Her Amish Christmas Choice Page 5

  Opening the lid, he pulled out a sheet of gritty paper and a hand sander. While Julia swept up the dust, he sanded the porch just enough to get the paint off. The work delayed them by an hour but Martin didn’t say a word when it came time to climb up and check the roof.

  “Martin, I’m grateful for your dedication, but I’d like to suspend your next task for thirty minutes, please,” Julia said.

  Poised at the bottom of the ladder, his forehead furrowed in a quizzical frown. “What do you need me to do?”

  She smiled, resting a hand on the side of the ladder so near to his own. “I think it’s time we retire this rickety old thing. Would you mind going to the supply store and purchasing a good, solid ladder that will ensure our safety?”

  A low chuckle rumbled inside his chest and she stared, mesmerized by the sound.

  “Ja, I’d be happy to do that. I’ll go and hurry right back,” he said. “Come on, Hank.”

  He stepped away from the porch, tugging on Hank’s arm to get the boy to follow him.

  “But I want to stay here with Tigger.” The boy stuck out his chin, refusing to release his hold on the cat.

  “If it would make things easier for you, Hank can wait here with me. He can help me fix breakfast,” Julia offered. Surely Hank wouldn’t get into as much trouble if he remained behind, and Martin would be quicker with his errand, too.

  “We have already eaten at home. Our mamm fixed us a big breakfast before we left,” Martin said.

  “Then perhaps Hank can help me finish cleaning out the workroom. I’m going to paint the walls today,” she said.

  Martin hesitated, a doubtful expression on his face. “You’re certain you don’t mind watching him while I’m gone? He can be a bit of a handful at times.”

  She waved Martin on. “Of course. We’ll see you in a while.”

  Turning toward Hank, she indicated that the boy should follow her. “Come on, Hank. Let’s go upstairs and see if we can get a bowl of milk for Tigger.”

  “Ja, I’m sure he’s hungry,” Hank said.

  Smiling happily, the teenager followed her inside, carrying Tigger with him. Julia didn’t look back to see if Martin was still watching her, but she didn’t have to. She could feel his gaze resting on her like a leaden weight. And as she led Hank upstairs, she wasn’t sure why her chest felt all warm and buoyant inside.

  * * *

  Martin was gone a total of twenty minutes. Driving his horse and buggy, he pulled up in front of the supply store and whipped inside to peruse the selection of ladders. After choosing one that was sturdy but not too costly, he asked Byron Stott to put it on Julia’s account, then hurried back to Rose Soapworks.

  He didn’t disturb Julia to find out where Hank was. Hoping to get some work done, he set the new ladder against the side of the house and scrambled up to the rooftop with his tool belt strapped around his waist. Bracing himself so he wouldn’t fall, he sat against the chimney and analyzed the problem. Sure enough, there was a hole in the roof. Not too bad. The tar paper and shingles had blown off and the wood beneath was starting to rot away. Martin knew he could fix it with little effort. And while he was up here, he’d replace the missing shingles in other areas before they became a bigger problem, too. When he was through, Julia’s roof would be ready to face winter.

  Using the claw of his hammer, he pried up the decayed fragments and tossed them over the side of the house where they fell harmlessly to the ground below. Wouldn’t Julia be surprised when he finished the project by midday? Then he could build the shelves in her workroom.

  “Martin?”

  He jerked, startled from his task. Julia stood at the top of the ladder, holding on to the edge of the roof. Her eyes were wide and anxious, her face drawn with worry.

  Something was wrong.

  “You shouldn’t be up here. You might fall,” he said, wondering why he cared so much.

  She blinked. “I...I need to speak with you on an urgent matter. It’s about Hank. Could you come down, please?”

  Oh, no. What had Hank done now? Martin hated to think ill of his younger brother but feared the boy may have done something bad during his absence.

  “Ja. I’ll climb down now.”

