The benefits of an Amish life only came with hard work and dedication. There was no shortcut. So when a politician came along asking for Amish help to deal with Englisher problems, that put up Mose’s hackles. They only had this beautiful lifestyle because they worked diligently to protect it, and from what he’d seen from many Englishers, they’d gladly suck up every benefit they could, and then wander off and not change their lives a bit. The Amish would be left with all the fallout of their precious community being ransacked for the gain of someone who wasn’t going to benefit in the long run anyway.

  Mose was right, and he knew it. But Naomi wasn’t going to see that. Still, he hated that he couldn’t be on the same side as her with this, because he knew that she was only wanting to do what was right. She was seeing the best in people, and maybe he didn’t want to be the one to ruin that for her.

  So that evening, after he’d dropped the tourists off once more at the parking lot, Mose turned the wagon around and went back to the bed-and-breakfast, even though he was tired. He mucked out the stable and filled the feeders with fresh hay. Someone had stopped by to see Naomi and Claire, so he didn’t get to chat with her much. He just finished up, tipped his hat at Naomi, and hitched his buggy back up. She came to say goodbye, but there were eyes on them, so she stayed a proper six feet away.

  “Thank you, Mose,” she said quietly.

  “Yah, yah...” He didn’t want to try to say more. It wouldn’t come out anyway.

  “I do appreciate it.”

  He smiled back. She needed a worker to do this for her. He wouldn’t be in Redemption for much longer, and he didn’t like leaving her to all this work on her own.

  Mose looked up at the curiously watching guests. They smiled and nodded. He wanted some time alone with her, but he had no right to ask for it, or to risk her reputation. He wasn’t courting her.

  “See you,” he said, and he flicked the reins and headed back to his aunt and uncle’s place. Maybe it was best to have some space to think anyway.

  * * *

  The next morning was Saturday, the end of the week for tours since they took Sundays off. This Sunday there wasn’t a service. Every other Sunday was reserved for visiting family, and Mose’s aunt and uncle were having a big barbecue with lots of family to come see Mose after all this time. He should be grateful, but it felt like a lot of energy...more so for him because every hello and chitchat about the weather was an exhausting effort. Still, he’d have to endure it. But first, he had one last day of tours for the week, and he hoped to see Naomi.

  The day dawned crisp and clear. It was cooler weather than they’d been experiencing so far, and a few more leaves were turning yellow and orange on the tips of branches. It looked like fall would come early this year, and his mind was already moving forward to the farm work waiting for him when he got back home to Ohio.

  The tour group that morning was made up of, among others, a small group of four women who seemed to be very excited to be out and about. There was a young married couple who only had eyes for each other, and one solitary, middle-aged man who sat right behind Mose.

  “This seems like a decent job,” the man said cordially. “Do you like it?”

  “Yah.” Mose nodded. He hated this part—the questions that he’d struggle to either answer or ignore.

  He flicked the reins, and they were off, the horses plodding along and the wagon bumping over some pebbles in the road.

  “You know, I told my wife I’d take her on this tour,” the man said. “But I never did. I got too busy. And then she passed away.”

  Mose looked over his shoulder at the man, and his heart softened.

  “I’m s-s-sorry,” he said.

  “Yeah. She was wonderful. She loved Amish country. She really loved your culture.” The man looked around. “I can see why. Are you married?”

  “No,” Mose replied. “N-n-not yet.”

  Mose had the Amish clean-shaven face, which meant he was single. Only married men had beards, but this Englisher didn’t seem to know that. And he wouldn’t try to explain, either.

  “Sweet on someone?” the man asked with a sad smile.

  Mose felt his face heat, and the man chuckled.

  “Don’t waste time, young man,” he said quietly. “You don’t realize how much time you have together until it’s over.”

  “Yah,” Mose agreed quietly. “I’m t-t-t-trying not to.”

