A Miracle of Hope (The Amish Wonders Series) (5 page)

Simon shrugged. “I’m thankful it didn’t give out and leave me in the woods.”

Josiah had tried everything he could to reach his daughter, but had failed. He’d even resorted to spanking her when he found her waist-deep in the duck pond. He recalled the dazed look on his daughter’s face as if she were oblivious to the frigid water temperature. The ducks had all flown south for the winter. His daughter was eight years old, unable to swim, and didn’t have a plugged nickel’s worth of sense.

Nothing seemed to reach Hannah since her mother had died. To complicate matters, Hannah hadn’t uttered a word in three years. She’d managed to block everyone out as though she were both deaf and dumb. For all he knew, she was. The doctors certainly had no answers for what had happened to her. At first they thought she suffered irreversible head trauma, but later the diagnosis changed to a severe case of emotional trauma. Either way, his daughter was lost.

Simon folded the newspaper. “What kept you so long in town?”

“Remember I told you that I’d found someone to care for Hannah?”

“Jah.”

“I was working out the arrangements.”

“Will this woman be able to keep up with Hannah? Those other women didn’t last.”

“Mrs. Zook did the best she could.” Her health wasn’t much better than Simon’s—only it wasn’t her hip but her heart that gave her trouble. Ellen Yoder was different. Widowed and raising four young boys, she managed his daughter fine. However, once she pointed out how they’d both lost their spouses and it would be easy to merge their families, he had retreated. Fast. It
wasn’t difficult to do since Simon didn’t care for Ellen. He made it clear that he didn’t like the way she intruded, or how she assumed that the role of Hannah’s mother was already hers. Josiah didn’t think Simon would like anyone stepping into Caroline’s place. And he agreed, which made it even more confusing how quickly he’d decided to marry Lindie.

“Well, hopefully Hannah will treat this one differently.” Simon sounded like he didn’t believe his own words. He gingerly shifted in the chair, grimacing as he moved.

Josiah hoped Simon would treat Lindie differently too.

Hannah looked up from her paper. She dropped the pencil on the table and moved toward her father.

Josiah gathered her into his arms and hugged her close to his chest, then pulled back so that she could read his lips. “Want to help feed Molly?”

She smiled and took his hand once he lowered her to the floor.

He spoke over his shoulder as they left the room. “I’ll bring you out some supper when it’s ready.”

“Don’t forget the paper.” Simon pushed off the arms of his chair and stood. He wobbled a few steps forward.

“You didn’t have to get up.”

“
Jah
, I can’t sit too long without getting stiff.” He extended the folded paper to Josiah.

He took the paper as he did every week. Only he couldn’t remember the last time he actually sat and read the news. Anymore, the paper sat on the table until he chucked it into the burn pile. The paper worked well for starting the morning fire in the cookstove, although he limited it to one page since the ink tended to cause a buildup of creosote in the chimney. He didn’t want any gummy substance to coat the pipe and cause a house fire.

Josiah placed his hand on Hannah’s shoulder and guided her outside. As usual, he did all the talking as they completed the chores. Then, as they did every night, the two of them prepared supper. He wasn’t sure if he should trust her to take the meal out to Simon alone, but he wanted to give Lindie a cup of soup and slice of bread, and he wasn’t prepared to introduce his daughter to the woman lying in bed.

He wrapped a mason jar filled with soup in a dish towel before handing it and a partial loaf of bread to Hannah. “Take it to
Grossdaadi
,” he said, opening the door and motioning to the barn.

She took little steps over the cedar chip pathway.

He prepared Lindie’s meal and carried it to the bedroom. He knocked, waited for her response, then opened the door. “I brought you some soup.”

“Denki.”
She clutched the quilt so tight around her neck that her knuckles lost their color.

The warm milk must not have worked. She was shaking. He should have gotten her out of the sleet the minute it started. He set the bowl on the lamp table and grabbed the empty glass. “Do you want more milk?”

