A Widow's Hope

Her mother tsked.

“They were Christian romance, Mamm.”

“I’m guessing your date with Jacob didn’t match with what you’d been reading.”

“Hardly. First of all, he showed up with mud splattered all over the buggy, and the inside of it was filled with pieces of hay and fast-food wrappers and even a pair of dirty socks.”

“Didn’t he have older brothers?”

“He had one.”

“So I guess they shared the buggy.”

Hannah shrugged. “We’d barely made it a quarter mile down the road when we both noticed his horse was limping.”

“Oh my.”

“It was no big thing. He jumped out of the buggy and began to clean out her hooves with a pick.”

“While you waited.”

“At first. Then I decided to help, which he told me in no short fashion not to do.”

“There are times when it’s hard for a man, especially a young man, to accept a woman’s help.”

“I waited about ten minutes and finally said I was heading home.”

“Changed your mind before you were even out of sight of the house.”

“Maybe. What I knew for sure was that I didn’t want to stand on the side of the road while Jacob Schrock took care of his horse—something he should have done before picking me up.”

“Could have been his brother’s doing.”

“I suppose.”

“I hope you didn’t judge him harshly because of a dirty buggy and a lame horse.”

“Actually, I don’t think I judged him at all. I simply realized that I didn’t want to spend the evening with him.”

“Well, he seems to have turned into a fine young man.”

Hannah refolded the newspaper and pointed her highlighter at her mother. “Tell me you are not matchmaking.”

“Why would I do such a thing?”

“Exactly.”

“Though I did help both of your sisters find their husbands.”

“I need a job, Mamm. I don’t need a husband. I have a son, I have a family and I have a home. I’m fine without Jacob Schrock or any other man.” Before her mother could see how rattled she was, Hannah jumped up, stepped over to the window and stared out at Jacob and Matthew.

“At least you parted friends...or so it seems.”

Hannah suddenly remembered Jacob kissing her behind the swing set at school. It had been her first kiss, and a bit of a mess. He’d leaned in, a bee had buzzed past her and she’d darted to the right at the last minute. The result was a kiss on the left side of her kapp. She’d been mortified, though Jacob had laughed good-naturedly, then reached for her hand and walked her back into the school building. It was three years later when he’d asked her out on the buggy ride.

Remembering the kiss, Hannah felt the heat crawl up her neck. Before her mother could interrogate her further, she busied herself pulling two glasses from the cabinet and said, “Perhaps I should take both of the workers something to drink.”

She filled the glasses with lemonade, snagged half a dozen of her mother’s oatmeal cookies, put it all on a tray and carried it outside.

After setting it down on the picnic table under the tall maple tree, she turned to watch Jacob and Matthew. In spite of her resolution to maintain a safe distance from Jacob Schrock, her heart tripped a beat at the sight of him.

Which made no sense, because Jacob Schrock was not her type.

He was eight inches taller than she was, whereas David had been her height exactly.

He was blond. David had been dark haired.

His eyes were blue, and David’s had been a lovely brown.

Nothing about the man standing near her son appealed to her, least of all the suggestion that he knew what was good for Matthew.

She couldn’t help noticing, though...

The sleeves of his blue shirt were rolled up past the elbow, revealing his muscular, tanned arms.

Sweat gleamed on his forehead and caused his blond hair to curl slightly.

As she watched, he handed one end of a tape measure to Matthew, stepped off what was apparently the length of the project and pushed a stake into the ground.

When he was done, Jacob glanced up, noticed her waiting and smiled. Now, why did his smile cause her heart to race even faster? Perhaps she needed to see a doctor. Maybe the depression that had pressed down on her like a dark cloud for so long had finally taken its toll on her heart. Or maybe she was experiencing a normal reaction to a nice-looking man doing a kind deed.

Of course, he was getting paid for it.

But he didn’t have to allow Matthew to tag along.

He certainly didn’t have to smile at her every time she was near.

Jacob stored the tape measure they were using in a tool belt and said something to Matthew. When her son twisted in his wheelchair to look at her, she had to press her fingers to her lips. Yes, he still sat in his chair, but he looked like a completely different boy. He had rolled up his sleeves, sweat had plastered his hair to his head and a smear of dirt marked his cheek. When he caught her watching, he beamed at her as if it were Christmas Day.

In short, he looked like a normal child having a great time building a playhouse.

* * *

Jacob glanced back at Hannah in time to catch her staring at Matthew, the fingers of her right hand pressed against her lips. Jacob considered himself open to beauty. Maybe because of his own disfigurement, he found contentment in noticing Gotte’s handiwork elsewhere.

He’d often stood and watched the sunset, thinking that Gotte had done a wonderful thing by providing them such splendor. He’d helped his brother when it was time for birthing in the spring: goats, horses, cows, and once when a terrible storm came through and they couldn’t get to the hospital—a son. Jacob didn’t mind that such things brought him to tears, that he often had to pause and catch his breath, that he was sensitive to the joys of this world.

But when he looked up and saw Hannah, an unfamiliar emotion brushed against the inside of his heart. It couldn’t be attraction, as he’d never asked a woman out on a date because of how she looked—not before the fire and not since. He hadn’t asked a woman out in years, and he wouldn’t be starting today. As for her personality, well, if he were to be honest with himself, she was pushy, obviously overprotective of her son and taciturn to the point of being rude.