The Saddle Maker's Son (17 page)

The smell of bleach and soap blossomed in the air, fresh as flowers. Susan liked the aroma of clean. She stuck the woolly-headed mop in the yellow plastic bucket and stretched her arms over her head. Her shoulders and arms ached, but the ache spoke of a job well done so she didn't mind. Letting her arms relax, she surveyed her work. The Byler kitchen fairly sparkled. The vinyl was old and cracked but clean. The counters were scrubbed, all the dishes washed and stacked neatly in their places. The prep table was clear and ready for making supper. Martha and the little girls tried, but they didn't seem to get that putting something away as soon as a person finished using it saved work later.

Martha had changed the sheets and pillowcases on Levi's bed first, while Susan dusted and cleaned the front room. It didn't seem right that she should see Levi's room. None of her business how he stacked his pants or hung his shirts. Or didn't.

Everyone was relieved that Levi was coming home. Because they missed him and needed him back, but also because it took their minds off Lupe and Diego. Gone almost two weeks now. Probably in San Antonio by now. With their father, Gott willing.
Or captured by Immigration and returned across the border. Or corralled by the awful men who'd brought them here in the first place with ill intent.

Gott's will? She couldn't be sure.
They're only kinner, Gott; protect them. Keep them safe from the bad men out there who would take advantage of them. If You're willing, bring them back to us. We'll take care of them.

She had no children of her own. She could take care of them. No problem.
Gott, can You hear me?

She was too proud, thinking she could do it. Or anything on her own. Gott made those decisions, not a simple woman like herself. Shaking her head at her own thoughts, Susan opened the back door and carried the bucket outside. She emptied it and put both items away. Time to start supper. She'd suggested chicken and dumplings and pecan pie for Levi's homecoming dinner and Martha had agreed, especially after she realized Susan was offering to cook.

The dark circles around her eyes and dispirited efforts with a sponge had clearly indicated the girl was worn out. Maybe now that Levi was headed home, she'd be willing to let Susan and Rebekah help out more.

“They're here, they're here!” Liam streaked through the back door and zipped past her toward the front room. “Daed's here. He's here.”

Despite the sudden, painful lurch in her own heart, Susan chuckled. The child tickled her fancy in every way. She dried her hands, pretending to herself that they weren't shaking, and followed him out to the front porch. Sure enough, Mr. Cramer's van, covered with dust and the splatter of bugs on the windshield, was parked just behind the horse posts. The middle door opened
and Mordecai hopped out, his hand on his hat to keep it from blowing away in a hot July wind that kicked up dust bunnies and tumbleweeds across the barren landscape.

Liam hurled himself into the van and into his father's lap with a resounding
smack
. Levi's arms wrapped around the boy, whose squeals drowned out any words his father might have said.

Mordecai laughed, that deep belly laugh that made Susan smile. “Easy, suh, your daed's a little sore. You don't want to break any more of his bones.”

“He's fine.” Levi's voice was muffled, his face buried in Liam's shaggy blond hair. “He's a jumping bean and a wiggle worm all rolled into one.”

“We have strawberries, Daed, big ones, you want to see? I picked a bunch of them.” Liam hopped from the van, tumbled to his knees, and rocketed to his feet, seemingly unaware of the dirt that clung to his pants. “We can have some for supper. How about that? I'll clean them myself. You like strawberries, right?”

“I do, suh.” Levi's voice had an odd tremble. “Why don't you go get them ready? I'll be along in a minute.”

Mordecai swatted Liam on the behind. “Go on, you heard your daed. Skedaddle. He'll be at the house when you have the berries ready.”

An eager grin plastered across his face, Liam darted away. Mordecai watched him go, then turned to Susan. “Howdy, schweschder. We're home.”

“Indeed you are. It's good to see you.” It was. The King household had been far too quiet without his steady commentary on the events outlined by scribes in the
Budget
or the silly tall tales he liked to weave for spellbound Hazel and Caleb those long summer nights sitting in sagging lawn chairs in the front yard,
watching the sun go down and swatting mosquitoes. “Abigail has missed you.”

“Unlike you, who would prefer I not mess up the kitchen with my honey, beeswax, and candles?”

“If you're fishing for a compliment, you'll find none here.” All the same, she allowed herself a small pat on her brother's shoulder. Never a better brother had existed. “How is the patient?”

“The patient isn't patient and he's not a patient anymore.” Levi pulled himself so that his legs, encased in dark-navy orthopedic boots up to his knees, dangled from the edge of the van seat. His tan had faded, leaving his skin pale. Pain deepened the lines around his eyes and mouth. “He's ready to be in his own home.”

