The Amish Cookie Club (The Amish Cookie Club Book 1) Read online

  “There!” she said to her reflection. “Ready to face whatever the day brings!”

  Despite her words, she felt apprehensive as she left the safety of her room and ventured downstairs to help her mother prepare breakfast before bicycling the four miles to the Riehls’ farm on the other side of town.

  * * *

  When she arrived at the Riehls’ farm, Myrna leaned her bicycle against the side of the porch before she made her way into the house. The quiet kitchen spoke of still-sleeping residents. Or, at least, children. Myrna suspected that Ezekiel was already in the barn, milking the cows and feeding the mules.

  Better for her, she thought. She would clean up their supper dishes from the previous night and get started familiarizing herself with the house. Ezekiel’s sister-in-law clearly hadn’t kept things in order, and Myrna knew she had a full day of organizing before her.

  It felt strange to be standing in someone else’s kitchen. For a long moment, she stood in the center of the room and merely looked around. The calendar hung from the wall near the clock, the month still on November from the previous year. Had no one honestly thought to keep it current?

  In the far-right corner of the kitchen was a large open doorway that led to a sunroom. A dark blue sofa rested against the wall underneath the windows. Next to it was a plant stand that held a giant fern, most of the stems devoid of greenery. Without doubt, it needed to be repotted and watered. On the end table next to the sofa was a pile of magazines. Even from the center of the room Myrna could tell that they were a mixture of Family Life and Our Daily Bread devotionals.

  The windows were dirty, and there was a cobweb in the far corner of the kitchen over the cabinets. Myrna sighed. Definitely not the cleanest of homes, but certainly not the dirtiest, either.

  She forced her feet to move, willing them to head to the mudroom in search of cleaning supplies. She needed to get started if she wanted to have the kitchen in shape by the end of the day. She’d worry about the other rooms tomorrow. One room at a time, she told herself, knowing that she didn’t have much time before she should start breakfast for the family. She felt a bit overwhelmed and planned on asking Ezekiel what it was exactly that his sister-in-law had done. But then she remembered her promise to her parents about minding her opinions, keeping them to herself rather than risking offending Ezekiel—especially on the first day. There was no sense dwelling on others’ poor housekeeping or complaining about the state of the house.

  Finding a faded blue bucket, Myrna carried it to the kitchen sink. What she needed was hot water and a little Murphy’s Oil to scrub the linoleum floor and invite the scent of cleanliness back into the house. When she was little, her mother had always claimed that a house wasn’t clean unless it smelled of hard work and Murphy’s Oil.

  “You made it here okay, then.”

  Startled by the voice behind her, Myrna dropped the bucket of water. Fortunately, it landed upright, but enough water splashed out the side that she’d have to wipe it up. “Oh help!”

  “Didn’t mean to startle you none.” He made a movement as if to help with cleaning up the spill.

  “Well, you did.” She waved off his help. “I got this. It’s just water.”

  “Hm.”

  As she opened up drawers looking for a kitchen towel to wipe up the spill, she was too aware that he was watching her. She wondered whether he was thinking that he had made a mistake. After all, not even fifteen minutes in the house and she had already made a mess.

  “Third drawer,” he said quietly.

  Sure enough, when she opened the third drawer, she saw a stack of poorly folded, mismatched dish towels. “Oh.”

  “Problem?”

  Myrna glanced over her shoulder. “Well, to be honest, ja, there is.”

  His curiosity must have gotten the best of him, for he stepped forward and peered into the drawer. After a quick assessment, he stared at her with a bewildered expression. “What’s wrong?”

  “What’s wrong?” she repeated. “Why! Just look.” She wagged her finger at the contents of the drawer. “They aren’t folded properly or even stacked in the right place. It just doesn’t make sense! Who keeps their dish towels in the third drawer in the kitchen?” She pointed to the drawers to the right of the sink. “That’s where they belong. And in the top drawer, so they are handy for drying.”

