Her New Amish Family Read online

  “I’ll keep an eye on them, for what good that will do,” Martha joked. “You know what my vision is like. When we’re inside or they’re close by, it’s not difficult watching the buwe, but when they’re running around outdoors...”

  “I’ll go watch them if you’ll stay here and listen for the teakettle,” Trina offered, following Seth to the door. “Just give me a call when it whistles.”

  Seth hesitated to leave his sons in Trina’s charge, but since he’d only be gone for a few minutes, he said in Englisch to the boys, “Timothy, Tanner, this is, er, this is Miss Smith. She’s going to stay with you while I go get something from our house.”

  “Miss Smith?” she repeated, pointedly imitating the tone Seth had taken when she referred to Martha as Mrs. Helmuth. “My name is Trina. It starts with the letter T, just like Timothy and Tanner.”

  The boys raced to her side. “Do you want to see something?” they asked in Englisch.

  Seth hurried home, grabbed the trap, a jar of peanut butter and a spoon, and then raced back to Trina’s house. As he crossed the yard, he spotted the boys and Trina taking turns jumping over a partially frozen mud puddle. Recently the deacon’s sons had returned from a family trip to a popular Amish vacation destination in Pinecraft, Florida, and they’d filled Timothy’s and Tanner’s heads with visions of alligators. Ever since then, the boys pretended puddles were swamps where the toothy creatures hid. They’d created a game in which they had to leap over these so-called swamps without falling in and being bitten. So far, they’d been successful, and it looked as if Trina was holding her own, too. Satisfied they’d all be fine, Seth went inside.

  “The tea will be ready soon. Have a cup with us,” Martha coaxed him as he smeared peanut butter on the trap. “Trina is a lovely maedel. She’s a preschool teacher, you know.”

  “Jah, I know,” Seth replied. “You’ve told me almost every day since the attorney told you, Groossmammi.”

  “You ought to consider hiring her to watch the buwe, then. She’d be perfect.”

  Seth glanced out the window. He had to admit, he would have expected someone as thin as Trina to be lethargic but she was matching Timothy and Tanner’s energy levels.

  “Neh, I don’t think that would be right. She’s Englisch.”

  Martha snickered. “What difference does that make? She seems to know plenty of Deitsch words and the buwe are almost fluent in Englisch. Besides, they’ll formally learn Englisch as soon as they enter school. This will help them along.”

  “It’s not that,” Seth hedged. Even if he wasn’t already wary of Englisch women because of Freeman’s wife, he would have been reluctant to hire one to watch the boys. Seth owned a leather shop in town and he’d seen how Englisch customers behaved. In his opinion, the parents were too permissive with their children, allowing them to do and say whatever they wanted.

  “Then what is it? Being Englisch isn’t contagious, you know!”

  Martha was so shrewd about his bias that Seth had to try a different approach. “You told me the attorney said she only has to stay here for two months. After that, she’ll move on.”

  “Which is exactly why you should hire her.” Martha was really digging her heels in about this. “It’s only a little over two months until school lets out and then there will be three or four meed vying for the opportunity to earn money taking care of the buwe.”

  “That’s right. It’s only a couple more months. We can manage until then,” Seth insisted. He supposed if worse came to worst and Martha really couldn’t handle the boys at home, he could take them to work with him.

  “The sooner you get someone to watch the kinner, the sooner you’ll have an opportunity to visit the matchmaker and begin courting. You won’t have to stay home every night in order to give me a break from minding the buwe.”

  Clearly Martha was appealing to Seth’s expressed desire to remarry. It had been four years since Eleanor died in childbirth and he was ready to consider courting again.

  “I’ve waited this long. A couple more months isn’t going to make a big difference,” Seth replied, but his resolve was wavering.

  Martha pointed to the window. “Listen to how much fun they’re having out there.”

  Seth glanced out at them. Just then Trina attempted to hurdle the puddle, but Timothy stepped into her path. Trying to avoid him, she veered and lost her footing upon landing. She fell backward, splintering the puddle’s thin layer of ice and landing on Tanner, who hadn’t given her enough time to clear it before he jumped over it, too. Seth charged out of the house and down the steps. By then the boys had untangled their legs and arms from Trina’s and they were pulling on her hands. Instead of helping her up they were stretching her forward and she struggled to rise.