  Her head and shoulders disappeared from view. Moving carefully, Martin scooted over to the eave so he could grasp the top of the ladder and place his booted feet on the rungs. Julia had already scampered to the bottom and was looking up at him expectantly. Climbing down, he stood next to her. One glance at her ashen face told him that she was quite upset. She wrung her hands in front of her, her movements increasing his own urgency.

  “What is it? What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “It’s Hank. He...he’s missing,” she said.

  Missing!

  A flush of dismay swept over Martin. This wasn’t the first time Hank had taken off by himself. Usually it was harmless and they found him easily. But once, the boy had gotten himself so lost that it took a day and night with the entire Gmay searching to find him. Still, Martin didn’t want to panic needlessly.

  Taking a deep, settling breath, he held out a calming hand. “First, tell me what happened.”

  “I...I don’t know,” Julia said. “We were upstairs in the kitchen with Mom and I was getting a bowl of milk for Tigger. One minute, Hank was there with us and the next minute, he was gone. We’ve searched everywhere. Upstairs, downstairs and even outside. We can’t find him.”

  “Don’t worry. We’ll find him. Can you show me where you last saw him?” he asked, determined not to give in to the alarm coursing through his body.

  “Come with me.” She hurried toward the front door and he followed as she swept through the spacious workroom, down a long hallway to the back of the building and then hurried up a flight of stairs to the apartment above.

  Once inside, Martin removed his hat, his heavy boots thudding against the bare wood floors. The landing upstairs opened into a small but comfortable living area. The spacious rugs covering the floors looked clean but threadbare. Sharon Rose stood before the kitchen sink, holding a dish towel as she dried a plate. Tigger sat on the floor nearby, his tail curled around him as he sat licking his paws in smooth, languid motions. An empty bowl rested beside the cat and Martin figured Tigger had already lapped up his milk.

  Martin nodded a respectful greeting to Sharon. “Hallo, Mrs. Rose.”

  “Hello, Martin.” The woman didn’t smile and spoke rather stiffly before turning to reach for another plate in the dish drain.

  He didn’t have time to consider why Mrs. Rose didn’t seem to like him. Maybe the woman was just nervous having strangers in her home.

  “May I take a quick look around?” he asked Julia.

  She released a pensive sigh. “Of course. Maybe you can find him.”

  With Julia tagging along behind, he called for his brother as he headed toward the back bedrooms. “Hank! It’s Martin. Where are you?”

  Embarrassed to be wandering through Julia’s home, he peered behind each door and under each bed. The furnishings were sparse and excruciatingly tidy. Except for an occasional clock or picture of a landscape hanging on the walls, the rooms were devoid of all the worldly clutter that invaded so many Englisch homes.

  As if sensing his thoughts, Julia gave a nervous cough. “We didn’t bring much with us from Kansas. We sold all but the necessities.”

  Martin nodded, hating to invade Julia and her mother’s privacy like this. Her comment gave him a bit of insight into what they’d been through. He imagined losing her father and moving to another state hadn’t been easy on them. In fact, he remembered when his own familye had moved here over ten years ago. He’d been fifteen years of age. Old enough to wonder if his father’s plan to start over in a strange place with little water for their crops and a short growing season might be a huge mistake. But it had worked out. His family was happy and doing well
. If only he could find a good Amish woman to marry and start a family of his own, his life would be perfect.

  “You see? There’s no sign of him. It’s like he just disappeared.” Standing in front of a narrow walk-in closet, Julia lifted her hands in dismay.

  “Maybe he is outside.”

  Julia shook her head. “I don’t think so. The stairs creak and I’m certain I would have heard him go down. He must still be up here but I don’t know where.”

  “May I look behind your clothes? Once, Hank hid beneath a quilt in an armoire. He could be hiding anywhere,” he said.

  “Yes. Whatever it takes.” Julia stepped aside.

  He slid the closet door open and reached in to push the clothes away. A panel of wood with a latch affixed at the top was set into the back wall... A small doorway.

  “That’s just the crawl space up to the attic. It’s quite dark in there. Surely he wouldn’t have gone inside?”

  Martin shrugged. “I’m not so sure. I’ve learned from past experience not to bypass any possibility.”

