A Husband For Mari. Emma Miller
into tears. “My stomach hurts,” he said, not sounding very convincing.
“Don’t even try that trick.” She’d heard his attempts at malingering before, only to see him devour two bowls of cereal once the school bus went by. “What you need is breakfast. Sara makes great pancakes.”
He looked up at her. “I don’t want pancakes. I want to go home.”
She sighed. “I know this is hard—it’s hard for me, too.” Though maybe not for the same reasons, she thought to herself. She hadn’t been prepared for how comfortable she would feel in Sara’s house. She leaned down and kissed his forehead. “I need you to try, Zach. Can you do that for me?”
His eyes narrowed. “For how long do I have to try?”
She thought for a moment. She hadn’t really given herself a timeline. Had she subconsciously done that on purpose? “Three months,” she said off the top of her head. “Promise me that you’ll do your best to help me make this work.”
He considered. “Three months is a long time. How about one month?”
Mari shook her head. “Not long enough. We have to get our feet back on the ground. I have to earn and save money to get us started again. And even though Sara has been nice enough to let us stay here, I still have to pay for our food and such.”
They were both quiet for a second, and then he said, “All right, Mom. Guess I can try.”
“Is that a promise?”
“Three months,” he said. “But if it doesn’t work, if I still hate it, then what?”
Mari walked to a window and stared at the barnyard below. James and his crew had just arrived and they were unloading tools from a wagon. Her gaze fell on James’s broad shoulders and lingered. She turned back to Zachary. “I don’t know what we’ll do then,” she answered him honestly. “If we can’t make it here in Seven Poplars, I don’t know what we’ll do.” She turned back to him. “But I’ll think of something. And that’s a promise.”
“Okay.”
“Good.” She smiled at him. “I knew I could count on you. Sara told me that there will be a van here at eight o’clock to pick me up, so we have to hurry. Up and into your clothes, favorite son.” She gave him a tickle under his chin.
“I’m your only son!” Giggling, Zachary rolled out of his bed and scrambled for his clothes.
A short time later, Mari was downstairs pouring orange juice at the kitchen table for Zachary. “I’m so glad my new boss is providing transportation to work. I was wondering what I’d do until I could buy a car.”
Sara passed the plate of pancakes to Hiram so he could have another helping. “It was Addy’s idea that Gideon hire a driver to pick up all his workers and drop them off at the end of the day. Good way to make sure everyone’s on time.”
“Addy’s Gideon’s wife,” Ellie explained.
Jerushah nodded. “Gideon’s wife,” she repeated.
Mari buttered a slice of rye toast. “I suppose I expected the Amish employees to walk or come to work by buggy.”
“Most of us do use horse and buggy to get around,” Sara said. “At least locally.”
“Or a push scooter,” Ellie put. “I usually ride mine to the school, unless the weather is bad.”
“We’d rather keep the horses and buggies off the main roads,” Sara explained. “Because of the traffic. But we like horse power, especially for visiting back and forth in our community and for worship services or grocery shopping. Farther than Dover and most people usually hire a driver. And it’s reasonable if more than one family shares the price.”
“And if the employees drove a horse to Gideon’s shop, the animals would have to stand outside all day,” Hiram added. “Not good.” It was a long speech for him, Mari realized, and as if he’d used up his allotment of words, he reddened, put his head down and concentrated on his third stack of pancakes.
The loud sounds of hammering and sawing drifted from the direction of the addition. “I hear they’re at it already,” Mari said.
“Ya.” Sara added sugar to her coffee. “James is a hard worker.”
Zachary slid his plate back. Mari noticed that he’d eaten part of a pancake and pushed his scrambled eggs around, but he hadn’t really eaten much. “Can I go watch the men working?” he asked.
“I think you’d better stay in the house out of their way. I’m sure they don’t want boys around. Dangerous tools and stuff,” Mari explained.
“Oh, let him,” Sara suggested gently. “Like as not, they could use some help. There’s always something another pair of hands can do, even if it’s just fetch and carry. How else is a boy supposed to learn how to do something, if not by watching and learning?”
“Please, Mom?” Zachary begged. “I won’t touch anything. Please? There’s nothing to do in here. I can’t watch a DVD or play a video game. What am I s’posed to do?”
Mari felt her cheeks grow warm. “I’m sorry, Sara,” she apologized, meeting her hostess’s gaze. “I explained to him about electricity, that you didn’t watch television or listen to the radio, but—”
“But it’s all new to him,” Ellie finished for her.
“So spending time with James’s crew might be the best place for him.” Sara added a pat of butter to the top of her pancake. “Unless he wants to help me and Jerushah wash clothes.” She raised her eyebrows at him.
The look on Zachary’s face made it clear he wasn’t interested in doing laundry. He turned to his mother. “Please, Mom?”
“If you’re certain you won’t be a nuisance,” she said, relenting. She met her son’s gaze. “Promise me that you’ll stay back out of the men’s way?”
“I will, Mom. Honest.” He got to his feet, picked up his plate and carried it to the sink.
“Put what you didn’t eat into that pail for the chickens.” Sara pointed to a stainless-steel container with a lid sitting just inside the utility room. “Nothing goes to waste here.”
“Chickens eat eggs?” Zachary asked. “Yuck. Cannibals.”
“Chickens eat most anything,” Hiram said. “Even boys if they sit still long enough.”
Zachary glanced at him, curious and suspicious at the same time. “Would they?”
“Ne, Zachary,” Sara assured him with a chuckle. “My chickens would not eat you. I think you are probably too tough to chew.”
Zachary laughed, realizing that Hiram had been teasing him, and made a dash for the back door.
“Get your heavy hooded sweatshirt,” Mari called after him, making a mental note that she needed to ask Sara where she could buy a decent used coat for him.
“I’m not cold.”
“Your hoodie,” Mari insisted, rising as she glanced at the clock on the wall. If she wanted to be outside waiting for the van when it came up the lane, she needed to get ready to go. “I don’t want you catching cold. Tomorrow or the next day, we’ll register you for school.”
“Not this week,” Zachary protested. “We just got here. I don’t want to start a new school in the middle of the week.” He stood in the doorway and scowled at her.
“It isn’t your decision,” Mari reminded him quietly. “I’m the mother.” She closed her eyes for a second, suddenly remembering with a sinking feeling that she’d never made arrangements to have his records forwarded. She’d intended to call, but then in all the commotion of packing to leave, it had slipped her mind. She wondered if there would be a