  “Stop that!” he yelled as he noticed Trina’s leg was bent awkwardly beneath her. The boys immediately released Trina’s hands and she dropped backward into the puddle again.

  * * *

  Thudding onto her backside in the mud a second time, Trina got the wind knocked out of her. Before she had a chance to catch her breath or unfold her leg, Seth slid one arm under her knees, wrapped the other around her waist and swooped her up. As he carried her to the porch, Trina’s cheek brushed against his woolen overcoat and she closed her eyes. Never had she felt so cared for by a man and she was overwhelmed by his chivalrous gesture.

  “Are you alright?” he asked after gingerly placing her on the porch steps. He leaned forward and looked into her eyes. His own eyes were gunmetal gray, a few shades paler than his sons’ baby blues but just as big and round. They’d also inherited Seth’s curly blond locks, although his hair was more waves than curls. Wholesome was the clichéd word people used to describe anyone who lived in the countryside, but in Seth’s case, Trina found the adjective to be accurate. Not merely because of his looks, but because of the honest quality of his concern.

  “I’m fine, just a little wet,” she replied, embarrassed. She could feel her skirt clinging to her skin.

  “I’m sorry,” Timothy said mournfully. “I shouldn’t have stepped in front of you.”

  “And I shouldn’t have stepped in back of you,” Tanner chimed in.

  The boys looked so pitifully sad Trina forgot about her own discomposure. “It’s nobody’s fault but my own. I’m such a klutz,” she said, rolling her eyes. When the boys didn’t smile, she assured them, “I didn’t break any bones. My skirt got a little dirty, but I’ll wash it and it will be as good as new.”

  Seth looked dubious. “It will get clean, but I doubt it will be as gut as new. Abe’s house doesn’t have an Englisch washing machine, you know.”

  Now Trina couldn’t tell if he was speaking matter-of-factly or tongue in cheek. “I’m familiar with Amish wringers,” she replied. She was familiar with them in the sense that her mother had described how they worked—Trina hadn’t actually used one herself.

  “Even so—” Seth started to say, but he was interrupted by a muted cry from inside the house.

  “Fire! Help! Help!” It was Martha.

  “Buwe, stay here!” Seth commanded. He vaulted past Trina and was up the stairs in two strides.

  Chasing close behind, Trina peered through the smoky room to see Martha doubled over, coughing, as something burned atop the stove. Seth clicked off the burner, grabbed the flaming item by an edge and tossed it into the sink. Then he turned the faucet on full force.

  While he was dousing the flame, Trina led Martha out of the house.

  “Groossmammi, are you okay?” Tanner asked. The crease between his eyebrows made him appear like a wizened old man.

  Martha nodded but she was still coughing and couldn’t answer. Trina and the boys eased her into a sitting position on the stairs and then Trina darted back into the house to fetch a glass of water.

  Seth moved away from the sink. “Looks like my groossmammi started a towel on fire, but
I don’t see any other damage. Is she alright?”

  “Yes, I think so. She just needs to catch her breath.” Trina filled the glass and they both stepped outside, leaving the door open behind them.

  By then, Martha was no longer gasping. “I spilled water on the stovetop when I was pouring tea, so I tried to dab it up with the towel,” she explained. “I was certain I had turned off the burner first.”

  “Neh, you had turned it up,” Seth said.

  “Ach! Well, that explains how the tea towel caught fire.” Martha’s eyes were watering and Trina didn’t know if she was crying or recovering from the sting of the smoky air. Suddenly Martha seemed tiny and frail as she prayed aloud, “Denki, Lord, for keeping us safe.”

  “It’s cold out here and you’re trembling,” Trina noticed. “Please come back inside and we’ll have that tea now.”

  “Alright,” Martha agreed. “Seth, kumme get the woodstove started, please.”