Mordecai tugged a set of gray metal crutches from the backseat and held them out. “Have at it.”

Levi frowned. A growl much like that of Butch when a cat intruded on his territory told Susan exactly what the man thought of the crutches. He thrust out his hand and grabbed Mordecai's offering. “For now.”

Now Susan understood. Levi didn't want his son to watch him struggle to use crutches and extricate himself from the van.

“I'll get your bag and pay Ralph.”

Mordecai disappeared behind the van, leaving Susan to watch Levi as he struggled to heave himself from the van and onto the crutches without toppling over in the dirt. She didn't dare ask if he needed help. His expression made that obvious.

A second later he thumped his way up the steps, shoulders hunched, grunting with each step. He paused long enough for Susan to open the screen door before plunging through the doorway with a determined air.

“Sit here.” She scurried past him and scooped up a basket of
sewing from the couch. “You can stretch out your legs and it'll be easiest for you to get back up.”

He kept walking, his crutches smacking against the wood in an angry staccato.

“Or not.”

He glanced back. “Going to my room.”

To search for his pleasing disposition, perhaps. “I'm making chicken and dumplings for supper.”

The thumping stopped. Levi pivoted, his face a study in conflicting emotion. “Did Martha forget how to cook?”

“Nee, I offered.” She smoothed her apron with both hands, hoping he couldn't see how they trembled. No one made her feel this way. Ever. Not even John, her long-ago suitor who'd tired of waiting and taken another as his fraa. “Your dochder has worked hard while you've been gone. There's a singing tonight. I thought maybe she should go.”

“And she'd like to go?” He sounded aggrieved. His first night home and his daughter wanted to go out. He wasn't a child, after all. “She should, then.”

“I would like for her to go.” Susan crossed her arms. No need to be snippy, even if he was uncomfortable and tired. “As you should. We talked about this, remember? You brought it to me.”

The grumpiness in his face disappeared. “Indeed we did.” He turned and began his slow step-and-swing progress toward the hallway. “Danki for all you've done.”

“Haven't done much of anything.”

“Chicken and dumplings are my favorite.” Some of the pique had faded from his tone. He slowed, then turned once again, this time all the irritation gone. He smiled. He had a smile that made her think of Christmas morning and her birthday all rolled into
one big, happy, family holiday. “I reckon it would hit the spot after all that hospital food.”

After a few seconds she remembered to close her mouth. Then speak. “I best get started on the dumplings.” The slight stutter made heat rise on her neck and ascend into her cheeks. “I have a pecan pie in the oven.”

The smile widened over a beard just starting to go silver. “Another favorite. I guess Martha told you that.”

“Martha and I had a chance to talk about a lot of things.”

“She's a good girl.” He tapped his way around to face the hall once again. “I'll be out to wash up in a bit.”

She doubted that. Fatigue rounded his shoulders and made each step slower. “It'll be a while. Rest a spell. I'll call you when supper is ready.”

His head bobbed. The shoulders rounded more. It took a few moments, but eventually he disappeared into the hallway that led to his bedroom.

Mordecai's deep, sandpaper-rough chuckle wafted in the air behind her. Susan whirled and faced her brother. “What's so funny? A man in pain who's too tired to think straight?”

“My schweschder in
lieb
. I never thought I'd see the day.” Mordecai crossed his arms over his broad shoulders, grinning like a hund on the hunt. “He's cranky now. You're seeing him at his worst. If you still get all riled up, then it must be something.”

Something, but she couldn't say what. “I'm not riled up. I don't get riled up.”

“Sure you do. Remember that time Lilly poured bleach in with the load of dark clothes and washed all the color from your dresses? You were riled up then.”

“That was different. She was a silly little girl who hated
doing laundry.” Their sister would do almost anything to get out of doing laundry and sewing. The joke was on her. Now she had eight kinner of her own. The piles of laundry must be endless and the treadle sewing machine worn out. “She did it on purpose.”

“Nee, she didn't know better.” Mordecai always defended Lilly. Who said big brothers didn't play favorites? “Besides, she made up for it later.”

Later, when Mudder passed and they were on their own. Then everyone pitched in. “We're going to stand here and argue about something that happened twenty-five years ago?”

“You haven't forgotten.”

Good and bad, she remembered it all. The hot, humid afternoons in the kitchen with steaming pots of boiling water to bathe jars for canning. The rows of canned tomatoes, green beans, and pickles. “I don't forget.”

“That's for sure.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

Mordecai snapped his suspenders, his eyes brilliant. “I just mean it's about time you let go of your role as caregiver for others and have your own family.”

“Gott's will.”

