The Promise of an Angel (A Heaven On Earth 1) Page 14

  “If it helps to know,” he said, “I think Levi was jealous when he left.”

  “Gut.” She looked at him sideways. “I guess we won’t have to do that again.”

  “I suppose you’re right. If that was your only intention, there won’t be another reason for us to kiss.” He watched for her expression to change, but it didn’t.

  Back at the house, Andrew cut his time with Samuel short. He found himself looking for Judith, not concentrating on the project at hand. But Samuel didn’t seem to mind after Andrew promised to take him on a furniture delivery in the morning.

  Before he could take his leave, Judith appeared at the back door, one fisted hand on her hip. “It’s time to eat,” she said. “My mamm insisted that I invite you to stay.”

  Andrew bent to pick up Samuel from the porch while Judith held the door open. He stopped in the threshold and peered into her eyes. “Is Levi staying also?”

  “He’s gone.”

  “Then you won’t need me.” He smiled wider than he should have, by the look of her knitted brow, and continued into the kitchen.

  Mrs. Fischer pulled out a chair from the table. “I have your place set next to Samuel.”

  “Denki, but I need to be going.” He patted Samuel’s shoulder. “I’ll pick you up early meiya.”

  He kept his head down when he passed Judith at the door. He opened his mouth to apologize, but closed it just as fast. He had stirred that boiling pot enough to know she was about to hiss like a kettle if he even uttered a word. Besides, what was he sorry for? That the softness of her lips and the taste of apple made him linger? That he’d acted out in the boldness he’d prayed for?

  She wouldn’t view either of those reasons as an apology. Besides, she had responded. She made him breathless. He had summoned every fiber within him in order to separate their embrace.

  Andrew climbed into his buggy and plopped down on the seat. Praying for boldness had a powerful effect on his mind-set. What had he done? He’d cemented his shunning. Disobeying the bishop’s order was punishable. He couldn’t go home until he settled his nerves.

  Andrew flicked the reins and directed Patsy onto the paved road. He’d only been to the cabin once since Esther died, and that was to close it up. Today was as good a day as any to start working on it. He might be taking up residence there soon.

  He turned onto the bumpy road leading to the cabin and pulled back on the reins, forcing Patsy to yield to the birch trees that narrowed the lane. Once he reached the cabin, he sat in the buggy for a moment and stared at the dilapidated clapboard house. He’d bought the old hunting cabin for nearly nothing. Once the county developed a paved road to Hope Falls, not far from the cabin, the wildlife had scattered, and with them the downstate recreational hunters who sold him the place.

  He stepped down from the buggy and tied Patsy under the oak tree. Three years ago he’d made a list of all the tasks needing attention. Now by the looks of the vines creeping along the wood siding and covering the windows, he’d have to amend his list. Fortunately the hunters never had the electrical or plumbing installed. What they termed “roughing it” Andrew called a way of life.

  The rotten boards on the porch steps dipped under his weight. He glanced around the overgrown yard and suddenly locked eyes with a man traipsing around the side of his house.

  Gut day.” Andrew stepped off the porch and walked toward “the man.

  “Jah, fine day.” The man came closer. “I wondered who owned this haus. Since it’s on the border of the district, I wasn’t sure if you’d be an Englischer.”

  “I’m Andrew Lapp.”

  “Jah, I know who you are.” He gazed around the surroundings. “Jah, this is a gut plot of land.”

  Andrew nodded. He’d forgotten about the clearing he planned to plow for a garden. He sighed. After the winter season he would have a better idea of how involved his father would allow him to be in the community.

  “Moving in with a fraa?”

  “Kumm to redd-up.” Andrew studied the man but couldn’t place him at any of the church meetings on this side of the district. Even so, word would get back to his father that he was fixing up the place.

  “Fine place to start a family.” He paused, his blue eyes shining like the uncluttered sky. “How long have you owned it?”

  “Three years.” Andrew meandered over to the back side of the buggy and unlatched the pine box in which he carried miscellaneous tools to repair a broken harness or wheel axle if needed. He pulled out a pair of leather gloves and headed to the house.

