It had been weeks since one of his spells. He’d started to believe they were gone for good, that perhaps God had forgiven him, but Joe’s granddaughter had proved him wrong.
His dog trotted to his side and nosed his hand. He managed a little smile. “I’m okay, Duncan.”
The dog whined. He seemed to know when his master was troubled. Carl focused on the silky feel of the dog’s thick fur between his fingers. It helped ground him in the here and now and push back the shadows of the past.
That past lay like a beast inside him. The terror lurked, ready to spring out and drag him into the nightmares he suffered through nearly every night. He shouldn’t be alive. He should have accepted death with peace in his heart, secure in the knowledge of God’s love and eternal salvation. He hadn’t.
He had his life, for what it was worth, but no peace.
Joe came into sight driving his wagon and team of draft horses. The wagon bed held two dozen bales of straw. He pulled the big dappled gray horses to a stop beside Carl. “Did you get that ewe penned and doctored?”
“I did.”
“Goot. We’ll get this hay stored in the big shed so we can have it handy to spread in the lambing pens when we need it. We can unload it as soon as I’ve had a bite to eat and a cup of coffee. Did you leave me any?”
“I haven’t touched the pot. You have a visitor inside.”
A small elderly man with a long gray beard and a dour expression, Joe climbed down from the wagon slowly. To Carl’s eyes, he had grown frailer this past year. A frown creased his brow beneath the brim of the flat-topped straw hat he wore. He didn’t like visitors. “Who is it?”
“She claims she’s your granddaughter Lizzie Barkman.”
All the color drained from Joe’s face. He staggered backward until he bumped into the wheel of his wagon. “One of my daughter’s girls? What does she want?”
Carl took a quick step toward Joe and grasped his elbow to steady him. “She didn’t say. Are you okay?”
Joe shook off Carl’s hand. “I’m fine. Put the horses away.”
“Sure.” Carl was used to Joe’s brusque manners.
Joe nodded his thanks and began walking toward the house with unsteady steps. Carl waited until he had gone inside before leading the team toward the corral at the side of the barn. He’d worked with Joe for nearly four years. The old man had never mentioned he had a daughter and granddaughters.
Carl glanced back at the house. Joe wasn’t the only one who kept secrets. Carl had his own.
Chapter Two
Lizzie had rehearsed a dozen different things to say when she first saw her grandfather, but his hired man’s abrupt appearance had rattled her already frayed nerves. When her grandfather actually walked through the door, everything she had planned to say left her head. She stood silently as he looked her up and down.
He had changed a great deal from what she remembered. She used to think he was tall, but he was only average height and stooped with age. His beard was longer and streaked with gray now. It used to be black.
Nervously, she gestured toward the sink. “I hope you don’t mind that I washed a few dishes. You have hot water right from the faucet. It isn’t allowed in our home. Our landlord says it’s worldly, but it makes doing the dishes a pleasure.”
“You look just like your grandmother.” His voice was exactly as she remembered.
She smiled. “Do I?”
“It’s no good thing. She had red hair like yours. She was an unhappy, nagging woman. Why have you come? Have you brought sad news?”
“Nee,” Lizzie said quickly. “My sisters are all well. We live in Indiana. Onkel Morris and all of us work on a dairy farm there.”
Joe moved to the kitchen table and took a seat. “Did your uncle send you to me? He agreed to raise the lot of you. He can’t change his mind now.”
She sat across from him. “Nee, Onkel does not know I have come to see you.”
“How did you get here?”
“I took the bus. I asked about you at the bus station in Hope Springs. An Amish woman waiting to board the bus told me how to find your farm. I walked from town.”
He propped his elbows on the table and pressed his hands together. She noticed the dirt under his fingernails and the calluses on his rough hands. “How is it that you have come without your uncle’s knowledge? Do you still reside with him or have you married?”
“None of us are married. Onkel Morris would have forbidden this meeting had he known of my plan.”
“I see.” He closed his eyes and rested his chin on his knuckles.
She didn’t know if he was praying or simply waiting for more of an explanation. She rushed ahead, anxious that he hear exactly why she had made the trip. “I had to come. You are the only family we have. We desperately need your help. Onkel Morris is forcing Clara to marry a terrible man. I fear for her if she goes through with it. I’m hoping—praying really—that you can find it in your heart to take her in. She is a good cook and she will keep your house spotless. Your house could use a woman’s touch. Clara is an excellent housekeeper and as sweet-tempered as anyone. You must let her come. I’m begging you.”
He was silent for so long that she wondered if he had fallen asleep the way old people sometimes did. Finally, he spoke. “My daughter chose to ignore my wishes in order to marry your father. She made it clear that he was more important than my feelings. I can only honor what I believe to be her wishes. I will not aid you in your disobedience to the man who has taken your father’s place. You have come a long way for no reason. Carl will take you back to the bus station.”
Lizzie couldn’t believe her concerns were being dismissed out of hand. “Daadi, I beg you to reconsider. I did not come here lightly. I truly believe Clara is being sentenced to a life of misery, or worse.”
Joe rose to his feet. “Do not let your girlish emotions blind you to the wisdom of your elders. It is vain and prideful to question your uncle’s choice for your sister.”
“It is our uncle who is blind if he thinks Clara will be happy with his choice. She won’t be. He is a cruel man.”
“If your uncle believes the match is a good thing, you must trust his judgment. There will be a bus going that way this afternoon. If you hurry, you can get a seat. Go home and beg his forgiveness for your foolishness. All will be well in the end, for it is as Gott wills.”
“Please, Daadi, you have to help Clara.”
He turned away and walked out the door, leaving Lizzie speechless as she stared after him.
Dejected, she slipped into her coat and glanced around the cluttered kitchen. If only he would realize how much better his life would be with Clara to care for him.
Was he right? Was her failure God’s will?
With a heavy heart, she carried her suitcase and the box with her quilt in it out to the front porch. Her grandfather was nowhere in sight, but his hired man was leading a small white pony hitched to a cart in her direction.
He was a big, burly man with wide shoulders and narrow hips. He wore a black cowboy hat, jeans and a flannel shirt under a stained and worn sheepskin jacket. His hair was light brown and long enough to touch his collar, but it was clean. His size and stealth had frightened the wits out of her in the house earlier. Out in the open, he didn’t appear as menacing, but he didn’t smile and didn’t meet her gaze.
He and her grandfather must get along famously with few words spoken and never a smile between