Breath of Spring Page 2

  Annie grabbed the menu on the table behind her so she wouldn’t have to reach around Adam. The laminated page looked smudged and she wished the print were a whole lot bigger. “Sorry,” she mumbled as she stared at it. “Might take me a day or two to learn what-all food goes with which numbers—”

  She sucked in her breath. Adam had taken something out of his shirt pocket . . . was slipping a lightweight pair of glasses onto her nose. He positioned the sides over her ears carefully, so he wouldn’t mess up the hair that was pulled into a snug bun beneath her kapp.

  “I carry several pairs of these in my wagon for my remodeling jobs,” he explained quietly. “They bring the details into focus.”

  Annie Mae felt even taller and skinnier and uglier than usual. Her cheeks surely must be cherry red and her heart felt as though it was trying to pound its way out of her chest. But when she looked at the menu again, the words jumped right out at her. “Short stack of pancakes,” she rasped.

  “Eggs over easy and ham with that, please,” Adam added. “Keep the specs, okay? I’ve got more.”

  “Jah, I—I’ll be right back with your tea.” Annie Mae scurried into the kitchen, scribbling Adam’s order on her pad. What in the world had just happened? Of all the nerve, for Adam to put glasses on her, as though he could tell she was as blind as a bat—and wanted the rest of the world to know it, too.

  Is that such a bad thing? Teacher Alberta told Dat years ago that your eyes needed to be checked but he thought ya could keep house and tend the kids without readin’ much . . .

  “So Adam wants a short stack with over-easy eggs and ham, does he?”

  Naomi’s words brought Annie Mae out of her befuddled state. “Jah, and he also ordered—”

  “Hannah, the teapots are on that bottom shelf and the bags are beside them,” the cook instructed her daughter. “Adam always wants two bags in his. And if he doesn’t go to the steam table, he generally gets the number four.”

  Annie Mae inhaled, hoping to pull herself together before she had to face Adam again. “Ya make this look so simple. I don’t mean to mess everything up while I’m figuring out—”

  Naomi set down her spatula to grasp Annie Mae’s hand. Miriam’s partner looked calm and motherly, and after these past few years of having to act as her younger siblings’ mamm, it felt good to be looked after. Cared about.

  “In a couple days you’ll know what these fellas usually eat, and you’ll feel like you’ve been workin’ here forever, dearie,” Naomi said warmly. “Always take your time. Folks appreciate it when ya get things right, even if it means they wait a few moments longer.”

  “Those are awesome specs, too,” Hannah piped up. She handed over a little silver pot with two tags dangling out the side, which she’d put on a plate. “They’re like jewelry, but for your face!”

  Annie Mae blinked. She had no idea what Adam’s glasses looked like—and wouldn’t she seem even more clueless if she took them off to find out? “I need all the help I can get, ain’t so?” A nervous laugh escaped her and she flipped back a page of her order pad. “And Preacher Gabe wants an omelet with lots of ham and cheese and onions, and a side of hash browns. And I’ll put two sticky buns in a go box for him.”

  “I’ll get that omelet goin’. You’re doin’ just fine, Annie Mae.” Naomi nodded as though she’d just stated the most obvious of facts—as though she truly believed the morning was off to a perfect start.

  So maybe you should believe it, too. After all, she’d kept her father and her five younger siblings fed and dressed after her stepmother had passed. She’d done what she had to do. And she could do it again, now that another crisis had changed her life.

  Putting on a resolute smile, Annie Mae took the plate the teapot was on and glanced out the pass-through window. She knew every man in the dining room—not to mention Miriam, Rhoda, and Rebecca. She could do this. And she could do it right.

  Look out, Short Stack. Ready or not, here I come.

  Chapter Two

  As his brother and the two Kanagy boys returned from the steam table, Adam tried to pretend he hadn’t just humiliated Annie Mae. What had that been about? He hadn’t stopped to consider how jangled his nerves would feel if someone—say, Annie Mae—had perched a pair of reading glasses on his nose. It would serve him right if she left his breakfast sitting on the serving counter to get cold.

  “Sure you don’t want some of those fried apples from the buffet?” Matthias asked as he cut into a biscuit he’d smothered with sausage gravy. Seth and Aaron Brenneman took the other chairs on that side of the table, their plates heaped high.

