Grace's Forgiveness Read online

  He dipped his toe in the water. Satisfied with the temperature, he stepped in the tub. Perfect. He eased himself into the warm bath, grabbed his washrag, lathered it with soap, and washed his body. Resting his head against the rim, he shut his eyes. Grace came to mind. She had a compassionate heart. Her understanding about his bruder meant a lot to him. She didn’t admonish him for bringing up the subject. Without hesitation, she listened and offered her support. He could trust her. She had his best interest at heart.

  Mark rose Thursday morning to the sun shining bright through the window. He sauntered to the barn, fed the chickens, slopped the hogs, and milked the cow. His mind raced with thoughts of Mr. Wittmer on this day before the man’s funeral. The death of Mr. Wittmer had weighed heavy on his heart. God had blessed him with a new home, a store, friends, and a church. He’d be mindful to not take these things for granted. The milk pail full, he carried it to the root cellar and covered it with a clean cloth. The cream would rise, and Noah could make butter later today. He returned to the kitchen and moments later, the door opened.

  “Good morning, Noah.”

  “I’m glad you’re still here. Mamm told me about Mr. Wittmer. I really liked him. He was a generous old man. Our plow horse died, and he bought us another one. He wouldn’t let us pay for it.” He smacked an ant on the floor crawling to his pant leg. “Do you mind if I attend the funeral? I’ll return to do chores after the service and meal.”

  The stories about Mr. Wittmer’s generosity impressed him. He regretted not having more time to get acquainted with the man before he passed. “You churn better butter than I do, so I appreciate your willingness to take care of it. About the funeral, of course you may.”

  “Danki, Mark.”

  “Do you mind getting out the bread and jam?” Mark set an iron skillet on the stove. He cut eight thick slices from the slab of bacon and threw them in the sizzling pan. Yum. He was going to devour this breakfast in no time. He turned over the bacon until it appeared crisp and brown. He slid the bacon onto a plate, threw eggs in the pan, and fried them.

  “Not at all.” Noah set the table, sliced bread, and opened ajar of blueberry jam. He sniffed the bacon. “Danki for breakfast. I left without eating this morning. How did the barn raising go?”

  Mark poured a cup of coffee for Noah and refreshed his. He forked up the bacon and passed Noah eggs. He offered a prayer for their food and added a remembrance for Mr. Wittmer. “I’ve never worked with such an organized and efficient bunch of men. I’m glad I participated, but my muscles ache this morning.” He paused and rubbed his legs.

  Mark chewed and swallowed with silent gusto for a few minutes.

  “I wish I could’ve been there. I would’ve liked to have helped with the barn raising.”

  “I should’ve brought you with me. I apologize. Next time, we’ll go together.” Mark finished his last bite and wiped his mouth. “Have you noticed any signs of the stranger I suspect left the bag behind?”

  Noah wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “No, but I check the trunk each day. It’s still there.”

  “Levi has put the man out of his mind. I’m still leery he’ll return. Be mindful of any unusual sounds or things out of place.”

  “I will. Don’t worry. I’m keeping an eye out for him.”

  Mark patted Noah’s back, grabbed his hat, and headed outside. He hitched his horse to his wagon and rode fast to town. Gray clouds rolled across the sky and hid the sun. Not a bright day, but a comfortable one. A deer scurried out ahead of him, and he jerked back on the reins in time for the graceful doe to scamper into the woods.

  He nodded to friends and neighbors guiding their horses and buggies on the way to town. Time had flown since he’d moved here. He handed his horse’s reins to the liveryman and headed to his store. As he turned the key and stepped over the threshold, he greeted Grace coming through the connecting door. “How are you this morning?”

  Her disposition, unlike the gray morning, was sunny and warm. “I’m fine. Do you have a minute to spare?”

  “Of course. Is anything wrong?”

  Grace grinned. “No. I had an idea. No one mentioned constructing a grave marker for Mr. Wittmer.”

  “I’d be glad to do it. It wouldn’t take much time. I have a nice piece of solid oak here. I’ll work on it when I don’t have patrons.”

  “Do you mind if I help you? I’ve already asked Sarah to mind the shop.”

