Rachel's Garden (10 page)

“It’s too high. I’m certainly not going to pay that.” The woman glared as if Rachel had offered her an insult.

Taken aback, Rachel could only gape. “I’m sorry—”

Someone elbowed her lightly to the side. She glanced up and blinked. Not Aaron, as she supposed, but Gideon. Where had he come from?

She couldn’t ask, since he was already dealing with the customer. He consulted the price tag gravely.

“That’s the price for one,” he said, as if they were his plants, not hers. “If you wanted a half dozen, we’d be glad to bring it down to six plants for five dollars.”

Rachel opened her mouth to speak, and then shut it again as the woman scrutinized the plants.

“Hmm ... don’t know that I want that many. How about three for two-fifty?”

“You won’t find finer herbs anywhere you look,” Gideon said, his tone persuasive. “Our Rachel grows nothing but the best. Take six, and you can make it a mixed batch—say two each of three varieties. That’s the best we can do.”

For a moment she thought the woman would turn and walk away. Then, meek as a lamb, she picked out six of the potted herbs and handed over the money.

When the woman had moved on to another stall, Gideon shot a look at her, as if to assess her reaction. What he saw on her face must have reassured him, because his mouth relaxed into a smile.

“D’you mind my butting in on your business?”

“Not when you can sell the customer six plants instead of one. But how did you know how to deal with that woman? And what are you doing here?”

She thought, too late, that the question was rude, but Gideon didn’t seem to mind. He rested one elbow on the counter.

“I usually stop by on Aaron and Lovina’s market days unless I have a job. I spell them so they can take a break. But I guess you’re taking over that job today.”

“Lovina went for coffee.”

Aaron was busy with a customer at the other end of the counter, but otherwise all seemed quiet enough for the moment. She could ask the question that bothered her.

“But you didn’t explain—how did you know what to say to that woman?” She had stood there like a dummy, not knowing how to respond to what had seemed an insult.

He shrugged, seeming at ease in this situation. “Experience, that’s all. When someone starts out by saying your price is too high, that usually means they want to haggle. It makes them feel gut to bargain over something they’re going to buy anyway.” He grinned. “No one ever outsmarted a Dutchman when it comes to a bargain.”

True enough. She’d seen her daad and Ezra haggle over price. But she’d never been the seller, out among the English this way. “I don’t think I can do it.”

“It just takes a little practice. And a little nerve.”

“Maybe I don’t have that.” She concentrated on the remaining plants, pushing them around to show them to their best advantage. “I never worked outside. Not like girls who work at the shops or restaurants until they marry.”

If she had, maybe she’d have been better prepared for the life she had now.

“Why was that?” Gideon leaned his elbows on the counter as if he had all the time in the world to listen.

“My folks didn’t want me to take a job.” She said it slowly, seeing the situation more clearly now, looking back. “Daad said there was enough to do at home, and that I’d be better off learning what Mamm could teach me. But I suppose it was really because of Johnny.”

“They held you closer because they’d lost him.” Gideon’s voice was a low rumble under the background noises of the crowd.

“That, I guess. And maybe also they didn’t want me to be out among the English so much. Afraid I’d do what Johnny did. Not that I would have.” She glanced at him, seeing the understanding in his face. “I mean, Ezra and I knew we’d marry from the time we went to a singing when we were sixteen. I didn’t need to prepare for any other life.”

He nodded, the lines of his face seeming to deepen, as if he looked at the naive youngsters they’d been and found it sad. “We don’t know what tomorrow will bring.” He echoed what she’d said to him. “That’s just as well.”

She didn’t want to talk about the spouses they’d lost. “Anyway, I didn’t want my folks to worry. They’d had enough of that with Johnny.”

“How is he? Ezra said you were seeing him again.”

She studied Gideon for a second, but she didn’t find any condemnation in his face. “Since he came back to the valley I see him now and again. He’s busy with his new life. Happy, I guess, in his work. It wonders me though...”

She let that trail off, but he picked up on it.

“What? If he’ll come back?”

“No, I’m sure he won’t.” The familiar worry sounded in her voice. “I just wish Daad could accept that. Make it easier for Mamm to see Johnny again. Like I said, he’s happy with his work. But for all he’s changed, I don’t think he really fits in the English world, either.”