“Okay,” she whispered.

“Warm or cold?”

She shrugged.

“You don’t have to be timid around me.”

“Cold, please.”

“I’ll be back in a minute.” He hurried to the kitchen and poured a glassful of milk, then brought it to her.

“
Denki
,” she said.

“You’ll want to keep this door open.”

Her eyes widened. “Why?”

“The temperature dips down at
nacht
and it gets
kalt
. If your door is closed, you won’t get much heat from the woodstove.”

“I sleep better when it’s
kalt
.”

Josiah shrugged. He had a feeling warm or cold, they both had a sleepless night ahead of them.

Chapter Four

A
soft touch tickled Lindie’s head, pulling her from sleep. She forced her eyes open and blinked as daylight filtered through the curtains. It took a moment before she could focus on the child standing at her bedside. Lindie cleared her throat. “
Guder mariye
. You must be Hannah.”

The stone-faced girl stared.

Remembering Josiah had said his daughter was deaf, Lindie wasn’t sure how to communicate. She exaggerated her smile, but the universal gesture of friendship did nothing to alter the girl’s expression.

The dark-eyed child pivoted on her heel and left the room.

Lindie flipped the wool quilt back and climbed out of bed. The wood floor, cold against her bare feet, sent a shiver straight through her. She should have taken time last night to find her wool socks in her belongings. She hunted down her stockings and hurried to pull them on. Josiah had been right about the drop in temperature. Hard to believe this was only November. Compared to Ohio, it felt more like the middle of February. She felt a pang of homesickness.

Lindie put on a black dress and pinned the front closed. She certainly didn’t feel like a
fraa
. She hadn’t even told her friends she was leaving Ohio to get married. A marriage in name only was hardly what she’d dreamed about. In her dreams, she would be married to Moses.

Lindie touched her belly. Flat. If it wasn’t for the sickness, she wouldn’t have suspected she was pregnant. She had prayed that wasn’t the case, but the lot she’d been given proved that her prayers were in vain.

She slid down the wall to sit on the drafty floor. Alone. Married to a stranger. Living in a settlement where she didn’t know a soul. Only a few months ago she and Moses had spoken privately of marriage. Tears welled. She wouldn’t ever escape the consequences of her rash decision on that night—her womb would soon swell with the constant reminder.

“I don’t even know what to pray, Lord,” she choked out.

Thy will be done
. She had prayed that before and look where it got her. She couldn’t very well pray for God’s will again if she wasn’t willing to accept it.

God, you didn’t answer when I begged you to set me free of the anguish
. Vomit rose in her throat. She pushed off the floor, shot out of the bedroom and down the hallway.

“
Guder mariye
,” Josiah said as she raced past the kitchen.

Lindie propelled herself out the front door, bent over the porch railing, and vomited across the snow. The muscles between her ribs spasmed. Soaked in sweat, Lindie shuddered as the hard wind penetrated her core.

God, can’t you see that I need help?

The screen door creaked open, then snapped shut.

Footsteps stopped behind her.

Josiah draped her cape over her shoulders.

“Denki.”
She forced a smile.

“You must be starved after sleeping through yesterday.”

“What?” She’d never even slept in late, let alone missed an entire day.

“I figured you were exhausted after your long trip.”

A stiff breeze flapped the wool cape and gave her chills. She tugged on the corners of the heavy material as a shield from the next gust. If only she’d slipped on her boots. The porch boards, wet from melting snow, were cold against her stocking feet. She balanced her weight on her right foot and lifted her left, then switched.

Josiah peered down at her feet and smiled. “The winter dance.”

She wasn’t sure what he meant. In her district, people weren’t allowed to dance. The elders had even forbidden some of the traditional youth games due to too much body movement.

“You better
kumm
inside where it’s warm.”

Jah
, this dancing, as he called it, wasn’t helping her stomach settle. She followed him into the house.

Hannah peeked around the kitchen corner and he communicated something using hand movements. The child disappeared behind the wall without responding.

