An Amish Easter Wish

She laughed. “It is for farmers.”

“And everyone else. What the weather was, what it will be, when it’ll rain, when it’ll snow.”

She laughed. “I haven’t been in Vermont long, but I know the saying. ‘If you don’t like the weather—’”

“‘Wait a minute and it’ll change,’” he said in unison with her.

A hand clapped on his shoulder and David looked up at a thin, rangy man whose blond hair was laced with silver. “Jens, how are you?”

“Doing great. You?” Jens’s eyes cut toward Abby.

“Jens, this is Abby Kauffman. Abby, this is Jens Gundersen. You know his son, Jack.”

She smiled. “So nice to meet you. You have a wunderbaar son. He’s always willing to pitch in.”

“I’m glad to hear that, Ms. Kauffman.”

“Abby, please.” She motioned toward an empty chair. “Would you like to join us?”

“Thanks, but I dropped in to get some coffee to go.” He gave them a jaunty wave. “If my boy gives you any trouble, Abby, let me know.”

“I would if he was a problem, but he isn’t. You’re raising a gut kid.”

Jens was grinning with pride as he walked over to where a large cup was waiting for him by the register.

A storm of unexpected sensations rushed through David, too many to identify as each fought for dominance. Except for one.

Confusion.

He was confused by the contrast between what he knew about the Amish and how Abby acted. She was the epitome of kindness and generosity, the complete opposite of how his parents described the plain people. Somehow, he was going to have to figure her out before he—and Mikayla—could be wounded as his father and mother had been by trusting the Amish.

Abby thanked the waitress for refilling her cup. As she stirred more milk into her kaffi, she listened as yet another person stopped to speak with David. She’d been sitting with him for almost a half hour and they had yet to discuss any ideas for working with the volunteer teens. People paused by the table for various reasons. Some wanted to say hi. A few had questions about work they wanted him to do. Others were simply curious why he was at the diner with an Amish woman.

She smiled when he introduced her to each person, but was aware of time passing without anything getting done. She couldn’t linger too much longer because she needed to get tonight’s supper started.

Drawing in a deep breath as David spoke to the mayor’s husband, she gazed out the window. She could hear the brook murmur to itself.

“Fascinating, isn’t it?” asked David, startling her because she hadn’t realized he’d finished his conversation.

“Ja. Peaceful and beautiful, though I know it wasn’t during the flood.” She leaned closer to the cool glass. “I wonder if the brook feels bad about the damage it’s done.”

“That’s a fanciful thought.”

She smiled at him. “And fanciful is a fancy word.”

“Something you’re not allowed to say?” he asked with unexpected heat.

Her brows lowered and her grin fell away. “The only things we’re proscribed from saying are listed in the Bible. Not taking the Lord’s name in vain, for example.”

“I assumed that.”

“But you assumed there were other things we aren’t allowed to say because we’re Amish.”

A hint of a flush climbed from beneath his collar. Was he embarrassed by what he’d said? She couldn’t help recalling other comments he’d made suggesting he had no use for plain people. That didn’t make sense. He’d been nice to her and he hadn’t kept Mikayla from working with her and other plain volunteers. Ja, he’d hesitated when Glen had asked him to work with Abby, but she didn’t think that was because she was Amish.

Could she have been wrong? Did he have an objection to being around Amish people?

If so, she wasn’t helping matters by being confrontational. So many verses in the Bible spoke of the importance of gently teaching those who needed to learn.

“Now I need to apologize,” she said. “Talking to people is the best way to find out more about them. That’s what my grossdawdi always said.” Heat surged up her own face. “I mean, my grandfather. I need to remember you don’t speak our language.”

“German, right?”

“Ja, but it’s not quite the same as the language spoken in Germany. More of a dialect. We call it Deitsch.” She smiled, hoping her expression would lessen the tension between them. “So what do you say to getting to know each other while we hammer out what we’re going to do for the teens?”

“You like to help others, don’t you?”

“Ja.” She picked up a forkful of pie but didn’t taste it as she asked, “What about you? You must be willing to help others if you took Mikayla into your home after the accident.”

“I was surprised to find myself appointed as her guardian by Boyd’s will.” He stared down at his kaffi as if he’d never seen it before. “I don’t know why he chose me.”

“Maybe because he knew you’d give his daughter a gut home.”

“Maybe. I don’t know. I never had a chance to ask. All I know is Boyd depended on me to take care of his daughter.”

“And you don’t want to let him down?”

“No.” He took a drink and shifted his eyes away.

Abby chided herself for bringing up the subject. From what she’d been told by Mikayla’s friends, Boyd St. Pierre had died less than a year ago. Her words, though she meant them to be comforting, might be like picking at a barely healed scar.

“Let’s talk about the program for the teens,” she said.

“You make it sound as if there’s something already in place. Don’t we have to start this from scratch?”

“Ja, but I don’t think Glen expects us to do anything structured. It sounded to me like he wants us to spend time with the kids and help them discover tools to protect them from these bullies. We can combine fun with lessons about living with God.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but some of the parents might not want their kids being taught by someone who’s Amish.” Again, his eyes didn’t meet hers.

Was he one of the parents who’d be upset if a plain person spoke of following God through life? She should ask, but didn’t. Putting him into a more unpleasant position wasn’t going to help them complete the task Glen had given them.

“Most of our teen volunteers attend services at the Mennonite chapel. Let’s speak with Pastor Hershey.”

“I can do that.”

“Danki.”

“You’re welcome.”

She waited for him to say something else, but silence grew between them. Sounds came from other diners and the traffic passing in front of the building. David looked everywhere but at her. She didn’t need a sign on his forehead announcing he’d rather be somewhere else.

“David,” she said as she pushed her plate and cup aside, “if you don’t want to work on this project, say so. I know you’re busy with your job and with Mikayla. I understand, and I’m sure Glen will, too.”

“No, I said I’ll help, and I don’t renege on my promises.”

“No one would think less of you if—”

“Thank you, Abby, but I don’t need you offering me platitudes and convenient excuses.” Her shock at his icy words must have been visible on her face because he apologized.

She waved aside his words. “Danki.” Again, she felt her cheeks grow warm. “I’m sorry. I mean, thank you.”

“I got that. The words sound pretty much the same. Let’s start our work together with our first rule.”

“What’s that?”

“Honesty. If I don’t understand something you say, I’ll ask you. You do the same with me.”

“I like that rule.”

“Good. Now, what should be our next rule?”

“We make this fun for the teens and for ourselves. If we act as if this is drudgery, the kids will sense it and we’ll lose our chance to help them.”

“Fun?” He arched his brows as if responding to something he’d heard in his head, then sighed. “That may be harder for me to follow than the first rule. Nobody’s ever described me as fun. In fact, the opposite.”

“Well, then, we’ll have to see how we can change that, ain’t so?”

He gave her the faintest grin, but she took it as a victory. As they continued to talk about possible activities for the youngsters, she couldn’t doubt he cared about his daughter and her friends. He was a man of strong emotions, though he tried to hide that fact. She couldn’t help wondering why.

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