  “Mind my asking why you haven’t moved in sooner?”

  “I suppose it wasn’t meant to be.” Andrew slid on his gloves. If the man insisted on prying into his life story, Andrew decided, pulling weeds would allow him to hide some of his sorrow.

  “Things are not always how we want them.” The man came up beside him and pulled out the vines encroaching on the windows. “Sometimes we let worries choke out life.” He pointed to the edge of the property. “Look at the apple tree over there. If you cut the weeds back, it’ll grow and be fruitful.”

  Andrew walked over to the apple tree.

  The man followed. “It will find life again. You like apples?”

  The flicker in the man’s eyes caught Andrew off guard. It seemed as if the man knew how much Andrew liked the taste of apples on Judith’s lips.

  The man gazed at the house. “With a little work, this could be everything you’ve dreamed about.”

  Andrew cocked his head sideways. Suddenly the man didn’t sound too Amish. “I thought maybe I had neglected the haus too long . . . My dreams died three years ago.” His mind whirled. Why was he telling this to a stranger? He squatted to grab another handful of weeds.

  “A man’s life will wither if he lives too long in the past.” He patted Andrew’s shoulder. “But I see you are moving forward. After all, something brought you here after three years.” He took another long look at the cabin and nodded. “Jah, a fine haus to raise a family.” He looked at Andrew. “Your dreams have not died. If you look closely, you’ll see they are the same. It’s you that has a new view.” The man turned away.

  Andrew stood, dropped the bundle of weeds from his hands, and followed. “Wait,” he called, but too much distance separated them, and the man continued without acknowledging Andrew’s call.

  Andrew shook his head and returned to cleaning up the area. The man’s words, however, continued to replay in his thoughts.

  My dreams are the same, only I have a new view. How can that be?

  Judith tossed back the covers and slipped out of bed. She knelt on the floor and folded her hands. “Lord, forgive me. I tempted Andrew. I wanted him to kiss me.” Judith jerked her head up. She’d kissed a man she hadn’t even courted. Her mind drifted back to the firmness of his lips against hers, the tightness of his muscled chest. Focus . . .

  She squeezed her eyes closed and clasped her hands tighter. “Have mercy. Forgive my actions.” She stayed on her knees long after she said amen and long after she tried, but failed, to erase Andrew’s kiss from her mind.

  Crawling back into bed, she wrestled several hours with the memory of how his lips moved over hers. She struggled to dismiss the tingle he caused, until exhaustion made its claim. Her eyes grew heavy . . .

  It was snowing. At first fluffy snowflakes fluttered from above as she twirled, arms spread, head tilted to the sky, her mouth open to catch the falling flakes. Quickly the flakes turned to pellets of ice and melted as they formed a thick armor that kept her from moving.

  Then a man with his face obscured, carrying a hammer and chisel, walked to the angel standing guard over her. The man received permission from the angel to chip away at her icy armor. Diligently working, the man worked to break off the thick ice shell that kept her bound.

  Before her, a three-pronged road appeared. Encouraged by the man nudging her forward, she took a step, then looked back— Samuel lay pounding the heels of his hands against the lake of ice unde
r which he was trapped. The angel’s thundering voice boomed. “Choose a path.”

  Judith bolted upright in the bed. Her eyes burned from the sweat that rolled off her forehead. She scanned the darkened room. “Tobias,” she whispered.

  Silence.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Mamm said to bring you inside.”

  Andrew craned his neck from his seated position on the porch to look up at Judith, who stood on the other side of the screen door. He smiled.

  She did her best to ignore eye contact, darting her eyes away from his every time they connected. “I thought you could use some cooling off, but Mamm said she saw your buggy arrive more than an hour ago and insisted that I bring you in.”

  “I was early, so I took a walk.” Andrew stood. He had hoped a night of sleep would have softened Judith’s attitude. “You still angry?”

  She motioned with her head to his wagon filled with furniture. “Do you have a tarp? The sky is gray. It might snow.”