  Trina took Martha by the arm and assisted her up the stairs and into the parlor. She expected the others to come in, too, but when she returned to the kitchen to retrieve the tea, she heard Seth on the porch warning the boys not to leave the front yard or go near the puddle.

  “They’re probably cold, too. They should come in,” she said from the doorway.

  “Neh, their boots are muddy.” Seth waved his hand. “They’re fine outside. Here in Willow Creek, we believe fresh air is gut for kinner.”

  Once again Trina wasn’t sure what he meant by his remark. She replied, “We believe fresh air is good for children in Philadelphia, too.”

  “Jah, but there’s less of it in Philadelphia than there is here, so our kinner can stay outside longer.” Seth grinned widely at her before he began filling his arms with logs from the woodpile stacked next to the porch stairs, and since she didn’t disagree, Trina chuckled, too.

  As she and Martha were sipping tea and Seth was lighting the fire, the older woman said, “Imagine what would have happened if you weren’t here!”

  Seth stood up from where he’d been kneeling in front of the woodstove and brushed his hands against his pants. His grandmother had a valid point and he knew she was waiting for him to acknowledge defeat. “Okay, okay, you win,” he said to Martha.

  Trina glanced at Martha and then at him, curious.

  “I, uh, well, we wanted to ask if you’d be available to watch the buwe while you’re in Willow Creek,” he stuttered. “As a job, I mean. You’d be paid.”

  “You could watch them at our house, so I could help and we’d get to know each other better,” Martha added, beaming again.

  Trina hesitated. Although the will stipulated she had to live in Willow Creek, she hadn’t intended to become very involved with the Amish—or the Englisch, for that matter—during her residence. She’d planned to mostly keep to herself. But the boys were well behaved and fun, and after today’s incident she hated to think of Martha trying to manage them on her own. Still, she had her misgivings about Seth. He wasn’t as strict as she imagined an Amish father might be, based on her mother’s depiction of Abe, yet there was something about his attitude toward her that gave her pause. She couldn’t discern whether his comments were meant to be comical or condescending. But Martha had been so helpful to Trina’s mother that it would almost be like honoring her mother’s memory to show Timothy and Tanner the same kind of care. And she did need the money...

  “I’m only going to be here for a couple of months,” she warned. As soon as her two months were up and she sold the house, she was moving back to the city.

  Seth replied, “That’s all the time we’ll need your help. After school lets out in late May, we’ll hire one of the graduating meed to help. But right now, no one else is available to watch them.”

  “Okay, it’s a deal,” Trina said, but this time she didn’t hold her hand out to shake on it. She was already catching on to Willow Creek’s Amish traditions.

  * * *

  Martha leaned on Seth’s arm, slowly shambling across the barren ground to their house while the boys galloped ahead. If he didn’t know better, he’d have suspected his grandmother deliberately started the fire to scare him into asking Trina to mind the boys.

  “Why are you moping?” Martha asked him.

  “I’m not moping. I’m thinking.”

  “When you’re thinking with a frown on your face, I call that moping.”

  Seth laughed. “I hope I made the right decision by asking Trina to watch after the buwe.”

  “Pah!” Martha sputtered dismissively. “It’s not as if you’ve asked her to marry you, Seth. If things don’t work out, you can tell her as much. But I think they will. If she’s anything like her lovely mamm was as a maedel, you won’t find a better woman to care for the kinner.”

  Seth bit his tongue so he wouldn’t ask the obvious question: if Trina’s mamm was so lovely, why did she go Englisch? Nor did he say that the best woman to care for the kinner was their mamm.

  Eleanor’s pregnancy had been an easy one, especially considering she was pregnant with twins, so when she’d passed away during childbirth, it had come as a shock to Seth. Eleanor, however, had seemed to have a sense of foreboding about her delivery.

  Once, shortly before the boys were born, she’d whispered to Seth as they cuddled on the sofa, “If anything happens to me, please choose a wife who will take gut care of the bobblin.”

  “If anything happens to you, I’m going to look for a wife who doesn’t burn the meatloaf. Or chide me when I track mud across the kitchen floor. Or say lecherich things,” Seth joked, trying to make light of her sentiment.