  Ezekiel raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

  “Why, of course! Everyone knows that towels go to the right of the sink! Unless, of course, you’re left-handed. But either way, they should always be in the top drawer. It’s just easier access and plain old common sense.”

  “Hm.”

  “Organization,” she said in a firm manner, “is the key to efficiency.”

  “I see.” He stepped back and gave her a thoughtful look. “Well then, I reckon you’ll want to move things around a bit.”

  Her eyes widened. Was he giving her permission to reorganize? “I’d like that very much,” she stated. “Trust me when I tell you it will make life much easier.”

  She thought she saw a hint of a smile on his lips.

  “Then, by all means,” he said, gesturing to the drawer, “go right ahead and organize anything you want.”

  Good, Myrna thought. That was one thing she loved doing and knew how to do well. Perhaps working for Ezekiel wouldn’t be so bad, especially if he kept out of her way while she did it.

  He took a moment, standing in front of the sink and staring out the window. Myrna couldn’t help but wonder what had caught his eye. Perhaps nothing, she thought, or perhaps it was the memory of his wife. Surely having a strange woman in the house must be as awkward for him as it was for her.

  Sighing, Ezekiel leaned over and turned on the faucet. As he ran the water, Myrna couldn’t help but notice how he methodically soaped up his hands, taking the time to scrub under his nails until they were free of dirt. Large hands. Hands that belonged to a farmer, that was for certain.

  “The kinner will be awake soon,” he said after turning off the tap. His back was still facing her, but she saw him reach for a towel to dry his hands. “After you feed them, David and Daniel will need to go to schule. It’s down the lane and up the first dirt road. Henry and the boppli will stay home with you.”

  Myrna frowned. “I’m surprised Daniel’s in schule. He’s awfully young, ain’t so?”

  She saw his broad shoulders lift and fall, as if he had sighed. And then he turned around to face her.

  For a long moment, he leaned against the counter, his hands still holding the towel. For the first time she noticed dark circles under his eyes that spoke of sleepless nights. Myrna wondered what kept him awake at night. The baby? Or memories of his deceased wife? Maybe a mixture of both.

  “He started a few months early, ja. Under the circumstances, it was better for Daniel to be at schule than at home without his maem.” His eyes narrowed at the mention of his late wife.

  A moment of silence blanketed the room. Myrna looked everywhere but at Ezekiel. She felt uncomfortable, uncertain of how to continue with the conversation. Whatever she might say would most likely be wrong. Better to be safe than sorry and remain silent.

  Finally, Ezekiel cleared his throat and glanced at the clock. “Ja, vell, best be getting back to my chores.” He started to turn toward the door but paused. “Reckon you know what to do with the kinner. Breakfast, school, and then the house chores, ja?” His eyes met hers, and she had the awkward suspicion that he was studying her. Again. “David can help if you have trouble finding things.”

  Setting the towel back on the counter, he headed for the door. His heavy footsteps filled the emptiness of the room until he stopped. Myrna stared at his back, wondering why he had hesitated.

  Without turning around, he mumbled, “Reckon I should thank you, Myrna.”

  For some reason, the sound of gratitude in his voice startled her. No employer had ever thanked her before, not even her father. She frowned. No, especially not her father. “For what?”


  “For agreeing to help my broken family. Mayhaps you can help them heal. I know I sure can’t.”

  And with that, he stepped outside and shut the door behind him, leaving Myrna in the solitude of the kitchen with her own thoughts. What on earth had he meant by that?

  * * *

  “Are you our new maem?”

  Abruptly, Myrna stood up from peering into the oven and spun around. The sweet voice that had spoken startled her. Nearly forty minutes had passed since Ezekiel had left the kitchen, and during that time, she had been deep in thought as she worked.

  Each cabinet had been opened and assessed, mental notes made as to what needed to be placed where. She couldn’t believe that any Amish woman had lived in this house. It was far too disorganized and untidy, and, frankly, some parts were so dirty, she was sure they had never been cleaned. While she wouldn’t fault Ezekiel’s deceased wife, she certainly did fault his sister-in-law. What on earth had she been doing for the past few months besides tending the children?

