The Amish Cookie Club (The Amish Cookie Club Book 1) Page 8

  And, despite still working in the back of the store, assigned to cleaning and organizing the shelves in the inventory room, Myrna didn’t mind as much. Ever since leaving the Riehls’ farm on Monday, she had been unusually quiet. She needed the isolation to think, and what better place to do that than the stockroom, where no one ever bothered her? Something about Ezekiel Riehl had stuck with her. Perhaps it was the intense way he had stared at her, as if studying her every move. It wasn’t a look of interest, however. Instead, it was a look of apprehension, as if he didn’t quite know what to make of her.

  She wondered if he didn’t trust her. But, after mulling it over, she knew that couldn’t be true. Besides the fact that he didn’t know her well enough to not trust her, he was hiring her to look after his four young children. Surely, he must think her responsible enough for the job if he was entrusting their care to her.

  The children. A wave of panic flooded over her, and her heart began to race as one thought kept cycling through her mind: how on earth was she going to take care of four children?

  She’d always been one of the youngest children, in both her immediate and extended family. While her older brothers were married, they didn’t live nearby or have children of their own yet. She knew nothing about diapers or babies. Why had God thrown this challenge into her life? What was the unspoken plan that He had for her?

  “Myrna!”

  She looked up, wondering why her father was calling for her.

  “Ja, Daed?”

  He poked his head through the door. “I hate to ask you this, but . . .” Simon paused as if hesitant to continue. His eyes scanned the storeroom, and he took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. “Well, your bruders are not here, and I must run to the bank. I always make deposits on Thursdays, you know.”

  Wordlessly, she stared at him. Why was he telling her this?

  Simon shuffled his feet and gave a nervous glance at the clock. “Well, I”—another pause—“need you to watch the front of the store.”

  Under normal circumstances, she would have been ecstatic at the request. Today, however, she felt reluctant. For once, her mind was distracted, and the last thing she wanted was to interact with strangers who had silly questions or demands. Still, she knew better than to refuse her father, so she got to her feet, wiping her hands on her apron, and slowly plodded toward the doorway.

  Watching her with a curious expression on his face, her father raised an eyebrow. “You feeling okay there, Myrna?”

  “Ja, Daed.” She didn’t want to trouble him with her concerns. Even if she did, it wouldn’t change the situation at all. She’d still be pedaling her bicycle to the Riehls’ farm on Monday morning at six thirty.

  For the next fifteen minutes, Myrna stood behind the counter, leaning against it with her back to the door. No one was in the store, and even though it was unlike her, she hoped that no one would come in. Her father wouldn’t be long. He’d said he just needed to make a deposit, and how much time could that take?

  When she heard the bell jingle over the door, she sighed. She craned her head but didn’t see anyone. A customer, she thought, knowing her father would have called out upon entering.

  “Good after—” she started to say as the sound of footsteps got closer and rounded the corner. And that’s when she saw him. Ezekiel. “Oh!” It came out like a small gasp, a tiny puff of air. She felt her knees weaken as his dark eyes met hers. “It’s you.”

  She thought she saw the corner of his mouth twitch, and, for the briefest of seconds, his eyes narrowed.

  “Ja, it’s me,” he muttered in a low voice. As he stood on the other side of the counter, he placed his hands on the edge. “And I take it that’s you.”

  Was he teasing her? Myrna blinked, trying to determine whether he was being sarcastic or playful. Nothing about his expression indicated either. “May . . . may I help you with something, then?”

  “Hm.” That noise again, a noncommittal verbal cue that meant nothing and everything at the same time.

  His eyes studied her, never leaving her face, and Myrna was glad that the counter stood between them. She needed it for support.

  “I’ve come for some supplies, ja,” he said at last, reaching into his pocket for a folded piece of paper. “But before you help me with those, I have something I need to say.”

  She swallowed.

  He leveled his gaze at her. “It’s kind of you to step in and help me with my kinner. It’s an unfortunate situation for all of us.”

