A Man of His Word (7 page)

For over a month now, they had followed this pattern. Usually he left before she awakened and returned after she had fallen asleep. She had been so tired lately, and even when she tried to wait up for him, she usually didn’t succeed. The only day he didn’t leave was on Sunday, but even then it was as if he were gone. He picked at his food, seemed distracted during their conversations, and went to bed before her on Sunday nights, saying he was exhausted from working so hard during the week.

Tugging the quilt closer to her body, she wondered if this was normal, if the blissful bloom of the first weeks of marriage usually withered so quickly. She could barely remember the last time he kissed her, held her, shared the joys of marriage with her. Open displays of affection between a man and a woman weren’t the norm among their people, but she hadn’t thought that extended to the privacy of their home. Even her parents had shown their love for each other with tender words or a brief clasping of hands.

She must be doing something wrong. She had overheard some of the older women say that a husband’s happiness often depended on his wife’s competency. Maybe he didn’t like her cooking, although he had never complained about it before. Or her housekeeping skills were lacking, even though not a speck of dust could be found in the house. Or perhaps she had disappointed him in more intimate ways.

Biting down on her lip, she chased away the thoughts. The wretched job in Gates Mills was the problem, not her . . . she hoped.

Turning from the window, she was tempted to crawl underneath the warm covers. Sleep beckoned her, but she had too much to do. Gabriel and his
daed
would open their blacksmith shop soon, and she needed to prepare coffee and breakfast for them. Gabriel and John had voluntarily relocated to the
dawdi
haus
, a small three-room cottage situated a few feet behind the shop. Typically, a
dawdi haus
was built to house aging Amish grandparents, but the houses and shop had been in John Miller’s family for years. He had inherited them when his father had passed, and he had gifted the main house to Levi and Moriah as a wedding present. Ever since, he and Gabriel had spent most of their time either in the small cottage or in the shop. They had never once asked her to fix their meals. But she enjoyed doing it, and wouldn’t think of leaving them to cook for themselves. They were her family, and it was her responsibility, and joy, to take care of them.

Dressing quickly, she made her way downstairs to the first level of the house, leaving the flashlight behind. She knew the way in the dark, and when she reached the kitchen, she turned on the tall gas lamp in the corner and started on her morning chores, distracting herself from her troubling thoughts about Levi and their marriage.

“You’re going to Gates Mills
again
?” Gabe watched Levi grab two leather bags of horseshoes and tools and hoist them over his shoulder. Despite the early hour, Gabe had been in the shop for half an hour already. After Levi retrieved his tools, he followed Levi outside, his irritation with his twin rising.

Levi headed to the end of the driveway, where he’d arranged for a taxi service to pick him up. Although their Old Order community forbade their members from driving an automobile, the
Ordnung
—the unwritten rules their Amish community followed —allowed them to pay a driver to take them longer distances. Some communities had different rules for their members concerning travel by car and other “modern” conveniences, and while his church allowed its members to ask Yankees to take them long distances, members weren’t permitted to own cars themselves.

The bags were heavy, but Levi easily hauled them as if they were filled with feathers instead of metal. “They have a lot of horses,” Levi said, not bothering to turn around and look at Gabe.

Gabe continued to dog Levi’s heels. His brother had been gone every day save Sundays for the past month, working on that fancy horse farm in Gates Mills, a ritzy suburb of Cleveland. Levi had started shoeing their horses when the farm’s owner, Mr. Johnson, had come to Middlefield to check out their blacksmith and farrier business. Their shop was so simple it didn’t have an official name, but the Millers’ reputations as excellent smiths and shoers had extended beyond their settlement. Now Levi spent more time away than in the shop.

Gabe pushed his hat off his forehead. “I need you here, Levi. The Stutzers placed a big order that they need by the end of next week
. Daed
and I can’t do it by ourselves.”

“I gave the Johnsons my word, Gabe.” Levi finally looked at him. “Besides, they pay more than the Stutzers ever could. Mr. Johnson’s also asked me to break one of his fillies. Said he’d triple my going rate.”

Gabe couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You would take money over helping out a neighbor?”

“I’ve got a wife to provide for, remember?”

Gabe winced. Salt rubbed into a raw wound. He didn’t need his brother to remind him about his marriage to Moriah. All he had to do was look at the short growth of beard on Levi’s chin, the Amish man’s wedding ring, to remember who his twin had married. He’d distracted himself with work and tried to avoid Moriah, but he couldn’t get her out of his head and heart.

Absently Gabe rubbed his own smooth cheek and forced himself not to think about Moriah. He looked at Levi, unable to understand the man’s eagerness to work for outlanders, especially ones who lived over an hour away. The blacksmith shop made enough to provide for all of them. They didn’t need any extra income. What they needed to do was help out a fellow member of the church.

“My ride’s here.” Levi’s boots crunched in the icy snow as he stepped toward the street.

“What about the Stutzers?”

“I’ll try to be home early. I can pitch in then.” A large white van pulled up beside him. Without another word, Levi climbed into the vehicle and shoved the sliding door shut.

