three of them had been at their most obnoxious. He just had a way of looking at a person and then saying a quiet word. And somehow it always worked.
“You must be hungry,” Jessie said quickly as if to do her part to change the subject. “Let me fix you a little something to last you until supper.”
Aaron actually found himself relaxing enough to chuckle. “Not just yet, denke, Jessie. I stopped for lunch not long ago, so I’ll save myself for your chicken potpie. Maybe I can just have a look around.”
“For sure.” Daniel grabbed his backpack and tossed it on the porch. “Let’s have a look at my workshop. That’s new since you’ve been here, ain’t so?”
No one else jumped in with a different suggestion, so he figured he wouldn’t hurt anyone’s feelings by seeing the shop first. “Sure thing. Show me what kind of businessman you are.”
It was Caleb’s turn to chuckle. “He’s a better carpenter than a businessman, ain’t so? He loves the building and hates sending the bills.”
Daniel just grinned, his placid temperament not easily upset by teasing. “True. That’s why I’m marrying Rebecca. I figure the way she runs her quilt shop so well, she’ll turn me into a businessman pretty fast.”
“You just want her to keep the books for you,” Caleb said. “Get on with you and show off your shop. Maybe Aaron can help with the milking later, if he hasn’t forgot how.”
There might have been a question in the words. “That’s not something easy to forget,” Aaron said. “It’ll come back to me in a hurry.”
Caleb seemed satisfied with that answer. Murmuring something about work to be done in the barn, he moved off and Jessie disappeared into the house, probably thinking about supper. That left Onkel Zeb and the kids to tag along as they headed for the shop.
Before they’d gone a few steps, Aaron felt his hand grabbed by Timothy. He glanced down at the boy, a bit surprised that he’d decided to be friends so quickly. Timothy’s blue eyes were wary, but he obviously had something to say.
“We’re going to have a new cousin,” he whispered.
“You are?” The boy was soon going to have a little sister or brother, but what was this about a cousin?
Becky took his other hand, not to be outdone by her little brother. “Yah. A boy cousin.” She looked as if she’d prefer a girl cousin. “Onkel Daniel and Rebecca are getting married, so her little boy, Lige, will be our cousin.”
“That’s wonderful gut, ain’t so? You’ll get a cousin big enough to play with right away.”
Becky mused, her small forehead wrinkled. “You mean he won’t be a baby, yah? But he’s littler than me. He’s in first grade now.”
“That means you get to be the big cousin. You can help him with lots of things.” From what he remembered, little girls liked that.
She nodded gravely. “I can help him with his spelling. Teacher Sally will like it if I do.”
“I’m sure she will.” He tried to picture Sally as a teacher and failed completely. He couldn’t deny that she’d grown up, but it seemed to him she was much too pretty and lighthearted to be a teacher.
“Teacher Sally is nice,” Timothy contributed. Then he glanced at his sister. “Race you to the shop.” He took off even before he finished, and she chased after him.
Aaron glanced at Daniel. “Nope,” he said after a minute. “I don’t see you as a married man.”
“That’s what we all said until Rebecca came home next door and started her quilt shop. She hired a carpenter and ended up with a future husband.” Onkel Zeb chuckled. “Though there were days I thought he’d never make up his mind as ask her.”
“I was waiting until the time was right.” Daniel pretended to be offended, but it was clear that he was pleased with himself. “You couldn’t expect me to ask her until she was settled here at home again.”
“I didn’t realize Rebecca had been married. Was it someone local?” The man had obviously died. There wasn’t another option in the Amish community.
“No. She met him when she went out to Ohio on a visit.” Daniel’s eyes clouded, as if there were things he didn’t want to say. Maybe he regretted not having courted Rebecca before she went away.
But Daniel had been just as cautious when it came to marriage as his brothers had been. They’d lived through the trauma caused by a broken marriage when their mother left. That had been reason enough to take it slowly.
But now that he’d made the decision, Daniel seemed happy. Contented—that was it. He acted like a person who’d found what he wanted.
“So now you’re going to be an instant daadi to her little boy. Are you sure you’re ready for that?” He said it teasingly, trusting that Daniel still knew him well enough to tell when he was serious or joking.
“Ach, he’s already gone a long way in that direction,” Onkel Zeb said. “Little Lige was hanging on him in chust a day or two. I’m thinking Lige had a place in his heart that needed filling, and Daniel fit just right.”
“I guess it was meant to be, then.”
Apparently that was the right thing to say, because Daniel’s face lit up. “That’s it, for sure. When it’s the real thing, you know it’s meant to be. I’m thankful to the gut Lord to have a woman like Rebecca and a son like Lige.”
Aaron couldn’t help but be impressed. It seemed his brother had done a lot of growing up while he was away. “I wish you happiness, all three of you. Now you can use all the things you learned about raising kinder when you practiced on me.”
He meant it as a joke, but Daniel gave him a serious look in return. “Seems to me I didn’t do that gut a job with you. If I had, you wouldn’t have run off without a word to me about it. I’ve carried the guilt of that ever since.”
For a moment he could only stare at his brother. “That’s foolishness,” he said, wanting to be rid of the uneasy feeling the words gave him. “You couldn’t have known. Anyway, when a boy’s thinking of jumping the fence, he’s not likely to talk to anyone about it. And it wasn’t your responsibility.”
He half expected Onkel Zeb to say something—to agree with him, at least, that it hadn’t been Daniel’s fault that he’d run off. Instead they both just looked at him.
“It was my doing,” he said, his voice sharper than he meant it to be. “No one else was responsible.”
Daniel shook his head. “It was different for Caleb. He had the farm to run. I was the one who was closer to you in age. I should have known. I should have helped you.”
Aaron didn’t want this conversation—didn’t want to know any of it. But he didn’t have a choice. When he’d left, he’d told himself it was his decision. Nothing to do with anyone else. But he’d been wrong. He’d hurt people, and he didn’t see that there was anything he could do to make it right.
* * *
Sally settled
