His Amish Sweetheart

“There’s no hurry. An alpaca is pregnant for at least eleven months, but she’ll need to be examined by the vet to try to determine how far along she is.”

As she continued to talk about the alpacas to her scholars, he sent a grateful prayer to God for Esther’s help. His chances of making the farm a success were much greater than they’d been. He wasn’t going to waste a bit of the time or the information she shared with him.

No, he assured himself as he watched her. He wasn’t going to waste a single second.

* * *

Esther walked to the farmhouse, enjoying the sunshine. The trees along the farm lane were aflame with color against the bright blue sky. Not a single cloud blemished it. Closer to the ground, mums in shades of gold, orange and dark red along the house’s foundation bobbed on a breeze that barely teased her nape.

She’d left the scholars with Nathaniel while she checked the alpacas. Though he didn’t know much about them, he’d made sure they were eating well. She’d seen no sores on their legs. They hadn’t been trying to get out of the pasture, so they must be content with what he provided.

Hearing shouts from the far side of the house, she walked in that direction. She hadn’t planned to take so long with the alpacas, but it’d been fun to be with the silly creatures again. Their fleece was exceptionally soft, and their winter coats were growing in well. By the time they were sheared in the spring, Nathaniel would have plenty of wool to sell.

She came around the house and halted. On the sloping yard, Nathaniel was surrounded by the scholars. Jay, the oldest, was helping keep the kinder in a line. What were they doing?

Curious, she walked closer. She was amazed to see cardboard boxes torn apart and placed end to end on the grass. Two boxes were intact. As she watched, Nathaniel picked up a little girl and set her in one box. She giggled and gripped the front of it.

“All set?” he asked.

“Ja!” the kind shouted.

Nathaniel glanced at Jay and gave the box a slight shove. It sailed down the cardboard “slide” like a toboggan on snow. He kept pace with it on one side while Jay did on the other. They caught the box at the end of the slide before it could tip over and spill the kind out.

Picking her up again, Nathaniel swung her around. Giggling, she ran up the hill as a bigger boy jumped into the other box. His legs hung out the front, but he pushed with his hands to send himself down the slide. Nathaniel swung the other box out of the way just in time.

Everyone laughed and motioned for the boxes to be brought back for the next ride. As the older boy climbed out, Esther saw it was Benny. He beamed as he gathered the boxes to carry them to the top. Nathaniel clapped him on the shoulder and grinned.

She went to stand by the porch where she could watch the kinder play. She couldn’t take her eyes off Nathaniel. He looked as happy as he had when they were kinder themselves. He clearly loved being with the youngsters. He’d be a wunderbaar daed. Seeing him with her scholars, she could imagine him acting like her own daed.

Her most precious memories of Daed were when he’d come into the house at midday and pick her up. They’d bounce around the kitchen table singing a silly song until Mamm pretended to be irritated about how they were in the way. Then they’d laugh together, and Daed would set her in her chair before chasing her brothers around the living room. If he caught them, he’d tickle them until they squealed or Mamm called everyone to the table. As they bent their heads in silent grace, their shared joy had been like a glow around them.

Watching Nathaniel with the kinder, she wanted that for him. Too bad she and he were just friends. Otherwise—

Where had that thought come from? He was her buddy, her partner in crime, her competitor to see who could run the fastest or climb the highest. She had told him she’d marry him when they were little kids, something that made her blush when she thought of how outrageously she’d acted, but they weren’t kinder any longer.

When Nathaniel called a halt to the game, saying it was time for lunch, the youngsters tried not to show their disappointment. They cheered when he said he had fresh cider waiting for them on a picnic table by the kitchen door.

They raced past Esther to get their lunch boxes. She smiled as she went to help Nathaniel collect the pieces of cardboard.

“Quite a game you have here,” she said. “Did you make it up?”

As he folded the long cardboard strips and set them upright in one of the boxes, he shook his head. “Not me alone. It’s one we played in Indiana. We invented it the summer after I couldn’t go sledding all winter.”

“Why? Were you sick?”

“Ja.”

“All winter?”

“You know how mamms can be. Always worrying.” He gathered the last bits of cardboard and dropped them into the other box. Brushing dirt off himself, he grimaced as he tapped his left knee. “Grass stains on my gut church clothes. Mamm wouldn’t be happy to see that.”

He looked very handsome in his black vest and trousers, which gave his dark hair a ruddy sheen. The white shirt emphasized his strong arms and shoulders. She’d noticed his shoulders when she tumbled against him at school.

“If you want,” she said when she realized she was staring. “I’ll clean them.”

“I can’t ask you to do that.” He carried the boxes to the porch. “You’ve got enough to do keeping up with your brothers.”

“One more pair of trousers won’t make any difference.” She smiled as she walked with him toward the kitchen door. “Trust me.”

“I do, and my alpacas do, too. It was amazing how you calmed them.”

“I’ll teach you.”

“I don’t know if I can convince them to trust me as they do you. It might be impossible. Though obviously not for Esther Stoltzfus, the alpaca whisperer.”

She laughed, then halted when she saw a buggy driving at top speed along the farm lane. Even from a distance, she recognized her brother Isaiah driving it. She glanced at Nathaniel, then ran to where the buggy was stopping. Only something extremely important would cause Isaiah to leave his blacksmith shop in the middle of the day.

He climbed out, his face lined with dismay. “Esther, where are the kinder?”

“Behind the house having lunch.”

“Gut.” He looked from her to Nathaniel. “There’s no way to soften this news. Titus Fisher has had a massive stroke and is on his way to the hospital.”

Esther gasped and pressed her hands to her mouth.

“Are you here to get the boy?” asked Nathaniel.

“I’m not sure he should go to the hospital until Titus is stable.” Isaiah turned to her. “What do you think, Esther?”

“I think he needs to be told his onkel is sick, but nothing more now. No need to scare him. Taking him to the hospital can wait until we know more.”

“That’s what I thought, but you know him better than I do.” He sighed. “The poor kind. He’s already suffered enough. Tonight—”

“He can stay here,” Nathaniel said quietly.

“Are you sure?” her brother asked, surprised.

“I’ve got plenty of room,” Nathaniel said, “and the boy seems fascinated by my alpacas.”

Isaiah looked at her for confirmation.

She nodded, knowing it was the best solution under the circumstances.

“I’ll let Reuben know.” He sighed again. “Just in case.”

“Tell the bishop that Jacob can stay here as long as he needs to,” Nathaniel said.

“That should work out...unless his onkel dies. Then the Bureau of Children and Family Services will have to get involved.”