“You want to make it better for all of them.” Gideon sounded almost surprised.

“Ach, for sure I do. But Johnny and Daad are cut from the same cloth—both too stubborn for their own gut.”

“Families are like that. Drive you crazy sometimes, but you can’t do without them.” He glanced toward his brother as he spoke, and affection was written in his face and voice.

“Aaron and Lovina have been so kind to include me.” She hesitated, but she might as well say it. “I know this was your doing, Gideon, and I appreciate it.”

“All I did was to mention it to them. Then Lovina took over.” He smiled. “That’s what she does best. And here she comes now with the coffee, and none for me.”

Lovina bustled up to the counter, shoving a steaming cup at Rachel. “If I’d known you’d be here, I’d have brought some for you. You go get your own, and bring back some crullers from Ida Mae’s stand already. We could use a little something before the next rush.”

Holding up his hands in surrender, Gideon pushed open the half-door that was built into the counter. “See, what did I tell you? Lovina’s the boss, and it’s just as well to do what she says to begin with. It saves arguing.”

He moved off, and Lovina took his place behind the counter, clucking a little. “That Gid—he’s a caution. He has a gut heart, he does.” She slanted a glance at Rachel. “It’s time he should be forgetting the past and having a family of his own.”

A warning tingle slid down Rachel’s spine. Was that aimed at her? Leah said folks were already talking about when and who she’d marry.

She couldn’t very well say anything to Lovina, but if that was her idea, this was one time when she wouldn’t get her way. Gideon had no intention of marrying again, according to what Ezra, who would have known, had told her.

And she—well, she wasn’t ready to marry again, either. She didn’t know if she ever would be.

But if she were, it certainly wouldn’t be to a man who would be forever tied in her mind to Ezra’s death.

 

Two
English women in the booth opposite them stared avidly at the four figures in Amish dress when they stopped at their favorite restaurant for supper after market. They didn’t bother Gideon, and Aaron and Lovina were used to it. Stopping here for supper was a tradition, and if the tourists wanted to stare, they were welcome to it.

He glanced at Rachel, sitting next to him on the padded bench, hands in her lap, eyes downcast. She wasn’t so used to being the target of curious gazes. He wanted to wipe the strain from her face, but he didn’t know how.

Rachel had had little experience with the English world. Now her situation forced her to deal with it.

It wasn’t easy to live in the world, but not of it. Some found it simpler, but Rachel wasn’t one of those.

He wasn’t, either, but he’d had to adjust to it once he’d started his business. Now—well, he’d just as soon be dealing with Amish customers, because he understood them. But the English were gut customers, too, and becoming friends as well, some of them.

He let Lovina’s stream of chatter about the success of market flow past him. It was a balancing act, to be Amish in twenty-first-century America. Rachel would face plenty of challenges, trying to hang on to the farm without Ezra.

She’d been right to flare up at him about that. He’d been thinking only of Ezra’s dreams, instead of what was best for Rachel and the children without him.

Still, how could he dismiss Ezra’s plans for his family? From the time they were boys, Ezra had talked about the dairy farm he’d have one day, even knowing that his daad’s place would go to Isaac. Gideon had lent a hand with the milking now and then, and Ezra liked to lean his head against the cow’s warm side and talk about running his farm. Wouldn’t he expect Gid to help Rachel stay?

“Gid, did you hear me?” Lovina’s voice sounded as if she might have asked the same thing several times.

“He tunes you out,” Aaron teased, sopping up the last of his beef gravy with his bread. “He’s so used to your gabble that he doesn’t listen.”

“Sorry, Lovina.” He brought his thoughts back to the bright restaurant, the clatter of dishes, and the buzz of English conversation. “My mind was wandering.”

“Your mind and Rachel’s, too, I’d say,” Lovina said. “Rachel, what deep thoughts are going through your head to make you stare so intently at your plate?”

Rachel’s cheeks grew pink. “Just that this is nice, is all. Do you always stop here for supper on a market day?”

