he praying? In the middle of the street?
And then with no warning, he opened his eyes and raised his hand in greeting to the Hadwells who owned the hardware store. He set the bag with the day-old bread and the larger box that held an assortment of pastries on the porch of his shop and carried the smaller box—the one that held six apple cider doughnuts—over to the hardware store.
He offered a doughnut to Mr. and Mrs. Hadwell and then called out to Harvey Miller who ran the machine shop to come and join them. Within ten minutes they had each taken a seat on one of the many nail barrels that lined the porch to enjoy the doughnuts. Gertrude Hadwell brought out tin cups and a pot of coffee and served the men. Jeremiah had his back to her but Pleasant could tell by his gestures and the rapt interest on the faces of the others that he was telling them some story.
“A tall tale, no doubt,” she huffed as she dropped the curtain back into place and returned to the kitchen. The man had a way of taking over whatever space he might occupy. One might expect that of someone like Levi Harnisher, for example. Levi had once owned one of the largest and most successful circus companies in the country. And Pleasant would never forget the day he had walked right into this very bakery while she and Hannah were working and announced that he had sold the circus in order to return to his Amish roots and court Hannah.
Never in her life did Pleasant think she had ever witnessed anything so romantic as that. The love that shown in Hannah’s eyes as she looked at Levi and his love for her that was reflected there was nothing short of breathtaking. And the memory of that devotion naturally brought to mind her relationship with Merle. Of course, she and Merle were very different from Hannah and Levi, who were romantics by nature. To the contrary, both she and Merle understood and respected the hard realities of life.
Jeremiah Troyer is a romantic, she thought and bit her lip as she focused all of her attention on rolling out crusts for pies instead of dwelling on the handsome newcomer who was to be their neighbor—and perhaps business associate. Neighbor and business associate, Pleasant sternly reminded herself, and nothing more.
If there was one lesson she had learned, it was that men were rarely as they presented themselves to others. Or perhaps it was that she was a poor judge of the male species. After all, she had foolishly thought that a young man from Wisconsin was flirting with her, calling at the bakery day after day just to see her. More to the point, the man she had thought Merle was before they married and the man he had turned out to be were not at all the same.
Hannah and others had tried to warn her, but she had insisted that they simply did not understand people like Merle and her—serious people who were devoted to their work and who understood the hard realities of life. But even she was not prepared for day in and night out of living with a man who saw little good in anyone or anything—including her and his own children.
The shop bell jangled and Pleasant sighed heavily as she wiped her hands on her apron and headed to the front of the store. “Did you need more doughnuts, Herr Troyer?” she asked as she stepped past the curtain separating the kitchen from the shop and saw Hilda standing there with all four of Pleasant’s children.
“Pleasant, you must do something with this girl,” her sister-in-law said as she pushed Bettina forward. “I am quite at my wit’s end.”
Chapter Three
“Bettina, are you all right? Has something happened?” Pleasant asked, coming around the counter and kneeling next to her daughter whose face was awash in silent tears.
“I didn’t know they had wandered off,” the girl said in a whisper as Pleasant wiped away her tears with the hem of her apron.
“Shhh,” Pleasant murmured. “It’s all right.”
“It is not all right,” Hilda thundered. “For it was your idea to give the child responsibility for making sure the twins are properly brought to my house before she and Rolf leave for school.”
On weekdays, when the bakery was busiest, the twins stayed with Hilda who had seven children of her own. On Saturdays, they spent their day at the bakery with Pleasant while Rolf and Bettina took care of chores at home.
“I wanted to get the wash hung before …” Bettina began.
Pleasant stood up so that she was eye to eye with Hilda. Merle’s sister had first watched over the children after their mother’s death, taking them in so that Merle could tend his celery fields. And even after Merle and Pleasant married, she had continued to insist that the children spend their days at her home, persuading Merle that it was asking too much of them to accept Pleasant right away. But when Pleasant had accepted this arrangement without question and gone back to helping her father in the bakery, Hilda had done a complete about-face, complaining to Merle that Pleasant was ignoring the children, not to mention her duties as his wife and the keeper of his house.
Pleasant kept one hand around Bettina’s shoulder as she tried to assure herself that only fear and panic would make Hilda speak so sharply in front of the children. “Hilda,” she said quietly, “the children are all safe. She’s only a girl and …”
“At her age their father was already working a paying job. At his age …” Hilda gestured toward Rolf. “He was …”
Pleasant touched her sister-in-law’s arm. “Hilda, please,” she murmured and was relieved when the woman swallowed whatever else she had been about to say.
Meanwhile, the twins had eased away from the drama and worked their way behind the counter where they had opened the sliding door of the bakery case and were helping themselves to some of the sweets that Jeremiah had not purchased. Bettina tugged on Pleasant’s skirt and nodded toward the boys.
“Stop that this instant,” Pleasant demanded as she moved quickly around the counter and picked up one twin under each arm like sacks of flour.
When she failed to take away the pastry each boy clutched, Hilda snorted. “You do them no favors by indulging them,” she huffed as Pleasant deposited both boys closer to the door.
“Tell your Aunt Hilda that you’re sorry for causing her worry and then apologize to your sister as well,” Pleasant instructed.
“Sorry,” Henry muttered even as he stuffed the last of his pastry into his mouth.
Pleasant grabbed an empty lard bucket she kept under the counter to collect waste and shoved it under Henry’s chin. “Spit it out,” she said in a voice that brooked no argument. The boy did as he was told and then burst into tears. Within seconds his twin had joined in the chorus and the racket they made was deafening.
Hilda threw up her hands. “Do you see what you’ve done?” she demanded and Pleasant prepared to defend her action until she saw that her sister-in-law had addressed this remark to Bettina.
Pleasant realized that if she didn’t do something at once, her father—or worse—any customer who came in was going to find the shop crowded with crying children. “Let’s all just calm down and have a nice glass of milk in the kitchen,” she suggested just as the bell above the door jangled.
“Ah, Frau Yoder,” Jeremiah Troyer said, ignoring the chaos of the overwrought children. “I thought that was you I saw coming down the road before.”
Beyond caring why Jeremiah Troyer had invaded the bakery for a third time that morning, Pleasant seized the opportunity to herd all four children into the kitchen. She