  Following her gaze to the sky, Andrew sighed. In his rush to see her, he hadn’t thought about the possibility of the weather changing. By the looks of the darkened sky, perhaps she was right. It wasn’t like him to forget such important matters. He would stop at home and gather something to cover the furniture.

  Judith had disappeared inside the house, leaving him cloud-watching alone. When she returned, she held out two quilts. “You can cover the wood with these.”

  Most women didn’t part with their handiwork for use in bad weather, unless the article was worn and ratty. But eyeing the quilts she handed him, Andrew knew these were not ready for the rag bag. “Are you sure your mamm won’t mind?”

  Judith shrugged. “They’re mine. I made them.”

  Andrew had never been one to study the handwork on quilts. They were functional, mostly recycled articles of clothing, a practical commodity within their community. But holding something that Judith had perhaps spent the better part of the summer hand-stitching changed his view. “These are too nice to cover furniture.” He held them out for her to take back.

  Judith took the bundle without a word, then stepped off the porch and climbed up into the back of his wagon. Andrew followed and waited as she unfolded a navy, gray, and black checkered quilt.

  She ran her hand over the top of the chest of drawers. “You do gut work.”

  “So do you.” He motioned to the quilts. “I’m going to feel bad if they get wet,” he said.

  Judith shrugged. “I have better ones. Besides, I can spread them in front of the woodstove if they need drying.” She tapped the covered furniture. “You’ll have much bigger problems if your furniture gets wet.”

  Andrew fastened rope over the quilts to hold them in place and gave her a broad smile, hoping for a response. “Denki.”

  The corner of her mouth twitched, then at last she offered him a brief smile—enough to warm his core.

  She glanced at the house. “Samuel should be ready.”

  Andrew jumped off the side of the wagon and hurried to the back to assist Judith down. He held her arms long after her feet touched the ground. Unable to turn his gaze away from her shining sapphire eyes, his breath caught. He never thought she’d allow him so close again.

  She looked upward. “You need to get going before the wedder changes.”

  The sky hadn’t darkened more. She must have felt the connection too. Maybe she was fighting butterflies. He wasn’t sure how he’d describe what was happening in his stomach. He wasn’t sure if it felt like he’d eaten a whole shoofly pie or a container full of wood glue. He followed Judith into the house.

  Samuel looked up from where he sat at the table. “I finished my breakfast.” He turned his attention to his mother. “Can I go with Andrew nau?”

  Mrs. Fischer wiped her hands on her apron. “If you promise to listen and obey his instructions.”

  Ich fashprecha.”“

  Andrew picked Samuel up. “I’m holding you to that.”

  Samuel nodded as Andrew carried him outside to the wagon.

  Judith followed with a smaller lap-sized blanket. “Do you have a strap to secure him on the seat?”

  “Jah.” Andrew lowered Samuel onto the bench. He lifted the end of a leather strap and weaved it around a metal ring to make it tight around Samuel’s waist.

  Judith spread the blanket over Samuel’s lap. “Be mindful of Andrew.”

  She’ll make a fine mother one day, he thought as he climbed to the seat. He glanced at Samuel’s eager smile and nodded before he released the wagon brake.

  As he made a wide turn over the lawn, he saw Judith staring off in the direction of the river. He looked at the sky, hoping the weather would stay clear until after he made his delivery. He hoped to ask Judith to go for a walk later.

  Samuel glanced at the load in the wagon. “How many places are we going?”

  “Today, only one.” He noticed Samuel’s frown and tapped the top of his hat. “But next week I’ll have more items to deliver.”

  Samuel’s eyes widened. “Can I go with you again?”

  Andrew nodded. “If your mamm says jah.”

  Samuel’s infectious gap-toothed smile made Andrew laugh. He couldn’t blame the boy for not wanting to be closed up inside the house all day. If he wasn’t careful, the women would have him helping to sew quilt blocks.

  “So you think you want to be a craftsman. Have you been sanding your lap table?”

  “Jah, but once it’s finished, Judith said I have to do my schoolwork on it.”

  Andrew laughed again. Judith turning the boy’s fun project into a chore cemented Andrew’s thought that she’d make a perfect mother. “Shul is gut. You need to know math to measure the wood correctly.”