Resentment churned inside Gabe as he watched the van crest the hill. His brother had been acting strangely the past couple weeks. He briefly wondered if there was trouble at home. If there was, it was none of his business. And if there wasn’t, he didn’t want to know about their perfect marriage either.

“Forgive me, Lord,” he whispered, his breath hanging in puffs in the frigid air. “Forgive me for my sin.” He had repeated that prayer so many times that he wondered if God heard it anymore. He forced himself to focus on the problem at hand—how to fill the Stutzer’s order without Levi’s help. Tomorrow would be too late. And lately
Daed
had been unsteady on his feet, something that unsettled him even more than Levi’s peculiar behavior. The other day he’d almost fallen near the blazing forge, which would have seriously injured him. His father had shaken off Gabe’s concern, saying he must have tripped over something. But Gabe knew better. He hadn’t missed the sudden appearance in their kitchen of several types of herbal tea used to cure illness and increase strength.

Shivering, Gabe headed back to the warmth of the shop and lit the forge. There was no way to get around it—he would have to hire some help. The names of several employment candidates popped into his mind, and then he thought of Aaron Detweiler. The boy had been in a peck of trouble over the past few months, having left the family fold for his
rumspringa
as soon as he turned sixteen, only to get involved with drugs. He’d returned to the Detweiler’s four months ago, after spending a few months in the Geauga County jail. Aaron wasn’t the first Amish teen to find living outside the community perilous, and he wouldn’t be the last. But at least he was trying to turn things around. As far as Gabe knew, he wasn’t working anywhere steady other than his family’s farm.

Gabe’s own
rumspringa
had been uneventful, as he had chosen to join the church at eighteen and had no desire to experience the Yankee world. Levi, however, had snuck out a few times at night to hang out with non-Amish teens, unbeknownst to their father. Gabe doubted even Moriah knew about that secret part of Levi’s life. But he had joined the church as well, and put those worldly dabblings behind him.

It was decided then. As soon as
Daed
came to the shop, Gabe would visit the Detweilers and offer Aaron a job. If and when Levi decided to become dependable again, there would be enough work for all four of them. Everyone needed a chance to redeem themselves. Gabe thought it a blessing he could offer Aaron that chance.

The scent of fresh-brewed coffee, combined with the peppery aroma of breakfast sausage and scrambled eggs, filled the air. Moriah covered the eggs with helpings of savory Swiss cheese she had picked up from the Middlefield Cheese House, then divided them over four slices of bread. She added a patty of sausage on top and finished the breakfast sandwiches with four more pieces of buttered bread. She wrapped them in foil, filled a thermos with steaming coffee, and packed it all in a large wicker basket. In her mind she was already planning their lunch meal—a platter of hearty slices of meatloaf, brown gravy, mashed potatoes with plenty of butter and milk, and apple crisp for dessert.

While she delighted in preparing and serving Gabriel and John their meals, her feelings were often pricked by Gabe’s reception. John, of course, was always grateful, and always praised her cooking talents. But Gabriel often said little more than thank you. Although Levi had seemed distant as of late, Gabriel acted indifferent toward her, even more so since her marriage. She had hoped their relationship would improve, but it hadn’t. But she determined that his attitude wouldn’t keep her from taking care of them. As two single men, they needed some pampering every once in a while.

She donned her coat, then walked the short distance to the blacksmith shop. Like the main house and the
dawdi haus
, it was painted crisp white, with a black roof and plain wooden door. Outside, she could hear the echo of metal clanging against metal. She hung the food-laden wicker basket on the crook of her arm and opened the door with her free hand.

Heat immediately blasted her body, engulfing her in warmth, a welcome contrast to the coldness of the outdoors. The tin ring of a bell sounded as she shut the door, and both Gabriel and John looked up. John gave her a smile, while Gabriel acknowledged her with a small nod.

“I hope that’s what I think it is,” John said, as he put aside a fat metal file and walked toward her. He took a few steps, then touched the side of a table, as though trying to gain his balance.

She hadn’t noticed John being so unsteady before, but then again, she didn’t spend much time in the shop. Moriah set the basket of food on a nearby table. While John peeked inside, Gabriel stayed at the anvil, pounding away at a red, glowing piece of metal. John rarely worked the anvil anymore, preferring to let his brawny sons do the hard labor. She didn’t blame him—he’d spent many years putting in long and exhausting hours as a blacksmith. He’d earned the well-deserved rest.

She caught sight of Gabriel again. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbow. The muscles flexed beneath his skin as he slammed the hammer down. Quickly she glanced away, feeling a twinge of guilt for staring at her brother-in-law. “What did you bring us today,
dochder
?” John asked, rubbing his callused hands together.

Glad for the diversion, Moriah named off the items as she withdrew them from the basket and laid them on the table. “Sausage and egg sandwiches and a thermos of coffee.”

“
Gut
,
sehr gut
. Everything smells delicious, Moriah.
Danki
.”

Her lips formed into a smile, genuinely happy that her father-in-law was pleased with her offering.