An Amish Kitchen, page 8
Fern was praying desperately. She realized that she’d fallen through an abandoned well and felt completely foolish. Everyone knew where the wood-covered unused wells in the area were and usually avoided them with ease. But she could smell wood rot in the jagged fragments that nearly pierced the skin of her face as she clung to the edge of the ground. She was relieved that the kitten had somehow jumped free; she’d seen her go off like a shot and could only hope she’d head back to the Fisher home.
After several useless tries to pull herself up, she loosed one shoe and let it fall, wanting to gauge how deep the well was. She listened and heard an ominous splash after a good four seconds and knew that she could not let go.
She remembered a phrase from the Bible . . . to Him who is able to keep us from falling . . . She’d never thought of those words in such a literal sense before, but now she repeated them over and over as her arms and fingers began to grow numb with the strain. The grass and dirt she held were quickly turning into mud from the rain as she lifted her head and screamed for help.
Abram told the kinner to stay in the house until he returned, then he set out in the teeth of the storm to trace Fern’s route home. He had no doubt she was in some kind of danger; he could feel it within himself, but he didn’t know if she’d gone down the lane or cut across the field. He paused, the wind whipping around him, and prayed to God for guidance. Then he heard the faint cry of a female voice. He turned in the direction of the field.
“The old well!” he said aloud, then took off running. He saw the jagged edge soon enough and Fern’s white-tipped fingers grappling in the mud. He threw himself on his belly and inched forward.
“Fern,” he called over the pounding rain. “I’m here . . . Hold on.”
“I’m . . . not trying to let go.”
He laughed with relief at her spirit and moved until his hands touched hers. He locked his fingers around her wrists.
“Abram . . . you can’t pull me up. I’m too heavy!”
“Are you, then?” he said, lifting her up inch by inch.
When she finally lay full on the ground, he lay head to head with her, winded but not tired, though his arms shook with the thought that he might have lost her. He grinned into her muddy, beautiful face and then laid his hands on either side of her head, pushing her soaked bonnet down and off, and kissed her. He tasted the earth and reveled in its aliveness, then he silently praised God as he deepened the kiss, slanting his head and feeling her delicious response.
Fern sat at the Fishers’ kitchen table wrapped in blankets and one of Abram’s mamm’s robes. She drank the hot chocolate that Matthew had made for her and relished the weight of Abram’s arm around her shoulders and Mayflower’s tiny body in her lap.
Mary sat across from them, eyeing them dreamily. “Are you two gonna do it now?”
Fern looked up in alarm as Abram laughed. “Maybe.”
“Do . . . what?” Fern asked.
“Ach, that’s a family secret,” Abram teased, nuzzling her neck. “I’ll have to let you in on it one day soon.”
Fern smiled at him as Mayflower suddenly jumped down from her lap. The cat scuffled about by the stove for a moment, then returned to her new owner. Fern jumped when she saw a mole, perfectly unharmed, then joined in the laughter as Luke told the story of the small creature.
Fern looked around at the children, then at Abram, and knew that what her grandmother had told her would hold true for a lifetime . . . a taste of faith was a taste of love.
Later, when the kinner were all in bed, Abram found the words to whisper against Fern’s temple, half-afraid, half-joyous.
“Will you marry me, Fern Zook?”
He was delighted when she lifted her mouth to his with a shy smile.
“Ya.”
To: Henry and Martha Fisher
Middle Hollow, Ohio
Dear Mamm and Daed,
Hope this letter catches you in gut time before you leave. I wanted to let you know that everything is going well with the kinner and the farm, but I do have a surprise for you . . . Fern Zook has agreed to marry me in the fall. (She says hello and hopes you’ll be happy for us!) A lot of things have happened since you’ve been gone, but finding Fern has been the best. Please come home safely to a soon-to-be new member of the family.