  “Oh. Well, I haven’t been in there yet, though I’ve been meaning to check it out once the electricity is turned back on. The door is still closed. Wouldn’t it be open if Hank had gone in?” Julia asked.

  “Who knows?” Martin said.

  Without asking permission, he tugged on the pull and the panel swung open. It had a knob on the inside, which would make it easy to close. As he hunkered down, Martin was conscious of Julia joining him in the bottom of the closet. She crouched beside him, so close that her shoulder brushed against his arm and her sweet, clean fragrance filled his nose.

  Peering inside, Martin blinked to adjust his eyes to the dim interior. Just beyond the doorway, a stair with a splintered handrail led up to the attic. Scrunching his shoulders so he could fit past the slim doorway, he climbed the few steps, conscious of Julia following. The railing wobbled, the stairway narrow and rickety.

  “Be careful on these stairs. They feel like they’re about to give way. It might be best if you wait here,” he told Julia.

  She nodded, staying where she was. He figured he’d have to rebuild the stairs when he had more time.

  The attic was cramped and he had to stoop over because of his great height. As the room opened into view, he saw the skeletal structure of bare rafters intersected with gray sheets of insulation. No plywood had been laid across the beams of lumber so that a person could walk safely across the room. The thin drywall that made up the floor also provided the false ceiling for the apartment below but it wouldn’t support much weight. A heavy layer of dust covered the entire room. Vague sunlight gleamed through a vent set high in the outside wall.

  “Hank! Ben je er?” he called loudly.

  A faint whimper came from across the expanse of the room. Glancing into the shadows, Martin saw his brother huddled in a far corner, his face contorted with fear. He must have walked across the rafters. Otherwise, he could have fallen through the floor to the apartment below.

  “Mar-tin,” the boy whispered, as though he didn’t dare speak any louder.

  “Hank!”

  “Oh, he’s here! I’m so glad,” Julia breathed the words with amazement.

  Relief flooded Martin. He’d found his brother. Hank was safe. “What are you doing in here? Could you not hear us calling you? Why have you not come out?”

  He spoke in Deitsch, trying to keep his voice calm in spite of the irritation coursing through his veins.

  An expression of guilt crossed the boy’s features. “I...I feared you might be angry with me for coming up here.”

  Martin took a deep inhale and let it go. His poor, sweet brother. Did he not understand how much he loved him? A spear of compassion pierced Martin’s heart. Right now, he just wanted Hank out of here and on safe ground.

  “Ne, I am not angry,” he spoke gently. “It was wrong for you to komm here and you must not do it again but no harm has been done. Now, take my hand.”

  Martin stepped out onto one of the strong rafters and lifted his arm, waiting for his brother to move toward him.

  Hank stood away from the wall, holding onto the beams of timber that stretched overhead. As the boy did so, he walked on the narrow beams crisscrossing the floor like a gymnast negotiating the balance beams. Unfortunately, Hank was not light on his feet and tottered on the narrow boards. Losing his balance, he stepped on the insulation and his foot promptly crashed through the flimsy flooring.

  Julia gasped, her body going tense.

  “Hank!” Martin yelled.

  The boy sprawled among the scratchy insulation. He wrapped his arms around one of the strong floor planks, his left leg disappearing below.

  “Hold on. I’ll komm to you,” Martin said.

  A feeling of dread pulsed through his veins as he stepped out onto the narrow joists. He had no idea how solid the timbers were and didn’t want Hank to fall through to the apartment below.

  “Be careful.” Julia spoke the warning softly, but there was no need. Martin’s senses were on high alert as he crossed to his brother.

  Reaching out, Martin pulled Hank up, careful not to jerk on the boy’s leg and cut him on the jagged pieces of drywall. Like a little child, Hank wrapped his arms around Martin’s waist and pushed his face against his chest as he held on tight.

  “Mar-tin, I fell,” Hank cried, his eyes wide with terror, his voice vibrating with tears.

