Her Secret Amish Child Page 11

  Lizbeth sat. A glance at the big round wall clock in front of her told her she was more than ten minutes late for her interview.

  Benuel had thrown a fit when he’d discovered she was leaving him. It had taken far too long to calm him down and redirect his attention to a red bird in the back garden. With the promise of a cupcake if he behaved, she’d rushed out the door and down the street. Being late didn’t paint a very good picture of her ability to be punctual.

  “Lizbeth, come join me in the back for a cup of tea.” Lila motioned to her from behind the counter.

  Lizbeth nodded at Lila’s youngest daughter, who was a year or so younger than herself. She made her way through the curtained door to a square table and chairs tucked at the back of the large kitchen.

  “I’m sorry I’m so late. I had a—”

  Lila poured two cups of strong tea and encouraged Lizbeth to join her at the table. “Not to worry. Komm, join me for a cup of tea and eat yourself full of doughnut holes.” Lila laughed as she held up a plate of the sugary treats. “I felt too ambitious this morning and thought the whole town of Pinecraft was as hungry for doughnuts as me.”

  “Danki,” Lizbeth said, taking a sugary doughnut hole and placing it on the small plate handed to her.

  After a long pull of her steaming tea, Lila grinned. “You’ve come about the opening?”

  The strong black tea was warm and refreshing against Lizbeth’s dry throat. “Ya. I saw the sign and spoke to your soh about an interview.”

  “Gut, gut. I can always use a strong back to lift flour sacks and such. My own back gave out on me years ago.” Lila studied her. “You’re certain-sure you can lift fifty pounds, Lizbeth? You’re awfully scrawny.”

  Lizbeth placed her teacup on the old table and sighed. “I thought the sign said you needed a day-shift worker, someone to ice cakes and make doughnuts.”

  “Ya, I did, but that job was snatched up by Rosy Hess yesterday morning. Luke should have told you.” Lila gave an apologetic half smile as she patted white powder off her sizable chest. “But I still have that night shift position open if you’re interested,” she said and ate another doughnut hole.

  Minutes later, disappointment weighed Lizbeth down as she walked out of the shop and down the street. She couldn’t take the job Lila offered. The hours were wrong, and the job required someone who knew the ins and outs of a busy kitchen. She baked a good cake and her cookies were always a hit, but she knew nothing about making huge batches of bread and rolls.

  Catching the glint of a sign in the window of Yoder’s Pizza, she stepped down into the street and crossed to the other side, hope rising in her. She knew good day jobs were hard to find in Pinecraft, especially during the long summer months when things were slow and tourists few. Most owners used their kinner or familye to fill in when staff was needed, but there had to be something she could do to earn her way.

  What her daed had said was true. She wasn’t prepared for working, but she had no choice. She had to support her family.

  Her nerves roiling her stomach into knots, she managed to order a slice of pizza and force down the cheesy triangle, nibble by nibble, as she worked up the nerve to inquire about the job opening.

  Laughter coming from the back of the tiny restaurant drew Lizbeth’s interest. Gracie and two of her young children sat on a bench, her youngest son’s gaze glued to Fredrik’s face as he punctuated his tale of Daniel and the lion’s den with roars and gyrations.

  The story was one of Benuel’s favorites. Her daed told it to him often. The boy would roar to his heart’s content as he listened, just like Gracie’s son, Isaiah, was doing now.

  A tear escaped the corner of her eye. It was her fault Benuel didn’t have Fredrik to tell him tales from the Bible. Everything was her fault. A burst of jealousy clawed at her gut. Gracie had done nothing wrong, didn’t deserved the harsh feelings Lizbeth had against her.

  The woman was enjoying her time with an eligible bachelor, like any woman who needed a respectable husband to help raise her children would do. Lizbeth had no right to care who Fredrik ate with, whose child he told Bible stories to. She’d given up that right long ago.