With love,
Abram
A Spoonful of Love
* * *
AMY CLIPSTON
* * *
CHAPTER ONE
HANNAH KING GLANCED AT THE CLOCK OVER THE SINK. One hour before the guests would arrive. A mental list clicked off in her mind: clean the downstairs bathroom and sweep the back porch. The bed-and-breakfast had to be perfect before the Englisch guests arrived.
After scrubbing the bathroom sink and counter, Hannah headed outside. She breathed in the cool autumn air and smiled. This was her favorite time of year. She propped the screen door open, grabbed the broom from where it leaned against the house, and began to push errant leaves back toward the lawn below. She was finishing up when she felt something breeze by her face, followed by a clatter in the kitchen.
“Hello?” Hannah peered through the doorway. “Who’s there?” She scanned the kitchen and gasped when she spotted an overturned glass on the floor and a small bird circling above the table.
Wielding the broom like a tennis racket, Hannah swung at the bird, hoping to send it toward the open screen door. “Get out!” She looked around in search of another implement to corral the poor creature.
The bird fluttered past her arm and she swung the broom, narrowly missing the window above the sink.
“Shoo!” Hannah cried. “Go back outside!”
“Hannah?” her mamm’s voice called from the doorway. “Was iss letz?”
“A bird.” Hannah took another swing. “Please help!”
But her mamm ignored her, crossing the floor to look into the small bathroom just off the kitchen. “What’s this water?” She put her hands on her wide hips and eyed the mess. “The toilet is overflowing.”
“Oh no.” Hannah groaned and then swung at the bird, which flew into the window.
“Let me try.” Her mamm held out her hand. “You take care of the toilet.”
Hannah hesitated; she wanted to handle the situation on her own. But with guests coming, she couldn’t let her pride get in the way of a positive first impression. “Danki.” She reluctantly handed her mamm the broom, then moved to the bathroom where the pipe behind the toilet was spraying water, which was pooling on the floor.
What else can go wrong?
Hannah turned off the water flow valve while her mamm continued to swat at the bird. A moment later she heard a knock at the door and grimaced. “The O’Malleys must be early.”
She wiped her hands on her apron, straightened her prayer kapp, and opened the front door. An Englisch couple, middle-aged and well tanned, stood on the stoop, smiling broadly.
“Hannah King?” The man extended his hand. “Greg O’Malley.”
“Ya, I’m Hannah. Nice to meet you. You’re a little early, but it’s no problem.”
“I’m sorry.” The woman held out her hand, and Hannah shook it. “I’m Robin. We got an earlier start, and traffic was light on the turnpike.”
A thump followed by a crash sounded from the kitchen, and the visitors raised their eyebrows.
Hannah ignored the noise. “Please come in.”
The Englisch folks stepped into the house, pulling large suitcases with wheels that scraped along the wood floor.
Hannah asked them to sign the guest book in the living room, then handed them a set of keys. After taking their credit card information, she led the guests into the kitchen, where her mother stood by the closed bathroom door. “Robin and Greg, this is my mother, Rachel.”
Her mamm smiled, despite her crooked prayer kapp and apron. “Welcome to the Paradise Inn.”
“Thank you.” Robin turned to her husband and grinned. Hannah wondered if this was a special occasion for them.
“You may go upstairs,” Hannah said. “I’ll be right behind you.” After the guests started up toward the bedrooms, she turned to her mamm. “Did you get the bird out?”
“Ya.” Her mother pushed a wayward strand of brown hair behind her ear. “But I knocked over a chair or two in the process.”
“Danki for coming over when you did.” Hannah touched her mamm’s hand.
“You go tend to the guests. I’ll take care of the bathroom next.”
Hannah hurried up the stairs.
“This is rustic, but lovely.” Robin looked around the sparse hallway.
“Thank you.” Hannah knew pride was a sin, but she felt it just the same when folks commented about their home. “This house has been in my family for three generations.” She pointed toward the end of the hall. “I think you would be most comfortable in the large bedroom.” She flung open the door to reveal the four-poster bed, two bureaus, and a sitting area with a little sofa.
Robin smiled at Hannah. “It’s perfect.”
