Patricia Davids - His New Amish Family

A red light was blinking on the machine. She listened to the three messages. None of them were for her so she didn’t erase them. Sitting on the single chair in the room, she placed a call to her mother’s phone shack. She hoped her mother would be there to answer the phone. They had agreed on this time the last time they talked.

Her mother picked up on the second ring. Clara’s throat tightened. It was wonderful to hear her mother’s voice. “We made it safely back to Eli’s farm. It was a long bus ride.”

“How are the children?”

“They are doing fine. There was a letter from the Clinic for Special Children waiting for me when I got here. They did some lab work at her last visit. Sophie’s bilirubin levels are holding steady with ten hours of light but we might need to increase her to twelve hours soon.”

“Then the surgery can’t be put off much longer, can it? Have you decided what to do with my brother’s farm? It’s hard to believe he is gone but what a blessing he has left for us.”

Clara hated to share this news but saw no way to avoid it. “Ralph is here. He says Eli left the farm to him and he plans to sell it.”

“What? Eli wouldn’t do such a thing. He and I agreed you should have it.”

“We know that but I can’t find the papers Eli signed. Ralph claims to have them.”

“That boy broke his mother’s heart with his sneaking ways. I pray for him all the time. What are you going to do?”

“I thought I would speak to Dan Kauffman and see if he knows anything about this.”

“The Lord has placed a heavy burden on you, dear. I wish I was there to help.”

“I wish you were here, too. I miss you. The children miss you.”

“As I miss them. Give them my love.”

After hanging up the phone, Clara blinked back fresh tears. She had needed to hear her mother’s voice, but it made her miss her even more.

Her mother, a widow, had moved from her home in Pennsylvania to live with a dear friend in Maryland after selling her house to help Clara pay Sophie’s mounting medical bills. The two older women were like peas in a pod and got along famously. They made and sold quilts to a local tourist shop and enjoyed living by the sea.

When Clara had her emotions under control, she phoned Dan Kauffman next but no one picked up and he didn’t have an answering machine. She hung up and decided to visit him as soon as possible. She needed to know where her uncle’s trust papers were. They might not prove that Ralph’s document was a fake but it would prove that she wasn’t lying.

Let down because she hadn’t accomplished anything, Clara started back to the house. She had only gone a short distance when she heard the clop-clop of a horse coming up behind her. A farm wagon drew alongside and stopped. Paul held the reins. He tipped his straw hat. “Good morning, Clara. May I offer you a ride?”

“I enjoy taking my morning strolls alone.” She looked straight ahead and kept walking. She had managed to avoid thinking about him until now. He didn’t pass her. Instead, he held the horse to a pace that matched hers.

“I think we got off to a bad start yesterday,” he said after a long moment.

She chose not to reply, hoping he would get the message that she didn’t wish to converse with him. He didn’t.

Stopping the wagon, he got out and took the horse’s rein to lead it as he fell into step beside her. “I hope you will accept my apology if I offended you yesterday.”

“Are you still planning to auction my uncle’s property for Ralph?”

He didn’t say anything for a long moment but finally nodded. “I am until I have proof that he doesn’t own the place.”

She turned to face him and saw he had a horse and buggy tied to the back of the wagon. “Then I have no reason to accept your apology, for clearly you will continue to offend me. It’s a wonder you can sleep at night knowing you’ll be putting two small children out of their home.”

She wasn’t as angry with him as she was with herself. A night’s rest hadn’t lessened his attractiveness. She couldn’t shake the annoying feeling that she liked him.

“Your sharp tongue slings some pointed barbs. Do you practice or is it a skill you were born with?”

She stared at him with her mouth open. No one ever talked to her like that. She snapped her mouth shut. “Perhaps you should move out of range.”

“Can’t.”

She glared at him. “Do you need directions? Let me help. Get in your wagon and tell your horse to trot on. Within a minute or two, you will be beyond the sound of my voice.”

To her amazement, he burst out laughing. “I admire your sharp wit even if I am the target of your jabs.”

“Clearly, I have to be more direct. Mr. Bowman, go away.”

“It’s Paul. You must call me Paul because I’ll be spending a lot of time at your place for the next few weeks. I need to finish my inventory of all the possessions, take measurements of the house, barn and outbuildings, inspect the fencing and determine the condition of all the fields. It could take me as much as three to four weeks to sort through everything. After that, it will take me at least another week or so to organize the items into lots for sale and tag everything.”

She gave him an icy stare. “If my sharp wit offends you...leave. I am a woman with a serious and distasteful mission. The future of my children, Sophie’s very life depends on proving that my cousin Ralph is a liar.”

“Now you are wrong about one thing.”

“You don’t believe he’s a liar?”

“I was raised to believe the best of every man until proven wrong and then such a man needs forgiveness and prayers. You’re wrong if you think your sharp wit offends me. It doesn’t. It’s rather refreshing. You remind me of a mother tabby cat, all claws and hiss with her tail straight up and her back arched ready to defend her kittens at all cost.”

Clara had absolutely no idea how to answer him except to say, “I don’t like being compared to a cat.”

“Sorry. I’ll make a note of that. Is tigress or lioness a better comparison? Maybe not. I can see you’re about ready to claw my eyes out. Should I stop talking?”

“ Ja , stop talking,” she said dryly, trying to maintain her anger but it was slipping away. His roguish grin and the twinkle in his eyes made it hard to resist his teasing charm. The most annoying thing was that she suspected he was well practiced at charming women.

He leaned toward her. “I predict we are going to be friends. You know why?”

“I don’t have a clue.”

“Because everyone likes me. I’m not bragging, just stating the truth. I’m a likable fellow.”

She rolled her eyes. “And one who is in love with the sound of his own voice, I gather.”

“Absolutely. See how well you know me already?”

He launched into the singsong chant of an auctioneer selling an imaginary hand-painted antique china teapot to an eager crowd of imaginary bidders. By the time they reached her uncle’s lane, the price was over two thousand dollars. She had to wonder how he managed to take a breath while he was calling.

“Sold, to the bishop’s grandmother for two thousand two hundred dollars and two cents. Please pay the clerk at the end of the auction.” He grinned at her and Clara found herself smiling back as they stopped beside the hitching rail in front of her uncle’s house.

She quickly regained her common sense. This handsome, smooth-talking man wasn’t going to distract her from what she had to do. “Sadly, I don’t have a valuable antique teapot so I won’t need your services.”

“Are you sure about that? Have you done an inventory?”

* * *

Paul saw the indecision flash across her face before she composed herself. “I have not. After I prove the property is mine, I do plan to sell the farm and equipment along with some of the contents of the house.”