  Usually she played along with Seth’s teasing, but this time Eleanor had scolded, “Seth, I’m serious.” She’d rubbed her rotund stomach counterclockwise, repeating, “Marry someone who will take gut care of the kinner.”

  Although Seth knew it was irrational, he often wondered if he had taken Eleanor’s sentiment seriously, could he have alerted the midwife to her concern and somehow prevented her death? He felt guilty for not paying closer attention to what Eleanor had said, especially since she’d ordinarily been such a calm and practical woman.

  In fact, it was her practicality that had made Seth decide to court and marry her. The pair had been friends since they were children and Eleanor was sensible, forthright and humble. While the love they shared was more comfortable than ardent, it had been rich and deep. No, Seth couldn’t claim he and Eleanor had ever “fallen in love,” like Freeman had with Kristine, but look at all the hurt that kind of love had caused his family. Passionate emotional attachment wasn’t important to Seth; compatibility, commitment and common sense were. He and Eleanor had found those qualities in each other and their marriage had been a strong and happy one.

  With Martha caring for the boys after Eleanor’s death, Seth felt little need to remarry at all, which was why he hadn’t courted anyone in the over four years since Timothy and Tanner were born. But now, given his groossmammi’s declining vision, he understood the wisdom in Eleanor’s request. The boys needed someone to care for them. Not just a teenage maedel and certainly not just an Englischer for a few months. They needed a permanent mother figure.

  As Martha tottered along beside him, Seth figured maybe his grandmother was right; now that Trina would be watching the boys he’d have more time to work on finding a wife. Meanwhile, he hoped Trina’s Englisch ways wouldn’t unduly influence his sons. Seth was going to have to keep a close eye on her.

  The prospect should have troubled him more than it did. Maybe he’d let his guard down because Martha had taken an instant liking to Trina, but Seth was oddly amused by the skinny woman with mischievous eyes and a musical voice, and he rather enjoyed trying to get a rise out of her. How much influence could she have on his family in two months anyway?

  Chapter Two

  After Seth and Martha left, Trina washed the cups and began unpacking
her suitcase. It didn’t take long. By the time she moved out of her apartment, she’d either sold or given away nearly all of her belongings and she only had a few outfits that were suitable to wear in Amish country. It wouldn’t be appropriate to dress like the Amish, but out of respect for the people she was living among she decided she’d wear dresses or skirts instead of slacks or jeans. Unfortunately, she only owned one dress and three skirts—one of which was now very dirty.

  The only nonclothing items she’d brought were a framed photograph and her cell phone and solar battery charger. The photo was of her and her mother and it had been taken on a beach when they went to Cape Cod for a rare week of vacation the summer before Patience got sick. Trina had other photos saved digitally, but it was this printed one she cherished the most. In it, they were both smiling, healthy and tan, and their cheeks touched as they leaned together in a sideways embrace. One rainy afternoon as Trina and her mother strolled through the art galleries, admiring the paintings and sculptures they couldn’t afford, they’d come across an ornate picture frame. Handmade from small pieces of aqua, green and blue sea glass the artist found on the bayside, the frame reminded Trina of the ocean itself. That Christmas, Trina’s mother presented her with the frame as a gift. Trina never knew how she managed to pay for it or sneak away to buy it, but combined with the photo it held, it was Trina’s one and only prized possession.

  She considered keeping the photo on the dresser in her room, so it could be the first thing she saw when she awoke, but then she decided she wanted to put it in a more visible area, somewhere she could see it all the time and draw strength from the memory. She carried it into the parlor and placed it prominently on the end table next to the sofa.

  Then she considered where to store her cell phone. It wasn’t as if she’d be receiving any calls. Trina had moved to a new suburb shortly before her mother was diagnosed with cancer. She was acquainted with other teachers there but she hadn’t begun to make friends. And the church she attended was so big no one there was likely to notice her absence. Yet, knowing she’d probably need to be in touch with a realtor as well as the estate attorney her grandfather hired, Trina had purchased a solar panel charger to power her phone. She decided to set it up on the windowsill in Abe’s old bedroom, where it would get plenty of sunshine but be out of her way.