“Would you like something to eat?” Hannah fluffed up the bed pillows.
“No, thank you,” Greg said and patted his stomach. “We had a big breakfast on the way here.”
“Okay. Breakfast is served at eight,” Hannah said. “Oh, and your stay includes one Amish supper. Would you like it tonight?”
“That sounds wonderful. I’m excited to eat food someone else has cooked!” Robin nudged her husband’s side.
Hannah picked up a pile of brochures and maps from the dresser. “Here’s some information about the area attractions. Feel free to ask me if you need anything else.”
“Wonderful,” Robin said. “We hope to see all kinds of authentic Amish places while we’re here.”
“Gut. Well, you settle in.” Hannah smiled as she skipped down the stairs, mentally planning the supper menu. But first she needed to help her mother finish cleaning up the mess in the bathroom.
Stephen Esh tossed his duffel bag onto the seat of the taxicab and climbed in beside it. The knots in his stomach had loosened some since leaving his home in Sugarcreek, Ohio, that morning. He’d never been to Lancaster before and was interested to see how it differed from his home community. Reaching up, he lifted his straw hat and smoothed his hair, hoping that he didn’t look as disheveled as he felt.
“Where to?” The cabdriver looked at Stephen in the rearview mirror.
Stephen frowned. That’s the ultimate question. The truth was, he had no idea where he was headed, but he knew his goal—a new start.
“I need to know a destination, son,” the cabbie said.
Stephen looked out the window at passengers leaving the bus station with luggage in tow. He imagined they all had places to be. “Are there any hotels around here?”
The cabbie grinned. “This is a tourist area. There are plenty of hotels, motels, and bed-and-breakfasts. What did you have in mind?”
“Are there any Amish hotels?”
“You mean run by Amish folks?”
“Right.”
The cabbie cranked the engine, revving it to life. “There’s an Amish-owned bed-and-breakfast called Paradise Inn.”
“That sounds perfect,” Stephen said. Paradise sounds like just what I need.
The cabbie merged into traffic. “How long are you in town?”
“I’m not sure.” Stephen absently watched the passing traffic. “I’ll see where the Lord leads me.”
“Are you visiting friends or family?”
“No. I don’t have any friends or family here.” Stephen met the driver’s curious expression in the mirror. “I’m looking for a fresh start.”
Leaning back in the seat, Stephen sighed. Leaving home had been his only choice.
CHAPTER TWO
THE CAB STOPPED IN FRONT OF A TWO-STORY, WHITE clapboard house. Stephen noticed a burgundy minivan parked near the path leading toward the front door. A rock driveway led out to the road where a modest sign by the mailbox read PARADISE INN.
“Here we are.” The cabdriver looked over his shoulder and told him the fare.
Stephen paid. “Thanks. Keep the change.” With his bag on his shoulder, he started up the driveway. The minivan rumbled down the driveway, and the couple inside waved as they passed.
Stephen nodded as he continued up the path to the front door and knocked. After a minute he peeked in the small window nearby. Seeing no movement, he glanced toward the road and wondered if he should’ve asked the taxi driver to wait. Yet he assumed the Yankee couple who had left in the van were guests. If so, then the proprietors should be at home.
“Hello?” He rapped on the door again. “Is anyone home?”
The house remained silent, and Stephen decided to investigate the property. He headed to the back, where he found a smaller house, a couple of barns, a henhouse, and a fenced pasture. Beyond the barn was an apple orchard, and the bright red apples were a beautiful complement to the cool fall weather.
A movement caught his eye. A young woman was hanging laundry on a clothesline spanning from the back porch to the peak on the largest barn. She was clad in a traditional Amish frock and apron, and seemed to move without thought as she hung out the sheets.
Suddenly she noticed him standing there and gasped. “You startled me.” Then she smiled. “May I help you?”
At first Stephen couldn’t speak. He was mesmerized . . . the slender frame, angelic face, and sandy blond hair sticking out from under her kapp were hauntingly familiar. He blinked.