  He was trying to focus his energy in an appropriate direction—to get ready for an actual marriage with a woman who’d be a proper fit for him. He didn’t know who she was yet, but all the same, he probably should stop wasting his time, shouldn’t he?

  The man fell silent, and the women pointed out some laundry on a clothesline, but their interest in the laundry wasn’t the same as that of other Englishers who’d take pictures of it.

  “We should really get a better clothesline on our farm,” one was saying. “That one looks nice and sturdy. I think ours is too small to hold all the washing now we’re running the farm together.”

  That was surprising—Englishers who used clotheslines? He snuck a peek over his shoulder at the women. They ranged in age from someone who looked to be barely out of her teens to a stalwart older woman with a wrinkled face.

  “Grandma would be proud to see us women running the whole farm,” the teenager said.

  Their conversation moved on, but it became clear these women were related and were working together to raise cattle without any men involved at all. He felt bad that they had no men, but they didn’t seem worried.

  He reined the horses in at a four-way stop, waited for a car to go, and then flicked the reins, and they started forward again up a hill at their slow pace. When they crested the hill, he saw a car on the side of the road ahead of them with the hood up. No other traffic seemed to be on this road, and there was a teenage boy with a cell phone, and when he saw them coming, he waved his arms to flag them down.

  Mose sighed and reined in. He couldn’t fix an engine, though. He didn’t know how they worked, so besides a ride, he couldn’t offer much.

  “Hi!” the boy said. Up close, he looked even younger. His face was smooth, and he wore a baseball cap pushed back on his head. His nose was freckled, and he wore a pair of jeans and a T-shirt with a skull on the front. Mose couldn’t approve of that.

  “Hello,” Mose said. “C-c-car trouble?”

  “Yeah, it’s been giving me trouble for a bit,” the boy said. “And my phone is dead. I need a new phone, too. How far am I from town?”

  “T-t-t-ten miles,” Mose replied. He hooked a thumb behind him. “Th-th-that way.”

  “Oh.” His face fell.

  “Give the kid a ride?” the man behind him asked.

  Mose shrugged.

  “It’s a tour, though,” the man said to the teenager. “According to the schedule, we’ve got another hour and a half before we get back to where we started from.”

  Mose was grateful for the man’s chattiness. It saved Mose the trouble of trying to get the words out.

  “I guess I don’t have much choice,” the boy said. “Can I hitch a ride, mister?”

  Mose nodded. The only space left in the wagon was right next to Mose, so he scooted over to give the boy room to sit.

  “Wow...” He grinned. “This is cool. I’m Trevor, by the way.”

  “Mose.” He held out a hand. The boy looked a bit confused, but then took the hand and shook it.

  Mose flicked the reins again and they started forward. Trevor leaned over to take another look at his car as they carried on past. Funny—the idea of Englisher teens in need of guidance was a little more daunting than a single teenage boy with a broken-down car. The boy just seemed...vulnerable. He postured, sat with his knees wide, tried to act like a big man, but while he was old enough to drive, he hardly seemed old enough to shave.

  “I don’t even know the address out here,” Trevor said. “Can you explain where my car is so I can tell a tow truck driver?”

  “Yah,” Mose said. He could draw him a little map.

  “Thanks.” Trevor sighed.

  “What were you doing out here?” the older man asked. “I’m Carl, by the way.”

  “I was trying to find a farm that’s hiring for day workers,” Trevor replied.

  “Amish farms don’t work Sundays, and you’d be in school the rest of the week. So you’re looking for Saturday work?” Carl asked.

  “Any day work,” Trevor replied.

  “Aren’t you in school?” Carl pressed.

  “I’m taking a year off.”

  Of high school? Mose looked over at him, and the boy’s face reddened a little bit.

  “I’m no good at school,” the boy conceded. “I’ve been flunking out for years. You can drop out in grade ten if you want. That’s what I’m doing. It’s hard to find work, though. I was trying to apply to some farm work, and I couldn’t find the farm.”

