Byron just snorted and looked away.
Martin didn’t say a word. He didn’t want to hurt his brother’s feelings. Familye and marriage meant everything to the Amish people. Telling Hank that he would probably never marry and have a familye of his own wouldn’t be nice.
Not when Martin had failed to secure a wife for himself. He knew he should have wed long ago. It was the expectation of his people. He’d stepped out with every eligible Amish woman here in Riverton and those living in the nearby town of Westcliffe, too. A couple of years ago, he’d spent several months with his relatives in Indiana, seeking a suitable Amish wife. But he’d failed miserably. It seemed either the woman didn’t want him or he didn’t want her, with nothing in between.
He thought about Julia Rose again and the way the sunlight gleamed against her russet hair. Wouldn’t it be ironic if he finally found someone he wanted to marry…and she happened to be Englisch? Such a relationship would never work. Either Martin would be shunned for marrying outside his faith, or his wife would have to convert. He couldn’t see either scenario happening between him and Julia Rose. Besides, his faith was too important for him to give up.
His thoughts were ridiculous and he almost laughed out loud at his silly musings.
Byron completed the tally, made some notes on a ledger, then handed a long receipt to Martin.
“Give this to Julia. She’ll be expecting it,” Byron said.
With a quick nod, Martin folded the receipt and tucked it inside his black felt hat since he had no pockets.
“Ach, I don’t see why I can’t invite Julia to the singings just because she isn’t Amish. I’m gonna ask her to be my girl. You just wait and see,” Hank mumbled as they headed outside.
Martin was not going to comment. Not in a million years. Hank saw mostly the good in other people and didn’t always understand social mores. Although their mother was accepting of Hank’s Down syndrome, she had confided to Martin once that she feared she had been punished by Gott for doing something wrong. Martin had comforted her, believing it was just the way Hank was. The boy was so eager to please and rarely showed anger or malice. He brought so much joy into their lives that Martin thought he was a blessing, not a punishment.
The buggy-wagon was parked off to the side where Byron Stott had constructed a hitching tether for his Amish clientele. Hank skipped along beside Martin, stopping to inspect an ant crawling across the pavement. Martin quickly loaded his purchases into the back of the wagon, waited for Hank to get inside the buggy, then took the lead lines into his hands and slapped them against the horse’s back. As he turned onto the street and headed toward Rose Soapworks, he let the rhythmic clop of the horse’s hooves settle his jangled nerves.
For some reason, Hank’s senseless chatter upset him today. It had never bothered him before. Martin usually had a quiet heart. But somehow, meeting Julia Rose had unsettled him more than he’d realized.
He’d recently purchased sixty-five acres of fine farmland just two miles outside of town. In the spring, he planned to build a barn and raise horses and a familye of his own. But just one problem: he had no wife. No one to build a house for. No one to love and dote on the way he longed to do. No reason to work so hard for the land he’d just acquired. And no one to love him in return.
But he was determined to change all of that. And soon.
“Who is that?”
Julia turned and found her mother standing beside her in the spacious workroom at the front of the store.
It was lunchtime and Julia was getting ready to make sandwiches when she thought perhaps she should ask her new workmen if they were hungry. Gazing out the wide windows, she’d been watching Martin and Hank tap-tapping with hammers as they rebuilt the front porch. Or rather, Martin did most of the work while Hank hopped around in a circle, chased a stray dog and laughed out loud at absolutely nothing at all.
“They’re our new handymen. The man’s name is Martin Hostetler and that’s his younger brother Hank. Mr. Nelson recommended them to us,” Julia said.
Her mother frowned. At the age of forty-four, Sharon Rose was still fairly young but she had lupus and not much stamina. Though she never wore makeup and insisted on keeping her long, graying hair pinned in a tight bun at the back of her head, she had a pretty face with soft brown eyes. Dressed like Julia in blue jeans and tennis shoes, Sharon took a deep breath and let it go.
“But they’re Amish,” she said.
“Yes, that surprised me, as well. But Martin rescued me when the porch canopy fell on top of me and he says that he’s an experienced carpenter and plumber. Apparently, he’s helped build numerous structures.”
The scowl on Sharon’s face deepened. “I have no doubt that’s true. The Amish always help each other build their own homes and barns. But isn’t there someone else you can hire?”
Julia figured Mom had acquired knowledge about the Amish sometime during her life. But her mother’s doubt caused a lance of uncertainty to spear Julia’s heart. She was trying so hard to be a savvy businesswoman and to keep her promise to her father. Had she made a mistake by hiring Martin without knowing more about him? No, she didn’t think so.
“Not that I know of. Mr. Nelson told me he would send us one of the best carpenters in the area. He said the man would work hard and wouldn’t cheat us,” she said.
“That’s probably true. The Amish are brutally honest. At least they have that quality going for them.” Mom said the words with contempt, as though it was a failing rather than a virtue. That piqued Julia’s curiosity even more. Since Dallin had lied to her on several occasions, she was glad to hear that she could trust Martin.
“How do you seem to know so much about them?” Julia asked.
Mom shrugged and continued to gaze out the filthy windows, her eyes narrowed and filled with doubt. “I knew some Amish people once. They were some of the most cruel, judgmental people I ever met. I don’t want anything to do with them again.”
Julia flinched. Wow. That sounded a bit harsh.
“Surely that was an isolated case. There are good and bad people in all walks of life, right?”
Mom hesitated several moments. “I suppose so.”
“Besides, I’ve already hired Martin. I can’t fire him now without just cause,” Julia said.
Mom didn’t reply, which wasn’t odd. She was a quiet woman, keeping most of her thoughts to herself. Instead, Julia faced her mother and gave her a brief hug. “Don’t worry, Mom. It’s going to be fine.”
Mom nodded and showed a tremulous smile. After all, she was still mourning Dad. “Yes, of course, you’re right. I’m just being silly.”
“Ahem, excuse me.”
The two women whirled around and found Martin standing in the doorway, hat in hand.
“Oh, Martin. I want you to meet my mother, Sharon,” Julia said.
“Mrs. Rose.” He nodded courteously, his gaze never wavering.
Mom just looked at him with a sober expression. Julia didn’t understand. It wasn’t like her mother to be unkind or to disapprove of someone without knowing them first.
“Hank and I are gonna take a brief lunch break, if that’s all right,” Martin said.
“Yes, of course,” Julia said. “In fact, I was just coming to ask if you’d like a sandwich.”
“Ne, danke. We brought our own lunch.” Without