“May I help you?” she asked again.
“I’m looking for a place to stay,” Stephen said. “Do you have any rooms available?”
She hoisted the laundry basket onto her hip. “I do. Follow me.”
“Danki.” He climbed the steps and moved through the back door into the kitchen.
The woman placed the basket on the floor and then handed him a piece of paper. “These are our rates. How long will you stay?”
Stephen read the price list and shook his head. “I’m not sure.”
She lifted her eyebrows, causing a wrinkle to pop up above her eyes. Here he was trying to escape the painful memories from home, and the woman before him could have passed for . . .
“I’m looking for work.” He studied the prices. “Why do some rooms cost more?”
“The price is based on the size of the room.”
He nodded. “What’s in your smallest room?”
“A single bed, a bureau, and a small desk.”
“I’ll take it.” He held out his hand. “I’m Stephen Esh.” When he touched her hand, he was overcome by the impulse to not let go.
“Willkumm to the Paradise Inn. I’m Hannah King. Follow me, I’ll show you the room.”
While climbing the stairs, he felt one of the steps shift and squeak under his weight.
“You have a loose stair.”
“Ya,” she said with a sigh. “I know.”
“I can fix it if you’d like.” He was already feeling anxious and wanted to get his hands busy on something productive.
“Danki, but I’ll see to it.” She stopped at the end of the hallway. “Here’s your room.”
“It’s perfect.” He took a quick peek inside before he turned back to her. “I saw a Yankee couple leaving in a van. Are they guests here?”
“Ya. They’re from New Jersey.”
He dropped his duffel bag on the floor and stepped over to the bureau to examine a few brochures. He glanced at the bed and noted that it looked comfortable. He hoped he’d get a good night’s rest. It would be the first in a long time.
Stephen could feel Hannah’s eyes on him. He wondered how she saw him. Probably as a normal guy, maybe even an eligible bachelor. But the Lord knew that wasn’t the case.
Hannah took in Stephen Esh’s height and broad shoulders. He had a handsome face and a pleasant demeanor, but his steely blue eyes had a sadness about them. She also noticed dark circles under his eyes and wondered if he’d slept well. She’d never had a guest complain that the beds weren’t comfortable. She made a mental note to ask him later.
“Will you be eating supper with the other guests tonight?” she asked as she walked toward the door.
“That’d be nice.” It had been awhile since he’d visited with Yankees. He enjoyed hearing about their way of life. He would never leave his faith because he loved being Amish, but he’d never met a Yankee who wasn’t friendly and easy to talk with. The corner of his mouth lifted, and he shrugged. “Could I possibly pay you to make me something for lunch?”
“You don’t need to pay me. I have plenty of food, and I love to cook. Come to the kitchen after you settle in.”
Hannah pulled out the fixings for chicken salad. The morning had been a little too exciting, what with the bird, the bathroom, and her newest guest with the sad eyes. She assumed he was a bachelor, since he was clean-shaven, and she knew from his clothing and his speech that he was an Amish man from Ohio. What was he doing so far from home? Hannah knew it was best to keep her distance from the guests, so she pushed that thought aside and focused on cutting up the chicken. One thing she knew for certain was that her mamm was not going to be happy that a single man was here for an extended stay. Never mind what the bishop would say.
But she was the manager of the inn, and it provided the financial support she needed to care for her parents. That and the extra eggs they sold to neighbors who weren’t raising their own chickens. Although her family had operated the bed-and-breakfast for nearly a decade, Hannah had taken over its management a year ago when her daed had a stroke. He had loved to talk with the people who came to stay here, showing them around the property and telling them about the Amish ways. She and her mother were still adjusting to his new condition.
She put the sandwich, chips, and a pickle onto a plate, then filled a glass with water. The faucet was still dripping. She would have to remind her brother to fix it when he came by later.
Hannah fetched the laundry basket and headed outside to finish hanging the clothes. She hummed to herself while she worked, and the crisp fall air tickled her nose. She was finishing up when the storm door squeaked open.