  “A whole lot harder to find decent work without that high school diploma,” Carl said quietly.

  The boy didn’t answer that, and they fell into silence. This boy was looking for work, and around here, the teens who might get hired had been raised on farms. The competition was fierce. And Amish-raised kids knew the work better than anyone else. If a farmer had a choice between a green Englisher teen and an Amish-raised teen, he’d hire Amish every time.

  “Do you know anyone hiring?” Trevor asked, looking over at Mose. “I’ll do anything—farm work, manual labor, anything. I can follow instructions, so long as they’re in English.”

  Did he know anyone? Yes, Mose did know someone who was looking to hire.

  “It’s not full-time,” Mose said with only a slight stutter. “But I do know someone.”

  “Do you?” Trevor fixed him with a hopeful look. “Maybe my car breaking down wasn’t so bad after all. Can you give me a phone number or something? What kind of work is it?”

  “M-manual labor,” he said. “C-c-cleaning out a st-st-stable.”

  Manure. Soiled hay. Back-breaking work. Was the kid interested in that?

  “I could do that,” he said. “Part-time is fine. It’s a start, right? I’ve got to make some money to fix my car and get a new phone.”

  Had Mose said too much? Because he was only realizing now that he was all but promising to bring this boy to Naomi, and she’d get her heart’s desire after all—an Englisher teen in need of help.

  This was only going to fuel her.

  Chapter Eight

  Naomi lined up the jars of Amish peanut butter in a row, and then the smaller jars of jam went in front, glistening like jewels with the deep purples and reds. Then she moved on to some crocheted items. Today, she’d put them where the guests could see them right away, and she lined up some crocheted bookmarks, a Bible cover and several zippered change purses. Her fingers did the work as her mind wandered.

  Mose was going to find a wife, and that would be a lot easier if Naomi also found a husband. But what kind of man should her sister even be looking for as a match for Naomi? A serious farmer wouldn’t be right. Perhaps a fun-loving tradesman? How many single tradesmen in their thirties were rattling around in this area? Why did she have to be so different? Why couldn’t Gott have created her to be calmer, quieter, and easier to match?

  Because even the thought of this fantasy tradesman left her feeling a little empty and sad because she was still yearning after Mose. It was ridiculous of her, and she knew it.

  “Naomi?”

  Naomi glanced up to see Claire watching her with a worried look on her face.

  “Yah?” Naomi said.

  “I said, are we ready for the overnight guests?”

  Naomi nodded. “Yah, we are. I made up the guest room already. In the meal preferences they said they need the food to be dairy-free. Did you get the almond milk at the grocery store today?”

  “I did. And I think I can make some tasty scalloped potatoes with it, too.” Claire cocked her head to one side. “Are you okay?”

  “Yah.” Naomi put the coin purse back. “I just hope these sell today. I know Lydia was hoping for the extra money.”

  Claire didn’t seem to quite believe her, but Naomi wasn’t in the mood to talk. Nothing could really change. She and Mose would never quite agree on any issue, and as friends it didn’t matter so much, but in a romantic relationship, those little things became big things very quickly. Gott meant for a man and wife to be one flesh, not always battling each other.

  “I saw Leah in town today,” Claire said.

  “Oh?” Naomi turned back.

  “She’s getting too thin,” Claire said. “I asked her to come by for a visit, and she said she would, but I’m not sure I believe her. I think she’s desperately sad.”

  “Yah...” Naomi’s mind went back to their friend’s tearstained face at Adel’s home. “I think she is, too.”

  But there wasn’t anything they could do for Leah’s situation, either. They could just be her friends. Some problems were too big for even a community to solve.

  The sound of horses’ hooves and the wagon’s wheels pulled Naomi’s attention to the window. The wagon looked full up today, complete with a teenager in the front with Mose. She couldn’t help but smile, and when Mose saw her in the window, she waved.

  “Aaron!” Claire called up the stairs. “Come on down! The tour wagon is here!”

