Marta Perry - The Wedding Quilt Bride

“Yah. I maybe wouldn’t have thought of it, but Daad was there at the time, and he insisted a written contract was proper. I think James’s family was a little offended by his attitude, but Daadi wouldn’t let it go.” She might have seen his surprise that she’d even let her father handle the negotiations, because she made a small movement with her hands, as if pushing something away. “Daad and Mammi gave us money to help buy the farm to begin with, so it only seemed right for him to have a say in what happened.”

Thank the good Lord that Josiah had such a businesslike attitude toward it. Folks didn’t usually get the better of a hardheaded Pennsylvania Dutchman easily.

“Seems like it was smart you listened to him. At least you have it in writing.” He hesitated and then said what was in his mind. “Maybe you should remind John of that contract he signed.” He was probably going too far, but Rebecca seemed to need bolstering up where her in-laws were concerned.

He wasn’t sure she took in what he said, but finally she shook her head. “No. There’s nothing I can do. I don’t want to start a hassle with James’s family.”

“Seems to me John is the one who started it.”

She just looked at him, and he knew what she was thinking. Finally he shrugged, his palms up. “Yah, all right, I know. It’s not my business. I just don’t like to see him take advantage of you.”

“I’ll handle it.” Rebecca retreated into herself. Clearly, she had nothing else to say.

He had a few more arguments he’d like to express, but he restrained himself. Turning back to his work, he had to start again with the measurements, having totally forgotten what he’d come up with. It didn’t help that he watched Rebecca covertly all the time he was doing it.

She might not be talking, but her body language was clear enough, with that stiff back and tight face. Why was she so determined to handle everything on her own? It wasn’t natural in an Amish family, where helping each other was considered God’s plan, and that sort of independence drew very near to pride, about the worst thing for an Amish person. But if he said that to her, she’d probably never speak to him again.

Finally Rebecca seemed to pull herself out of her worried thoughts. She moved toward him, so he looked up from his work, and his heart twisted. Rebecca looked as if she were picking up a burden that was too heavy for her.

“You’ll have to stop work.” She blurted the words out and then sucked in a breath. “I’m sorry. This isn’t fair to you, but...”

“We talked about this.” His voice might be calm, but his thoughts were spinning rapidly, trying to come up with a way to change her mind. “You have already paid for the materials, and you don’t owe me anything until the job is finished. Surely by then your brother-in-law will have paid what he owes you.”

Rebecca’s hands clung to each other until the knuckles were white. “That would not be fair. I can’t accept your work when I don’t know when or if I’ll have the money to pay you.”

“Ach, Rebecca, I would do the work for nothing for an old friend. The money doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to me,” she snapped. “I won’t accept charity.”

“Charity?” He straightened, his own temper finally flaring, although he wasn’t sure whom he was angrier at, Rebecca or that brother-in-law of hers. “Who’s talking about charity? The Fishers and the Kings have been doing things for each other for a hundred years. Seems to me your time away from here has made you forget a lot of things. It’s made you prideful.”

He shouldn’t have said that, but he could be just as determined as she could. Rebecca might have been able to push him into a mud puddle once and not have him shove back, but she wasn’t going to push him around now.

Rebecca’s face had tightened into a mask that bore little resemblance to the girl she’d been. “Prideful or not, this is my decision. And my house. Please put down your tools and stop. Now.”

“And when Lige comes back ready to help me? How are you going to explain that to him?”

“Lige is my son. I’ll tell him what he needs to hear.”

Daniel stared at her for a long minute, trying to make sense of her attitude. He couldn’t.

“If you reject my help, Rebecca, you are rejecting our friendship.”

He knew he shouldn’t have said it the instant the words were out, but it was too late. Rebecca took a step away from him. She crossed her arms.

“Please go, Daniel.”

There was nothing for it but to pick up his tool bag and leave, berating himself the whole time for handling her so badly. And yet, what else could he have done?

The trouble was that he kept thinking he knew her, and maybe he was wrong. Maybe he didn’t know Rebecca at all.

* * *

Rebecca didn’t look forward to telling Lige that the project was off and he wouldn’t be working with Daniel for now. She waited until they were walking back to the farmhouse, thinking it would be easier away from the place he connected with Daniel. It would hurt, but she assumed he’d take it as silently as he did everything else.

But in this, she was wrong. To her astonishment, her quiet little son started to argue with her. Lige, who never spoke up for himself, was actually disagreeing.

“But, Mammi, you can’t do that. Daniel wants to work on the shop with me. You can’t!” He tugged on her apron, as if that would make her see reason.

She stared at him, trying to gather her wits. “I’m sorry, Lige. I know you’re disappointed, but that’s how it is right now. When I can afford to pay Daniel, he’ll come back. You’ll see.”

“But I want to work with him now.” It was almost a wail. “Won’t he come back now if you ask him?”

Rebecca bit her tongue to keep from saying something that would put the blame on Daniel. She couldn’t be that unjust to him, even if it were easier on her. “Daniel is willing, but it wouldn’t be fair. Carpentry is how he makes his living. He has to be free to accept jobs for people who can pay.”

Lige’s lower lip came out in a decided pout. “He’d rather work for us. I know. We make him smile.”

“Daniel is friendly. He smiles at everyone.”

“Not like that. Please, Mammi. Please, please, please.”

Her father came around the house in time to hear Lige’s words, and his face crinkled. “It sounds as if this boy really wants something. What is it, Lige? A cookie?”

Lige shook his head. “Mammi says Daniel can’t work for us anymore because we don’t have money to pay him. But Daniel would, wouldn’t he? You tell her, Grossdaadi.”

Her father’s gaze studied her face, and she longed to turn away but couldn’t. Daadi touched Lige’s cheek lightly. “I’ll tell you what. You go and help Grossmammi with the cookies she’s making, and I’ll talk to your mamm.”

“Snickerdoodles?” Lige asked hopefully. At his grandfather’s nod, he darted off, leaving Rebecca to face what would probably be a lecture.

“Let’s sit down on the steps.”

She wanted to argue, but she couldn’t. Daadi led her to the porch steps and waited while she took a seat.

“I know what you’re going to say, but I don’t want you to pay Daniel. I need to do this by myself. Don’t you see?”

“No. I don’t.” Her father didn’t scold. Instead, he seemed disappointed. “Did John Mast not send the money he owes?”

She shook her head. “He wrote and said he couldn’t right now. The point is that I can’t let Daniel keep working if I can’t pay him. It wouldn’t be right.”

“What did Daniel say to that?”

“He offered to keep on working.” She evaded his steady gaze.

“How did you convince him to stop, then?”