“How old is your
dochder
?”

“Eight.” He led her into the sitting room and over to the chair next to the woodstove. “Have a seat.” He grabbed the iron poker, turned the handle on the firebox, and opened the cast-iron door.

She eased into the rocking chair and looked down at her folded hands. “Don’t you want me to start breakfast or something?” She still couldn’t believe how long she’d slept. Josiah must think he married a woman with idle hands. She hoped the nausea passed soon so she could show him she wasn’t lazy.

He stirred the hot embers, then reached for a piece of wood. “Hannah and I ate a bowl of cereal. You can make a bowl or there are eggs in—”

The young girl poked her head around the wall, then snapped back.

“Excuse me.” He latched the fire opening, then crossed the room and disappeared into the kitchen. A moment later he reappeared in the sitting room with Hannah clinging to his side. “This is
mei dochder
, Hannah.”

“
Hiya
,” Lindie said.

Josiah bent down to Hannah’s eye level and signed while talking. “This is”—his hands stopped, and the girl’s brows crinkled—“Lindie. Show her where things are in the kitchen, please.”

Lindie wondered if he would introduce her as his wife.

Hannah stared at him for a moment before turning her chocolate-colored eyes to Lindie. She turned back to her father and signed.

He shook his head. “Not today. I want you to stay inside and help.” He rose from his squatting position and placed his hand on her shoulder, turning her away from him and toward Lindie. “She reads lips,” he said.

The girl wiggled out of his hold and stomped toward the kitchen.

Josiah stopped her before she left the room. His face hardened and his hands moved rapidly. He paused a moment, then repeated the same hand gestures.

Hannah’s brows knitted.

Josiah pointed to a wooden paddle hanging from a nail over a rolltop desk, then signed something else.

Lindie wished she could crawl under the rug. She scanned
the room. Its contents were simple and sparse. She stole a peek at Josiah, who was still speaking with rapid hand movements. She turned her attention to the wooden desk and chair next to the door. It took up most of the space on the wall opposite her. Off to her right, a wooden bench adorned with two small patchwork pillows sat in front of a large window.

To avoid embarrassing Hannah, Lindie continued to scan the objects in the room. Across from the bench were a lamp table and another rocking chair that matched the one she was sitting in. A worn braided navy rug took up the center of the room and was a mismatch to the forest-green curtains covering the window.

Lindie watched as Hannah passed by, shoulders slumped and looking at the floor as she walked toward the bedrooms.

Josiah mumbled something under his breath and returned to the woodstove. He tossed in a piece of oak, scattering the fiery embers. “You should be warm in a minute.”

“Denki.”
Lindie looked down at her wet stockings and wiggled her toes.

“
Mei dochder
challenges
mei
patience.” He gazed at the empty hallway.

“Be thankful you only have one.”

His head snapped up, eyes narrowed. One harsh word and she would dissolve into tears. A heavy knock diverted their attention.

Josiah didn’t move.

An elderly man entered. He eyed Lindie, then directed his words to Josiah. “I heard the truck going over the bridge. It should be here any minute.”

“I’ll get
mei
coat.” Josiah turned to her. “This is Simon,
mei
father-in-law.” He looked at the man. “This is Lindie”—he cleared his throat—“
mei fraa
.” He walked to the door, grabbed a pair of work gloves from the wall shelf and his coat from the hook.

“It’s nice to meet you,” she said.

Simon nodded, his expression stiff. He pinned his son-in-law with the same look before turning to the door. “I’ll wait for the truck.”

Josiah lowered his head. His shoulders rose and his chest expanded as he drew in a breath. The door closed behind Simon, and Josiah exhaled.

“I left a sign language book on the table. You’ll need to study it in order to communicate with Hannah.” He shoved one hand into a leather glove. “I sent her to her room. See that she stays in there for an hour.” He opened the door, but paused. “And when the hour’s up, make sure she doesn’t go outside unsupervised.”