grunt of agreement was Daad’s only answer. This was going to be an uphill battle. He hurried to shove back the heavy door before Daad reached it.
Their entrance was greeted by soft whickers from the stalls. Daad lit the propane lantern, and the interior of the barn emerged from the gloom.
A wave of emotion hit Ben, startling him by its strength. Why would he be so moved by the barn? Maybe it was the assurance of Daad’s routine. Nothing really needed to be done with the stock at this hour, but still, Daad never went to bed without a last check, just as Mamm had to check each of her kinder. Ben had been proud the first time Daad considered him old enough to come along on the evening round.
He stepped to the nearest stall, reaching up to run a hand along the neck of the buggy horse that nosed him curiously. “You’re a handsome fellow.” He stroked strong shoulders. “The gelding’s a good-looking animal. He’s new, ain’t so?”
“Went all the way down to Lancaster County for the livestock auction last spring to get him.”
Daad sounded as proud as an Amish person was likely to, pride being a sin. Funny, how the Englisch world seemed to consider it right and proper.
“Looks like you got a gut deal.”
He moved to the next stall, to be greeted with a nuzzle that nearly knocked his hat off. Dolly, the black-and-white pony they’d all learned to drive with. Her muzzle was a little gray now, but she looked fine and healthy.
He patted her, letting the memories flood back...driving the pony cart up the road to the neighbor’s farm, the day he’d thrown himself on Dolly’s back and urged her to gallop, the feel of the ground coming at him when she’d stopped suddenly, objecting to being ridden.
“Suppose I should have sold Dolly to someone with young kinder.” Daad stood next to him, his gaze on the pony. “But she’s gut with Daniel’s young one when he comes over.”
Besides the fact that Daad wouldn’t have wanted to part with her. Ben understood that—he wouldn’t, either.
“There’s something I need to say to you, Benjamin.” Daad’s voice was weighted with meaning. “Your mamm and me...well, we’d always thought that the farm would go to you when we were ready to take it a bit easier. I guess you knew that.”
He had, yes. It had been an accepted thing. Amish farms typically went to one of the younger sons, because they came of age when fathers were ready to take it a bit easier. And Ben had been the one who’d loved the farm more than Josh, whose mind was taken up by all things mechanical.
Maybe that had been in his mind that last night, when he’d seen himself settling down, marrying Anna, taking over the farm when it was time, building the next generation. It had closed in on him, reminding him of all the things he hadn’t seen, hadn’t done.
“Still, when you stayed away so long, we had to face the fact that you might not be back. So we decided the farm would go to Joshua. He’s young yet, not settled, but I’m good for a few more years.” Daad flickered a glance at him, then focused on Dolly. “Only fair to tell you. I don’t think it right to change our minds again. This is still your home, but it’ll go to Joshua, not you.”
It shouldn’t have hit him like a hammer. He should have expected it. After all, it was only right. He’d made his choice when he left.
He forced himself to nod, to smile. “Joshua will do a fine job, I know.”
It was only now, when it was out of his reach, that Ben realized how much this place meant to him.
Anna had no need to cluck to Buck when they came in sight of the Schmidt farm on the way back from home visits a few days later. Buck knew that his own barn would soon be appearing and knew, too, that there’d be a treat for him once he was unhitched.
“Easy, boy.” Anna said it with indulgence in her voice. Given the leaden skies and cold temperatures, she’d be glad to get into the warm farmhouse kitchen, rich with the scents of whatever Elizabeth had decided to treat her menfolk with today.
The fencepost that marked the beginning of the Miller fields came in to view, with someone in the usual black coat and black felt hat bending over the post. He looked up and waved, and she saw that it was Ben. She pulled the mare to a halt at his upraised hand.
Ben smiled up at her, lines crinkling around his blue eyes. “A ride home, please?” he asked.
“For sure.” She gestured toward the seat next to her. If he could act as if things were normal between them, so could she.
He climbed up, settling on the seat, and Buck flicked an ear back in recognition of the extra weight.
“Komm, Buck, you remember me, ain’t so?”
Anna had to smile at his teasing. “He’s not used to having another person along on home visit days.” Anna snapped the lines, and Buck moved on.
“You’ve been doing most of them, seems like.” Ben shot a glance at her face. “Mamm’s all right, isn’t she?”
“Ach, ya, she’s fine. I think she feels having me take over more of the home visits might push folks into accepting me.”
Elizabeth hadn’t actually said so, but Anna could read her pretty well. After all, it had always been the understanding between them that Anna would take over more of the practice as Elizabeth wanted to slow down.
“How’s that working out?” Ben had a trick of lifting one eyebrow when he asked a question that always seemed to cause a little flutter in her heart.
Anna forced herself to concentrate. “Pretty well, I think. Etta Beachy even let me check out her daughter-in-law today. Reluctantly.”
He chuckled. “Sounds like Etta hasn’t changed much. Always has to have everything her way, ain’t so?”
Anna shrugged. “She wants the best for her first grandbaby.” And she didn’t think Anna was the best. She didn’t say that aloud, of course. And she certain sure didn’t confide the thing that was weighing on her.
Elizabeth seemed sure Dora’s baby wouldn’t arrive until the New Year, and she’d had plenty more experience than Anna had. But based on her examination today, Anna would have guessed a good week or two earlier.
She’d reminded Dora that babies could easily arrive two weeks early or two weeks late, just to have Etta pooh-pooh the notion that her grandson would show up any earlier than the date she’d determined, January 6, Old Christmas, which was her husband’s birthday.
Anna hadn’t felt up to taking on an argument about the baby’s sex, either. She sent Dora a meaningful glance, relieved to see a smile and a shrug in return. Maybe Dora wasn’t as cowed by her formidable mother-in-law as she’d thought.
Ben put his hands over hers on the lines, startling her, and she realized they’d nearly run right into the barn, buggy and all.
“Ach, sorry. I was woolgathering.” She looped the lines and scrambled down before Ben could offer to help her.
“Problems?”
