An Unexpected Joy Read online

  She motioned to the egg noodles and melted cheese. “I hope you’re hungry.”

  “Starved.” And half-crazed. His pulse hadn’t been this erratic in years. Not that he wanted to relive that heartache. He would have been married now if Sue Ann’s family hadn’t moved.

  Still, the sight of Abigail at the stove—seemingly at home—was enough to catch his breath. Why hadn’t she married? It was no secret that she’d been driven home from every singing she attended. But he had never heard of any of the men asking again, and according to her older brother David, no one had asked to sit with her on his front porch either.

  Mammi cleared her throat. “Are you going to gawk at the food all nacht or wash your hands and kumm to the table?”

  Micah glanced at the dirt on his hands as he went to the sink.

  Abigail carried the pan to the table, set it down, then backed away from the table. “I hope you like it.”

  He came up beside her and pulled out the chair next to Mammi. “You’re going to stay and eat with us, aren’t you?”

  “I should probably go. It’s getting late.” She moved toward the door.

  “Wait,” he said, following her into the foyer. He reached for his coat. “I’ll give you a ride home.”

  “Danki, but I’ll be fine. You stay and eat while it’s warm.” She shoved her stockinged foot into her boot.

  “Nay. It’s snowing. And it’s dark out. I’m nett going to let you walk home alone this late.”

  She nibbled on her bottom lip a half second, then kicked off her boots. “I suppose mei family won’t miss me tonight at the supper table,” she said, hanging her cloak back on the hook. Abigail returned to the table and sat beside Mammi.

  The moment they finished silently blessing their food, Abigail began her report. “Edith and I had a gut day. We organized your pantry. It’s alphabetical nau.” She gave an hour-by-hour report of what she and Mammi had done since he’d seen them at noon. The partially assembled jigsaw puzzle on the other end of the table had already hinted to what kept them busy, but her chatter was somewhat amusing. He’d never known anyone not to take a breather between sentences.

  His grandmother’s eyes drooped. Tired? Listening to Abigail was a bit daunting. He would probably get an earful once Abigail went home.

  Any thoughts he’d had earlier about finding Abigail attractive faded. He didn’t know any man who would want to spend eternity with a woman who talked as much as she did. She had yet to take a bite of her food.

  “The meal was gut. Danki.” He pushed away from the table and stood. “I’ll hitch the buggy while you finish eating.”

  “I won’t be long,” she said.

  “Mammi, would you like to ride along?” He hated the idea of leaving her alone, but he didn’t want her to go out in the cold either.

  Mammi shook her head. “I’m going to read for a while and then go to bed.”

  “Okay.” He slipped on his coat, lit the lantern, and headed outside. Tomorrow he wouldn’t work this late. Micah harnessed Clover and led him out of the stall. He had the buggy hitched and parked next to the porch when Abigail came outside.

  She crawled up on the bench. “You didn’t have to go to this trouble. I could have walked home. We only live a mile apart.”

  “I know.” He snapped the reins and Clover lurched forward. Even so, he didn’t want her to walk home in the dark on the snowy roads.

  “You don’t talk much, do you?”

  He shrugged. “I say what’s necessary.”

  “That’s it? Just what’s necessary?” She harrumphed as if that were a sin.

  He clicked his tongue and Clover picked up speed.

  She crossed her arms and slouched on the seat. “Must be lonely.”

  “Nett really. I don’t need to come up with things to say just to hear myself talk.”

  She shifted on the bench to face him. “So, you wouldn’t look up at the sky and say something about how bright the stars were?”

  “Probably nett.” He slowed Clover down before turning into her driveway. He stopped the buggy next to the house. “Do you make it a habit to talk about everything?”

  She smiled. “It’s a gift.”

  He chuckled. Only Abigail would consider prattle a gift.

  “Don’t laugh. God’s given me a gift of gab and I intend to use it.”

  Gift of gab? He laughed harder. Maybe all the talking to herself had scrambled her senses.

  “I’m glad you find that funny.” She opened the buggy door and slipped down from the bench.

  “Hey, Gabby Abby,” he said as she was about to close the door. “If you had bothered to look up, you would have noticed the stars aren’t out. It’s snowing.”

  She lifted her gaze and stared into the darkness. “They’re still there. Under cloud cover, but shining bright nonetheless. How else would the wildlife find their way around in the woods?”

  “Gut point.”

  “So . . . should I still kumm tomorrow?”

  She was a strange one. First she was overly eager to work, and now she sounded unsure. “Have you changed your mind about watching Mammi?”

  “Nay, have you changed yours? I know today didn’t go so well, but I promise tomorrow will be better. I’ll make sure your grandmother stays away from the stove and—”

  “Abigail, it’s all right.”

  “I thought when you came into the haus with the bucket of water, I had lost the job. You weren’t very pleased. I could see that in your eyes. I figured at the end of the day you’d tell me I was done.”

  He stared at her lips, which were drawn into a frown. “Is that why you were so anxious to leave?”