  The last thing on Myrna’s mind, however, was the children themselves. So, when she heard those five words, she wasn’t prepared.

  Myrna stared at the small army of tiny faces that were watching her, and took a quick minute to digest the child’s words. New maem?

  “Heavens to Betsy!” she managed to say with a forced laugh. They were, after all, just children. Three little boys, each one with a cherubic expression and wide eyes, stared back at her with more than just curiosity. There was hope in their eyes. Something about that irritated her. Was it possible that, despite his admission of having no interest in remarrying, Ezekiel had told the children otherwise?

  “Are you, then?” the boy asked, an expectant expression on his face.

  “Nee, I most certainly am not.” Myrna put her hands on her hips and frowned at them. “Whatever gave you that idea?”

  “Aendi said Daed was going to get us a new maem,” the oldest boy said, his voice filled with disappointment. “We thought it might be you.”

  “She didn’t seem happy about it,” the other boy said.

  “But you seem nice enough!”

  Surely, they meant Ezekiel’s sister-in-law. Why on earth would their aunt say such a thing? And to children? If Myrna had been unimpressed before by the sister-in-law’s lack of attention to the house, she was most certainly even less impressed by her poor judgment.

  “Well, I hate to dash your hopes so early in the morning,” Myrna replied, softening her tone. “But I’m only here to look after you for a spell. Until someone more permanent can be found.”

  The smallest boy’s face began to scrunch up, and Myrna suspected that tears were imminent. Crying? She couldn’t handle crying.

  Quickly, she gestured toward the table, hoping that a distraction might make him feel better. “Perhaps some pancakes will change the direction of the day, ja?”

  It worked. Immediately, the three boys rushed to the table, all of them climbing onto the long bench on the side farthest from the sink. Myrna watched them, amused at how the oldest child—David, she presumed—helped the smallest one. Things would go smoothly, she thought, if there was teamwork among the little ones.

  She hurried back to the stove and began to lift the pancakes from the pan onto the waiting plate. A thin curl of steam rose from the short stack. Nice and hot, just the way breakfast should be served.

  Placing the plate on the table next to the butter and syrup, Myrna stood back, giving the boys space to spear their pancakes and drop them on their plates. The smallest boy looked up at her, blinking his eyes as if waiting for something.

  “Henry needs you to cut it,” David whispered. “Aendi always cut his food.”

  “Oh. Ja, of course.” She moved forward and grabbed his utensils, quickly cutting the pancake into ten bite-sized pieces. “How’s that?”

  Henry reached for the knife.

  “He can’t have a knife,” David said, reaching out to push away his brother’s hands. “He’s only three and too little for knives.”

  Myrna frowned, reaching to snatch the knife from Henry’s reach. She hadn’t thought he was that old, but, either way, David was right. “I know that.” She should’ve known better than to set it on the table in the first place. Her eyes scanned the kitchen, wondering just how many things that she took for granted represented danger for a three-year-old.

  For a few long minutes, the boys quietly ate their food, their eyes wide and their mouths full. Myrna stood by the counter, chewing on the side of her thumbnail as she watched them. Silently she thanked God that two of them would be in school for most of the day. And the three-year old would most likely nap most of the afternoon and then play with his older brothers when they returned from the schoolhouse.

  Then she remembered their sister.

  “Oh help!”

  Daniel giggled at her expression.

  “What about your schwester?”

  “You mean little Katie?” David asked.

  “If that’s her name, then that’s who I mean,” Myrna said sharply. “Is she still sleeping, then?”

  David shrugged.

  Myrna exhaled, wishing that David were a little more helpful. She hurried over to the bedroom door near the staircase and carefully opened it. Peeking inside, she let her eyes adjust to the dim light and looked in the direction of the crib.

  Sure enough, two little eyes stared back at her.

  “Ach!” Myrna hurried over to the crib and lifted the baby into her arms. “How long have you been awake, then?” She studied the baby, who smiled up at her. “Quiet one, aren’t you? Not a peep from you for the past hour.”