  “I don’t want to read and write English.”

  “That is important as well.” Andrew understood Samuel’s dislike of reading. He’d done the required eight grades and found them tiring. He would have rather worked in the field or cleaned barns. His mother encouraged him, using his desire to whittle small animals out of scrap wood. She said the Englischers bought Amish wood products, but he’d have to study hard while he was in school if he planned to run a business.

  His father took the biblical approach, instilling the fear of God into him. The man’s duty was to learn to read High German so he understood God’s word. Without reading skills, his father had said, he would struggle with his responsibilities as head of his house once he married.

  The clopping of the horse’s hooves on pavement snapped Andrew out of his reverie. Once they reached Willow Trail, Andrew had the horse veer onto the gravel road, then he withdrew a folded piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to Samuel. “How many houses down the road do the directions say to go?”

  Samuel’s face contorted. “I can’t read this. I’m only five.” He handed the paper back.

  Andrew chuckled. “Jah, I suppose I didn’t read at your age either.” He looked at the notes he’d jotted down. “The eighth house should be stone and on the right-hand side of the road.”

  Counting the houses, spaced several acres apart from each other, kept Samuel busy. They were a mile down the road before the stone house came into view. Samuel pointed with excitement. “Eight! There it is, on the hill.”

  Andrew nodded and slowed the horse before reaching the driveway. The front wheel dipped into a rut, tipping the wagon downward on Samuel’s side. Andrew put his arm around Samuel’s waist as the boy started to slide. The belt would keep him on the bench, but Andrew didn’t want him afraid of the rough ride. The wagon rolled backward before the horse gained traction. Then, with a forward lurch, Jack moved the load over the furrows created by the washed-out gravel.

  Once they were on level ground, Andrew glanced behind them to check the furniture. The rope was tight, and the items hadn’t shifted. He breathed easier and turned toward Samuel, relieved to see the boy’s wide smile. “Frightened?”

  Samuel shook his head. “That was fun.”

  Andrew chuckled
. “Next time you can drive.”

  Samuel’s eyes sparkled. “Really?”

  “Not when we’re loaded with furniture.” Andrew looked again at the cargo, thankful for having Judith’s quilts to protect the wood from being nicked. If he had to sand out imperfections and reapply another coat of varnish, he’d be delayed from renovating the cabin. He planned to repair the porch steps and even thought about enlarging the porch once he collected his earnings.

  Mrs. Stanly met them near the back door. When he saw her salt-and-pepper hair wound in rollers and her fuzzy pink housecoat showing under her winter jacket, Andrew bowed his head to ward off the temptation to gawk. But when his eyes caught sight of her pink painted toes, he raised his head, thinking it was easier to look at her hair spun around the bristled rollers. He just needed to stay focused on unloading the furniture and completing his transaction. An Englischer’s worldly attempt to enhance her appearance wasn’t his concern.

  Andrew was uncovering the first piece when Mr. Stanly came outside. Dressed in a business suit and a brick-colored tie, he put on a thin pair of leather gloves and came around to the back side of the wagon.

  Mrs. Stanly gasped, and both men stopped what they were doing to see what had startled her. “That quilt is beautiful,” she said. “May I see it?”

  Andrew handed it to her over the side of the wagon.

  Mrs. Stanly stroked the fabric. “This is lovely. Did your wife make it?”

  “My sister Judith made it,” Samuel said proudly.

  Andrew gave Samuel the same stern look he had received when he was growing up. Pride was sin, and compliments from man were not to be treasured.

  “Nay, she’s not my wife,” Andrew said to Mrs. Stanly.

  “Very fine craftsmanship,” Mr. Stanly said, then added, “I don’t know anyone else who is as talented as you.”

  “A blessing from the Lord.” Andrew viewed Samuel from the corner of his eye. He’d use the opportunity to demonstrate to Samuel how the glory belongs to the Lord. But his response hadn’t been rehearsed words to tickle God’s ear. He believed his talent was a gift from God and thanked Him daily.