The Amish Innkeeper's Secret Read online

  No, she was not attracted to Adam Troyer. There was nothing about him that reminded her of William. Perhaps that was the problem.

  A knock on the door made her jump. This would never do. She had to regain control. Marshaling a frown, she yanked open the door. “What is it?”

  Adam stood with his thumbs hooked casually in his suspenders. His bright blue eyes sparkled with humor. “The list?”

  “What list?” Her traitorous heart jumped into her throat, making her sound breathless.

  Chuckling, he said, “The list of things I am to fix.”

  “Oh, of course.” Feeling the fool, she pulled the paper from her pocket and handed it over.

  He read it and nodded. “I’ll give you an estimate once I’ve looked at the projects. If we can agree on a price, I’ll do the work for you.”

  “Fine.” Anything to put some distance between them. As soon as he turned away, she closed the door, determined to concentrate on her own work.

  She had less than half an hour to compose herself before Adam reappeared with an estimate. By keeping the wide front-desk counter between them, she was able to remain composed as they settled on a price. Hopefully it wouldn’t take long for him to complete the repairs. Then she’d never have to deal with him again.

  Adam went to work fixing the loose railing and broken spindles on the narrow staircase that led to the second-floor landing and the guest rooms. Emma had to pass close beside him several times during the day. Each time, she prayed he wouldn’t speak because she didn’t trust her voice. He didn’t. He merely nodded and flashed her a grin that sent her pulse skipping like a schoolgirl’s.

  Late in the afternoon, she rounded a corner to find him working on a lamp fixture for a pair of her guests. It wasn’t on her list. Her mother and Henry stood beside them. They were all laughing at something Adam had said.

  The oddest sensation of being left out settled over her. Normally, she avoided social situations. Staying in the background, making sure everything ran smoothly, that was what she did well. She didn’t belong in the group laughing at her handyman’s jokes, so why did she wish to be included?

  Hearing the clock chime downstairs, she put away her stack of clean linens and quickly made her way to the back door. She slipped into her coat and hurried outside into the cold where four tiny lives were depending on her.

  Chapter Seven

  Over the next two days, Adam worked on the various projects Emma had given him. He repaired three leaky faucets and a toilet in the guest rooms, mended the dining room pocket doors, tacked down the loose runner on the stairs and replaced a broken windowpane in the pantry. Twice Emma’s mother came to him and added a few more tasks to the list. He didn’t mind. He needed the money. Besides, he found that he enjoyed watching Emma at work.

  Quiet, efficient, always in charge of whatever situation arose, the woman was an excellent innkeeper and an outstanding cook if he could judge by the scones, shoofly pie and breakfast rolls she brought in fresh each morning. Her shoofly pie was the best he’d ever tasted.

  At the moment, he was supposed to be fixing a loose shelf on the jam display, but in truth, he was admiring the way Emma was handling an upset customer. Suddenly, her mother stopped beside him. “She is a treasure, my Emma.”

  He agreed. “She seems to know the business.”

  “If only there was more business. The inn hasn’t been full in weeks.”

  “Surely the summer months are when you have the most visitors?”

  “Jah, that is true, but sometimes, without a steady income, it is hard for Emma to make the mortgage payments in the winter.”

  What was she angling for? He braced himself and said, “I can wait for my pay if that would help.”

  “Bless you, Adam, that won’t be necessary, but it was a generous thought. Are you going to the Yoder auction on Monday?”

  “I’ve been thinking about it.”

  “The Yoder family needs to raise money for their son’s medical bills.”

  “I heard that. I did want to check out some of the tools they’re selling.”

  “I don’t want to impose, but could you drive Emma there? Our horse is old and doesn’t like the snowy roads and neither do I. I want to send one of my new quilts for them to sell.”

  Adam glanced toward Emma. A social outing would be fun. Perhaps he’d even see her smile. “I would be pleased to drive her. I will be at your house bright and early Monday.”

  “Danki, Adam.” Naomi grinned happily, then walked away.

  After the upset guest checked out, Adam finished his task and took a jar of gooseberry jam from the display. He laid it on the counter in front of Emma. “That fellow wasn’t very nice, was he?”

  “A slight misunderstanding, that’s all.” She rang up his purchase.

  Impressed that she hadn’t taken the chance to complain, he thought more highly of her for her restraint.

  “You are spending all your pay on jam. At this rate we will be out by the end of the month,” she said.

  “When a man finds the best, he won’t settle for less.”

  Placing the jar in a paper bag, she handed it to him. Her eyes sparkled as if he’d done something amusing. Suddenly, he couldn’t wait for Monday to roll around.

  Chapter Eight

  The front door of the inn opened and two young English women entered. Adam was forced to step aside as they approached the counter to speak to Emma. One of the women gave him the once-over and a sly smile. Not so long ago he would have angled for a date with her, but not now. That kind of life was behind him. He had come back to the faith, as was God’s will.

  Walking back to the shelves, he picked up his tools. If he wanted to date someone he’d look for a good solid Amish woman. Someone like Emma.

  The thought brought him up short. When had he started thinking of her as a woman he’d like to go out with? Would she even consider it? The more he thought about it the more he liked the idea.

