The Amish Midwife's Courtship

“No, not at all. He’s...” Molly’s voice trailed off as she searched for the right word. “He’s not exactly weird, you know, just kind of friendly one minute and helpful and then he goes all strange and acts the fool.”

“Oh. I get it. He’s not showing enough interest in you and you’re mad.”

Molly straightened her kapp, tied her apron on a bit tighter and snapped, “Nee, that’s not it at all. He keeps accusing me of hurting him on purpose, like I spend my whole day thinking up ways to cause him pain.”

“You hitting on my customers?”

“You know perfectly well I’m not. Well... I did hit him in the head with a dust mop the other day, but that was completely his fault, not mine.”

Sliding a plate of golden pancakes Molly’s way, Willa Mae smiled, her dark weave shiny after standing over the hot grill all morning. “This story just keeps getting better and better. Tell me everything. When are you two making your announcement in church?”

Molly shot her best friend and boss a look that said it all. “These pancakes go to your gentleman at table six. Enjoy!” Willa Mae grinned.

* * *

Four hours later a midday band of rain swept in from the coast, surprising Isaac and leaving him a prisoner in his own shop. An hour passed. Not one customer came through the shop door. His early-morning meal at the café was nothing but a pleasant memory.

He rubbed his stomach. The wonderful aroma of hot pizza mingled with the less appealing odors of grease and dirt, but still his stomach stirred. An hour later it continued to rumble loudly, begging for lunch. He downed another bottle of water and tried not to think about food, especially the pizza shop next door. He wasn’t about to trust his leg and poor balance on the slippery sidewalk outside. He would wait until the rain stopped.

There wasn’t much he could do to pass the time while still on crutches. He called several cleaning businesses and wrote down price quotes. Sticker shock took away some of his appetite. The amounts asked to clear out the trash from the old building was enough to buy another electric golf cart. He’d need more carts to lease to the snowbirds pouring into Pinecraft from the north. The winter tourist season would quickly pass. Every day the bike shop wasn’t open he was losing money—money he needed for a permanent place to live.

A feeling of defeat swamped him as he looked around the shop, at shelves falling off the walls, trash littering the floor. An ache began to thump at the base of his skull.

The roar of a high octane engine pulling up to the curb outside drew his attention. He rose, shoving aside pieces of a dismantled blue cart in order to maneuver toward the front door. He leaned against one crutch as he wiped away some of the dried white paint swirled on the storefront windows to block out the sun.

The side door of a black van labeled Fischer Transport opened and he was surprised to see Molly jumping to the pavement, followed by several stocky Amish men. Women in tidy prayer kapps and plain dresses in a variety of shapes and colors followed close behind. Isaac opened the shop door and was inundated with slaps on the back, smiling faces and so many introductions he’d never remember them all.

Busy shaking hands with the men and nodding to the women, Isaac took time to glance at Molly and return her enthusiastic grin. Her warm brown eyes seemed to be saying, you didn’t think I’d leave you to clean up this mess on your own, did you?

A tall, curly-haired blond man with powerful shoulders and a firm handshake squeezed Isaac’s hand. “Willkumm to Pinecraft, Herr Graber. I’m Mose Fischer and this is my bruder’s son, Wilhelm. I’ve heard a lot about you from Molly. I thought I’d come see this youngie she speaks of so fondly, with his fine mind for motors and winning personality.”

Isaac nodded at the tall man and the skinny teenage boy standing next to him and smiled his welcome as he readjusted the crutch shaken loose from under his arm. “Molly’s been talking to you about me?”

“Ya, she has. Nasty bump you’ve got there.”

Isaac’s gaze skimmed the bland expression Molly directed his way. Had she told him what really happened? As if feeling guilty, she looked down, busying herself with a pile of magazines on the floor. “Ya. Like a bensel I fell over my own feet.”

“So I heard.” Mose winked, telling Isaac he knew what had really happened. “I hope you don’t mind us coming to help. We may live in a tourist town, but I think you’ll find Pinecraft’s a strong Amish community, ready to help out in times of need.” He slapped Isaac on the back. “Besides, I have an ulterior motive. One of my little girls has a bike that needs a tube replaced, and I don’t have time to work on it. You’ll find we do a lot of bike riding around here. There’s a real need for this shop to be up and running, for the community’s sake, as well as your own.”

Isaac looked around at the smiling people. They all seemed ready to work. He sent a grin of appreciation Molly’s way. She’d gathered this mob of workers for him, even though he’d been rude to her at breakfast this morning. He owed her a debt of gratitude. He’d find a way to pay her kindness.

Mose pulled on the arm of an Englischer man in jeans and a white T-shirt who was busy working on organizing parts against the wall. “Let me introduce you to one of our local police officers, Bradley Ridgeway.”

Smiling, his arm full of bike tubes and tires, Officer Ridgeway extended his free hand. “Glad to meet you, Isaac. Anytime you need help, you just let me know. I’ve got two sons who love their bikes. They’re going to be glad to hear the bike shop’s opening again.”

