illumination reached the forest floor until a person reached the clearing for his cabin, but the woman had waited for her eyes to adjust to the darkness and then kept going.
Will she boldly let herself in and sit down on my sofa? Maybe fry up a few eggs for a late night snack?
At the spruce tree she had paused and approached no farther. She stood staring at his cabin, watching what he couldn’t fathom. Then she’d tripped over the same rocks and been scratched by the same briars all the way back. Utterly perplexed, Isaiah followed her until she reached the orchard without breaking her neck.
This was the same woman who had arrived this afternoon with a bulging a suitcase. He’d seen a buggy pull up to the house while he’d been repairing fences in the high pasture. Little happened on his cousin’s farm that escaped his notice, unless he was off hunting in the autumn or buried under a blanket of snow during winter. Was she the one who had cooked the delicious fried chicken, buttered noodles, and spinach salad with pieces of bacon? He’d watched Abigail climb into a car with flashing red and blue lights and not come back. Isaiah couldn’t imagine what Daniel would do without his wife. And he’d been rather curious about the woman ever since her arrival. But now that she had bravely ventured down the path, all the way to his cabin, he was downright mystified.
Six
N athan Fisher paid no attention when the late model sedan drove up his driveway. English folks often pulled into the yard to ask directions or to see if they were selling eggs, cheese, or garden produce. Once an elderly
Englischer
asked if he had any cuckoo clocks for sale. When he had been dumbfounded by the question, the woman explained that because the Amish originally came from Switzerland, she thought he might have maintained an old-country trade.
Cuckoo clocks. Just when you think you have heard it all
.
Whoever this person was, most likely he or she would soon leave when no one came out with things for sale. He had chores to do. His recently baled hay needed to be stacked in the barn loft out of the weather. Cows needed milking and garden vegetables were ready to be picked. Although Ruth had managed their garden on her own, he couldn’t expect his aunt to keep house, cook meals, care for his son, and do outdoor chores too. He needed to do more than his share because she owed him no lifetime commitment. Besides, he couldn’t drop what he was doing in his present condition. He was dirty from head to toe and probably smelled worse than their sow after a roll in fresh mud.
Pulling on the rope with all his strength, Nathan raised another pile of bales up to the loft. Two more loads and his latest cutting of hay should be finished. He would cover the remaining bales with plastic and leave them outdoors to supplement pasture grass for the next few weeks.
“Hello? Mr. Fisher?” A female voice called from the barn doorway.
Nathan clenched down on his back teeth. “
Jah
, I’m Nathan Fisher, but I’m busy right now. We have no eggs for sale if that’s why you’re here. And if you’re collecting donations, my aunt’s up at the house. Tell her there’s some money in the canister by the door.”
The woman chuckled, stepping inside rather than going on her way. “I’ll remember that come time for the March of Dimes drive, but today I’m not soliciting money. I’m here to talk to you.”
He glanced over his shoulder at her from the ladder. The woman was as skinny as a fence pole, with curly yellow hair standing out from her head like a lion’s mane. But her manner of dress was all business—gray suit, white blouse, and high-heeled shoes. As Nathan stared, she ventured deeper into the barn. “Careful there, ma’am, in those fancy shoes. There are things in here you do not want to step in.”
She instantly stood still. “Right, then. I’ll wait for you outside in the shade.” She pivoted and headed to the pasture fence, where
Will she boldly let herself in and sit down on my sofa? Maybe fry up a few eggs for a late night snack?
At the spruce tree she had paused and approached no farther. She stood staring at his cabin, watching what he couldn’t fathom. Then she’d tripped over the same rocks and been scratched by the same briars all the way back. Utterly perplexed, Isaiah followed her until she reached the orchard without breaking her neck.
This was the same woman who had arrived this afternoon with a bulging a suitcase. He’d seen a buggy pull up to the house while he’d been repairing fences in the high pasture. Little happened on his cousin’s farm that escaped his notice, unless he was off hunting in the autumn or buried under a blanket of snow during winter. Was she the one who had cooked the delicious fried chicken, buttered noodles, and spinach salad with pieces of bacon? He’d watched Abigail climb into a car with flashing red and blue lights and not come back. Isaiah couldn’t imagine what Daniel would do without his wife. And he’d been rather curious about the woman ever since her arrival. But now that she had bravely ventured down the path, all the way to his cabin, he was downright mystified.
Six
N athan Fisher paid no attention when the late model sedan drove up his driveway. English folks often pulled into the yard to ask directions or to see if they were selling eggs, cheese, or garden produce. Once an elderly
Englischer
asked if he had any cuckoo clocks for sale. When he had been dumbfounded by the question, the woman explained that because the Amish originally came from Switzerland, she thought he might have maintained an old-country trade.
Cuckoo clocks. Just when you think you have heard it all
.
Whoever this person was, most likely he or she would soon leave when no one came out with things for sale. He had chores to do. His recently baled hay needed to be stacked in the barn loft out of the weather. Cows needed milking and garden vegetables were ready to be picked. Although Ruth had managed their garden on her own, he couldn’t expect his aunt to keep house, cook meals, care for his son, and do outdoor chores too. He needed to do more than his share because she owed him no lifetime commitment. Besides, he couldn’t drop what he was doing in his present condition. He was dirty from head to toe and probably smelled worse than their sow after a roll in fresh mud.
Pulling on the rope with all his strength, Nathan raised another pile of bales up to the loft. Two more loads and his latest cutting of hay should be finished. He would cover the remaining bales with plastic and leave them outdoors to supplement pasture grass for the next few weeks.
“Hello? Mr. Fisher?” A female voice called from the barn doorway.
Nathan clenched down on his back teeth. “
Jah
, I’m Nathan Fisher, but I’m busy right now. We have no eggs for sale if that’s why you’re here. And if you’re collecting donations, my aunt’s up at the house. Tell her there’s some money in the canister by the door.”
The woman chuckled, stepping inside rather than going on her way. “I’ll remember that come time for the March of Dimes drive, but today I’m not soliciting money. I’m here to talk to you.”
He glanced over his shoulder at her from the ladder. The woman was as skinny as a fence pole, with curly yellow hair standing out from her head like a lion’s mane. But her manner of dress was all business—gray suit, white blouse, and high-heeled shoes. As Nathan stared, she ventured deeper into the barn. “Careful there, ma’am, in those fancy shoes. There are things in here you do not want to step in.”
She instantly stood still. “Right, then. I’ll wait for you outside in the shade.” She pivoted and headed to the pasture fence, where
Similar Books
