When Hope Blossoms (20 page)

A
my introduced each adult, starting with Dillard and Margaret Gerber and moving across the circle until everyone had an opportunity to shake Mr. Roper’s hand and exchange a few words of greeting. The moment Mr. Roper released Don Mischler’s hand, Parker gave Amy’s shoulder several inquisitive taps with his fingertip.

“Mom, can I tell him the kids’ names?”

Amy smiled. “Of course.”

His shoulders squared, Parker began a solemn recitation, pointing at each youngster as he rattled off their names. He only stumbled once, reversing the names of the two youngest Schell boys, but they quickly corrected him and he moved on. After completing the introductions, he put his arm around Mr. Roper’s shoulders, reaching up to do so. “And this is Mr. Roper, my best friend.”

Amy sent a startled look at their neighbor, and her heart turned over when tenderness sprouted across the man’s face. He swallowed. Twice. Then he bobbed his head to acknowledge the children.

Parker swung a pleading look in Amy’s direction, his hand still clamped over Mr. Roper’s shoulder. “Mom, can Mr. Roper go on rides with us?”

Amy nearly choked. Although Parker viewed the man as a friend—something she found very sweet and touching—she couldn’t allow her son to treat Mr. Roper the way he would one of his peers. She opened her mouth to deliver a gentle refusal.

Mr. Roper released a light chuckle and threw his arm across Parker’s skinny shoulders. “Parker, much as I appreciate being invited, I don’t
do
rides. They make me dizzy.”

Adrianna blinked up at the man. “Do they make you throw up?”

Several people chortled at her question, and Mr. Roper grinned. He tapped the end of Adrianna’s nose. “Yup.” He stepped away from Parker, putting a few inches between himself and the group of Mennonites. “So I keep my boots planted on the ground. Usually in front of one of the food booths. Which reminds me, I need to find where Valerie—she runs the Burger Basket—has set up her pie table. I wanna buy a whole cherry pie before they’re all gone.”

Amy suspected he was using the pies as an excuse to escape their company. As much as she wanted the Mennonites to develop a relationship with this man so they could be an essence of Jesus to him, she knew she couldn’t push. It might drive a wedge between them. Looking at her children, recognizing the fondness they held for their neighbor, she wouldn’t risk alienating him.

She smiled. “I hope you’ll find your pie, Mr. Roper. Have a good day.”

He lifted his hand to the group. “Nice meeting you all. Welcome to Weaverly.” His voice sounded a little tight to Amy’s ears, but no one else seemed to notice. They offered appropriate replies, and he spun on his bootheel and ambled off toward the center of town.

The older of the Stull girls said, “May we play some games, please? I’d like to win a blue teddy bear.”

“I want a pink one!” the younger Stull girl added.

Their father laughed. “All right. Let’s go see what we can do.”

The other fathers and the whole wriggling mass of children trotted behind Mr. Stull, leaving the wives, Amy, and her children in the stripes of sun and shade behind the bleachers.

Adrianna yanked on Amy’s skirt. “Can’t we go, too? I wanna win a teddy bear.”

Amy leaned down. “You have to stay with me.”

Bekah looked after the group. A touch of rebellion glittered in her dark eyes. “But everyone else is going.”

Because they’re with their fathers.
The words quivered on the end of Amy’s tongue, but she held them in. “I’ll take you in a minute. After the ladies decide what they’re going to do.” She turned to the other women. “Where are you—”

“Mr. Roper!” Adrianna’s shrill voice cut off Amy’s question. The little girl dashed across the grass, intercepting Mr. Roper, who was crossing between booths several yards away. Over the other celebratory noises, Amy clearly heard her daughter’s request. “Will you take me an’ Parker an’ Bekah to play some games? Huh, Mr. Roper?”

The other women tittered. Amy’s face flooded with heat. She darted forward and captured Adrianna’s hand. “That was very naughty to run away from me. And Mr. Roper isn’t here to entertain you.” She gave her daughter’s hand a yank.

Adrianna fought against Amy’s restraining hold. “But, Momma . . .”