  She nodded. “I thought if I left while you were eating, you might give me another chance. You are going to give me another chance, jah?”

  Did she not listen to anything he said? How much more reassurance did she need?

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “There you go, getting quiet again.” She covered her mitted hand over her mouth. “Or . . . you don’t want me to work tomorrow.”

  “Why do you want this job so badly?” Micah hoped her eagerness wasn’t in hopes of something more developing between them. She was nice enough—attractive even—but she was also his best friend’s little sister. He wasn’t interested in courting her.

  “I’m saving for a horse,” she said.

  “A horse?” He coughed into his fisted hand. Not many women in this district owned their own horses. Farmland was scarce and hay was expensive.

  “I almost have enough money saved. So, are you going to give me another chance?”

  He nodded. “I’ll see you in the morning.” He braced for a squeal that never came. Instead, she pursed her lips and exhaled.

  “Danki.” Her smile returned wider and brighter than before. She bounded up the porch steps, paused to wave, then disappeared inside the house.

  Micah chuckled to himself as he signaled Clover forward. Abigail Kemp’s sunny disposition was as catchy as the common cold.

  CHAPTER 5

  The following morning Abigail woke before sunrise. She dressed in darkness so as not to awaken her sisters, sleeping in beds adjacent to hers, then tiptoed down the stairs and padded into the kitchen. While the others were still asleep, she filled a grocery sack with a few staples from the pantry: flour, yeast, uncooked noodles, rice, oatmeal, and two quarts of her mother’s homemade tomato sauce. Abigail slipped on her boots and cloak, grabbed the basket, and headed outside.

  The chickens flapped their wings and clucked as she enter
ed the henhouse. “Guder mariye, ladies.” She worked her way down the row of nesting boxes, collecting eggs and greeting each hen by name. Before leaving the coop, she fed and watered them. Once the eggs were washed, Abigail rolled a dozen eggs in the dish towel and placed them in the bag with the other items from the pantry.

  “You’re up early,” Mamm said, entering the kitchen.

  Abigail closed the bag and set it aside. “I promised Micah I would be early.”

  Mamm wadded up a few pieces of the newspaper, placing it and some thin slabs of dry kindling in the cookstove. “Did he say if his sister had her boppli yet?”

  “Nay, but I’ll ask when I see him today.”

  Her mother filled the kettle with tap water and set it on the stove.

  “Mamm, do you think we’ll be able to have the whole family together for Christmas?”

  “If you’re wondering about the Lambrights . . . probably nett this year.”

  “It won’t feel like Christmas,” Abigail said softly.

  Mamm’s somber expression wasn’t easily hidden behind her weak smile. “Keep the bishop and elders in your prayers as they decide if there will be a formal shunning.”

  “I will.” Abigail hated to see her mother worried about Aenti Doreen’s family. Her aunt had gone through so much having both her sons leave home. Over the years, Malinda had shared family secrets that Abigail had promised never to repeat. That wasn’t to say rumors about Malinda’s father’s harsh discipline hadn’t spread like fire in their district. He had driven both of his sons away with his well-worn leather strap.

  Abigail cleared her throat. “Would it be all right if I skip breakfast?”

  “You’re in that big of a hurry?”

  Abigail nodded. Her mother hadn’t asked how many cookies and pies Gingerich’s Market had ordered, and she wouldn’t be pleased that Abigail had gone against the bishop’s order and visited the Lambrights’ home. Relatives weren’t exempt, even in her mother’s eyes.

  “You have to eat something.” Mamm motioned to the pantry. “Make a peanut-butter sandwich to eat on your way.”

  She wasn’t hungry, but she made a sandwich to take anyway. “I don’t know what time I’ll be home,” she said over her shoulder. Taking the grocery bag, she headed out the door as the sun was coming up over the horizon. Clumps of snow collected on her boots as she trudged across the winter wheat field toward the Lambright farm.

  Lamplight illuminated the kitchen as Abigail approached the farmhouse. She spotted her cousin standing in front of the window and waved. A few minutes later, Malinda came outside bundled up in her coat and scarf.

  “I brought you a few things.” Abigail handed Malinda the bag. “Be careful. I wrapped the eggs in a dish towel.”

  “Bless you.” Her eyes glistened. “I was praying this morning that God would provide a miracle. I’ve made so many meals out of biscuits and gravy that we ran out of flour last nacht.”

  “How is your mamm doing?”

  Malinda shook her head. “When she’s nett crying, she’s so quiet, it’s . . . frightening. I’ve been doing all the cooking and cleaning, but . . .” Her words broke off as she gazed toward the house.

  Aenti Doreen had slipped into a depression sixteen years ago when Boaz left home, then again when Thomas left six years later. Her husband refused to allow the boys’ names to be spoken, and that deepened her despair.

  Malinda’s family had already suffered multiple years of failed hay and corn crops along with several other families in this area. They relied heavily on the district’s assistance, which made the threat of shunning that much harder.

  Malinda swiped the tears away from her puffy eyes. “The apple pies you gave Thomas were delicious. You didn’t have to bring so many. You could have sold them at Gingerich’s.”

