A Widow's Hope

As for Matthew, he was practically nodding off in his seat by the time they’d finished eating.

Hannah excused herself, transferred him from the dinner chair to the wheelchair and pushed him down the hall.

“She’s pretty amazing, your daughter.” He hadn’t meant to say the words. They’d slipped from his heart to his lips without consulting his brain.

If Alton and Claire were surprised, they hid it well. Claire stood and began clearing the table. Alton offered to see him out. They’d stepped outside when Jacob shared his ideas for a wooden walk to the playhouse as well as a small platform for the dinner table.

“Must be hard on Hannah, on her back I mean—moving him from one chair to the other so often.”

“And I have to be fast to beat her to it. Your ideas sound gut, but I’m afraid the grant doesn’t cover that, and I don’t have any extra money at the moment.”

Jacob waved away his concerns. “I have leftover lumber. It won’t cost me anything but time.”

“Which is precious for every man.”

“It’s okay. I don’t have to start the next job until Monday.” He didn’t mention the orders he had at his shop. He could put in a few hours each night and stay ahead on that.

“Then I accept, and I thank you.”

“You can tell me it’s none of my business, but Hannah seemed particularly preoccupied tonight. Is something wrong? Something else?”

Alton stuck his thumbs under his suspenders. “Money is a bit tight.”

“How tight?”

“Missed a few payments on the place.”

“What did your banker say about that?”

“Said they could extend me another thirty days, but then they’ll have to start the foreclosure process.”

“I’m sorry, Alton. I had no idea. Have you spoken to your bishop?”

Alton waved that idea away. “My family has received plenty of help from the benevolence fund in the last year. We’ll find a way through this on our own.”

“And Hannah?”

“Hannah is determined to find a job.”

* * *

The entire drive home he thought of Alton’s words, of the family’s financial problems and of the help he needed in order to prepare him for the IRS audit. He could ask Hannah. It wasn’t a completely crazy idea. He remembered that she was good at sums, and it wasn’t as if she needed to understand algebra. It only required someone more organized than he was.

She was stubborn and willful and curt at times, but he wasn’t going to be dating her. He was going to hire her.

Or was he?

It wasn’t until he was home and cleaning up for bed that he realized the error of his thinking. He caught sight of his reflection in the small bathroom mirror and stared for a moment at his scars. His fingers traced the tissue that was puckered and discolored. He’d been so fortunate that his eye wasn’t permanently damaged, and in truth he’d become used to the sight of his charred, disfigured flesh.

Others, though, they often found his face harder to look at. They would turn away, or blush bright red and hurry off. Sometimes children cried when they first saw him.

Had he forgotten about those reactions?

Did he really think that his appearance wouldn’t matter to a woman, to an employee? Hannah had been polite, sure, but that didn’t mean that she wasn’t horrified by the sight of his scars.

As for the thought of her working with him, she probably wouldn’t want to spend her days in the company of a disfigured man. Possibly he even reminded her of the accident that had killed her husband. He would be a constant reminder of her misfortune.

He’d been around her for two days, and he was already creating sandcastles in the sky. Probably because he’d felt an instant connection to her and that was okay and proper. As a friend. As a brother. But what about as an employer?

He hadn’t spent much time around women in the last few years. It was simply easier not to. Sure, he knew what he was missing out on, but it wasn’t as if he had a chance with any of the single girls in their district. Even the widows could do better than him. He might have grown comfortable with his disfigurement, but he wouldn’t ask that of a woman.

But he wasn’t thinking about courting. He was thinking about a business arrangement, which was crazy. He’d seen the look of relief pass over her features when he’d promised her he would be done this week. She was already looking forward to having him out of their lives. Why would he offer her a job?

On top of which, she’d had enough tragedy in her life. He wouldn’t be adding to that burden with his own problems. No, she’d be better off working in town, working for an Englisch shop owner. He’d do best to keep his distance. As for the audit, perhaps he could scrape up enough money for the accounting firm. He’d need to do something and do it quick, because the clock was ticking down to his deadline. Not that he remembered it exactly, but it was within the next month. That much he knew for certain.

Four weeks, maybe a little less.

By then, he needed to have found a solution.

Chapter Four (#u11cbee26-a654-5945-b19d-a38c9d8cd17e)

Hannah had scoured the paper on both Wednesday and Thursday looking for a job. What she found was discouraging. The Amish restaurant in town wanted her to work the four-to-nine shift. She wouldn’t be home to share the evening meal or put Matthew to bed. The thought caused her stomach to twist into a knot.

Amish Acres in Nappanee needed someone in the gift shop, and they understood that Amish employees didn’t work on Sundays. They even provided a bus that picked up workers in downtown Goshen for the twenty-minute ride. But she would be required to work on Saturday. In an Amish household, Saturday was a day spent preparing for Sunday—cooking meals, cleaning the house, making sure clothes were cleaned and pressed. She wouldn’t be able to do any of that if she worked at Amish Acres.

And with any of the jobs she considered, the same questions lingered in the back of her mind. Who would take Matthew to his physical therapy appointments during the week? Could she really expect her mother to add one more thing to her already full schedule? Could her mother handle the physical demands of lifting Matthew in and out of the buggy?

She studied the local paper once more Friday morning, in between helping her mother with the meals and taking care of Matthew. After lunch, she again donned a fresh apron and set off to take Matthew to his appointment. She had an interview for a job late that afternoon, and her father had offered to meet them in town.