  He looked toward her, but she was nowhere in sight. Her mother was checking in the women. Naomi chatted happily with the Englischers, answering their questions with ease.

  That was one thing about Emma that troubled Adam. She never seemed to visit or joke with her guests or the other staff. In a business that had people around her all the time, she seemed to hold herself apart.

  She seemed lonely.

  And where did she go when she rushed out every two or three hours during the day? It was none of his business, but he couldn’t help being curious.

  Late in the afternoon, he was clearing the snow from the back steps of the inn and studying the second-story guttering along the roof. The icicles hanging from the gutters were several feet long. It was a sure sign that the downspout was frozen shut. Someone needed to do more than knock them down. He’d need to go up a ladder and rake what snow he could reach off the roof. Then he would have to put socks full of ice melt in the gutters. If the downspouts weren’t opened, the meltwater could back up under the shingles and damage the walls inside.

  The problem was, he couldn’t do it. Climbing a ladder inside the building hadn’t bothered him, but outside was a different story. No, he couldn’t go up there. Not yet.

  Turning away, he saw Emma come through the garden gate at the back of the property. He leaned on the shovel handle and waited for her to approach. Once again, she had hay sticking to her coat.

  His curiosity got the better of him. He arched one eyebrow. “What have you been up to, Miss Emma?”

  Chapter Nine

  Adam watched the color bloom in Emma’s cheeks. She stuttered, “I—I was seeing to the horse, that’s all. You don’t have to clear our walks. I was getting to that.”

  “I don’t mind. Your mother asked me to fix the boot scraper, but the metal is old and rusty. You would be better off buying a new one from the hardware store.”

  “You astonish me. There is actually something you can’t fix?”

  He laughed. “Jah, so I am clearing the walkway instead before I
go home for the weekend. If you need help with your stable work I’ll be glad to lend a hand.”

  “No. I can manage. Cream doesn’t need much care.”

  He chuckled. “Your horse’s name is Cream? Is she white?”

  The glimmer of humor filled her eyes. “No. Her previous owner’s little girl named her Marshmallow Cream because of the spot of white on her black nose. That’s a mouthful so I just call her Cream.”

  “Kids have such wonderful imaginations. Not like the old folks that only think of work, work, work.”

  The sparkle in her eyes died. “I trust you’ve been busy?”

  Had he just implied she was old? He wanted to kick himself. “I did fix the two broken shutters on the lower-floor windows.”

  Walking in that direction, he indicated his work. “When the spring comes you should have them painted again. They’re getting pretty weathered.”

  “I was thinking of taking them off. They are too fancy for my liking.”

  “But they are quaint and that is what the tourists like. It must be a hard line for you to walk. Running a business for the English and an Amish home.”

  “The tourists say they want an ‘Amish experience,’ but they also want electric lights, central heat and internet access.”

  “And for you, is it hard to go home to your gas lamps and no central heat?”

  “Some cold mornings make me wish I could sleep in one of the inn’s empty beds.”

  “Why don’t you?”

  Her gaze snapped up to his. “I take the vows of my faith seriously. It would be easy to stay at the inn. My cold feet would feel better but what good would it do my soul if I let temptation bend me hither and yon like the wind does a reed? Nee, I will not go against the teaching of our faith.”

  “You are a wise woman. I lived a long time in the English world. It didn’t do my soul any good.”

  Chapter Ten

  Adam didn’t know why he felt the need to share his past with this woman. She would likely think the same thing his father did. That he would run back to the worldly ways of the English when things got tough.

  “What made you leave the Amish?” Emma asked quietly.

  He wanted her to think well of him, but he knew she would hear the story someday. It would be best if it came from him. He gathered his courage. Laying his foolishness bare for her to see was harder than climbing to any height.

  He took a deep breath. “When I was young, the outside world seemed glamorous. Full of forbidden fun and overflowing with things like cars and televisions and video games. I wanted to be a part of it. I felt smothered in my life on the farm. Did you ever feel that way?”

  Emma shook her head. “Nee, I have not. I believed our Plain lives bring us closer to God. I find much comfort in our ways.”

  “I had a brother, Jason, who felt the same as I did. We went to work for an English construction company because my family needed the money after a poor summer crop. The pay was good. I even learned to drive a car and I bought one. Dat hated it and soon stopped taking the money we brought home. When I wouldn’t give up my car, he made me move out. My brother came with me.”

  “How sad that must have been for all of you.”

  Adam swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded. “It was hardest on my mother.”

  “Is that why you came back?”

  “Nee, I was too stubborn for that. My boss liked me. He taught me all about building things, fixing things, even how to work on a car, but during those years I missed the rest of my family. My mother wrote asking us to return, but we never did. Then, a year ago she died suddenly. My brother and I came home for the funeral, but Dat would not speak to us. So we went back to the city.”

  “That doesn’t explain how you came to be in Hope Springs.”

  “Two months ago, Jason and I were working on a scaffold when it collapsed. He fell three stories. I managed to hold on to a cable until I was rescued. As I was swinging there, my fingers growing numb and slipping, I heard my mother whisper in my ear. She said, ‘Hang on, Adam, God has other plans for you.’ I’m not making it up, I heard her voice.”