“Adrianna!” Amy used her sternest tone, and Adrianna stopped fighting. She looked at Mr. Roper. His face glowed red, no doubt matching the blush she was certain still graced her cheeks. She gulped. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what gets into her sometimes.”

Mr. Roper shrugged. “It’s all right. She’s just a little girl wanting to have the same fun as all the other youngsters.” He pushed his hat back, revealing more of his face. His voice dropped to a near whisper. “You know, Mrs. Knackstedt, this is a family town—a safe town. And your Bekah’s a very responsible young woman. It’d be all right to let your kids do some exploring on their own. I can’t imagine anything unpleasant befalling them here in Weaverly.”

Amy hesitated.

He leaned forward slightly. “You let ’em ride their bikes over to my place and into the library without you. How is visiting booths and playing some games any different?”

As much as Amy understood his reasoning, she also recognized the difference. All of the other Mennonite children were visiting the booths under the supervision of their fathers. Her children had no father to take them from booth to booth, to cheer for them, to give them another quarter or two if they didn’t win the first time. If she sent them off on their own, they’d see what they were missing. But how could she explain all that to this kindhearted man without reminding him he was a father without a child?

“I appreciate your kind recognition of Bekah’s maturity—she is growing up. But she assumes so much responsibility at home for her brother and sister. It doesn’t seem fair to make her be in charge of them here, where she’d like to have fun instead.”

He stared into her face for several seconds, as if trying to decide if her statement was the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. She resisted fidgeting beneath his intense scrutiny. Then he settled the brim of his battered brown hat lower on his forehead and gave a quick nod. “I see your point. And you’re their mother, so I won’t argue with you.” Yet she sensed by the firm set of his jaw, he wanted to argue.

His gaze dropped to Adrianna, who stood beside Amy with one finger in her mouth, looking longingly toward the game booths. The tenderness she’d glimpsed when Parker had called him his best friend returned. He slipped one hand into his pocket and turned a bland look on Amy. “You ladies are probably wanting to do some exploring on your own, aren’t you?”

Amy flicked a glance over her shoulder. The women hadn’t moved on yet, but she sensed impatience in the subtle shifting of their feet and in the investigative gazes they zinged here and there. She sighed. “Yes. I’m holding them up.”

“Tell you what . . .” He rubbed his jaw with his fingertips, as if coaxing out the words. “Why don’t you give your kids some spending money, and I’ll walk ’em around the game booths. Help ’em win a stuffed bear or a goldfish in a bowl.”

Amy waved her hands. “No goldfish!”

He laughed—a genuine, rollicking laugh. The sound lifted her heart and sent it into a stuttering double-beat. “All right, then, no goldfish. But you want to be with your friends, and the kids want to explore.” His shoulders lifted in a boyish, almost sheepish shrug. “I don’t have anything pressing, so I’d be happy to escort them around a bit.”

Amy nibbled her lip, undecided.

“That is, if you trust me.”

His statement wounded her, but she didn’t quite understand why. “W-why, of course I trust you, Mr. Roper. You’ve become a good friend to . . . to the children.” Now jealousy stabbed. Equally confusing.

He reached out and plucked Adrianna’s hand from Amy’s grip. The little girl skittered to him without a moment’s pause. He swung her hand, smiling into Amy’s face. “I promise to keep ’em out of mischief, and I’ll return ’em to you at lunchtime.” He poked his thumb in the direction of town. “I plan to grab a barbecued beef sandwich from the Burger Basket. You can meet up with me there at noon.”

Amy glanced at the women again, who all looked back at her with curious expressions. She zipped around to face Mr. Roper again. “A-are you sure you don’t mind?”

“Consider it a payback for all the help Bekah and Parker have given me. They’ve more than earned their bushel of apples.” Again, he assumed a low near-whisper that sent a prickle of awareness down Amy’s spine. “I enjoy your kids’ company. Will you let me borrow ’em for a while?”

Something glittered in his eyes—a hopeful pleading Amy couldn’t bear to ignore. She released a sigh of surrender. “Very well. Thank you, Mr. Roper, for being so kind.”

“No problem.” He tipped sideways, angling his head to fix his sights on Bekah and Parker, who leaned against the bleacher’s metal bracings. “Hey, want to go play some games?”