  Unfortunate situation. What a strange choice of words, she thought. She wondered what he meant by that. Was he referring to his sister-in-law leaving, she herself helping out, or the matter of his wife dying in the first place? Perhaps a bit of all three, she decided.

  “The kinner have been through a lot,” he continued, his voice softening. “Some of it preventable. But painful. Grief no parent wants their little ones to experience.”

  The torn expression on his face showed evidence of his enormous compassion toward others. Myrna felt her heart break for this man. Surely God had better plans for him, she thought, to bring joy back into his life.

  He cleared his throat and leveled his gaze at her. “I’d only ask one thing of you.”

  While her curiosity had been piqued about his comment regarding the situation being preventable, she focused on the latter part of his little speech. “What is that, Ezekiel?”

  “Two things, then. Call me Zeke, please.” He frowned and stared at the wall behind her. “Ezekiel sounds very old-fashioned. Reminds me of my grossdawdi.”

  She found herself smiling at his comment. “What’s the second thing?”

  His gaze shifted from the wall to meet Myrna’s eyes. He wore a serious expression, one that spoke of sadness and fear. “I ask that you give me plenty of notice when you are ready to leave.”

  Now it was Myrna’s turn to frown. What did he mean? “For the day?”

  “Nee,” he said, shaking his head. “For good.”

  “Oh.” For a moment, she panicked. Had Ezekiel overheard her telling her mother that she couldn’t work there? That she didn’t know what she was doing with children? Or had her demeanor told him that she wasn’t suited for this job?

  Clearing his throat, he averted his eyes and she waited for him to explain further. There was something despondent about the expression on his face, and Myrna suddenly had the impression that it wasn’t a hundred percent about his wife’s death. “I don’t mean to presume anything, Myrna,” he continued in a soft tone, “but I’m not like other men in this situation.”

  He paused, and Myrna couldn’t help but ask, “Oh? How’s that?”

  Slowly, he lifted his eyes and met her curious gaze. “I’m not looking to remarry.”

  Myrna caught her breath. Had he thought that was the reason she had taken the job?

  Before she could say anything, he held up his hand. “I’m not saying that’s your reason for agreeing to help,” he said, as if reading her mind, “but I know how these older women work. A man becomes a widower and they all think he must remarry right away. I’m not like that.”

  She swallowed. “You must have loved your fraa very much.”

  He hesitated and glanced away. “We’ve all been through a lot,” he said. “So, when the time comes to leave, I’ll thank you to just let me know. A few weeks, mayhaps even a month or so.”

  “I . . . I can promise that.”

  He gave a single nod. “It’ll help with the kinner if they have time to prepare for another change in their lives.”

  Myrna felt as if he had sucked out the air she breathed. How could she have been so selfish and self-centered? Her concerns had only been for herself, filled with worry and dread that Ezekiel would only want a replacement wife, to tend to his needs and look after the children.

  What she hadn’t considered was the children. First, they’d lost their mother, then their aunt had up and left. Now a stranger was coming to take care of them, but, she, too, would eventually leave.


  Myrna shut her eyes for a long moment, trying to calm her erratic breathing. She had committed to taking this job. She couldn’t back out now. But she also realized that she would be there longer than planned. Any sudden departure would hurt this man’s children in a way that Myrna hadn’t thought of before.

  Surely Ezekiel was a good father, caring more for their needs than his own.

  Swallowing, Myrna took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I’ll stay, Eze . . . Zeke. As long as I can,” she said.

  “Hm.”

  Oh, how she wondered what that meant! Perhaps one day she’d learn more about this man and be in a better position to read his little nuances, especially that short, deep, guttural sound that he made so often.

  “For the sake of the kinner,” she added.

  He dipped his head appreciatively. “Danke.”

  “Now,” she said, straightening her shoulders and smiling at him, “on to other business. What can I help you with today?”

  Chapter Seven

  On Friday afternoon, as the sugar cookies baked in the oven, the sweet scent wafted throughout the house. Outside the large picture window in the gathering room, the sky was gray and overcast. Early spring was often like that. Still too cold to want to work outside and too dark to want to be inside. But, with the light filtering in from the windows, it was just perfect for the women to spend time together, working on their blankets while the cookies finished baking.

