home to see to her himself. Once the bishop’s wife had even spoken to him about the untidy condition of Amelia’s hair and prayer bonnet, and another time the deacon had complained about the child giggling during service. He had felt that that criticism was unfair. Males and females sat on opposite sides of the room during worship and children, naturally, were under the watchful eyes of the women. How was he supposed to discipline his daughter from across the room without interrupting the sermon?
Amelia was young and spirited. She had no mother to teach her how she should behave. Those were the excuses he’d made for her, but this morning, the truth was all too evident. Amelia was out of control. So exasperated was he, that—had he been a father who believed in physical punishment—Amelia would have been soundly spanked. But he lacked the stomach to do it. No matter what, he could never strike a child.
Caleb shook his head. He’d ignored the good advice that friends and fellow church members had offered. He’d come to Delaware to put the past behind him, but he’d brought his own stubborn willfulness with him. He’d allowed a four-year-old child to run wild. And this disaster was the result.
“Good morning,” came a cheerful female voice, startling Caleb.
He looked up and stared at the young woman standing just inside his kitchen. She’d come through the utility room.
“The door was open.” She whipped off a navy blue wool scarf and he caught a glimpse of red-gold hair beneath her kapp. Sparkling drops of water glistened on her face.
Caleb opened his mouth to reply, but she was too quick for him.
“I’m Rebecca. Rebecca Yoder. We met on your barn beam the other night.”
She offered a quick smile as she shed a dark rain slicker. Beneath it, she wore a lavender dress, a white apron and black rubber boots—two boots. Unlike him. Suddenly, Caleb was conscious of how foolish he must look, standing there with one bare foot, his hair uncombed and sticking up like a rooster’s comb and his shirt-tails hanging out of his trousers.
“My door was open?” he repeated, woodenly.
Fritzy, the traitor, wagged his stump of a tail so hard that his whole backside wiggled back and forth. He sat where Caleb had commanded him to stay, but it was clear that given the choice he would have rushed up to give the visitor a hearty welcome kiss.
“Ya. I’m guessing you weren’t the one who left it open.” She pulled off first one rubber boot and then the other and hung the rain-streaked slicker on an iron hook. “I’m here to help with the housework. And Amelia.”
She looked at him and then slowly scanned the room, taking in the spilled flour, the cluttered table and the floor. Her freckled nose wrinkled, and he was struck by how young and fetching she appeared. “Eli told you that I was coming, didn’t he?”
Eli? Caleb’s mind went blank. “N...ne. He didn’t.”
“Yesterday. He was supposed to tell you that I...” She shrugged. “Fannie sent me. Fannie Byler. She said you needed someone to...”
He couldn’t remember Eli or anyone mentioning sending another girl. Certainly not the Yoder girl. “They sent you?”
Rebecca’s small fists rested on her shapely hips. “You’re not still angry about Friday night?” Her smile became a chuckle.
“I’m not angry,” he protested. “But you’re...you’re too...too...” He was going to say young, but he knew she was at least twenty-one. Maybe twenty-two. Old enough to have her own child. “Inexperienced. Amelia is... Can be...difficult. She—” What he was trying to say was lost in the sound of Fritzy gagging. He groaned out loud. The ham Amelia had given him was far too rich for the dog’s stomach. “Outside!” Caleb yelled. “If you’re going to be sick, do it outside!” He pushed past Rebecca and dashed through the small utility room to throw open the back door.
Not quite in time.
Fritzy made it out of the kitchen but lost it on the cement floor in front of the washing machine. “Out!” Caleb repeated. Sheepishly, the dog bounded out into the yard, where he proceeded to run in circles and snap at the raindrops. Now that his stomach had yielded up the large plate of ham, Fritzy was obviously cured.
Caleb returned to the kitchen to deal with Rebecca Yoder. “You have to go,” he said.
“Ne,” she replied, smiling again. “You have to go. Roman and Eli will be waiting for you. There’s a big truck there already. Eli said yesterday they were expecting your saws this morning.”
“I don’t need your help.”
“You don’t?” She slowly scanned the kitchen. “It looks to me as if that’s exactly what you do need.” She tapped her lips with a slender finger. “I know what the other girls said, about why they quit. I know what they said about Amelia and about you.”
“About me?” The trouble was with his daughter. What fault could those young women have found in his behavior? He hadn’t done or said anything—
“They said you are abrupt and hard to please.” She sounded...amused.
“I am not!”
“Dat!”
Caleb turned toward the sound of Amelia’s voice. She was standing in the kitchen doorway, still in her wet and muddy nightgown, her face streaked with tears. In one hand she held a pair of scissors, and in the other, a large section of her long, dark hair.
“Amelia?” He grabbed the scissors. “What have you done?”
“I’ll tend to her,” Rebecca assured him without the least bit of concern in her voice. She walked calmly over to Amelia, as if little girls cut their hair every day. “This is women’s work. Isn’t it, Amelia?” She looked down at the little girl.
Amelia looked up at her, obviously unsure what to think.
Caleb hesitated. He couldn’t just walk out and leave his daughter with this girl, could he? What if that only made things worse?
“I’ll be here just as a trial,” Rebecca said. “A week. If we don’t suit, then you can find someone else.”
Caleb didn’t know what to say. He really didn’t have a choice, did he? The men would be waiting for him. “A week? Ya.” He nodded, on firmer ground again. He wouldn’t be that far away. It might be easier to let this young woman try and fail than to argue with her. “Just a week,” he repeated. He looked at Amelia. “Dat has to go to work,” he said. “This... Rebecca will look after you...and help you tidy up your breakfast.” He looked around the kitchen and shuddered inwardly. “I hope you are made of sterner stuff than the past two girls,” he said to Rebecca.
“We’ll see,” Rebecca answered as she gathered the still-weeping child in her arms. “Breakfast and clean clothing for Amelia...and two boots for you are a start, wouldn’t you agree?”
* * *
The strenuous task of unloading the heavy saws and woodworking equipment took all of Caleb’s concentration for three hours. But when the truck pulled away and he was left alone to organize the tools in his area partitioned off in Roman’s shop, his thoughts returned to Rebecca and his daughter. What if he’d been so eager to