  “Looks like Hannah’s bringin’ out more food,” Nate remarked as he took the chair to Adam’s left. “Cheesy hash brown casserole, and a bunch of bacon.”

  “I’m gut, thanks. My cakes’ll be here in a few,” Adam said.

  Bram dropped into the chair to Adam’s right, and then he murmured, “If Hannah starts givin’ me the eye, don’t egg her on. I got engaged over New Year’s, to a cute little redhead from Cedar Creek. Hannah’s not gonna like that much.”

  Adam’s eyes widened. “How’d that happen? Seems mighty fast—”

  “Oh, and it was contagious,” Nate confided as he leaned toward Adam’s other ear, “on account of how I’m engaged to that redhead’s twin sister. And we bought a place between here and Cedar Creek, where Bram and I can set up barns for our businesses. The girls’re gonna run a B and B, soon as their dat—who would be none other than Amos Coblentz—builds the four of us a big house with extra guest rooms.”

  Adam’s mouth dropped open. “I thought you were swearing off girls, Nate. So—”

  “Jah, well, these girls hit us broadside.” Nate shook his head, grinning like a lovestruck puppy.

  “We didn’t see it comin’,” Bram confirmed with a happy-go-lucky shrug. “And we didn’t stand a chance once Mary and Martha set their minds on us. Just something in the air after Christmas, I guess.”

  Something in the air . . . Adam glanced up to catch Annie Mae watching him through the serving window. The chatter and the clang of silverware around him faded away.

  He was in for it. Annie Mae wore that same determined expression whenever she corralled her ornery five-year-old twin brothers.

  As she strode toward the table with his tea, Adam noticed how the reading glasses accentuated her face. He’d known Annie Mae all his life, yet he’d never realized her eyes were so blue . . . and while the specs gave her a sophisticated, rather scholarly look, Adam sensed she didn’t want to hear that. She had a set to her jaw, a purpose to her gaze rather than the flummoxed, fearful look he’d seen when she’d fled to the kitchen.

  “Your food’ll be here shortly,” Annie Mae announced as she set his teapot in front of him. “Naomi’s cookin’ it up just the way ya like it, Short Stack.”

  As she flitted away from the table—and that was the only way to describe how Annie Mae swiveled to grab a carafe and refresh Tom’s and Gabe’s coffee—Adam heard muffled chuckles around him.

  “Short Stack, is it?” Matthias teased from across the table.

  “Better watch out,” Bram warned. “She and Luke Hooley have been quite the pair—”

  “Not to mention that Mennonite guy—Yonnie Stoltzfus—before Luke came to town,” Seth Brenneman pointed out. “I suspect a cartload of fellas’ll be eyeballin’ her now that Hiram’s out of the picture.”

  Short Stack, is it? While Adam had always been the shortest guy in his class—and plenty of folks still teased him about his height—something about Annie Mae’s nickname made him chuckle. Why would a looker like Hiram Knepp’s daughter flirt with him? She could see right over the top of his head....

  Might as well let this train of thought roll on down the track. No sense in getting interested—flirting back—because being somebody’s husband isn’t part of your plan.

  For a moment, a cloud settled over him. Adam didn’t often dwell on that fateful day anymore, but he dared not forget how—had he
not been joyriding when he was supposed to be fetching his sister Ruth—Mamm wouldn’t have hitched up a rig . . . wouldn’t have been thrown into the road when her horse spooked . . . wouldn’t have died because he’d been so irresponsible.

  Adam blinked. Then he got his heartbeat slowed down again. Checked to see if any of his buddies had noticed his momentary trip down memory lane . . . but they were speculating about which fellow they could convince to distract Hannah from the fact that Bram was now courting a Cedar Creek girl.

  “Well, Hannah’s only sixteen, and plenty cute enough,” Matthias stated philosophically. “It’s not like she’s doomed to be a maidel because you’ve found another gal to hitch up with, Bram.”