  Wilma’s eyes widened. “So Myrna got the job?” She turned to look at Mary to see whether or not she had known this interesting tidbit of gossip before her. When Mary merely shrugged her shoulders, Wilma appeared satisfied that she was not the last to know. “When, exactly, were you going to tell us this, Verna? My word! We rode the whole way over here in your buggy and you said nothing about it! Was this a secret or something? Were we not supposed to know?”

  “Oh, Wilma!” Edna gave her a stern look of reproach. “Simmer down a bit and give Verna a chance to tell you!”

  “Hmph!”

  Verna fidgeted a bit, taking her time to answer. “It’s not a secret. Frankly, I forgot to mention it because she hasn’t started yet.”

  “Not yet?”

  “Nee. She starts this coming Monday.”

  “Heavens to Betsy, Verna!” Wilma exclaimed loudly. “Seeing that Mary and I know nothing, why not start by telling us how this came about so quickly? It was only Wednesday last week when Edna told you about it!”

  Verna paused for a moment as if thinking. “A week ago, Thursday, I spoke with Myrna and she agreed to meet with the widower.”

  “Hallelujah!”

  Mary winced when Wilma shouted this.

  Ignoring the ruckus, Verna continued. “I rode out to Edna’s on Friday to tell her, and together we went to see Susan Schwartz—”

  Wilma straightened. “Abram’s Susan?”

  “Ja, that’s her.”

  “Hmph!”

  Edna cast a curious glance in Wilma’s direction. “What’s that about?”

  “She took home my Tupperware from a gathering two years ago and hasn’t yet returned it.”

  Mary pressed her lips together. “Is that really important right now, Wilma?”

  “It is to me!” Wilma’s eyes widened. “It was brand-new and part of a set, given to me by one of my kinner!”

  “Now, Wilma,” Edna tried to soothe. “She’s an older woman, and that was most likely right after her husband passed away. I’m sure she just forgot all about it!”

  “I’ll get you a new one,” Mary sighed, “if you’ll only let Verna finish her story.”

  “That’s not the point.”

  Edna counted to ten, then turned toward Verna. “Never you mind her,” she said, encouraging Verna to continue. “Now, go on. I want to hear everything that happened after we left Susan’s.”

  A look of relief washed over Verna. “Well, Myrna and I went to meet this Ezekiel Riehl on Monday.”

  “Ezekiel Riehl?” Wilma frowned. “I still can’t say I’m familiar with him.”

  Mary shook her head. “Oh, I don’t think I’d want my dochder working for a man I didn’t know.” A concerned look covered her face. “Aren’t you afraid, Verna?”

  Edna waved her hand dismissively at Mary. “Don’t you be listening to her, Verna. Ezekiel’s in-laws are very reputable.”

  “But is he reputable?” Mary asked. “Oh help. Just the thought. Nee, surely I would never send my Bethany to work for a stranger.”

  Wilma gave a little snort. “Of course not, Mary, because you’d never send your Bethany anywhere to work.”

  Edna shot her a dark look. While none of the women ever talked about it, they all believed that Bethany’s shyness was due to her mother being so overprotective of her when she was a child. Even now, with Bethany nineteen years old, Mary still shielded her daughter from the rest of the world, refusing to let her work outside the home.

  “Well, Simon knows this Ezekiel,” Verna said directly to Wilma. “He says he’s a fine man. Righteous and pays his bills in cash, which is more than he can say for a lot of other Amish men.”

  Edna coughed into her hand, trying to hide her smile at Verna’s not-so-subtle comment. Everyone knew that Wilma’s husband often ran up his bills and rarely, if ever, paid in cash.

  Wilma scowled.

  “What’s he like, this Ezekiel fellow?” Mary asked.

  “Seems nice enough. A bit overwhelmed since his fraa died last year.” She lifted her needles again and began working on the blanket as she talked, the yarn moving slowly through her expert fingers. “The boppli is a sweet little thing, and all the kinner are clearly in need of a mother.”

