farms and got into his pasture.”

      Grace was grateful that the conversation had turned to animals and away from her. She’d heard lots of talk about livestock around the rodeo, and she’d grown used to it. It was clear that John was dedicated to his work. He didn’t seem the least put out that he’d had to miss a night’s sleep in one of his client’s barns. Even on such a cold night.

      “I saw your lights as I was on the way home,” he was saying. “I hoped that if I threw myself on your mercy, you’d feed me. Yesterday morning, Uncle Albert insisted on making oatmeal from scratch. It was awful, as thick and gummy as paste. He thought it was wonderful, and there was no way I could get away from the table without eating a bowl the size of my head.”

      Susanna giggled. “The size of my head,” she echoed.

      “I can’t imagine what it would be this morning for breakfast,” John continued, glancing across the table at Grace and smiling with his eyes. “I was just hoping it wouldn’t be more oatmeal.”

      “Ya,” Irwin agreed. “Probably so.”

      “That or his French toast,” John replied. “And he always burns that. Says charcoal is good for the digestion.” Everyone, including Grace and John and the children, laughed at that.

      “It must be hard for the three of you,” Hannah said. “Three men with no woman to cook for you.”

      “It’s a heavy burden, I can tell you.” John grinned again. “I’d do the cooking, but the truth is, mine is worse than Uncle Albert’s.”

      As the meal continued, Grace tried to convince herself that John was just a friend who had stopped by unexpectedly, that she had no reason to think he was paying special attention to her. She tried to eat, but even the coffee seemed to have no taste at all. She forced herself to concentrate on finishing the single pancake she’d put on her plate before John had arrived.

      “Another reason for stopping by, besides starvation,” John went on. “The young man who cleans our kennels hasn’t come in to work for three days. He didn’t even call to let us know he had quit. We’re desperate for help. I was wondering if Irwin might like to come by after school for a few hours and maybe half a day on Saturdays? What do you think, Irwin?”

      “Me?” He looked up. “I don’t know, John. Are they big dogs?”

      “You like dogs,” John said. “Look how good you are with Jeremiah. You’d be cleaning cages, doing some grooming, helping with—”

      “Don’t know.” Irwin stared at his plate and pushed a piece of pancake into a pool of syrup. “I’ve got chores...and homework. Saturdays I’m pretty busy here on the farm.”

      “Nine dollars an hour to start,” John said. “And I could arrange for you to have a ride to the clinic. You wouldn’t have to—”

      “I could do it,” Grace interrupted.

      Everyone looked at her.

      She took a deep breath. “I used to work in a big kennel. I’m good with dogs. And...and I need a job.”

      John looked surprised. “It’s hard work, Grace. Dirty work.”

      She looked him straight in the eyes. “I’m not afraid of hard work. And I know dogs. I like them and they like me.” She glanced at Hannah. Unable to read her face, she looked back at John. “If you’ll give me a chance, I promise you won’t regret it.”