“Just about,” Lovina said. “I’m certain sure I don’t want to go home and start cooking.” She chuckled. “It’s a little treat we give ourselves without the kinder along. Much as we love them, we like some time apart.”

“It’s a nice place, anyway.” Aaron glanced around the brightly lit dining room, with its painted versions of Pennsylvania Dutch art on the walls. “Gut food. Not so gut as Lovina’s, but okay.”

“Nice big servings, you mean,” Gideon said. He smiled at Rachel, hoping to put her at ease. “Aaron wants to feel like he’s got his money’s worth when he eats out.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” Aaron said. “We worked hard, up since before dawn. We need a gut meal.”

“And to take time to enjoy our profit,” Lovina added.

“Speaking of that, here is your share, Rachel.” Aaron pulled an envelope from his pocket, double-checked it, and shoved it across the checked tablecloth to Rachel.

Rachel opened the envelope, riffling through the bills, and her gaze widened. “But—this is too much. My plants didn’t bring in this much, I’m sure of it.”

She tried to push the money to Aaron, but he shoved it back. “It’s a mite extra,” he said. “It’s only what’s fair. You helped Lovina with her sales, so you deserve a cut.”

“But it’s your booth.” Rachel paled a little. “I can’t take money for helping when you are letting me use your booth.”

Aaron shot Gideon a look, as if to ask for help in handling such a stubborn woman. “Your plants and dried flowers drew more people to the stand, and then they bought from us, too. So we benefit from having you there.”

“Besides,” Lovina cut in, her tone firmly practical, “we need the extra help. Having you there lets me do some other things besides standing in the booth all day already. We’d have to pay anyone else who helped out.”

“You wouldn’t have to pay Gideon,” Rachel said, giving a sidelong glance at him.

“Oh, Gideon.” Lovina’s tone dismissed him. “He’s a help, sure enough, when he’s there, but lots of times he’s not. We need to have someone we can rely on, like you.”

She patted Rachel’s hand and pushed the envelope into her lap. “Let’s hear no more about it. We’d be grateful if you come along as often as you can, even if you don’t have much to sell. We can use the help and the company.”

Rachel didn’t look entirely convinced, but she gave in, curling her fingers around the envelope of cash.

“I’ve been thinking on that,” she said. “I can pot up more herbs, and there’ll be perennials ready to go soon.” Her eyes lit with enthusiasm.

Gideon liked seeing her that way, with the tiredness and grief erased for the moment. “You should find lots of buyers for your perennials,” he said.

“When the greenhouse is ready, I can start petunias, marigolds, cosmos, and such from seed, without waiting until after the last frost.” Her smile flickered. “I won’t have to crowd my windowsills with pots.”

“Gut idea.” Lovina glanced toward the dessert buffet. “And that double chocolate cake looks gut, too.” She slid out of the booth, nudging Gideon. “You heard what Rachel said. You work a bit faster on that greenhouse, so Rachel can get her seedlings started. What’s taking you so long?”

“The job takes as long as it takes,” he said mildly. “I don’t tell you how to bake bread, so don’t you be telling me how to build a greenhouse.”

Lovina laughed. “You’re just spinning it out so you can spend more time with Rachel. You can’t fool me.”

She walked off, still chuckling, before Gideon could think up a suitable retort.

But he’d have to come up with something. He couldn’t have Lovina imagining there was going to be something between him and Rachel when there wasn’t.

He glanced at Aaron, hoping to read some evidence of support in his brother’s face, but Aaron’s gaze evaded his.

“Guess I’ll go take a look at those desserts myself,” Aaron said, pushing himself out of his chair.

So they were both thinking that. He’d have to do some straight talking to the two of them. It’d be embarrassing all around, but most of all for Rachel, if they started in on matchmaking that was bound to fail.

Aaron and Lovina knew, better than anyone, why he’d avoided involvement with any woman since Naomi’s death. To be the only one left when his wife and baby died had made him shutter his heart for so long that he didn’t think it could open again. And if he had begun to change, Ezra’s death had ended it. He couldn’t take responsibility for the life of someone he loved. What if he let them down, too?

Rachel moved slightly, clasping her hands in her lap, the fingers twining together. He met her gaze, to find her regarding him with worry darkening the vivid blue of her eyes.