  Did he mind? Of course not. He’d take advantage of any opportunity to be near her. “I’d enjoy constructing the marker together. I may have to stop to wait on customers, but it shouldn’t take us long. I’ll close my store while I walk to the bishop’s haus and ask if Mr. Zeller or anyone else is taking care of it first.”

  “Kumme and tell me what you find out.”

  It touched him she wanted to work alongside him and share his interest in building something from wood. “I hope no one has started on this project. I like the idea of us doing this together, Grace.”

  Her face lit up, before she turned and departed. She had brought such joy to his life. A smile crossed his lips.

  An hour later, Mark pushed the door open to Grace and Sarah’s shop. He joined Grace. “The bishop said it had slipped his mind. Mr. Zeller was with him. He hadn’t thought of it either. Kumme on over, and we’ll get started.”

  “Sarah doesn’t mind tidying up the shop by herself while we do this. I’ll tell her I’m going with you.” She padded to the back room.

  Grace returned and Mark walked alongside her to his store. He selected an oak plank from a small, neatly stacked woodpile in the corner of the room. It was the perfect size for a marker. He cut the smooth, flat oak into the right shape. He removed a scrap of paper from his pocket. “The bishop wrote Mr. Wittmer’s full name, birth date, death date, and age in years on this note.” He measured and penciled the information neatly on the wood. He backed up and studied it. “Do the letters and numbers look even?”

  “Yes. His name and the dates are straight and the right height.” She moved closer to him. “What can I do?”

  She hadn’t spoken a word until asked. Consideration was a splendid quality to have in a partner someday. Another reason he found he loved her. “I’ll demonstrate how to hold the chisel and hammer and form the first letter then you can carve the next one.”

  He hammered and chiseled the first letter, an E. He stifled his laugh. Her breath on his neck tickled, she stood so close. But he didn’t dare tell her. Having her near and peering over his shoulder warmed and soothed every sore muscle in his body.

  “All right, you try.” He passed the chisel and hammer to her then moved behind her, keeping a safe distance between them, and wrapped his hand around hers on the tool. His breath caught. Umm, her mamm must’ve baked cookies again. The cinnamon scent in her hair is sweet and nice. Her skin is soft and her hands dainty. He had a wild notion to take her in his arms and hold her tight. He’d dreamt about it, but it was forbidden.

  She didn’t flinch or move. She tapped the chisel and cut a Z. A little crooked, but all right. Impressive. He could smooth out her flaws later.

  “How’d I do?”

  He held it up and blew off the chips and dust. “You do fine work, madam.”

  Her button nose wrinkled and her eyes squinted as she concentrated on each letter. She was so cute.

  They continued working.

  “Ezra Wittmer is centered and the dates and numbers are etched underneath his name perfectly. You’re a natural. Would you like to work with me?”

  She laughed. “I liked learning something new, and I would like to work with you but Sarah may have an opinion about my switching jobs.”

  They laughed and then quieted. His pulse increased. He raised her chin and met her beautiful brown eyes then lowered his lips onto hers and kissed her gently. He let go of her slowly and put a little distance between them. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been so forward.”

  Her cheeks pink and her voice soft, she rai
sed her eyes to him. “Don’t apologize.”

  “I’ve wanted to kiss you for a long time. Your lips are softer than I had imagined.”

  “You’re the first man to kiss me. I’m glad your lips were the first to touch mine.”

  His heart hammered against his chest. He thought it would explode. This memory would burn in his mind forever. He hoped to reminisce about it for years to kumme.

  A patron entered. Mark stepped back quick. He strode to the customer. “Please kumme in. Are you looking for anything in particular?”

  The gray-haired Englisch man tapped his cane and stepped to a potato box. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to browse.”

  “Go ahead. I’m here if you need me.” He returned to Grace and lowered his voice. “I’m glad he didn’t knock on the door earlier.”

  She put a hand to her lips. “I’m relieved he or Sarah didn’t ruin our special moment. I will treasure our first kiss for a long time to kumme.”

  “I will too.”

  A clang came from the corner of the room. Grace startled.

  The patron apologized and righted the umbrella tin.

  She blushed, cleared her throat, and brushed dust off her apron. “I wish we had more time together.”

