Read Online On Her Own by Wanda E. Brunstetter - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Wanda E. Brunstetter
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place—Baldy’s Café.”
“Have fun. I’ll let you know when your bridles are ready.”
“Danki.”
When the door clicked shut behind Noah, Paul turned back to the workbench, wishing he had a wife to take out to supper. “What’s wrong with you, Paul Hilty? Get yourself busy and quit thinking such unlikely thoughts!”
Chapter 7
W here are we going, Papa?” John’s youngest daughter, Mary, asked as they headed down Highway C in their open buggy.
“I’m paying a call on Barbara Zook.”
The ten-year-old’s lower lip jutted out. “But I thought after you picked me and Hannah up from school, we’d go straight home so we could play.”
“Jah, Papa.” Twelve-year-old Hannah spoke up from the backseat. “This morning, you said since this was the last day of school, me and Mary could spend our afternoon playing at the creek.”
“You can do that when we get home from Barbara’s.”
Mary nudged his shoulder. “But why do we have to go?”
“To see how she’s getting along, that’s why.”
“Getting along with what?”
John gritted his teeth in frustration. “Why must you ask so many questions?”
She leaned away from him. “I—I just wanna know why we have to go over to Barbara’s.”
“She had a boppli not long ago. Don’t you want to see how the little fellow’s doing?”
“I’d rather play in the creek,” Hannah said.
“If you don’t stop complaining, you won’t be playing at all today. Instead, when we get home, I’ll find some work for you to do.”
John glanced over his shoulder and noticed that both girls sat with their arms folded and their mouths clamped shut. Maybe now he could spend the rest of the ride in peace.
When Barbara stepped onto the back porch, prepared to air out the quilt from her bed, she spotted John Frey’s buggy pulling into the yard. His two youngest daughters were with him. John pulled up to the hitching rail close to the house.
“Wie geht’s?” he called as he and the girls climbed down from the buggy.
“I’m doing all right. What brings you out our way?”
He and the girls joined Barbara on the porch. “We’re calling on a few folks today, so I decided to stop and check on you.” He tipped his straw hat and grinned at her in a most disconcerting way. “How are things in the harness shop?”
“Paul Hilty’s helping out. As far as I know, everything’s going okay.”
“Will he be staying long?”
Her fingers curled around the edges of the quilt she held. “Just until I feel up to working again.”
“That’s good.” The bishop squinted against the sun while offering Barbara another lopsided smile.
Barbara draped the quilt over the porch rail. An uncomfortable feeling settled over her. She didn’t like the way John Frey was looking at her. The man was a widower nearly fifteen years her senior with four daughters to raise, and two of them were teenagers. When Jacob Martin had passed on a year and a half ago, John had taken over as the bishop for their district. Then six months ago, John’s wife, Peggy, had died of cancer, leaving him to raise their girls on his own. Barbara hoped John didn’t plan on her being his new wife. She had no desire to marry again. Besides, she couldn’t imagine having to deal with four more children. She had her hands full taking care of her boys.
“You’re looking a mite peaked,” the bishop said. “If you’re needing some help with the boppli, I could send one of the girls over. Betty has a job, but I’m sure either Hannah or Nadine could come.” He nudged Hannah’s arm. “Isn’t that right, daughter?”
Her head bobbed up and down. “Sure, Papa. I’ll do whatever you say.”
“I appreciate the offer,” Barbara said, “but my mamm’s been helping with the three older boys, and I’m managing okay with the boppli.”
“Looks like you could use some help outside.” John glanced around the yard. “I’ll mention it to Margaret Hilty the next time I see her. I’m sure she
“Have fun. I’ll let you know when your bridles are ready.”
“Danki.”
When the door clicked shut behind Noah, Paul turned back to the workbench, wishing he had a wife to take out to supper. “What’s wrong with you, Paul Hilty? Get yourself busy and quit thinking such unlikely thoughts!”
Chapter 7
W here are we going, Papa?” John’s youngest daughter, Mary, asked as they headed down Highway C in their open buggy.
“I’m paying a call on Barbara Zook.”
The ten-year-old’s lower lip jutted out. “But I thought after you picked me and Hannah up from school, we’d go straight home so we could play.”
“Jah, Papa.” Twelve-year-old Hannah spoke up from the backseat. “This morning, you said since this was the last day of school, me and Mary could spend our afternoon playing at the creek.”
“You can do that when we get home from Barbara’s.”
Mary nudged his shoulder. “But why do we have to go?”
“To see how she’s getting along, that’s why.”
“Getting along with what?”
John gritted his teeth in frustration. “Why must you ask so many questions?”
She leaned away from him. “I—I just wanna know why we have to go over to Barbara’s.”
“She had a boppli not long ago. Don’t you want to see how the little fellow’s doing?”
“I’d rather play in the creek,” Hannah said.
“If you don’t stop complaining, you won’t be playing at all today. Instead, when we get home, I’ll find some work for you to do.”
John glanced over his shoulder and noticed that both girls sat with their arms folded and their mouths clamped shut. Maybe now he could spend the rest of the ride in peace.
When Barbara stepped onto the back porch, prepared to air out the quilt from her bed, she spotted John Frey’s buggy pulling into the yard. His two youngest daughters were with him. John pulled up to the hitching rail close to the house.
“Wie geht’s?” he called as he and the girls climbed down from the buggy.
“I’m doing all right. What brings you out our way?”
He and the girls joined Barbara on the porch. “We’re calling on a few folks today, so I decided to stop and check on you.” He tipped his straw hat and grinned at her in a most disconcerting way. “How are things in the harness shop?”
“Paul Hilty’s helping out. As far as I know, everything’s going okay.”
“Will he be staying long?”
Her fingers curled around the edges of the quilt she held. “Just until I feel up to working again.”
“That’s good.” The bishop squinted against the sun while offering Barbara another lopsided smile.
Barbara draped the quilt over the porch rail. An uncomfortable feeling settled over her. She didn’t like the way John Frey was looking at her. The man was a widower nearly fifteen years her senior with four daughters to raise, and two of them were teenagers. When Jacob Martin had passed on a year and a half ago, John had taken over as the bishop for their district. Then six months ago, John’s wife, Peggy, had died of cancer, leaving him to raise their girls on his own. Barbara hoped John didn’t plan on her being his new wife. She had no desire to marry again. Besides, she couldn’t imagine having to deal with four more children. She had her hands full taking care of her boys.
“You’re looking a mite peaked,” the bishop said. “If you’re needing some help with the boppli, I could send one of the girls over. Betty has a job, but I’m sure either Hannah or Nadine could come.” He nudged Hannah’s arm. “Isn’t that right, daughter?”
Her head bobbed up and down. “Sure, Papa. I’ll do whatever you say.”
“I appreciate the offer,” Barbara said, “but my mamm’s been helping with the three older boys, and I’m managing okay with the boppli.”
“Looks like you could use some help outside.” John glanced around the yard. “I’ll mention it to Margaret Hilty the next time I see her. I’m sure she
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