“Exactly. Don't stand in His way.”

“I'm not. I would never.”

“We'll see. It takes courage to step out in faith, especially when it comes to people like Levi.”

“What do you mean like Levi?”

Emotions warred in Mordecai's face. The pinched, dark look she remembered from his days as a new widower caring for a son with devastating injuries slid across his face like a cloud filtering
the light of a brilliant moon. “I see a lot of myself in him. Me, before Abigail came along.”

“I do too.” Susan schooled her voice to keep the pain she felt for him at bay. “Gott is gut. He gave you a second chance at lieb.”

“You could be Levi's second chance.”

“That's really up to him. I haven't seen any indication.”

Mordecai cocked his head, his eyes squinted as if against the sun. “He showed you his bad side. That's a good indication.”

As far as she could tell, the man didn't have a bad side. He looked good from every angle. “His bad side?”

“Hurting, cranky, the real him.”

As far as Susan was concerned, no one could hold anything against a man who'd been stomped by a horse. Something warm and soft quivered inside her. Did Mordecai see something she didn't? She couldn't bear to be disappointed. Such a chance, such an opportunity came along so rarely in the life of a woman such as herself. Older, a teacher, someone who lived surrounded by loving family but with too few new acquaintances to even begin to hope for such a chance.

“Take it from me, it's a good thing.”

She would take it from Mordecai. He of all people knew of such things. “Now what?”

“Now it's up to him.”

It was always up to the man. She should know that. She sighed. “So I wait?”

“There's a lot of waiting involved when it comes to love and second chances.” Mordecai patted her shoulder. “The person has to be ready to take that chance. He's waited six years.”

“You waited twelve.”

“For your sake, I hope he's on a faster track than I was for that
second chance.” He stomped ahead into the kitchen. “If you don't start on those dumplings soon, we'll be eating after dark.”

Susan didn't move. She was too busy contemplating second chances.

Rebekah brushed a wisp of hair from her forehead for the third time and concentrated on ignoring the throb in her ankle. The evening sun held no less heat at the horizon than it did at midafternoon. The singing would be at the bishop's house tonight. One reason Mudder hadn't frowned when Susan insisted Rebekah don her cleanest dress, her Sunday shoes, and a fresh kapp and go. She said she was tired of Rebekah moping around. Either Susan wanted Martha to have moral support, or she really thought this singing might be the one where a boy forgot all about Leila's defection and asked Rebekah to take a ride.

She glanced at Martha. The girl had been quiet on the long walk. She didn't seem to mind the slow pace necessitated by Rebekah's hobbled walk. The swelling had gone done after the first day, but the pain persisted despite aspirin. The pain in her ankle and the pain in her heart.

They had handled it all wrong. She should've gone to talk to Lupe first. She knew how much Lupe feared men she didn't know. Now every step reminded her of Diego and Lupe. Gone without a trace from their lives. Had they made it to San Antonio? Did they find their father? Were they safe from the men looking for
them? The questions tormented Rebekah all day long and most of the night.

Right alongside the questions about Tobias. Two weeks had passed since the thunderstorm and those few moments in the shed. Still, it seemed she'd been holding her breath the entire time. Waiting. They would find the path together. He'd said that. She hadn't imagined the words or dreamed them.

So when would he come? When his daed was better. That's what he'd said. Gott was teaching her patience.

She didn't like it. Not one bit.

All these questions swirling around made the singing seem supremely unimportant. Not that thing for which she'd once pined. Once thought the only path to happiness. Rebekah wanted to yell. Instead she continued to plod along to a singing where the man she longed to see would not be.

Tobias wouldn't be there. He was busy taking care of his family, working the farm, and making saddles. She stumbled, stubbed her toe, and righted herself. The throb in her ankle reached a crescendo.

“Are you all right?” Martha put one hand on Rebekah's arm. “Do you need to rest a minute?”

“Nee. Does Tobias ever go to singings?” She bent over and rubbed her ankle, hoping Martha wouldn't see her expression. Just making conversation. “I mean, did he go in Ohio?”

The flush on Martha's damp cheeks deepened. “Nee, not much, not really. I mean, not toward the end.”

She sounded flustered. It seemed a simple question. “He didn't have a special friend in Ohio?”

“Nee.”

Rebekah waited for Martha to elaborate. She didn't. “I guess
he had a lot of work to do. Not much time to think about courting. Like you.”

“Jah.” Martha sidestepped a cow patty in the middle of the dirt road. She cocked her head. “Why are you asking?”