  Mark tilted his head and grinned. “I don’t want to let you go either.”

  The customer held up a wooden toy horse. “Excuse me, do you have more of these?”

  Mark nodded. “Jah, I have more in the back room. I’ll be with you in one minute.”

  Sighing, Grace clasped the connecting door’s knob. “I should let you help your customer. I hope you’ll join Sarah and me for dinner.”

  He winked. “I’ll look forward to seeing you at noon.” Grace held his gaze for a moment then returned to the store.

  Mark answered his customer’s questions, sold him wooden toys, and collected his payment. He waited on a steady stream of customers until noon, then went to join Grace and Sarah for dinner. “My morning went fast. How did yours go?”

  “We haven’t had a minute to ourselves. The rush of customers was good for business but has worn me out.” Grace removed apples, cold pork sandwiches, and cherry tarts from the picnic basket and set the food on the table.

  Sarah handed Mark a jar of water and sat. “Mark, would you offer a prayer for our dinner?” She bowed her head.

  Mark prayed and thanked God for the food and to comfort Mrs. Wittmer. The three of them recounted their day at the barn raising, finished their meal, and returned to work.

  At the end of the day, Mark locked his shop door. On the way home, he recalled the events leading up to Mr. Wittner’s passing. It all happened so fast. The man’s death brought back memories of his parents’ funeral. He loved his parents and had enjoyed mealtimes, working alongside his daed and bruder, eating mamm’s good cooking and treats. She had given the best hugs. He looked forward to having a family of his own one day.

  Chapter Six

  Customers trailed in and out during the long afternoon. Grace swept the floor and dusted off shelves to keep busy in between waiting on patrons. Tomorrow would be a hard day. Funerals brought tears and sad faces of family members and friends who would miss their loved one who had gone to Heaven. Poor Mark. It must bring back memories of his parents and bruder. He didn’t have any idea if Abel was dead or alive. Did he experience loneliness? She must be a good friend to Mark and assure him she’d do anything for him. He had swept into her life and given her hope she might be his fraa someday.

  The day dawned Friday morning. Grace rolled over in bed, sat up, slid her legs over the edge of the bed, and stood. She couldn’t wait until this sad day ended. What a terrible thought. She shouldn’t wish her life away.

  After she dressed, she headed to the kitchen. “Good morning. Where’s Daed?”

  Mamm stood flipping pancakes in the skillet. “He’s finishing his chores and readying the buggy for our trip to Mr. Wittmer’s funeral. Sit and I’ll put these on your plate.”

  Grace obeyed and poured maple syrup on them. “These look delicious.”

  Daed entered the kitchen. “I’m starved.”

  “Yours are almost done. Wash your hands and sit.”

  “Absolutely, madam.” Daed laughed, did as Mamm asked, and sat with his fork in hand. “You make the best pancakes and everything else I put in my mouth.”

  Mamm slid his breakfast onto his plate. “It’s easy to keep you happy. All I have to do is feed you several times a day.”

  They all chuckled and started chatting until they were finished with breakfast.

  Daed wiped his mouth and stood. “I’ll hitch the horse to the buggy and wait outside.”

  Grace carried the dirty plates to the counter. “I’ll rinse the dishes.”

  “Danki, Grace.” Mamm checked the basket. “On second thought, leave the dishes. Put the syrup away and kumme. We haven’t much time.”

  Grace grabbed the glass container and dropped it. “Ack!” Bang. Splat. “What a mess.” The thick brown liquid stained her apron. Broken glass pieces slid in the oozing, sticky mess and onto the floor. The syrup on the counter would reach the pie keeper if she didn’t hurry.

  Mamm put her basket on the counter and grabbed a cloth. “You change clothes. I’ll hurry and clean this up.”

  “You go ahead without me. I’ll take care of wiping up the syrup and change clothes.”

  “All right.” Mamm peeked outside. “Your daed is waiting in the buggy. Be careful picking up the glass. Don’t cut yourself.” She retrieved her basket and headed outside.

