“It’s not fine if your suspenders are broken,” she sighed. She’d have to get to town and get him another pair. She’d squeeze it into the grocery budget somehow.
“What did you do on your buggy ride?” Moses demanded, not to be sidelined by a pair of suspenders.
“I chatted with Elias,” Delia replied. “And we stopped to bring flowers to Willa Speicher.”
“I don’t like it,” Aaron muttered.
“I know none of you like it,” she replied. “But I told you when I left that when I got back we would talk this through. And I mean for us to do just that.”
“You don’t even care that we don’t like it!” Aaron said. “You used to say that our opinion mattered, but it doesn’t seem to this time!”
Delia rubbed her hands over her face. “Sit down, boys.”
“I don’t want—” Aaron started.
“I said sit down!” she snapped. “Now!”
The boys plunked down into kitchen chairs, staring sullenly at the tabletop. Thomas stayed standing, leaning against the back of one kitchen chair, and she gave him a pointed look. He pulled the chair out and sat down, too.
“First of all, I am your mother,” Delia said sternly. “I run this home, and I make the decisions. You are my kinner. That means you are to show more respect than that!”
There were some murmured apologies.
“Good.” She pulled a chair out and sat down. “Now, we need to talk. I know you boys are upset, and I want you to really think about why.”
“Because we don’t like him,” Thomas muttered.
“And why not?” she asked. “What about Elias specifically is worrisome?”
“He just wants our farm,” Aaron said.
“And what makes you believe that?” she asked. “He’s not asked me anything about the farm. Not how many acres we’ve got. Not how much we make off of flower deliveries. Nothing.”
“Maybe he’s asked around,” Ezekiel said quietly. “He might already know more than you think.”
“Have you heard any rumors of that?” she asked.
Ezekiel dropped his gaze. But she doubted they had.
“You’re scared,” Delia said. “I can see it in your faces, and I can tell by the way you’re all reacting. You’re afraid, and I want you dig down deep and figure out exactly what you’re scared is going to happen. When you imagine a new daet in this home, what do you imagine happening?”
The boys were silent. If they’d been girls, they would have been able to tell her exactly what they were afraid of, but boys were different. They didn’t like to talk about their feelings, and from what she could tell, they didn’t like to look at them directly, either.
“Are you afraid he’ll be harsh with you with punishments?” she asked.
“Yah, that would be terrible,” Moses said. “He might beat us.”
“He won’t beat you.”
“He might!” Moses said.
“Moses, do you think I would marry a man who would beat my kinner?” she asked gently. “Before a woman accepts a proposal, she knows exactly what the man’s character is like. I would never risk something like that.”
“Oh...” Moses murmured.
“Is there anything else that worries you?” Delia looked around the table. For a few beats, there was silence from them, then Aaron shifted in his seat.
“What if he sells the farm?” Aaron asked.
Good, they were starting to talk. She suppressed a smile. “Son, this farm is going to you boys. I’m not selling it.”
“But he might!” Tears misted Aaron’s eyes and he blinked angrily, looking away.
“And he might be lying to you when he says he won’t sell it,” Thomas added. “Men do that sometimes. Sometimes they’re nice to someone to get them to trust them, and then whammo.”
“Not good men,” she replied.
“He might not be good!” Aaron chewed on the side of his cheek.
“That is why we ask around about people,” she said. “That’s why you find out what his community says about him, and what his family says about him. You look at his parents and his brothers and sisters and see what character they have, and you talk to elders in his community and see what they say. An Amish community helps protect us against a mistake like that because people talk.”
“We don’t think you should risk it,” Moses said.
Delia looked over at Ezekiel. He sat with his lips pressed into a tight line. He wasn’t looking at his brothers, but he did fiddle with the handle of a stray fork.
“Ezekiel?” she prompted. “What is it that scares you?”
Her eldest son’s soulful gaze moved up to meet hers. “I’m not scared of him beating us or selling our farm. Maybe he won’t do those things, and if he tried, I’m old enough to do something about it. He wouldn’t be lifting a hand against us, I’ll tell you that plainly. What scares me is if he hurts you, Mamm. I’m scared he’ll break your heart or disappoint you.”