“Just wondered.” Rebekah pushed open the gate that led to Jeremiah's front yard. She picked up her pace so Martha couldn't see her face. A short row of buggies, wagons, and worn two-seaters filled the space in front of the squat, ugly house that had taken weeks for the men to build after a fire had destroyed the first house on that spot. “Looks like everyone is here.”

Martha stopped in the middle of the worn path that led to the steps and the porch. Her hands went to her stomach. “I don't feel very good. Maybe something I ate for supper didn't set right.” She stumbled back two steps. “Maybe I should head back home.”

“Nee. It's only butterflies.” Rebekah slipped back down the steps and went to stand next to her. “It'll be fun. I promise. We sing. We have snacks. The boys act silly and the girls laugh even when it's not funny. That's all there is to it.”

And then some girls got asked to take buggy rides. And some didn't.

Martha sighed and marched up the steps. Rebekah followed, even though the butterflies in Martha's stomach seemed to have taken flight and landed in her own stomach.
Just get through it.

The evening went exactly as she had imagined it. Elijah Hostetler led the singing with a voice he surely inherited from his daed, Jeremiah. The bishop's sonorous voice kept them all on track during church services. The songs, however, were faster and more fun to sing than the ones in the
Ausbund
. After six or seven, snacks were served. Then more singing. More jokes, more laughing.

And then that moment Rebekah dreaded. Two by two, they
drifted away. There went Milo Byler with Vesta Hostetler. Simon Glick, sweet, simple Simon summoned the courage to ask Susie Hostetler to take a walk with him. She smiled and said yes.

Even Martha, the new girl, seemed to have attracted someone's attention. Jacob King. Mordecai would be pleased. Jacob had been interested in Isabella Shrock, and even though he would never admit it, he'd been disappointed when she chose Will instead. Rebekah forced a smile and a quick wave when Martha trotted by, following Jacob out the door.

That left her and Elijah Hostetler. He tipped his hat as he walked by. And kept right on walking.

She blew out a breath she didn't even know she'd been holding. It was for the best. Elijah was a boy compared to Tobias. A nice boy, but still. She took her time opening the door and closing it behind her. The sun had disappeared and the dark night promised cooler air. Despite her ankle, she would enjoy the walk home.

“Hey.”

Startled, she missed a step, stumbled, and grabbed the railing just in time to keep from landing on her behind. The throb in her ankle did triple time. “Tobias! You scared me.”

His two-seater was parked in the empty space left by those who had gone before. “Sorry.” He didn't look sorry. He smiled. “I figured it was time I made good on that talk we had in the shed. Besides, with your hurt ankle, it doesn't seem right for you to walk home.”

About time indeed. “I thought maybe you forgot.”

He didn't answer. Instead he hopped from the two-seater and strode around to the other side. “Go for a ride with me.” He held out his hand. “It's a full moon. We'll be able to see to drive down by the pond.”

“There's no water in the pond.”

“Jah, there is. It filled up with the rain the other day.” He wiggled his fingers. “You want to argue about the water in the pond, or do you want to go for a ride with me?”

She sniffed and took his hand. It felt warm and calloused. His touch rippled down to the tips of her toes. “Ride.” She managed to stumble over that one simple syllable. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Ride with you.”

“Perfect. Because I want to ride with you.”

He let go of her hand, grabbed her around the waist, and lifted her into the two-seater.

“Hey!”

“Hush.” He strode back and around and hopped in beside her. “Try not to talk. You only make it worse.”

“Make what worse?”

He put his finger to his lips. “Do you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

“The sound of us being alone.”

She closed her mouth and cocked her head. A lazy, humid breeze rustled sparse leaves on the mesquite trees that lined the road. Lovely silence.

She settled back in the seat and let the
clip-clop
of the horse's hooves beat a rhythm like music only folks who lived in the country could appreciate. Tobias took a shortcut across Jeremiah's property and let the horse have full rein until they turned onto the rutted road that led to the pond where the kinner liked to fish, catch minnows and tadpoles, and look for night crawlers when it rained.

The smell of mud mixed with the scent of wet, rotting leaves. “Whoa, whoa.” Tobias brought the two-seater to a halt. “I believe I see water.”

“Not much.”

“I didn't say it was a lot.”

“Nee, you didn't.”

He wrapped the reins around the handle and leaned back, hands relaxed on his thighs. “What did you think of the singing?”

“I thought it stank.”

“It stank?” He chuckled. “Is that any way to talk?”

“It stank.”

“Because no one asked you to take a ride?”

“Someone did ask me.”

“What about Martha, did someone ask her?”

Was this about him spying on his sister? Irritation welled in Rebekah. She had enough of her own family watching her every move. She wouldn't be party to doing that to Martha. “Take me home.” She hopped from the wagon. “Better yet, I'll walk.”

