“I know your family must be pleased to have you take over the farm that has been in Zook hands for generations. It is gut to know it’ll continue in the family.”
“Ja.” He sounded as uncertain as he felt. The generations to come might be a huge problem. He reminded himself to be optimistic and focus on the here and now. Once he made the farm a success, his nephews and nieces would be eager to take it over.
His gaze locked with Esther’s. He hadn’t meant to let it happen, but he couldn’t look away. There was much more to her now than the little girl she’d been. He had a difficult time imagining her at the teacher’s desk instead of among the scholars, sending him and her brothers notes filled with plans for after school.
Esther the Pester was what they’d called her then, but he’d been eager to join in with the fun she proposed. He wondered if she were as avid to entertain her scholars. No wonder everyone praised her teaching.
Ezra said his name in a tone suggesting he’d been trying to get Nathaniel’s attention. Breaking free of his memories was easier than cutting the link between his eyes and Esther’s. He wasn’t sure he could have managed it if she hadn’t looked away.
Recalling what Ezra had asked, Nathaniel said, “I’ve got a lot to learn to be a proper farmer. Esther agreed to help me with the alpacas.”
“Don’t let her tell you Daniel and I tried roping hers,” Micah said with a laugh. “It was an innocent misunderstanding.”
“Misunderstanding? Yes,” Esther retorted. “Innocent? I don’t think so. Poor Pepe and Delfina were traumatized for weeks.”
“The same amount of time it took to get the reek of their spit off me.” Micah wrinkled his nose. “Watch out, Nathaniel. They’re docile most of the time but they have a secret weapon. Their spit can leave you gagging for days.”
Nathaniel grinned. “I’m glad you two learned that disgusting lesson instead of me.” He noticed Esther was smiling broadly. “I hope, Ezra, you don’t mind me asking you about a thousand questions about working the fields.”
“Of course not, though it’d be better to wait to ask until after the first of the year.” He reached for another piece of pie.
Nathaniel started to ask why, then saw the family’s abruptly bland faces. Ezra must be getting married. His mamm and brothers and Esther were keeping the secret until the wedding was announced. They must like his future bride and looked forward to her becoming a part of their family along with any kinder she and Ezra might have.
He kept his sigh silent. Assuming he ever found a woman who would consider marrying him, having a single kind of his own might be impossible. He’d been thirteen when he was diagnosed with leukemia. That had been after the last summer he’d spent in Paradise Springs with his grandparents. For the next year, he’d undergone treatments and fought to recover. Chemo and radiation had defeated the cancer, but he’d been warned the chemo that had saved his life made it unlikely he’d ever be a daed. He thought he’d accepted it as God’s will, but, seeing the quiet joy in Ezra Stoltzfus’s eyes was a painful reminder of what he would never have. He couldn’t imagine a woman agreeing to marry him once she knew the truth.
When the last of the pie was gone, the table cleared and thanks given once more, Nathaniel knew it was time to leave. Everyone had to be up before the sun in the morning.
As he stood, he asked as casually as he could, “Esther, will you walk to my buggy with me?”
Her brothers and mamm regarded him with as much astonishment as if he’d announced he wanted to discuss a trip to the moon. Did they think he was planning to court her? He couldn’t, not when he couldn’t give Esther kinder. She loved them. He’d seen that at the school.
“I’ve got a few questions about your scholars visiting the farm,” he hurried to add.
“All right.” Esther came to her feet with the grace she hadn’t had as a little girl. Walking around the table, she went to the door. She pulled on her black sneakers and bent to tie them.
The night, when they stepped outside, was cool, but crisp in the way fall nights were. The stars seemed closer than during the summer, and the moon was beginning to rise over the horizon. It was a brilliant orange. Huge, it took up most of the eastern sky.
Under his boots, the grass was slippery with dew. It wouldn’t be long before the dampness became frost. The seasons were gentler and slower here than in northern Indiana. He needed to become attuned to their pace again.
Esther’s steps were soft as she walked beside him while they made arrangements for the scholars’ trip. He smiled when she asked if it would be okay for the kinder to have their midday meal at the farm.
“That way, we can have time for desk work when we return,” she said.
“I’ll make sure I have drinks for the kinder, so they don’t have to bring those.”
“That’s kind of you, Nathaniel.” She offered him another warm smile. “I want to say danki again for helping me stop the fight this afternoon.”
“Do you have many of them?”
“Ja, and Jacob seems to be involved in each one.”
He frowned. “Is there something wrong with the boy that he can’t settle disagreements other than with his fists?” The wrong question to ask, he realized when she bristled.
“Nothing is wrong with him.” She took a steadying breath, then said more calmly, “Forgive me. You can’t know how it is. Jacob has had a harder time than most kids. He lives with his onkel, actually his daed’s onkel. The man is too old to be taking care of a kind, but apparently he’s the boy’s sole relative. At least Jacob has him. The poor boy has seen things no kind should see.”
“What do you mean?” He stopped beneath the great maple tree at the edge of the yard.
She explained how Jacob’s parents had been killed and the boy badly hurt, physically and emotionally. Nathaniel’s heart contracted with the thought of a kind suffering such grief.
“After the accident,” she said, “we checked everywhere for other family, even putting a letter in The Budget.”
He knew the newspaper aimed at and written by correspondents in plain communities was read throughout the world. “Nobody came forward?”
“Nobody.” Her voice fell to a whisper. “Maybe that’s why Jacob is angry. He believes everyone, including God, has abandoned him. He blames God for taking his mamm and daed right in front of his eyes. Why should he obey Jesus’s request that we turn the other cheek and forgive those who treat us badly when, in Jacob’s opinion, God has treated him worse than anyone on Earth could?”
“Anger at God eats at your soul. He has time to wait for your fury to run its course and still He forgives you.”
“That sounds like the voice of experience.”
“It is.” He hesitated, wondering if he should tell her about the chemo. It was too personal a subject to share, even with Esther.
She said nothing, clearly expecting him to continue. When he didn’t, she bid him good-night and started to turn away.
He put his hand on her arm as he’d done many times when they were kids. She looked at him, and the moonlight washed across her face. Who would have guessed a freckle-faced imp would mature into such a pretty woman? That odd sensation uncurled in his stomach again when she gazed at him, waiting for him to speak. Another change, because the Esther he’d known years ago wouldn’t have waited on anything before she plunged headlong into her next adventure.
“Danki for agreeing to teach me about alpacas.”
He watched her smile return and brighten her face. “I know how busy you are, but without your help I might have to sell the flock.”
“Herd,” she said with