stare. When had he gotten those lines around his eyes, that tenseness in his jaw? That was new. Was that what the outside world had done to him?
“It didn’t occur to you to let me know you were here, ja?” He bent to pick up the wheelbarrow handles. “You’ve done your duty. I’m coming. Why don’t you run back and tell my daad that I was out here talking on my cell phone?”
A wave of anger came to her rescue. “I’m not a child, and I don’t tattle on people.”
“No.” His gaze drifted over her. “I can see you’re not a child, Anna. You’re all grown up now.”
Her anger edged up a notch at the way he’d looked at her. “Your clothes don’t make you Amish, Benjamin. If you’re not ready to leave the Englisch world, maybe you shouldn’t have komm.”
If anything, his face got tighter, until he didn’t look remotely like the boy she’d loved. “Mamm may say you’re like a daughter to her, but you’re not family. It’s not your business, so leave it alone.”
Shoving the wheelbarrow, he strode off toward the house.
Anna stood where she was, fists clenched. So much for her resolutions. Maybe she could forgive Benjamin for what he’d done in the past. But what about what he planned to do in the future? How could she ever trust him again?
* * *
Ben walked into the kitchen after supper, intent on a last cup of coffee. The quick cadences of Pennsylvania Dutch came from the living room, where everyone was settled for the evening, Daad reading aloud something from the latest issue of the Amish newspaper, Mamm sewing and Josh whittling a tiny boat destined for their brother Daniel’s oldest for Christmas. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed the sound of his native tongue, and it soothed his soul.
But he was leaving out someone. Anna was there as well, her lap filled with the baby shawl she was crocheting for Daniel and Barbie’s youngest. When he’d said she wasn’t part of the family, he’d wanted only to hurt her. Not only had that been unkind, it hadn’t been true. Maybe she was more a member of the family than he was.
Standing at the counter, he stirred sugar into the coffee, his spoon clinking against the thick white mug. Mamm had already lined the kitchen windowsill with the greens he’d brought in. Amish might not have the Christmas trees that were everywhere in the outside world, but that didn’t mean they didn’t celebrate the season of Christ’s birth in their own way.
A light step sounded behind him, and Ben knew without turning that it was Anna. Funny, how his view of her had changed. He’d thought her a quiet little mouse of a girl when she’d first come to stay with them. But he’d learned she had considerable spirit behind that quiet exterior. Today she’d turned it against him in reminding him that clothes didn’t make him Amish, and he didn’t like it.
“Ben.” Her voice was soft. “May I speak with you for a moment?”
He turned. If she intended to reiterate her opinion of him...
Anna’s heart-shaped face was serious, and a couple of lines had formed between her eyebrows. “I want to apologize.” She seemed to have trouble getting the words out. “I had no right to speak to you the way I did. I’m sorry.”
She’d disarmed him, taking away all the things he’d stored up to say.
“It’s okay. I know you’re just concerned about Mamm.”
Some emotion he couldn’t identify crossed her face, darkening her eyes. “She’s not my mother, but I do care about her.”
“I know.” His voice roughened despite his effort at control. “Believe me, I don’t want to hurt her.”
He already had, hadn’t he? Ben backed away from that thought.
“Gut.” Anna hesitated. “I hope you’re home to stay. It would mean so much to your family.”
Would it mean anything to you, Anna? He shoved that thought away, not sure where it had come from.
“A lot has changed since I’ve been gone. I can’t believe how Josh has grown. And think of Daniel and Barbie, having two kinder already. And I suppose Joseph will be next.”
That brought a smile to her face, warming her eyes and showing him the beauty other people didn’t seem to see. “I’ve never seen your mamm so nervous as when Barbie’s little ones were born. She said I had to catch them because she couldn’t, but believe me, she watched every move.”
Ben leaned against the counter, cradling the mug in his hands as he studied her face. “So you’re a partner now, not an apprentice. That’s great.”
Anna wrinkled her nose. “Now if we could just convince our clients of that...”
“Not willing to admit you’re all grown up, are they? Folks are slow to move forward here, ain’t so?”
She nodded, and again he saw that flicker of some emotion saddening her eyes. Did it worry her that people might still favor Mamm to deliver their babies?
They’d be wrong to discount Anna. There was a lot more to her than most folks thought, he’d guess. For an instant he saw her face turned up to his in the moonlight, alive with joy. Did no one else see that in her?
“Why aren’t you married yet, Anna?” The question was out before he realized that it would be better not spoken. Talk about butting in where he didn’t belong. “Sorry, I shouldn’t...”
Daad came into the kitchen, interrupting the difficult moment. He glanced from Anna to him and then moved toward the coats hanging by the back door.
“I’m going out to check the stock. Komm with me, Ben?”
“Sure.” Daad was getting him out of a difficult moment—that was certain sure.
Grabbing the black wool jacket that Mamm had put away in mothballs for his return, he followed Daad out the back door.
The air was crisp and cold, making his skin tingle. And the dark—he’d forgotten how dark it was on the farm after living for three years with constant electric lights everywhere. The yellow glow from the windows faded as they walked toward the barn. Daad switched on the flashlight he carried, sending a circle of light ahead of them.
Ben tilted his head back. The stars were so bright it seemed he could reach out and touch them. “How bright the stars are here,” he said, his breath misting in front of his face.
Daad grunted. “No other lights to dim God’s handiwork.”
Daad had never lost an opportunity to point out God’s presence in their lives. He’d always said that it was a blessing to be a farmer, because it was as close as one could get to Heaven.
But right now, Daad wasn’t doing much talking. If they were going to communicate, it was probably up to him.
“You extended the chicken coop, I see.”
Daad flickered his flashlight in that direction. “The roof was getting bad, so we decided to replace the whole thing. Just took a day with everyone helping.”
Everyone
