An Amish Wife For Christmas. Patricia Davids
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“I miss you, Daadi. We all miss you. I know you are happy with our Lord in heaven and with Mammi and Mamm. That gives me comfort, but I still miss you.” Her voice sounded odd in the empty room.
Opening her eyes, she sat in his chair and lit the lamp. The pieces of a watch lay on the white felt-covered board he worked on. His tiny screwdrivers and tools were lined up neatly in their case. Everything was just as it had been the last time he sat in this chair. The cleaning rag was the only thing out of place. She picked it up to return it to the proper drawer and saw an envelope lying beneath it. It was unopened. The name on the return address caught her attention. It was from Michael Shetler of Sugarcreek, Ohio.
“Why didn’t you tell me that you repair watches?”
Michael looked up from Jesse’s table saw. Bethany stood in the workshop’s doorway he had left open to take advantage of the unusually warm afternoon. She stood with her hands on her hips and a scowl on her pretty face.
The mutt, lying in the rectangle of sunlight, had already alerted him that someone was coming with a soft woof. She shot outside and around the corner of the building. The sight of Bethany made Michael want to smile. She was every bit as appealing as he remembered, even with a slight frown marring her face.
He pushed away his interest. Jesse had filled in a lot of details about the family last night. Bethany was trying to keep her family together. Jesse said without her grandfather and her brother to work the farm she could lose it. A handsome woman in need of help was trouble and Michael had enough trouble. He positioned the two-by-four length of pine board and made the cut. As the saw blade quit spinning he took the board and added it to the stack on his right. He kept his face carefully blank when he met her gaze. “I didn’t think it would make a difference.”
“It certainly would have.”
“How so? Your grandfather is gone. You said you couldn’t afford to hire help.”
“You neglected to tell me you had sent the first and last months’ rent on the cabin.”
He picked up another board and settled it in the slot he had created for the correct length so he didn’t have to measure and mark each piece of wood. Bishop Schultz used a diesel generator to supply electricity inside his carpentry shop. The smell of fresh sawdust mixed with diesel fumes that drifted through the open door. Michael squeezed the trigger on the saw and lowered the blade. It sliced through the pine board in two seconds, spewing more sawdust on the growing pile beneath the table.
He tossed the cut wood on the stack and reached for another two-by-four. Bethany crossed the room and took hold of the board before he could position it. “Why didn’t you tell me you had already paid the rent?”
“I figured you would mention it if you knew about it. Since you didn’t say anything and you already had a crisis to deal with, I thought it could wait for a better time.”
“That was very considerate of you. A better time is right now. My grandfather never deposited your check. In fact, he never read your last letter. I only found it yesterday evening.”
She let go of his board and reached into a small bag she carried over her arm. “I have the check here. I’ve been unable to bring myself to clean out his workshop. For that reason, his agreement with you went undiscovered.” She held out the check. He didn’t take it.
“Do you know the rest of your grandfather’s offer?” He kept his gaze averted.
“Your letter said you agreed to work with him for six months. Was there more?”
“If he considered me skillful enough after that time he would make me a fifty-fifty partner in the business.” He looked at her. “I can show you his offer in writing if you want to see it.”
“There’s no need. I believe you. Are you still willing to do that?”
“How can I be a partner now that he is gone?”
“The business belongs to me but I can’t repair watches, so it is worthless except for his tools. I had planned to sell them unless Ivan showed an interest in learning the trade.”
“Has he?”
“Not yet.”
“How is the boy?” he asked softly.
A wry smile lifted the corner of her mouth. “I wish I knew. Right now he seems mad at the world.”
“Boys grow up. He’ll come around.”
“I pray you are right. I have a proposition for you, Mr. Shetler.”
“Call me Michael.”
She smiled and nodded once. “Michael. It’s similar to the one my grandfather offered you. Work for me for six months. You keep two-thirds of everything you earn during that time. I will keep one-third as rent on the shop, for the use of Grandfather’s client list and his tools. If at the end of that time I am satisfied with your skill I will sell you the business or we can continue as partners.”
“Who is to decide if my skills are adequate?”
“My grandfather did the majority of his work for a man named George Meyers in Philadelphia. He owns a jewelry shop and watch repair business. If Mr. Meyers is satisfied with the quality of work you do, then that is all the assurance I need.”
Michael smiled inwardly. One part of the puzzle had finally been solved. George had started this whole thing. It was certainly like George, to go out of his way for someone who didn’t deserve the kindness. Michael wondered how much, if anything, George had shared about his condition with Bethany’s grandfather. “I wondered how your grandfather got my name. Now I know.”
“I’m afraid I don’t follow you.”
“I used to work for George Meyers.” Up until the night he had let two armed criminals into the business George owned.
“Why did you quit? Is that when you got hurt?”
His heart started pounding like a hammer inside his chest as the onset of a panic attack began. In another minute he would be on the ground gasping for air. He wasn’t about to recount the horrors he saw that night to Bethany. He had to get outside. “I don’t like to talk about it.”
He grabbed an armful of cut wood and pushed past Bethany. “Jesse is going to wonder what’s keeping me.”
She followed him outside. “I’m sorry if it seemed that I was prying. If you don’t want to work for me, I understand, but the cabin is still yours for two months.”
“I’ll think about the job, but I’ll take the cabin.” He kept walking. It wasn’t that he wanted to be rude but he needed her to leave. His anxiety was rising rapidly.
“The cabin is yours whenever you want.”
The yellow dog came around the side of the building and launched herself at him. He sidestepped to keep from being hit with her muddy paws. One of the boards slid out of his arms. “Down.”
She dropped to her belly and barked once, then rolled over, inviting him to scratch her muddy stomach.
“I see you still have your friend,” Bethany said, humor bubbling beneath her words.
He looked from her to the dog. “I don’t have anything to feed you, mutt, unless you eat two-by-fours.”
The dog jumped to her feet, picked up the board he had dropped and took off with it in her mouth.
“Hey, bring that back!”
The dog made a sweeping turn and raced back, splashing through puddles of melted snow. She came to a stop and sat in front of him, holding the four-foot length of wood like a prized bone.
“Goot hund.” He reached