His New Amish Family. Patricia Davids
Mamm, too. Cousin Ralph would have made us leave if you hadn’t been here.”
Paul looked at Clara over Toby’s head. “I think it would take a tougher man than your cousin Ralph to move your mother if she didn’t wish to go.”
Clara felt a blush heat her cheeks. She couldn’t remember the last time a man had complimented her.
“Do you suppose your daed and mine are friends in heaven?” Toby asked. “I think he might be lonely without us and without his friends to talk to.”
Clara bit her lip as she struggled to hold back the tears. Toby had a tender heart. He worried about far too many things. Adam had been a good husband but an indifferent father, preferring to spend his free time with his unmarried friends rather than the children.
Paul crossed his arms over his chest and then cupped his chin as he considered Toby’s question. “Did your daed enjoy a good game of horseshoes and did he like baseball?”
Toby’s eyes widened in surprise. “He liked both those things.”
Paul turned his hands palms-up. “Then I reckon they must be friends ’cause my daed liked horseshoes and he loved baseball, too. Would you do me a favor and take a quick look at the barn. I need to know if Ralph put padlocks on it.”
“Sure.” Toby took off at a run.
“You were very kind to my son,” Clara said softly.
“Losing his father is hard for a boy that age to comprehend.” Paul watched Toby for a moment and then turned to Clara. “And for his mother, too.”
“How old were you?”
“Six. I’ll get the door open. I almost wish you had produced the crowbar in front of Ralph. I would have given a lot to see his face.”
It seemed he didn’t want to talk about a painful time from his childhood and she respected that.
After unlocking and removing the padlock, Paul pushed the door open and stood back as she carried Sophie inside. The cat darted in and bolted into the living room. Clara set her daughter on a chair by the kitchen table, then turned to get her suitcases but Paul was already inside with them in his hands. “Where would you like these?”
“The black one can go on the bed in the room at the top of the stairs. The gray one goes in the room at the end of the hall. That door leads upstairs.” She nodded toward it as she untied her black traveling bonnet and took it off. He opened the door and she heard him going quickly up the steps.
A quick glance in the mirror by the front door showed her kapp was on straight but her hair had frizzed at her temples. She smoothed them as best she could.
Paul Bowman was a nice-looking young man. He smiled easily, defended her right to enter the house and spoke kindly to Toby. She appreciated all that but even after hearing her say Ralph’s trust had to be a fake, Paul was still going to work for her cousin. She wasn’t sure what to make of that. Would he ignore her claim and auction this farm in six weeks? She couldn’t let that happen. A handsome face and a few kind words weren’t enough to blind her to the fact that he was helping Ralph cheat her children out of their inheritance.
She settled Sophie in the living room with one of her favorite books. The cat curled up at her side. Sophie had missed her pet while visiting her grandmother but happily, the bishop’s wife liked cats and had taken care of Patches while they were away. Sophie was pretending to read the story to the cat but she looked ready to nod off. A nap would be just the thing for her. None of them had managed to get any rest on the long bus ride here. Toby came in to report everything was locked up tight. She told him to stay with Sophie when she heard Paul coming downstairs.
She joined him in the kitchen. “I appreciate your help, Mr. Bowman but I need to know your intentions.”
He grinned. “My intentions are to stay single for as long as possible. Sorry.”
She wasn’t amused. “I’m talking about your intentions with regards to this farm.”
“I’m an auctioneer. My intention is to inventory the property and ready the place to be sold.” He quickly covered his head with his arms as if expecting to be hit.
She clasped her fingers tightly together. “Even after hearing that Ralph’s claim to this farm is false?”
He opened one eye to peek at her. “That did give me pause but Ralph seems certain that he owns this place.” He put his arms down and leaned one hip against the kitchen counter. “Is it possible your uncle changed his mind?”
“I don’t believe Eli would do that to me. I will not let you and Ralph sell this place. I don’t know how I can stop you but I will.”
“Don’t get riled at me. As an auctioneer, I have a responsibility to preform my due diligence by making sure that everything I sell is legal and as represented.”
She crossed her arms. “What does that mean?”
“It means I won’t sell a horse as a five-year-old if he has ten-year-old teeth in his mouth. I’ll thoroughly check Ralph’s claim of ownership. It may take a few days. In the meantime...”
“In the meantime, what?”
“I need to begin an inventory of the property.”
“Why?”
“Because I have given my word to Ralph Hobson that I will handle the details of the sale for him. It’s part of my job, and I have a reputation to consider. I can’t say I hold much respect for the man after his actions today. No one should treat a woman and her children with such callousness. Unfortunately, he is my client.”
“I’m sorry you have been placed in an awkward situation.”
“Danki. Have you thought about where you will go?”
She planted her hands on her hips. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying here. This farm belongs to me.”
“If you prove to be the rightful trustee, what are your plans for this place? Will you farm it? Rent it? Sell all or part of it?”
“I will sell most of the land but I plan to keep a few acres and the house to live in.” Her uncle’s death wasn’t unexpected—he had been in poor health—but it still came as a shock. Maybe if she could make Paul understand how much was at stake, he would stop Ralph from selling the farm. It was worth a try.
“Crigler-Najjar syndrome is a fatal disease. I won’t bore you with the medical details but a liver transplant is my daughter’s only hope of living beyond her teens. A few months ago, I learned that I am an excellent match to donate part of my liver to Sophie. It’s called a living donor transplant but it is a very expensive surgery. With all the testing and follow-up care, it will easily reach five hundred thousand dollars.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Half a million?”
“Ja. Staggering, isn’t it?”
“Won’t the Amish Hospital Aid pay for most of that?”
Amish Hospital Aid was a form of insurance that depended on contributions from a pool of members each month. She was a long-time member and paid a modest monthly amount since before Toby had been born. Not all Amish approved of the method, preferring to rely on the alms contributed by their church members in times of need.
“Amish Hospital Aid has helped pay for Sophie’s hospitalizations in the past. I paid the first twenty percent of each bill and they paid the rest. However, a liver transplant is not an emergency hospitalization. They won’t pay for disability-related costs like her doctor’s visits or her special lights. I have already sold my house and my mother sold her home to help pay for Sophie’s future medical care. All I have to live on is the rent from my husband’s harness-making business back in Strasburg, Pennsylvania, and the charity of church members. Eli’s offer to come and live with him was a Godsend.”
She