Isaac shook the man’s hand, but shame made him avoid looking directly in his eyes. “Danke,” Isaac managed to croak out. He turned away, pretending to be looking for something in the old desk in the office.

Molly moved close to him. He watched her as she and a well-rounded, middle-aged woman navigated a cluster of men working along the back wall. She caught his eye and motioned for him to join them.

“This is Becky Esch, our local baker,” Molly said, and linked her arm through the woman’s.

The older Amish woman smiled up at him, her startling blue eyes reminding him of his mother. Heavyhearted, Isaac nodded, quickly pushing away the momentary sadness that threatened to overwhelm him. “Ah...you must have been the one who made those wonderful doughnuts someone was passing around,” he said.

“Ya, well. Single men need nourishment, I always say, especially when they’re working this hard. I have an idea. Why don’t you come eat dinner with us some Saturday night? The girls and I could use some company. We get lonesome now that Zelner’s passed on to be with the Lord. It’ll be nice to have a man at the head of our table for a change.”

He glanced at Molly. The people crowded into the bike shop were her friends, not his. He wasn’t sure what to say, but relaxed when Molly grinned at him with a twinkle in her eyes. “Ya, sure,” he said. “That would be fine. Danke.”

“Gut. The girls and I will expect you at six next Saturday. And make sure you bring your appetite.”

As the woman walked away, Molly giggled under her breath and poked him in the rib.

“What’s so funny?” he whispered, his head tilting her way.

“You have no idea what you just stepped into,” Molly said, laughing with all the joy of a five-year-old. “Becky Esch has two old-maid daughters and she’s just set a trap for you.”

“You could have warned me,” Isaac scolded.

Molly’s brows went up as her smile deepened. “I could have,” she said, then straightened the ribbons on her kapp as she turned her back on him and shouldered her way through the throng of workers.

Isaac’s eyes narrowed as he noticed the slight limp in her gait. He didn’t know what to think of their push-pull relationship, but knew he’d better work harder at keeping his distance from her. Molly was the kind of woman he’d choose if he were looking for someone to court. But after what he’d done to Thomas, there was no chance he would risk getting married any time soon. If ever.

Chapter Four (#ulink_ac9f950b-0166-50ef-8d72-a780dedd819e)

Molly hummed as she worked for an hour in the hot kitchen, preparing rosemary pork chops, roasted new potatoes with chives and fresh green beans slathered in butter and onion sauce for later that night. A homemade cheesecake drizzled in thick strawberry syrup sat waiting on the kitchen counter. The meal begged for her mamm to come home with an appetite, but at 6:00 p.m. the house remained quiet and still.

Dinnertime came and went. Darkness shrouded the plain, wood-framed house, the only home she had ever known. The old clock in the front room chimed seven times before Molly rose from the kitchen table, flipped on the light over the sink and stored the uneaten meal into containers. She cleaned up the dirty pans and was wiping the last of the crumbs off the counter as Isaac walked through the back door, his face etched with tired lines from his long day at work.

“Something sure smells gut in here. Am I too late for dinner?”

Molly beamed, her mood lifting, glad for company and conversation, even if it was only Isaac. “Nee, not at all.” She pulled out a kitchen chair. “Come. Sit. Let me heat some food for you.”

Isaac removed his hat and tossed it on the spare kitchen chair. He ran his fingers though his hair before he sat. “No other houseguests tonight?”

“Nee. Our last short-term guest left early this morning. She’s on her way to see her sister in Lakeland, but she’ll probably stop for another night with us on her way back to Ohio. Seems everyone else went to Pinecraft Park for the bluegrass singing tonight.” She pulled the containers of food out of the refrigerator and then turned back to Isaac, her curiosity getting the better of her. “Is the shop ready to be opened yet?”

“I think so. I still need some parts, but they should get here in a few days.”

He flashed a grin at her that played havoc with Molly’s insides. She ignored the feeling and shoved their plates into the still-hot oven. “Gott brought you here. He’ll make sure the customers come through the doors, Isaac. We have to trust His will. Why don’t you clean up a bit while the food’s heating?”

He looked down at his dusty clothes and reached for his crutches. “Gut idea. I think I will.” He rose, wincing as he put his weight on his leg. “I won’t be long.”

She watched him lumber out of the kitchen, his limp more noticeable than it had been in days. Her heart went out to him. Pain was a lousy friend. She knew. She’d lived with it long enough.

Turning on another light to dispel the nuance of an intimate setting, she puttered around the kitchen, putting an extra place mat on the table, then some silverware. A tub of locally made butter was set in the middle of the table.

She stood still for a moment, listening to the sounds Isaac made at the back of the house. Just as she put down the bread plates and poured tall glasses of cold milk, he hurried back into the kitchen wearing clean work clothes, his hair slicked back from his thin face.

“I hope you don’t mind if we eat in the kitchen. It’s just you and me tonight,” Molly said. “I waited for Mamm, but she must have gotten held up.” Her mother usually served the last meal of the day in the more formal dining room, around the big wooden table that was large enough to seat twelve for Thanksgiving and Christmas.