  And who will Annie Mae hitch up with? Adam poured more syrup over his pancakes as he furtively watched her greet an English couple who’d just come in. Let Luke or Stoltzfus keep her company, he told himself. He had no business taking up with a girl whose dat would probably come back to Willow Ridge to stir up big trouble—a girl who might be taking care of Joey, Josh, Sara, and Timmy for years to come. Waaay more responsibility than you can handle. And what man wants an instant family to feed and clothe and—

  “So, Adam, do ya figure to finish your cakes and eggs anytime today? We can wrap up that kitchen job over past New Haven if we get a move on.” Seth Brenneman chortled at him from across the table, where he, Aaron, and Matthias sat with their empty plates in front of them.

  “Jah, jah,” Adam muttered as he split his egg yolks with his fork. “Let me sop up these eggs with my last pancake and I’m gut to go. Head on over there, if you want. You can fit the countertops before I second-coat the walls.”

  With a decisive nod, Aaron stood up to fish out his money. “This being a new year, I’ve decided we can start payin’ for our food, Brother. So I’ll cover yours this morning if you’ll get the tip.”

  Seth, too, rose from his chair—a sturdy piece he and his brothers had built in their cabinetry shop, along with the other chairs and the tables, when Miriam and their mamm had opened the café. “That’s one of your better ideas,” he teased. “No reason the Sweet Seasons has to keep feedin’ us, when Mamm could be takin’ home wages instead.”

  “And what with Hannah and Annie Mae wantin’ to earn some money now,” Nate Kanagy chimed in, “it wouldn’t hurt us to pay, either—even if Aunt Miriam did say we’d get our breakfast in exchange for the veggies Mamm grows in her truck garden. So you can go first, Bram! Fork it over.”

  Bram laughed. “I can do that—and I’ll be leavin’ Annie Mae a nice tip, too,” he said as he tossed three dollar bills on the table. “So where’s your tip, Nate?”

  His older brother tucked four dollars under his empty coffee mug. “Never let it be said that I shorted a friend in need,” he murmured as he glanced toward the checkout counter. “She’s holdin’ her own today. Pullin’ her weight—and we all know she’s not nearly over the hump.”

  Across the table, Matthias stood up and slipped his money clip from his jacket pocket. “I’ll match Nate’s tip and raise it,” he murmured. “See ya when ya get home tonight, Adam.”

  “I’ve got a quick fix-it job for Lydia Zook after I finish up with the Brennemans,” he replied.

  “Bring us home something easy for supper, then, since you’ll be at the market.”

  Adam sighed as he stood up. He and his brother muddled by on mac and cheese, lunch meat, and whatever else required little cooking, now that it was just the two of them. With Matthias’s wife dying from an asthma attack while she was carrying their first child, they led a quiet life....

  When Annie Mae laughed, Adam saw her grin as Ben Hooley and Preacher Gabe chatted with her at the front counter. With her black hair and blue eyes, she was a striking girl—even with his cheap reading glasses perched on her nose. And despite her penchant for more brazen, free-spirited fellows, she was a hardworking young woman who could keep a household together. Her desserts and bread had occasionally graced the Wagler table after Mamm and Sadie had passed.

  Keep on rolling, he reminded himself. Now that the house on Bishop’s Ridge sat empty, he and Matthias wouldn’t be finding any more goodies on their porch swing.

  He toted up the tips the other five fellows had left her, somewhat surprised that Matthias’s had come to nearly as much as his meal had. But it was for a good cause, wasn’t it? And didn’t the Amish help their own?

  Adam pulled out a ten-spot. He wouldn’t be this generous every morning, but on Annie Mae’s first day she deserved a boost. He stacked all the other money in the center of the table and then slipped his beneath it, however, so she wouldn’t know how much any one of them had given her.

  When Annie Mae returned to the table where the two English couples were eating, Adam headed to the front counter to pay. The Sweet Seasons was filling up now that it was nearly seven o’clock, and he nodded to a couple of farmers he’d done some remodeling for. Friendly chatter and the clatter of silverware filled the dining room, along with the aroma of coffee and the cinnamon sweetness of the warm sticky buns Miriam was placing inside the glass counter.

  “You might as well box me up half a dozen of those,” Adam said as he pulled out more cash. “Maybe there’ll be one or two left for Matthias by the time I get home tonight. And maybe not!”