  She threw down her napkin and walked to the front of the store, determination in every step. If her fear of commitment kept Benuel without a father, the least she could do was find a job and provide for her boy all that she could. Even if it meant making pizzas all day alongside teenagers. She wanted to be a gut mamm, be someone Benuel would grow to be proud of, and she would. But what if no one would hire her? What would she do then?

  * * *

  Fredrik walked up behind Lizbeth and watched Ralf Yoder’s expression soften as he spoke to her from behind the counter. “Lizbeth, if I had known you were looking for work, I would have saved that shift for you.” He grinned. “I might have something later in the week, though, when the young scholars go back to school. Check back with me if you’re still looking for hours.”

  She nibbled at her bottom lip as she turned to leave and bumped into Fredrik’s arm. “Ach, I’m sorry,” she said and then saw who it was. She slipped him a guarded look.

  “Hello, Lizbeth.” He tipped his head in greeting, taking in her blanched face. The woman had to need a job pretty badly if she was willing to work at a busy pizza café.

  Her expression softened. “Hi, Fredrik,” she murmured in greeting and walked away, through the door and out into the afternoon heat.

  “Wait,” he called out, rushing down the sidewalk to catch up with her. “You’re looking for work?”

  She nodded. “We must all work if we are to eat.”

  Fredrik took her elbow and moved her to the side of the sidewalk. “I would have thought your husband’s family would have—”

  Sadness clouded her features. “Ya, sure. One would think that, but life isn’t always black-and-white.” She hurried down the sidewalk, her long dress swinging with her quick steps as she hurried away.

  “Wait! Mose Fischer is looking for a bookkeeper, if you’re interested in the job.”

  She stopped. Turned back toward him. “Are you sure?”

  “Ya, as sure as my name is Fredrik. He told me he was going to start looking for someone today.” He offered her a grin.

  A smile of relief spread across her face. “Tell him I will be in early tomorrow morning if you would please.” She turned on her heel and strolled away, her back a bit straighter than it had been.

  Fredrik watched the woman walk the length of the block and then disappear into a crowd of tourists. He wondered about what she had said about her husband’s family. Had they shut her out when Jonah died? Could that be what was making her so sad at times?

  He went back into the pizza café and sat down beside Gracie and her children. He surveyed the woman’s happy countenance, her children’s carefree manner.

  “I thought you’d run out on us.” Gracie’s eyebrows waggled in good humor.

  “Nee, never that. I had a good deed to do, is all. Now I’ve got to get back to work before Mose puts out the alarm that I’m missing.”

  “Sure, you go,” Gracie said, her eyes smiling across at him good-naturedly. “The kinner and I hope you’ll come by for a meal.”

  “Maybe soon,” Fredrik said, and paused, taking a long sip of water from his frosty glass. He would be disappointing the widow, but he had made up his mind. She wasn’t the one for him, no matter how friendly and kind she was. He wanted to find her attractive, someone he couldn’t do without, but the sight of Lizbeth fighting so hard for employment dispelled all his doubts, brought clarity to his mind. She was the one for him and somehow he had to convince her or die of a broken heart.

  Gracie gathered her kinner around her like a mother hen and made her way out of the restaurant, her smile gone. Was he so transparent? Did she realize he wouldn’t be coming around anymore? Fredrik ra
n his hands through his hair and then placed his hat back on his head. As he watched her march along, she turned to wave goodbye, her eyes squinting in the noonday sun. “Gott bless you, Fredrik Lapp,” she said and hurried her children across the street while the path was clear.

  * * *

  He sought out Mose the moment he was back at the furniture barn. “I think I’ve found you a bookkeeper.”

  Sandpapering down a leg for an Englischer order, Mose paused. “Gut, I had no interest in searching. Everyone I know is as bad with numbers as I am, yourself included.” He laughed when Fredrik frowned. “I remember hearing about you cheating at school and still getting the answer wrong when you were in the eighth grade.”

  “Ya, well. Lizbeth Mullet won’t get the answers wrong. When I cheated off her pages I always got good marks,” he said, teasing. He hung up his hat on the office nail and headed toward the back with Mose. “She said to tell you she’d be in to see you first thing in the morning.”