“Hey, hey, where are you going?”

“I told you home.”

“Because I asked about Martha?” He jumped down and stalked after her, his long legs overtaking her in two strides. “I just want her to have a good time.”

Rebekah slammed to a halt. “Oh.”

“Oh is right.”

“I thought—”

“I was using you to spy on my sister.” He shook his head, his eyes bright with laughter. “I don't need you to do that. I have spies everywhere.”

“Now you sound like Mordecai.”

“I could do worse.”

“He is a good man.” That Tobias recognized that fact warmed Rebekah. She started walking again. “I like the smell of mud.”

“Me too. It smells clean, as strange as that sounds.”

“It smells like spring.”

“Even in summer.”

The conversation made perfect sense. Rebekah smiled.

“You have the best smile.” Tobias caught her hand and pulled her around so she faced him. “Anyone ever tell you that?”

“Not one person. Not once.”

“I'm happy to be the first.” His hands came to her shoulders and held her there. His gaze roved over her face from her eyes to her mouth and back. “Would it be all right if I kissed you?”

Rebekah had no idea how to answer that question. Her whole body said yes so loudly she couldn't hear anything else. If her mind thought it was a bad idea, she would never know. She swallowed and managed to whisper, “Jah.”

The one-syllable word barely escaped before Tobias's mouth covered hers. Whatever she'd imagined kissing would be like, however she and Franny and her sisters had speculated, they'd had no idea. Better than the best day of the year. Better than homemade ice cream and strawberry-rhubarb pie. Better than a pile of presents, family gathered around to watch them being opened. Better than sleeping late or lying on a blanket and counting stars under a spring sky. He tasted like a promise kept.

She breathed in his scent and memorized the way his hands felt around her waist. How they tightened as the kiss deepened. Just when she thought she might simply float away, he let go. But he didn't go far. His head inclined over hers, his dark gaze probing. Rebekah saw something there that she couldn't explain. She didn't see birthday and Christmas presents wrapped up in hand-colored paper. She saw fear and pain. Uncertainty.

“Tobias?” she breathed. “What is it?”

He shook his head and kissed her again. Hard and sure. Like a period at the end of a sentence. Not a question mark, a period.

He backed away. “I'm sorry. I feel like we're getting ahead of ourselves.”

A shiver ran through her despite the July heat. “I think we've been ahead of ourselves since that first day.” She wrapped her arms around her middle and stared at the moonlit water. A turtle popped his head above water, disappeared again. “You make me feel . . . off balance. You don't seem sure you want to be here.”

“I didn't seem sure just now?”

Heat flamed across her cheeks. “Kisses are one thing.”

“Feelings another.”

“Jah.”

“It worries me.”

“This?” She allowed herself to touch his arm, one quick touch, then withdrew. “I worry you.”

“Not you specifically.” He kicked a rock across the bank and into the water. “It's hard to explain.”

“Try hard.” Rebekah needed to know. She would never kiss another man like she'd kissed Tobias, of that she was certain. Surely he felt the same.

“Since my mudder passed, it's been hard for me to put my faith in Gott's plan.”

The tremor in his voice told her this was the very root of his problem. To admit it to another person, to admit it to her, was huge for a man like Tobias. He admitted to a chink in his armor of faith. He admitted to fearing loss and pain.

“My daed died when I was thirteen.” She sidled closer to him. His hand closed over hers. Their fingers entwined. “One day he
was there. The next he was gone. No good-bye. No last words. Mudder said his days on earth were over. He went home.”

“But you couldn't understand it.”

They had this in common. “Not any more than you can understand why your mudder died while giving birth to sweet little Liam.”

His hand tightened around hers. The silence stretched, but the bittersweet music of shared sorrow filled it, the notes finding their way up and down the scale in the night air.

“But you found peace eventually.”

“Coming to Bee County helped. At first I thought this place was horrible. Then Deborah found Phineas and she was happy. Mudder found Mordecai and they both started over. They had a second chance at happiness, even at their age.”

“Because they're so old.” Tobias chuckled.

“You know what I mean.”

“I do.”

More silence. The croak of frogs ebbed and flowed with the slap of water against the banks of the pond.

“So you don't mind that I find myself a little worried.”

Rebekah tugged free of his hand and slid her arm around his waist, her mind boggled by her own audacity. “I'll understand it for now. But not for always.”

“Nee.” He turned to face her. “Not for always.”

This time when his head inclined toward her, she waited to close her eyes. So did he. She saw no fear. No uncertainty. Only wonder. Awesome wonder.