  Both Mary and Edna clucked their tongues as they gave their heads a little shake.

  “Poor little one, not even a year old,” Verna said. “Just wants to be held.”

  That news worried Edna. When she’d told Verna about the opportunity, Edna had known that Myrna had very little experience with babies. Now, it dawned on her that she might have made a mistake. How on earth would Verna’s daughter handle housework, three boys, and a baby? But she knew better than to voice her concerns at this late date. Like any new mother, Myrna would have to learn quickly, despite the fact that the children were not her own.

  Clearing her throat, Wilma stopped sulking and leaned forward. “And is he handsome?”

  “Wilma!”

  She held her hands up as if fending off an attack. “I’m sure you want to know, Mary, just as much as I do!”

  Pursing her lips, Mary’s fingers flew even faster as she pulled another length of yarn from the skein. “And I’m sure that’s not true!”

  “Well then, almost as much.”

  “Ach!” Mary frowned and shook her head disapprovingly as she began unraveling the last row she’d crocheted. “Now look what you made me do!”

  Edna took a deep breath. Clearly the afternoon was not going to be very productive for making baby blankets. However, now that Wilma had asked the question, she couldn’t deny that she, too, was mildly curious. After all, it would be interesting to see how the relationship between Myrna and this Ezekiel progressed once she was working there every day.

  Verna, however, didn’t appear amused. “I can assure you that no sparks flew between Myrna and that man!”

  “That doesn’t answer the question,” Wilma retorted smugly.

  “What do his looks have to do with anything anyway?” From the way her shoulders had tensed, Verna clearly was not enjoying the direction the conversation was taking.

  Wilma leaned back in her chair and began rocking again. “Well, if our plan was to help these dochders of ours develop skills and soften their rough edges with the hopes they would finally find a suitor,” she said with false subtlety, “then it might expedite things if this Ezekiel was good-looking.” She raised an eyebrow. “Especially since you said he seems—how did you put it?—‘nice enough.’”

  Picking up a skein of yarn, Verna tossed it at h
er. “Oh, Wilma! You’re impossible!”

  Edna couldn’t help but laugh as Wilma caught the skein and promptly tucked it into her own knitting basket. “Now, now, Verna,” she said, trying to soothe the woman’s rattled nerves. “Stranger things have happened.”

  “Would be strange indeed if they don’t, I’d say,” Wilma added.

  Verna narrowed her eyes and gave her a dark look.

  “For now, however,” Edna began, hoping to defuse a potentially prickly situation between the two women, “let’s just rejoice that Myrna got the new job and pray that she does a right gut job at it.”

  “And likes it,” Mary added.

  “Amen.”

  * * *

  After supper, Edna sat in her rocking chair, still crocheting her baby blanket. Too much talk had taken place during their visit that day, and she was anxious to finish at least one blanket. In the past, she’d always delivered five or six for the MayFest event. This year, she’d committed to delivering ten, and she was behind schedule for making them.

  Elmer sat in his chair, his old leather-covered Bible on his lap. With the propane lantern hissing beside him, there was more than enough light to read the good book, but Elmer hadn’t flipped a page in over half an hour.

  Setting down her work, Edna peered over the rim of her glasses to watch him. “Something troubling you, Elmer?”

  “Hmm?” He started at the sound of her voice. “Oh, nee,” he mumbled. “Ja, mayhaps a little.”

  “Mayhaps you’d share your thoughts with me. Sometimes two heads are better than one when solving problems.”

  She watched as he put a sliver of paper in the Bible to mark his place. Then he laid his other hand on top of it. “It worries me, Edna, about our boys.”

  Nothing could have surprised her more. “The boys?” She almost laughed. Their three boys were men now, and each one was a blessing. There was no need to worry about any of them. Well, perhaps just the younger ones, Jonas and Jeremiah. Those two were rather rambunctious. But not one of them was ever in trouble, even though they were on their rumschpringe. “Whatever for?”