  “I thought your family might enjoy a treat. Besides, Thomas reminded me how much he liked apple pies.”

  “He remembered?” A ray of hope lit her friend’s eyes.

  “Sort of.”

  Malinda frowned. “He’s changed a lot, hasn’t he?”

  “It’s been ten years since he lived at home.” Abigail stopped herself from adding how shocked she had been at Thomas’s appearance.

  “Did you talk with him much?” Malinda’s eyes glazed. She blinked a few times, then tilted her head upward.

  “I couldn’t stay very long. I had to get home to help Mamm with supper.”

  “I wish he’d never left home to search for Boaz. Maybe then he wouldn’t have joined the army.”

  Abigail’s memory of her cousin Boaz was vague. She doubted Malinda remembered much either since she wasn’t much older than seven when her eldest brother left home.

  “Did you see the scar on Thomas’s head?”

  Abigail shook her head. “He was wearing a baseball hat.”

  “It’s bad.” Malinda ran her finger from the top of her head down to her ear to indicate the marking. “They had to do surgery to reduce the swelling on his brain. Now he has a metal plate in his head. His memory is spotty and he . . . just isn’t the same.”

  “I never heard what happened.”

  “Apparently he was in Afghanistan when a bomb went off. The jeep he was in turned over.” She wiped the tears from her face. “His memory is gone or at least most of the time it is. Even the doctor said it would take a miracle.”

  In the distance, horse hooves clapped the pavement.

  “You better go before someone sees you. The bishop and elders think while Thomas was in the world, he partook in black magic.”

  Abigail gasped.

  “Sometimes he randomly swears for no apparent reason. The doctor believes his head injury has something to do with that and the swearing might not stop.” Malinda sighed. “It happened during one of the bishop’s visits. He also has a tattoo now. No erasing that.”

  Abigail glanced at the fast-approaching buggy and turned her back to it. “What does your father say about everything?”

  “At first Daed refused to talk to Thomas. He even said he had no sohns. But he’s coming around. I think he regrets the pain he’s put Mamm through for so many years.”

  “Perhaps the bishop will kumm around too.”

  Malinda nodded. “That’s mei prayer.”

  “I should probably leave. Micah Zook hired me to watch his grandmother while his parents are out of town.”

  “I thought his grandmother lived in the west district.”

  “She moved in with them a few weeks ago. I don’t think she can live alone anymore, which is gut for me. I should be able to buy Cactus soon.”

  “I suppose it’s just as easy to make your fruitcakes and pies for the market while you’re there. How is Micah to work for? I always thought he was standoffish at the youth singings.”

  Abigail held her tongue about not having orders to fill for the market. “He’s even more so since he stopped attending.”

  “He never offered to drive you home from a singing, did he?”

  Abigail shook her head. “Yesterday, he called me Gabby Abby.”

  Malinda smiled. “That’s a fitting pet name.”

  “I wouldn’t call it a pet name. He thinks I talk too much. Did you see whose buggy just passed?”

  “I think it was Velda Schwartz.”

  Abigail exhausted a heavy breath. The bishop’s sister-in-law had a tendency to weave her way into the heart of district happenings.

  “You should go,” Malinda said. “I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

  “I should be able to
drop off a few things to mei relatives. After all, I’ve always tried to share with others—including Englischers.” Malinda bowed her head. “Sometimes lately I’ve wished I wasn’t Amish.”

  “Don’t say that.” Abigail reached for Malinda’s arm and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I can’t lose mei best friend.”

  “Pray for me.” The barn door opened and Malinda’s father came out carrying a milk pail. “I have to go.” She tapped the grocery sack. “Danki for this.” She took a few steps away and then spoke over her shoulder. “Let me know how things work out between you and Micah. He might be a gut catch if you can get him to open up.”

  “Do all the young women on this side of the district talk a lot?” Mammi sipped her morning coffee. “I’ve never known someone to talk as much as Abigail.”

  A gift from God, Micah bit his tongue from saying aloud. He took a drink of his coffee and set the mug down. “Maybe she was nervous yesterday.”

  “A woman should be slow to speak.”

  Micah thought for a moment. Yes, Abigail talked a lot, but she also had many admirable qualities. She was kind, thoughtful, and had a sweet spirit. She could use some guidance. “Maybe you could mentor her.”

  Mammi’s gray eyes sparked with purpose. “Jah,” she said, nodding thoughtfully. “I could do that.”

  Micah smiled. Mammi hadn’t had a chance to attend any get-togethers with his mother, but it wouldn’t be long before she established new friendships with the widows on this side of the district. In the meantime, Mammi would have a project. His problem was solved. She would keep Abigail busy, and he would be able to work peacefully in his shop without more interruptions like yesterday.

  A soft knock sounded at the door.

  Micah glanced at the wall clock. Abigail was early. He opened the door.

  “Hiya.” A white fog escaped her mouth.

  “Hello, Abigail.” He opened the door wider and glanced outside. “Your bruder didn’t bring you?”