  Miriam laughed as she made his change. “You fellas have a gut day—and a Happy New Year, too. Seems to me Willow Ridge is off to a fine fresh start even though God’s brought some mighty big changes our way,” she remarked. “And I have a feelin’ He’s not finished surprisin’ us.”

  As she reached beneath the counter for a pastry box, Adam couldn’t help smiling. Just being around Miriam and her girls in this cozy down-home café made everybody feel brighter—even in January, when snow was piled high along the roadsides and the gray clouds suggested that more might be on the way.

  As he took the box of warm rolls, Adam glanced toward the table where he’d eaten. Annie Mae was picking up her tip. Her jaw dropped and her eyes widened like saucers as she quickly riffled through the stack of bills—and then got to his.

  Adam ducked out the door. Was it his imagination, or did the jingle of the bell sound merrier than usual? As he climbed into his wagon, he sincerely hoped Annie Mae was off to one of those fresh starts Miriam had talked about.

  That’s as far as it goes, though, he reminded himself. She deserves a gut life . . . better than I can give her.

  Chapter Three

  Annie Mae rushed up the stairs inside the smithy, glad Ben Hooley wasn’t working at his forge and that Nellie wasn’t yet home from school. What a day she’d had! And she’d come home with enough leftovers for supper, too. Only after she entered the upstairs apartment that she and her sister now shared with Rhoda did she lay out the tips she’d collected. She separated the tens and fives and ones into piles . . . counted them as she held her breath.

  My stars! There’s more than a hundred dollars here!

  Unable to believe that friends and complete strangers would be so generous—giddy with the first wages she had ever earned—Annie Mae counted her money again. Miriam had said this first day after the holidays would probably be slow, but if she’d collected this much during Monday’s breakfast and lunch, and would also get a wage from Miriam, it didn’t take advanced math to predict what she might earn in a week . . . a month.

  I’ve got to sock this away and keep a record. Nellie and I will need to buy shampoo and fabric and such, and we can’t live on the generosity of friends forever.

  As she boiled water for tea, Annie Mae noticed an empty plastic coffee canister in the wastebasket—the perfect piggy bank. She would ride into New Haven next time Miriam deposited the café’s income, to open her own account . . . a positive, responsible step toward looking after herself and Nellie. For now, Annie Mae tucked the red canister in the back of the closet she shared with her sister. Here in this four-room apartment, where the interior walls rolled on tracks to allow more flexibility and space, storage�
�and privacy—were hard to come by. She arranged her oldest pair of shoes in front of her secret bank, hoping nobody cleaned out the closet when she wasn’t around.

  As Annie Mae sank into the small wooden rocker to rub her aching feet and sip her tea, footsteps on the stairs announced someone’s arrival. Rhoda had gone to stay with Andy Leitner’s family until later this evening, so this surely had to be Nellie. Should I tell her how much I made? Dat never let on about what he earned selling his Belgians....

  “You home, Sister?” Nellie called out as she opened the apartment door. “Ah! And how’d your first day go? I thought about ya a lot—so much that Teacher Alberta caught me with a question I wasn’t ready for.”

  “And did ya give her a gut answer?” Annie Mae took in her younger sister’s snug brown cape dress, which barely reached beneath her knees. “As I recall, Teacher Alberta could be led astray with details that sounded logical but that ya made up on the spur of the moment.”

  “Annie Mae!” Nellie laid her books on the small kitchen table. “I’ve never had the inclination to fib that way—or, truth be told, could never come up with quick answers like you could. I told her I was thinkin’ about ya waitin’ tables at the Sweet Seasons.” Nellie went to the cupboard for a cup. “Teacher Alberta sends ya her best. She told all the scholars to keep us in their prayers.”

  Annie Mae’s throat went tight. While Alberta Zook—storekeeper Henry’s cousin, who’d come from Jamesport when Willow Ridge needed a teacher—had never impressed her as the sharpest pencil in the pack, she appreciated the young woman’s thoughtfulness. “Tell her those prayers are bein’ answered,” she murmured. “The folks in the café were mighty gut to me today. I think we’ll get by just fine, Nellie.”

  Her sister dipped a tea bag by its string. “Do . . . do ya think we’ll ever see the twins and Sara and little Timmy again? I miss them something fierce now that they’re in Higher Ground, without Naz and Jerusalem lookin’ after them.”