Patricia Davids - An Amish Wife For Christmas

Inside the small space he started to relax. No one could get behind him now. He glanced at Bethany. She was watching him intently. Could she see how anxious he was? He needed to divert her attention. “Are you waiting for something?”

“Nee.” She turned the horse and headed back up the street. The clip-clop of the mare’s hooves was muffled by the snow that covered the road. It was the only sound other than the creaking of the buggy. He discovered he would rather hear Bethany’s voice.

“What kind of business does the bishop own?”

“Our bishop builds and sells storage sheds as well as farming, but he’s thinking of branching out into tiny homes.”

“Then he is a progressive fellow?”

“In his business, but our church is a conservative one.”

“I noticed a propane tank at your home.”

“Our Ordnung allows us to use propane to power business machinery, our refrigerators, washing machines and hot water heaters. We also have running water and indoor bathrooms. We aren’t that conservative but our cookstoves and furnaces must use wood or coal.”

He glanced out over the dense tree-covered hillsides and the snowcapped mountains in the distance. “It doesn’t look like you’ll run out of fuel anytime soon as long as you have a strong fellow to chop and haul it.”

“My brother does that for me.” Her voice was strained. Worry marked her brow with frown lines.

“How old is he?”

“Almost fourteen. Our mother died when Jenny was born. Our father was gone soon afterward.” The undertone of bitterness in her voice surprised him.

“So you were raised by your grandparents.”

“My grandfather took us in. He was a widower.”

“It must’ve been hard to be both mother and sister to your younger siblings.” He found it easier to talk to Bethany than anyone he’d spoken to since the attack. Maybe it was because she talked to cows. He smiled at the memory.

“I never saw caring for my siblings as a burden.” She turned the horse off the street into the parking lot surrounded by various sizes of storage sheds.

A tall, muscular Amish fellow stepped away from a half-finished shed and slipped his hammer into a tool belt that hung on his hips. He didn’t sport a beard, so Michael knew he wasn’t married. His clothes were tattered and sweat-stained, but his smile was friendly as he greeted them. “ Guder mariye , Bethany. Need a new shed, do you?”

Bethany opened her door but didn’t step out. “Good morning, Jesse. Is Bishop Schultz about?”

“ Nee , he isn’t. He’s gone to Unity. Their bishop is laid up with pneumonia, and Elmer has gone to do the preaching for their service this Sunday and perform a wedding on Tuesday. He won’t be back until Wednesday night.”

“Have you seen Ivan today?”

“ Nee , I’ve not. Who is that with you?”

“Jesse, this is Michael Shetler. He is a newcomer. He came expecting to work for my grandfather. He hadn’t heard about Elijah’s passing. I thought perhaps the bishop would know of some work and could find a place for him to stay.”

Jesse hooked his thumbs under his suspenders. “There is work aplenty here. You’re welcome to bunk on my couch until you can find a place, but you’ll have to suffer through my cooking. I’m no hand with a skillet.”

Michael got out of the buggy and grabbed his duffel bag. He would rather stay somewhere alone, but he didn’t have much choice. He forced a smile and a lighthearted reply. “Your cooking can’t be worse than mine. You have yourself a boarder until I can find a place of my own. We can work out the rent later.”

“No need for that.” Jesse moved to take Michael’s bag. “Let me get this for you.”

Michael handed it over. Jesse nodded toward the building he had been working on. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to finish this shed before taking you out to my place.”

“I don’t mind. I’ll give you a hand with it.”

Looking at Michael’s cane, Jesse raised one eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

“I can still swing a hammer.”

“Then your help will be welcome. I’ll see you get paid for the work you do.”

“Danki.”

Michael turned to Bethany. “Looks like your brother has been granted a reprieve if Jedidiah wasn’t able to speak to the bishop.”

Bethany’s eyes brightened. “That’s right.”

“Oh, Jedidiah was here and spoke to Elmer before he left,” Jesse said cheerfully.

Michael watched the hope fade in her eyes and wished there was something he could do to console her.

Chapter Three

Michael watched Bethany drive away with a sharp unexpected sense of loss. She was a lovely woman, but he sensed she was much more than a pretty face. It was obvious that she cared about her family. Anyone who asked a cow for advice had to have a good sense of humor.

He smiled then quickly pushed thoughts of her out of his head. As much as she intrigued him, he was better off not seeing her.

Forming a relationship with Bethany would mean letting her get close. He couldn’t risk that. He had jumped at the chance to come to this part of Maine because it was remote and thinly populated but it held an Amish community. He had left his Amish upbringing once with devastating consequences. After the attack he had returned home hopeful that rejoining his faith and family would repair his shattered life. It hadn’t worked out that way. He didn’t know what more God needed from him.

Michael’s plan for his new life was simple. Live and work alone while coming into contact with as few people as possible. He wasn’t a loner by nature. He had become a recluse out of necessity. Avoiding people was the only way he felt safe. The only way he could keep his affliction hidden. Staying with Jesse was risky, but he had nowhere else to go. He could only pray he didn’t have an episode in front of him.

A doctor in Philadelphia had called it PTSD. Post-traumatic stress disorder, the result of a robbery gone wrong at the jewelry store where he had worked. What it meant was that his life was no longer his own. He lived in near constant fear. When a full-blown flashback hit he relived every detail as his coworkers, his friends, were killed in front of his eyes. The gunshots, the screams, the sirens—he saw it, heard it, felt it all again just as if it were happening to him the first time.

He never knew when a flashback would happen, making it impossible for him to return to work. Even a walk down a city street left him hearing the footsteps of someone following him, waiting to feel the cold, hard barrel of a gun jammed in his back.

He was the one who had let them in. He was the only one who came out alive. Sometimes he felt he should have died with the others, but he couldn’t dwell on that thought. God had other plans for him. He just didn’t know what they were.

The heavy thudding of his heart and the sweat on his brow warned him that thinking about it was the last thing he should be doing. He took a deep breath. Concentrate on something else. Think about Bethany asking her cow for advice and the shocked look on her face when she realized he’d heard her conversation. He visualized her in detail as his pulse slowed to a more normal speed.

From the corner of his eye he caught sight of the yellow dog trotting along the edge of the highway in his direction. Did she belong to someone or was she a stray surviving as best she could? Her thin ribs proved she wasn’t being cared for if someone did own her. Her chances of surviving the rest of the winter on her own didn’t look good. She approached as close as the drive leading into the parking lot. After pacing back and forth a few times she sat down and stared at him.

He turned to Jesse. “Do you know who that dog belongs to?”