  “I thought your lunch was with Gracie,” Mose questioned, his brows raised.

  “It was, but Lizbeth happened to come in.”

  Mose nodded. “You think Lizbeth would mind doing some dusting while she’s here? This place looks like we had a sandstorm, not a downpour yesterday.” Writing his name in the dust on one of the newly finished dining room tables as he passed, he tutted in disgust and then opened the noisy building room.

  “I think Lizbeth’s prepared to do just about anything to keep from marrying again. She’s independent and determined.”

  Mose looked at the day’s schedule, grabbed a thick apron made of linen and wrapped it around his waist, his eyes watching Fredrik. “But you’re not giving up, are you? I’ve seen the way you look at her.”

  Fredrik selected an order to fill and grabbed a matching apron from the hook. “We’re just friends, but I wouldn’t be brokenhearted if it turned into something more,” he admitted with a playful smile.

  “You’ll have to be patient as you approach, Fredrik. I’ve seen the look in her eyes around men. That husband of hers did something bad, abused her in some way. She used to be strong spirited, ready to take on the world. Now she’s as skittish as a colt not yet broke in.”

  Fredrik nodded. “I’ve seen it, too. I’m willing to wait, as long as I see there is hope.”

  “You may have a long wait,” Mose told him, flipping on the noisy sander and going to work on forming a table leg.

  Busy working with his hands, Fredrik’s mind went back to the first day Lizbeth and Benuel came back to Pinecraft. Perhaps it wasn’t just the near wreck that had her hands shaking when she’d rolled him over in the street. Perhaps she’d already been scared by something or someone. Had her husband’s family made threats? She said they’d given her nothing to start out fresh. He’d heard rumors about some of the Old Order Amish in Ohio. Strict Ordnung rules didn’t begin to describe the rigid way they lived.

  Anger pushed at him, bunching up his muscles, making his heart hammer. She’d had a haunted look on her face that day. The boy had seemed on edge, too, and had jumped at every noise. If Gott gave him an opportunity, he’d ask her about her life in Ohio. It was time her heartache ended. He’d make sure no one abused her and Benuel again. If only she’d let him rescue her...

  Chapter Fourteen

  The next morning the furniture store door shut behind Lizbeth, the bell over the door announcing her arrival. The barn-shaped building with a connecting shop was large, but cool inside. It smelled of freshly cut wood and furniture polish.

  Lizbeth struggled to pull her shoulders back and forced a smile. She wanted to exude confidence, but all she felt was dread. What would she do if Mose Fischer didn’t find her qualifications acceptable and refused her work? She wrapped her arms around herself, saw an unfamiliar man approaching and adjusted herself. Her mouth went dry. She licked her lips, waiting.

  “Willkumm! My name’s Leroy King. How can I help you today?” The man strolling toward her was young and tall and unbelievably lean in black trousers, suspenders and a bright white shirt. His traditionally cut hair was ragged around his oversize ears. The tuft of straggly blond hair on his chin announced he was newly married.

  With a nod of her head, she acknowledged him and then glanced nervously around. She knew Fredrik worked somewhere in the big barn, doing exactly what she had no idea, but she was glad it wasn’t his job to greet customers. The last thing her already stretched nerves needed was a conversation with the man. “I have an appointment with Mose Fischer. At eleven.”

  “Hmm. He didn’t mention anything to me. Perhaps you could come back in...say an hour, and perhaps he’ll be in by then.”

  “He called and warned me he might be a bit late coming in, and asked me to wait for him in his office.”

  “Ya, sure. That sounds gut to me.” He turned on his heel, headed toward the side of the huge room and then unlocked a small office door and flipped on the overhead lights. Fluorescent bulbs flickered and then exploded into a brilliant glow.

  A cluttered old desk, computer chair on wheels and single straight-back wooden chair filled most of the room to overflowing. Several accounting books and a weathered box of crayons were scooped up by the salesman, allowing Lizbeth to sit down while she waited.