  Grace shut the door behind Mamm, grabbed some rags, and sopped up the edges of the slow-moving liquid. Thankfully, Mamm had an extra pan of hot water on the stove that didn’t get used. She filled a tub with soap and water, removed her apron, and left it to soak. Stepping out the back door, she grabbed an old wooden bucket off the back porch and filled it with the hot water and added lye soap.

  This is an awful mess. Dipping a cloth in the water, she got on her hands and knees, gathered and discarded the broken pieces, and threw them away before she mopped the wood floor. Her dress wet and dirty, she changed clothes and opened the door to leave.

  Noah pulled in front of her haus. “Grace, I’m glad you’re home.”

  “Why aren’t you at the funeral?” She swatted at a bee flying in the door.

  “Is Mrs. Blauch here? Mark has a high fever. I came to fetch you and your mamm to help him.”

  Grace’s pulse raced. Her mouth dried. “Mamm and Daed left already. I’ll kumme.” She grabbed her bag and followed Noah outside. “You go on ahead. Mark shouldn’t be alone. I’ll be right there.” She hurried to get her wagon and then rode to Mark’s.

  Noah accepted her horse’s reins. “I’ll put your horse in the barn. You tend to Mark. I’m worried about him. His fever’s raging hot.”

  She threw the reins to Noah and dashed inside the haus to Mark’s bedroom. Covers were stretched to the top of his head.

  He groaned, moaned, and his legs moved beneath the blankets.

  She peeled the quilt back a little and touched his cheek. “You’re very warm.”

  He rolled to his side and blinked. “Grace, what are you doing here?”

  His face pale and his eyes glassy, she swallowed hard. Beads of sweat coated his forehead and his hair was damp. He must’ve had a fever off and on through the night. “Noah came to fetch Mamm and me, but she has already left for the funeral. I’m going to take care of you, and don’t argue with me about it. How long have you been ill?” She shouldn’t be in his bedroom alone, but she didn’t care. He had no one. She wouldn’t leave him. He needed her.

  His lips quivered and his body shivered. “I’ve been miserable all night.”

  She stepped to a table in the corner of the bedroom and poured water from the pitcher into a bowl. Then she grabbed a clean cloth from the pile on the table, dipped it into the tepid water, and wrung out the excess. Hopefully, cooling his body would help. She couldn’t stand for him to suffer. A
high temperature could be dangerous. Dragging a chair to beside the bed, she draped the cloth over his forehead then untied her medical bag and removed a bottle of aspirin powder. “I’ll be back. I’m getting a spoon and a glass.”

  Mark’s body quaked.

  She returned, grabbed the pitcher, and filled his water glass. He had gone to bed in his work clothes. He must’ve been sick not to change into something more comfortable. She measured the powder and added droplets of water to it. “Can you raise yourself?” She held a spoon filled with the medicine.

  He eased up on his elbows and opened his mouth.

  Carefully, she tipped the spoon into his mouth.

  Shuddering, he motioned for the water. “Aspirin is the nastiest medicine to swallow.”

  She held the glass to his lips. His teeth chattered against the glass. She’d rather it be her sick than him. Maybe the medicine would work and lower his fever. “Put your head on the pillow. Close your eyes and rest.”

  “I appreciate your help, but don’t miss the funeral on my account. I’ll be fine.”

  His clammy hand, warmer than normal, worried her. “I’m not going anywhere until you’re better. You don’t have any blotches on your skin, and you aren’t scratching your face or neck. No measles or chicken pox as far as I can tell. Hopefully, the medicine will work and your condition will improve.”

  “Grace, you must go. You shouldn’t be alone with me. It isn’t proper, according to Amish law.” He drew in a deep breath. “I don’t want you to get what I have. Please, tell Noah not to kumme in again. He mustn’t catch this either.”

  Noah peeked in the door. “How’s Mark?”

  Grace moved her chair to address him. “I’ve given him aspirin powder. It will take time to work. I’ll stay with him. You can finish your chores.”

  “May I attend Mr. Wittmer’s funeral?”

  Mark raised his head. “Jah, Noah, you go.”

  “I’ll pass along your condolences and apologies for your absence to Mrs. Wittmer.”

  “Danki, please take the marker for Mr. Wittmer’s grave. It’s by the door.” Mark coughed and covered his mouth.