  “I believe you. What happened to your brother?”

  “He was killed instantly. After that, I came back to my dat’s farm.” To another funeral and an empty ache that never went away.

  The accident and the loss of his brother had forced Adam to reevaluate his own life. His Amish roots had been strangled by his sense of self-importance and the money his high-paying job brought in. He had left God behind for a fat paycheck and a used car.

  “I’m so sorry.” Emma’s breath rose in frosty puffs. Her cheeks glowed rosy pink from the cold, but she made no move to go inside. Sympathy filled her eyes as tears gathered in the corners. He sensed she understood the terrible price he’d paid for his folly.

  Suddenly, he became aware of a connection between them, something he’d never felt before with any woman. How could he have thought she was plain? There was so much beauty and peace in her eyes.

  “Your dat must have been happy to have you home.”

  Sadly, Adam shook his head. “Nee. He’s not convinced that I’ve changed. He thinks I will run back to my good job and easy life if I can’t earn a decent living here.”

  “Will you?” she asked, an odd quality in her tone.

  “I will not go back to my English ways. I won’t lie, I miss some things about that life, but now God is with me every day.”

  “Your dat will see that in time.”

  “I’m not sure. He forgave me for the pain I brought on our family, but he no longer trusts me. I would do almost anything to be worthy of his respect again.”

  Chapter Eleven

  The winter sky held only a hint of pink in the east as Emma pulled open the barn door on Monday morning. Under her arm, she carried a rubber hot-water bottle. Even through her coat she could feel its warmth. It reminded her of the warmth that had enveloped her when Adam shared so much about his life.

  She stood there thinking about him, about his struggle with his faith, and the way he’d chosen to share it with her touched her deeply. She couldn’t stop thinking about him.

  Inside the dark stable, she paused to light a lantern on the workbench beside the door. She held it high to light her way past the black buggy to the single stall beyond it. A soft whinny from Cream welcomed her as the mare did every morning.

  Hanging the lamp from the hook, Emma checked the water tank, happy to see only a skim of ice on the surface. The temperature was still below freezing, but not by much. After doling out the mare’s grain and cleaning the stall, Emma quickly climbed the ladder into the hayloft. It was warmer up where the hay trapped the heat from the horse’s body below. A sudden chorus of mewing erupted from a wooden box covered with a scrap of blanket in the corner.

  “I’m here, little ones, don’t cry.” Emma sat cross-legged on the floor and raised the edge of the blanket. The mewing cries rose in volume.

  She pulled out the cool water bottle and unwrapped it from a length of gray flannel. Laying it aside, she wrapped the warm bottle she carried and tucked it in the box for the four tiny kittens crawling around in search of her and their breakfast.

  “You are so impatient,” Emma crooned as she picked them up, one by one, and settled them in the well of her skirt between her knees. The biggest one, a yellow fellow with long fur, began climbing her coat with his needle-sharp claws.

  Emma swaddled him in another length of flannel and pulled a doll bottle full of the special formula the vet had given her from her pocket. It took several tries before he got hold of the nipple.

  “Look at you. You’ve got more milk on your face than in your tummy.” The others had settled back to sleep in a multicolored ball in her lap.

  To her complete surprise, the kittens seemed to be thriving. Each time she made her way to the loft she expected to discover the worst. The two-hour feedings had stretched to three hours now that they had put on some weight.

  They had been only a
day or two old when she found them. The local vet discouraged her from trying to hand-raise a litter of barn cats, but when she insisted he gave her the supplies she needed. Along with instructions, he gave her one piece of advice. He said, “Don’t get attached to them because it will only bring you grief when they die.”

  Grief was nothing new to her. She took the supplies and followed his instructions to the letter. Now the kittens were her special secret. Her barnyard babies.

  Not real babies. Not like the ones she would have had if William had lived, but they had mewed and wiggled and clawed their way into her heart. They were so helpless. They needed her, as she needed them. Even more than she knew.

  A sudden noise made her look toward the ladder. Someone was coming up.

  Chapter Twelve

  Adam’s head appeared in the hayloft opening. Emma’s heart sank. Her secret wasn’t a secret anymore. Now he and everyone else would know how foolish the old maid, Emma Wadler, had become.

  “What are you doing here?” she demanded, masking her embarrassment with annoyance.

  In the light of the single lantern, his hat cast a dark shadow across his eyes. She couldn’t read his expression. After a moment of silence, he said, “Your mamm asked me to help you with chores so we can get going to the auction. Now I see why you’ve been coming up here so often. How many kittens are there?”

  A blush heated Emma’s face and neck but at least he wasn’t laughing at her. “Four.”

  He climbed up to sit beside her. “What a cute bunch. How old are they?”

  “About six days, I think.”

  “How long have you been taking care of them?”

  “Five days.”

  “What happened to their mamm?” He lifted a gray one from her lap and cuddled it close to his chest.

  Her nervousness began to fade. “She was run over on the street in front of the house. I didn’t even know she’d had kittens until I went to the stable later in the day and heard their mewing.”