  “May I get you a bottle of water, or some refreshment?”

  “Nee,” she answered too quickly and swallowed hard. She would have loved a drink of something cool after walking seven blocks in the midday heat. “I’m fine.” She nodded, her throat so dry she almost choked on her own lie.

  She wasn’t fine. She was thirsty, nervous and more than a little afraid she was about to make a fool out of herself again. Who was she trying to kid? She was no bookkeeper. The closest thing she’d done to bookkeeping was help her mamm add up the proceeds from a quilt sale and divvy up the cash. She’d given the wrong amount of change back on her first try. But she needed the job and would do whatever it took to figure out the numbers with Gott’s help.

  * * *

  Working a half day after volunteering as morning cook for the local firehouse, Fredrik breezed through the open back door, his thoughts on the bride’s chest he’d designed the day before. Today he’d build the model, line it with cedar and stain it a dark mahogany before showing it to Mose for his approval. He’d need to add some kind of short legs to the case. He made his way to his workstation and then leafed through the latch fixture catalog. He may have to order something special for a wedding box like this. New brides were particular about what they brought into their new homes. They’d want the best. Hinges that would last a lifetime, like their marriages.

  He whistled as he worked, his mind at last at rest. He’d had a hard time getting Lizbeth Mullet off his mind the night before. He hadn’t missed the embarrassed look on her face when she’d hurried out of the pizza shop. She’d needed that job. She may not like him enough to marry him, but he felt more than a little interest in her. Lizbeth’s situation reminded him of his sister, Ada. She’d had a difficult marriage and then was widowed early on. It hadn’t been easy for her, either. He felt like he knew what the young widow was going through. He ambled into the showroom and saw one of their newest salesmen heading his way.

  “Hey, Levi. Did a woman come in this morning looking for Mose?”

  Leroy put down his dust cloth and glanced toward the front. “She did. I put her in his office to wait. I hope that’s certain-fine with you.”

  “Ya, sure it is. I’ll just go keep her company for a few minutes, until Mose can get here.” He grabbed two cold water bottles from the ice chest and meandered through the showroom, admiring Mose’s craftsmanship, as well as his own, as he made his way to the front of the store through a sea of fine furniture.

  Through the glass window at the front he could see Lizbeth seated in the straight-back wooden chair, her legs crossed primly at her ankle
s, her hands nervously twisting in her lap. He slowed. Sadness clouded her features, made her look older than her years. Perhaps lack of money was her issue and this bookkeeping job would take away some of her depression. He’d talk to Mose before the man could make his decision on who to hire. Putting in a good word for her was the least Fredrik could do for Lizbeth.

  When the door opened she looked up, hopeful. But then the color drained out of her face as she realized it was only him entering. Not the reaction he was hoping for, but the one he usually got.

  Lizbeth looked pretty, even though her complexion was pale. He watched her try to act natural, smile normally, but she failed miserably. At times he suspected there was something about him that set the woman’s teeth on edge, and he didn’t have a clue what it was. Perhaps she just didn’t like his hyperactive personality and easy laugh.

  She couldn’t still be holding on to her childhood frustration with him, could she? When they were younger, he’d kept his interest in her a secret as much as he could. And by the time she was old enough to step out with him, her bruder said she was interested in Jonah, who worked in the lumberyard, robbing Fredrik of all his hope. He still found her appealing, and would do whatever it took to convince her he was the one to marry when the time came.

  “Waiting to talk to Mose about the bookkeeping job?” he asked as he placed the drawings for the cedar chest on the center of the desk.

  She lifted her chin. “Ya. As I said yesterday. I have to work.”

  He stepped back toward the door. “You always were good with numbers in school. I won’t be surprised if he gives you the job.”

  She toyed with a wispy lock of her own hair and tucked it behind her ear. Her fingers went to the ribbons dangling from her kapp. “Danki.”

  He stopped in front of her chair. “I could talk to him for you, if you’d like.”

  Her face reddened. “Nee, please. I don’t need you to plead my case. I either get the job or I don’t.”