Patricia Davids - The Shepherd's Bride

“I know the rules.” He laid down the reins and stepped over the bench seat to sit on the floor of the cart behind her.

She took the reins and slapped them against the pony’s rump to get him moving. He broke into a brisk trot.

“How is it that you work for my grandfather? Has he left the church, too?”

“No.”

“Does he know your circumstance?”

“Of course.”

She grew more confused by the minute. “Surely the members of his congregation must object to his continued association with you.”

“He hasn’t mentioned it if they do.”

She glanced toward him over her shoulder. “But they know, don’t they?”

“You’d have to ask Joe about that.”

As she was on her way to the bus depot, that wasn’t likely to happen. “I would, but I doubt I’ll see him again.” She heard the bitterness in her voice and knew Carl heard it, too.

Her grandfather had made it crystal clear he wasn’t interested in getting to know his granddaughters. His rejection hurt deeply, but she shouldn’t have been surprised by it. To depend on any man’s kindness was asking for heartache.

As the pony trotted along, Lizzie struggled to find forgiveness in her heart. Her grandfather was a man who needed prayers, not her harsh thoughts. She prayed for Carl, too, that he would repent his sins, whatever they were, and find his way back to God. His life must be lonely indeed.

As lonely as Clara’s would be married to a man she didn’t love and without her sisters around her. Lizzie had failed her miserably.

After they had traveled nearly a mile, Lizzie decided she didn’t care to spend the rest of the trip in silence. It left her too much time to think about her failure. Conversation with a shunned person wasn’t strictly forbidden. “Is Joy a relative?”

“A neighbor.”

“She seems like a very sweet child.”

“Yes.”

“Who is Duncan?”

“My dog.”

His curt answers made her think he’d left his good humor back at the schoolyard. She gave up the idea of maintaining a conversation. She drew a deep breath and tried to come up with a new course of action that would save her sisters.

All she could think of was to find a job in town, but she didn’t have enough money to rent a room. She had enough to pay for her bus fare home and that was it. She didn’t even have enough left over to buy something to eat. Her stomach grumbled in protest. She hadn’t eaten in more than a day. Nothing since her last supper at her uncle’s house.

If she returned to his home, she would have to beg forgiveness and endure his chastisement in whatever form he chose. It would most likely be a whipping with his favorite willow cane, but he sometimes chose a leather strap. Stale bread and water for a week was another punishment he enjoyed handing out. She would be blessed if that were his choice. She shivered and pulled her coat tight across her chest.

“Are you cold?” Carl asked.

“A little.” More than a little, she realized. There was a bite to the wind now that they were heading into it. A stubborn March was holding spring at bay.

Carl slipped off his coat and laid it on the seat. “Put this on.”

She shook her head. “I can’t take your coat.”

“You are cold. I’m not.”

She glanced back at him sitting braced against the side of the cart. “Nee, it wouldn’t be right.”

He studied her for a few seconds, then looked away. A dull flush of red stained his cheeks. “It is permitted if you do not take it from my hand.”

“That’s not what I meant. I don’t wish to cause you discomfort.”

“Watching you shiver causes me discomfort.”

It was hard to argue with that logic. She picked up the thick coat and slipped it on. It retained his body heat and felt blissfully warm as she pulled it close. “Danki.”

“You’re welcome.”

They rode in silence for the rest of the way into town. As they drove past the local inn, she turned to him. “I wish to stop here for a few minutes. Since my grandfather won’t help us, I must try to find a job.”

“He told me to take you to the bus station.”

“I’ll only be a few minutes.”

He grudgingly nodded. “A few minutes and then we must go. I have work to do.”

“Danki.” She gave him a bright smile before she unwrapped herself from his coat and jumped down from the cart.

When she entered the inn, she found herself inside a lobby with ceilings that rose two stories above her. On one side of the room, glass shelves displayed an assortment of jams and jellies for sale. On the opposite wall, an impressive stone fireplace soared two stories high and was at least eight feet wide. Made in the old-world fashion using rounded river stones set in mortar, it boasted a massive timber for a mantel. A quilt hanger had been added near the top. A beautiful star quilt hung on display. Two more quilts folded over racks flanked the fireplace.

At the far end of the room was a waist-high counter. A matronly Amish woman stood behind it. Tall and big-boned with gray hair beneath her white kapp, she wore a soft blue dress that matched her eyes. “Good afternoon and willkommen to the Wadler Inn. I’m Naomi Wadler. How may I help you?”

Her friendly smile immediately put Lizzie at ease. “I’m looking for work. Anything will do. I’m not picky.”

“I’m sorry. We don’t have any openings right now. Are you new to the area? You look familiar. Have we met?”

Lizzie tried to hide her disappointment at not finding employment. “I don’t think so. Might you know of someone looking for a chore girl or household helper?”

“I don’t, dear. If I hear of anything, I’ll be glad to let you know. Where are you staying?”

Lizzie glanced out the window. Carl was scowling in her direction. He motioned for her to come on. She turned back to Naomi. “That’s okay. I thank you for your time. The quilts around the fireplace are lovely. Are they your work?”

“Nee, I display them for some of our local quilters. Many Englisch guests come to this area looking to buy quilts. These were done by a local woman named Rebecca Troyer. I’m always looking for quilts to buy if you have some to sell.”

All she had was her mother’s quilt, and it was too precious to part with. “My sister has a good hand with a needle. I’m afraid I don’t, but I can cook, clean, tend a garden, milk cows. I can even help with little children.”

Naomi gave her a sympathetic smile. “You should check over at the newspaper office, Miller Press. It’s a few blocks from here. They may know of someone looking for work.”

Lizzie started for the door. As she reached it, the woman called out, “I didn’t get your name, child.”

“I’m Lizzie Barkman. I have to go. Thank you again for your time.” She left the inn and climbed into the cart again. “They don’t have anything. I wish to stop at the newspaper office. There might be something in the help-wanted section of the paper.”

“Joe can’t move all the sheep without help. I should be there.”

“It will only take a minute or two to read the want ads. I’ll hurry, I promise. Which way is it?”

He gave her directions and she found the Miller Press office without difficulty. Inside, she quickly read through the ads, but didn’t find anything she thought she could do. Most of them were requests for skilled labor. It looked as if going home was to be her fate, after all.

With lagging steps, she returned to the cart. She followed Carl’s succinct directions to the center of town. When the bus station came into view, she felt the sting of tears again. She’d arrived that morning, tired but full of hope, certain that she could save her sister.

It had been a foolhardy plan at best. She stared at the building. “My sister was right. I’m nothing but a dreamer.”