  The drum of Aaron’s feet sounded overhead. Naomi shot her friend a smile and headed for the side door. She propped open the screen as she always did, and headed down the steps.

  “Welcome!” Naomi said brightly. “This is the Draschel Bed and Breakfast, and I’m Naomi.”

  The people started to dismount from the wagon. Mose hopped down and gave the last woman—the oldest—a hand down.

  “I like your clothesline,” the oldest woman said to Naomi with a smile. “We need one like that at our farm.”

  “Oh! They sell them in town at the farm supply store, I think.”

  The teenage boy stood by the wagon, looking around curiously.

  “You can go on inside, if you like,” Naomi said. “We have four kinds of pie for you to sample, and we don’t mind a bit how many slices you eat.”

  She gave the boy a smile, and he glanced at Mose.

  “Yah,” he said.

  The boy headed in the direction of the house, and she gave Mose a curious look. Did he know that Englisher boy?

  “Who is that?” she asked.

  “His c-car broke down,” he said, his stutter not quite so bad right now. “He’s l-l-looking for w-w-work.”

  Naomi blinked, looked over her shoulder as the teen disappeared into the house and then looked back at Mose in surprise.

  “He says he’ll do the stable,” Mose added, his words still halting, but not quite as badly.

  “And he’ll work part-time?” she asked.

  Mose nodded, and she felt a swell of gratefulness. Someone willing to do the work they needed help with... It was a relief, but more than that, he’d brought an Englisher.

  “Mose Klassen, did you bring me an Englisher youth to work for me, against all your better judgment?” Mose shuffled his feet, and she batted his arm teasingly. “That is incredibly sweet.”

  “He needed work,” Mose said quietly.

  “And I need help. It comes together nicely,” Naomi said. “He looks young, though. Shouldn’t he be in school?”

  “He d-dropped out.”

  Naomi let that fact sink in and she felt her eyes mist. “Mose Klassen, you dear man, you brought me an Englisher at-risk youth, to boot.”

  He shrugged bashfully, and if she didn’t have guests looking out the window at her just then, she would have hugged him. Instead, she reached out and squeezed his arm.

  “Thank you, Mose,” she said. “I really appreciate this.”

  Perhaps they couldn’t be the answer for every Englisher teen out there, but she might be able to help this boy...and get her chores done at the same time. Gott was moving here—she could feel it!

  The boy’s name, it turned out, was Trevor Wright. He needed a couple of days to get his car fixed, but he could start work on Tuesday, he thought. He’d be coming to do chores every afternoon for four hours, and Naomi would pay him an hourly wage and she’d teach him the ropes.

  “I really do think Gott is working here, Mose,” Naomi said before he drove away with his wagonload of tourists.

  “Yah, Gott works in everything,” he replied.

  “Can I tell you secret?” she asked with a smile. “I asked Gott to throw a husband in my path, but instead he’s tossed me an Englisher teen. I can feel it, Mose. Gott is up to something wonderful.”

  * * *

  Sunday, Naomi visited with her sister and some aunts and uncles. Mose came that evening to help with chores, and again on Monday night. It was easy to get used to relying on Mose—he was so faithful to his promises. But those overnight guests were staying a few days, so Naomi couldn’t just visit with Mose like she wanted to. There were beds to strip, food to cook, bread to bake, dietary restrictions to cater to—which was one of the biggest challenges. So she had to limit herself to bringing Mose Tupperware containers of sticky buns or slices of pie as her way of saying thank-you.

  And then on Tuesday when Trevor was supposed to arrive, Naomi had a sudden sense of misgiving. Would he even come? Would he have lost interest over the last few days? Could she really rely on this boy?

  He was due to arrive at four, and he arrived ten minutes late, to her relief. He parked his car next to the house and when she opened the door, he shot her a rueful smile.

  “I’m sorry I’m late, Miss Naomi,” he said. “I got stuck waiting at a railroad crossing. I’ll know better for tomorrow.”