Marta Perry - Second Chance Amish Bride

He was home, and those were the familiar sounds of going out to do the milking. He heard the rumble of Onkel Zeb’s and Daniel’s voices, and then the thud of the back door closing.

The source of the sound switched, coming through the back window now. Thomas Schutz must have arrived—he was calling a greeting to the others, sounding cheerful despite having walked across the fields in the dark.

Onkel Zeb was right about the lad. They should keep him on, even after Caleb was well enough to take on his own work. That would free Daniel to spend more time with his carpentry business instead of being tied to so many farm chores.

Caleb sat up and leaned to peer out the window. Still dark, of course, but the flashlight one of them carried sent a circle of light dancing ahead of them. Caleb’s hand clenched. He should be out there with them, not lying here in bed, helpless.

Stop thinking that way, he ordered himself. He might not be up to doing the milking or going upstairs to put the kinder to bed, but for sure there were things he could do. The sooner the better.

Using his hands to move the cast, Caleb swung his legs out of bed and sat there for a moment, eyeing the wheelchair with dislike. He didn’t have a choice about using it, so he’d have to figure out how to do things with it.

First things first. If he got up and dressed by himself, he’d feel more like a man and less like an invalid. His clothes were not far away, draped on the chair where Onkel Zeb had put them the previous night. That clamp-like gripper on a long handle was obviously intended for just such a situation. Maybe he should have paid more attention to the nurse who’d explained it to him.

Getting dressed was a struggle. He nearly ripped his shirt, and got so tangled in his pants he was blessed not to end up on the floor. But when it was done, and he’d succeeded in transferring himself from the bed to the wheelchair, Caleb felt as triumphant as if he’d milked the entire herd himself.

A few shoves of the wheels took him out to the kitchen. Fortunately Zeb or Daniel had left the light fixture on, since he’d never have been able to reach that. Well, he was here, and a few streaks of light were beginning to make their way over the ridge to the east.

Jessie hadn’t appeared from the daadi haus yet. The small separate house was reached by a covered walkway. It was intended to be a residence for the older generation in the family, leaving the farmhouse itself for the younger family. When he and Alice had married, Onkel Zeb had moved in. Now Jessie was staying there, at least temporarily.

Definitely temporarily. Given how irritable she made him, the sooner she left, the better.

“The kinder need me. You need me.” That was more or less what Jessie had flung at him last night. Well, he was about to prove her wrong. He’d get breakfast started on his own. Even if he couldn’t go up the stairs, he could still care for his own children.

Oatmeal was always a breakfast favorite. Fortunately, the pot he needed was stored in one of the lower cabinets. Maneuvering around the refrigerator to get the milk was more of a challenge.

Feeling pleased with himself, he poured milk into the pot without spilling a drop. Now for the oatmeal. This would need the gripper, but he’d brought it out of the bedroom with him. Congratulating himself on his foresight, he used it to open the top cupboard door. The oatmeal sat on the second shelf. Maybe he ought to have someone rearrange the kitchen a bit to make the things he’d need more accessible. In the meantime, he could make do with what he had.

Caleb reached with the gripper but found it wavering with the effort of holding it out with the whole length of his arm. A little more... He touched the cylinder of oatmeal, tried to get the prongs open and around it. Not quite... He leaned over the counter, focused on the elusive box, determined to get it down.

He reached, grabbed at it, lost his hold, sent the oatmeal tipping, spilling down in a shower of flakes. The chair rolled with the imbalance of his body. He tried to stop it, and then he was falling, the floor rushing up to meet him. He landed with an almighty thud that felt as if it shook the house.

For 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.