“Finally.”
“Finally what?”
“Finally you’re paying attention and concerned. I mean, the guy practically lives at your house. Maybe you could say something to him.”
“I’m not sure that I could, or even that I should.”
Deborah began to fiddle with her kapp strings, something she only did when she was holding back.
“What else?”
“Well...one of the boys claimed they saw him smoking.”
“He doesn’t smell like smoke, and I should know... He’s eaten with us three times now.”
“There was also talk of his carrying a flask in the back pocket of those blue jeans and...you know...taking a sip now and again.”
Susannah flopped back down beside Deborah. “I don’t know if I’m more aggravated about the gossip—”
“Unless it’s true.”
“—or Micah’s behavior.”
That sat between them a few minutes until Susannah realized they needed to start back to help put out a snack for the children. It was nearly three in the afternoon and some of them would be going down for a nap soon.
They were halfway toward the main group when Deborah asked, “Are you going to talk to your dat?”
“Nein. He wouldn’t want to hear about it unless it was something I saw myself. He has no patience for gossip.” She turned abruptly so that Deborah nearly bumped into her. “If anyone else talks to you about Micah, about his behavior, you tell them to come to my dat directly. Dat will speak to him, but only if the report is a firsthand account.”
“Okay. I should have done that to begin with. I guess I was a bit stunned by it all.”
“Understandable, but now that we know about his reputation we need to take steps to protect our freinden.”
“What kind of steps?”
“Well, I can keep a closer eye on him when he’s at our farm. I can certainly watch for the smoking and drinking.”
“I doubt that he’s likely to do either of those things around your dat.”
“But there would be signs, and I just don’t...” She looked toward the picnic tables, where she should be helping. Instead, she tugged on Deborah’s arm and pulled her in the opposite direction. “It’s just that I don’t want him to be unfairly judged. He seems like a gut guy, just a bit lost.”
“Reminds me of my bruder when he was on his rumspringa.”
“Exactly.”
“Only Elias was seventeen at the time.”
“And Micah is twenty-five.”
A shout rose up from the baseball field, where none other than Micah had apparently hit a home run and was jogging around the bases to the cheers of all watching.
Susannah pinched the bridge of her nose and squeezed her eyes shut. After taking a deep breath and letting it slowly out, she tried to shake off the feeling of trepidation. It was a beautiful Sunday afternoon, and so far at least, Micah had done nothing against their Ordnung—at least nothing she’d witnessed.
“We’ll give him a fair chance but keep our eyes on him.”
“Sounds reasonable.” Deborah nodded so hard that her kapp strings bounced.
“And above all else, we’ll make sure that he doesn’t set his ball cap at any of the girls in our group.”
“Like Betty.”
“Or Caroline or any of the other girls we’ve grown up with. The ones who aren’t married... Well, some of them are too quick to fall in with a guy.”
“Their biological clocks are going ticktock.”
“Exactly.”
Deborah tucked her arm through Susannah’s. “The good part is that he’s not planning on staying, from what I’ve heard.”
“He said as much to me, as well. Hopefully he can serve his time at his daddi’s and then go home to break hearts.”
“Gut idea. We don’t need any of that sort of drama around here.”
Which echoed what Susannah had been thinking. Personally, she’d experienced enough tragedy in the last few years with her cancer diagnosis, treatment and the breakup with Samuel. She knew firsthand what it was like to have your dreams ripped away, to have your heart shredded to the point that it felt raw. If she had anything to do with it, that would not be happening to her friends. Even if it meant she had to take matters into her own hands.
The following Thursday, Micah had finished shoeing a dappled gray mare under the watchful gaze of Thomas. Then the bishop had been called off to visit with one of the old-timers who had taken a turn for the worse, and before Micah knew it, he was being babysat by Susannah.
“I can take the man’s money and put it in the box.”
“What man?”
“The man who owns the mare.”
“Yes, but you don’t even know the man’s name. Mr. Hochstettler has been bringing his horses here since I was a kind. Dat likes for our customers to have personal service.”
“They’re Amish. Where else are they going to go to have their horses cared for?”
“Not the point, according to Dat. The point is that we treat every customer as if we value their business—which we do.”
“Fine. I didn’t remember the man’s name, but you could tell me that and leave.”
“Do you know the mare’s name?”
“Nein and what difference does that make? Are you going to tell me that the mare needs to feel valued, too?”
“Of course she needs to be valued. Have you ever owned a mare?”
“Never needed to. I had my parents’ buggy horses to use in Maine, and I have my grandparents’ here.”
“But one day you’ll be a man with your own family and your own horses.” Susannah had been grooming the mare, which definitely did not fall under the services of shoeing a horse in Micah’s opinion. She stopped what she was doing and pointed the brush at him. “When you have your own horses, you’ll understand why it’s important to appreciate them and treat them with respect.”
Micah rolled his eyes and then started laughing. He couldn’t help it.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Just say it.”
“You couldn’t even see over that horse if you weren’t standing on a crate, and yet you’re lecturing me.”
“What does being short have to do with anything?”
Micah raised his hands in surrender, but he continued to laugh. Most days Susannah aggravated him, especially when she reminded him of his nagging sisters. But then, other times, he caught a glint of mischievousness in her eyes, and he wondered what else was going on underneath her perfectly starched kapp.
“Say, I’m thinking about asking Caroline Byers to this weekend’s