  Carrying the baby over to the makeshift changing table on the low dresser, Myrna avoided looking at the unmade bed. Ezekiel had slept there and, for some reason, just being near it felt far too intimate for her. Perhaps she could convince Ezekiel that it was time for Katie to move to an upstairs bedroom. She was, after all, almost a year old.

  Once the baby was clean and dressed for the day, she hurried back into the kitchen, with little Katie resting on her hip.

  To her surprise, the kitchen was empty.

  “Boys?” she called out.

  But no one answered.

  The plates were on the table and the chairs had been pushed back. Myrna took a deep breath and shut her eyes, counting to ten. This wouldn’t do at all.

  “Where did your bruders go, eh?” She looked at the cherubic face, which smiled back, and felt the baby’s hand tug at her apron strings. “Now, now, let’s find you something else to play with, shall we?”

  Myrna looked around and realized there were no toys. No stuffed animals. No chunky books. No baby dolls. She shifted little Katie to her other hip, then wandered to the sitting area on the far side of the kitchen, her eyes scanning the nooks and crannies of the room.

  “What on earth . . . ?”

  She stared down at the baby and sighed. “Well, either I’m missing the toys, or you just don’t have any. We’ll remedy that soon enough, ja?”

  The clock hanging over the sofa chimed eight times. Myrna took a deep breath. She needed to find those boys, get them off to school—they were late already!—and begin her day. Not even one hour into her new job and she already felt overwhelmed.

  Grant me patience, Lord, she prayed once again, fully suspecting that it wouldn’t be the last time this day that she asked Him for some extra help.

  * * *

  By the time the clock had struck five times, Myrna had already set the table for Ezekiel and the three boys. Little Katie had eaten earlier and was seated on a blanket, playing with some wooden spoons and a plastic container Myrna had found in the pantry. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

  The door to the kitchen opened, and Ezekiel entered. Quietly, Myrna watched him as he kicked off his boots and hung up his hat. His eyes never left the floor, not once taking in the room to see how neat and tidy everything was.

  And clean.

  “Daed!”

  Da
vid was the first of the children to notice Ezekiel. The boy ran over to his father and then jumped up and down at his side. “Guess what Myrna made?”

  At the mention of her name, Ezekiel looked up. He appeared almost surprised to see her standing there. When his eyes met hers, he paused, and for the briefest of moments, Myrna was sure she saw a hint of relief cross his face.

  “I’m sure I couldn’t guess, David,” he responded in a quiet tone. “Why not tell me, then?”

  “Sugar cookies!”

  Clearly, he couldn’t help it. His lips turned into a smile, even if his eyes still appeared tired and sorrowful. “Is that so?”

  “I love sugar cookies!” Daniel wrapped his arms around his stomach as if hugging himself.

  Henry imitated his older brother. “Me, too.”

  David gave him a stern look. “You don’t even know what a sugar cookie is!”

  “Do so!”

  “Do not! Aendi never baked us anything!”

  “Boys!” Myrna scowled and gestured toward the table. “It’s supper time, and I’m fairly confident that your daed doesn’t want to hear bickering at the table. So you best wash your hands and get seated for the prayer.”

  The comment about their aunt stuck with Myrna, but she knew better than to raise any questions now. Not in front of the children, and certainly not on her first day, especially since she wanted nothing more than to leave. However, Myrna knew that something wasn’t right about an aunt who didn’t make children cookies, especially given their situation. But instead of dwelling on it, Myrna made her way to the door, where she had her basket and shawl waiting.

  “See you tomorrow, then,” she said as she swung the shawl around her shoulders.

  Ezekiel hesitated, seeming torn between sitting at the table with his children and walking her outside. The boys looked at him, pleading in their eyes. Obviously, they were hungry. But Ezekiel must have been raised in a very strict family, Myrna thought, where women were always seen to the door.

  “Let me walk you out,” he said at last. “You boys will have to wait.”