With a whoop, Parker galloped to Mr. Roper’s side. “With you?”

“Yep. With me.” Mr. Roper bounced his smile at Bekah, who came more slowly. “That all right with you, Bekah? Mind if I traipse around and watch you kids play games?”

Bekah sent a puzzled look in Amy’s direction. “Sure. That’d be fine.”

Amy unsnapped her billfold and pressed a ten-dollar bill into Bekah’s hand. “Share with your brother and sister, and use the money wisely. That needs to last you all morning.”

Bekah folded the bill in her fist. “Okay, Mom.”

Mr. Roper lifted Adrianna into his arms, making her squeal. “All right, then. Let’s go have some fun.” The older two children fell into step with him as he ambled toward the center of the park.

The women watched the little group parade past, various emotions showing on each face. Lorraine Schell separated herself from the group and crossed to Amy, her eyes following Mr. Roper. “You’re sending the children with him?”

“Yes. They know him well. Remember? Both Bekah and Parker work for him—Bekah does housekeeping and Parker helps in the orchard. We talked about it last Sunday.”

The woman nodded slowly. “I remember. But . . .” She shifted her head to look at Amy. “He isn’t Mennonite. Are you sure?”

Amy laughed softly, an attempt to cover the prickle of unease Lorraine’s words stirred. “Many of our young people find employment with non-Mennonites, babysitting or doing farm work.”

“But they aren’t working now. They’re . . . socializing.”

Defensiveness niggled, and Amy bit down on her tongue for a moment to avoid speaking sharply. “They spend time with Mr. Roper every week without my presence.”

Lorraine pursed her lips, the gesture thoughtful rather than derisive.

Amy touched the woman’s arm. “I understand your concerns—he isn’t Mennonite anymore. But he’s a good man, a caring man. And I trust him.” As she said the words, the slight misgivings she’d experienced fell away. She
did
trust Mr. Roper. She knew without a doubt he would look out for her children.

Lorraine shook her head slightly, her eyes reflecting concern. “Be careful, Amy. He’s a handsome man, and it’s clear he is very fond of Bekah, Parker, and Adrianna. But he left his faith. While it’s good to be friendly to him—we need to treat our neighbors well so they will give glory to God—we still must be cautious lest we’re drawn away from our beliefs by the world’s attitudes.”

He’s a handsome man.
Amy’s heart thudded in response to Lorraine’s observation. “I’ll be cautious, Lorraine. You needn’t worry.”

The woman’s stiff shoulders relaxed. She patted Amy’s hand, which still rested on her forearm. “Of course you’re cautious. You’re a very dedicated mother, and I’m sorry if I overstepped my bounds. I just don’t want to see you or your children hurt. A woman alone, with three children in need of a father figure . . .”

“Don’t worry,” Amy repeated. “The children and I appreciate Mr. Roper’s neighborliness, and we’re praying for him to find his way back to his faith. But there isn’t anything . . . more . . . between us.”

Lorraine’s smile grew bright. She gave Amy’s hand a gentle tug, drawing her toward the waiting group of women. “Come, let’s see what Margaret has decided we should all do.”

They laughed softly as they rejoined the others. But while she browsed arts-and-crafts booths and sampled fudge and brownies with the fellowship women, Amy’s thoughts kept drifting to the assurance she’d given Lorraine concerning her relationship with Mr. Roper. She’d been truthful—there was nothing more than neighborliness between them—but deep down, Amy discovered a tiny seed that sought an opportunity to grow.

Lorraine was right—Tim Roper was a handsome man. A hardworking man, strong yet tender toward her children. She found him attractive. It would be difficult not to find him attractive, given all he’d done for her, Bekah, Parker, and Adrianna. Lorraine’s voice echoed in Amy’s ears.
“He isn’t Mennonite. Are you sure?”

Amy swallowed. This newly recognized seed of affection must not be nurtured for growth. She sent a fervent prayer heavenward.
Dear Father, guard my heart. I can’t allow myself to be pulled away from my faith. That would not honor You. Let me pray for this man, show Your love to this man, but please guard my lonely heart.