  “Ja, but you’re all right now. Step only on the beams of lumber. They are strong. The insulation is supported only by drywall and won’t hold your weight,” Martin warned.

  Within moments, he had Hank back at the stairway and Julia pulled the boy into the safety of the closet. She hugged him tight.

  “Oh, I’m so glad you’re all right. I was so worried about you,” she told the boy.

  Hank gave a startled laugh. “Ja, me, too.”

  “Thank the Lord you’re all right,” Martin said.

  “Mar-tin, you saved me,” Hank said, clutching his brother.

  “Is he okay?”

  Martin turned and saw Sharon standing in the bedroom, her eyes wide with concern.

  “Ja, he is fine,” Martin said.

  “Good, that’s all that matters. But now we have another small problem. There is a big hole in my bedroom where Hank’s foot came through the ceiling,” the woman said.

  Martin froze, hardly able to believe what he heard. Oh, no. Because of Hank, it seemed he now had another repair job to rectify. Maybe it hadn’t been such a good idea to bring Hank along with him on this project. It seemed he just created more work.

  Stealing a quick glance at Julia, Martin tried to gauge her expression. Hopefully she wouldn’t fire him on the spot. But her face was curved into a smile. And then she started to laugh. A high, lilting sound that caused a warming pleasure to flood Martin’s chest.

  “This day seems full of surprises. What else could go wrong?” she asked, her shoulders shaking with amusement.

  Sharon smiled, too, but then seemed to catch herself. With a frowning glare tossed at Martin, she turned and walked out of the room.

  “Shall we go take a look at the latest development?” Julia asked Hank.

  The boy nodded and she took his hand. He held on tight, seeming perfectly happy to be in her company. Martin couldn’t believe how kind and forgiving she was. Some of the Amish women he’d hoped to marry had barely tolerated Hank and his chaotic ways. He was too much work for them. The fact that Hank constantly wanted to be with Martin was a big deterrent for him being able to find a suitable bride. But Julia didn’t seem to mind the boy at all. In fact, she welcomed him with humor and grace.

  “There is one thing I’ve learned today,” Julia called over her shoulder as she headed down the hallway with Hank in tow.

  “And what is that?” Martin asked.

  “The attic would m
ake a great hiding place. As long as we don’t fall through the rafters, that is.” She laughed again.

  “Ja, now I know where to walk, it’d be a gut place for me to hide. I just have to step on the rafters, not on the insulation,” Hank said.

  “Ne, you must not go up there again,” Martin said.

  “I won’t. There are spiders in there.” The boy gave a shiver of revulsion.

  Again, Julia’s laughter rang through the air. Martin stopped for a moment and watched her. She was unlike any woman he’d ever met. In the past, he’d thought all women were the same. One was pretty much just like all the rest. But now, he knew he’d been utterly wrong. Because he’d never met anyone quite like Julia Rose.

  Chapter Four

  A week later, Julia studied the swatches of colors and cabinet stains laid out in front of her, surprised by the number of choices Martin had provided. For an Amish man, he seemed quite versatile and she felt a tad overwhelmed by her options.

  “I wouldn’t recommend white for your workroom. It’s too light and will show every bit of grime. Over time, your cabinets would start to look dingy. But white might look nice in your store,” Martin said.

  Standing beside her in the workroom, he pointed at one of the sample strips she held in her hands. Hank was upstairs in the kitchen with Sharon, who was baking cinnamon rolls.

  “Oak or maple might be better for your workroom,” Martin said.

  “Yes, I agree,” Julia said. “But there are so many styles to choose from. This beveling would be beautiful, but I don’t need fancy cupboards. It’s a workroom, after all. Soap making can be a messy job, no matter how tidy I try to keep things.”

  He nodded and reached out to touch one of the samples. “This one is quite modest and not too expensive. I can put pulls on each drawer and cabinet, to make it easier to open them.”

  She wholeheartedly agreed. It seemed their tastes were similar. “Yes, let’s go with this plain style and the oak finish for the workroom and the white for the retail part of the store.”