Her boys would only close the circle and think that Elias wanted more from her. They’d get defensive and very likely rude. She couldn’t have that.
“I’m not sure that would work,” Delia replied. “They’ll just see you as a threat.” An image sprang into her mind of a scarecrow—stuffed with straw and incapable of feeling any pain whatsoever. “The most helpful thing would be to have a scarecrow to let them work out their worst behavior so they can get over it and put it behind them!” She smiled ruefully and deposited a plate of muffins into the center of the table, within reach of her guest. “But don’t worry, I’ll figure something out.”
“A human scarecrow?” Elias said, his eyebrows rising.
“I was joking! I can’t ask you to put up with their bad attitudes. They can be a handful. I love them dearly, but I also know my boys.”
“It’s not a bad idea, actually.” Elias plucked a muffin off the plate and peeled back the paper. “Your sons want to protect you and take care of you like their daet did. It’s part of being male—that drive to protect a woman. And they need to talk about all that—work it out. Sometimes it’s hard to show our weakness in front of extended family and the ones who know us best. But you and I might be able to help each other. If you helped me to sort out my daughter’s anger, I could take a couple of weeks of teenage angst for you.”
And Elias cast her a heart-stopping lopsided smile. Her heart skipped a beat. Was he offering what she thought he was offering? And dare she consider it?
Elias wasn’t even sure why he’d offered it! Standing in to let four teenage boys take out their confused feelings on him? But she was offering to talk to his own confused teen, and he was grateful—maybe too grateful. And Delia was comfortingly beautiful. She had creamy skin with natural color in her cheeks, and eyes that made him want to smile for no reason whatsoever. Her dark hair had a few strands of silver now. When he knew her years ago, she’d been sandy blonde, but time had darkened her hair and softened her figure.
That shouldn’t matter. It didn’t really, he told himself firmly. It wasn’t like he was ready to take on a whole new family, either!
The side door banged open and a young boy came inside.
“Mamm, I need a Band-Aid!” he hollered and stopped short when he saw Elias. “Oh. Sorry.”
“Where did you hurt yourself?” Delia asked. “And this is Elias, an old friend of mine. Elias, this is my youngest, Moses. He’s eleven. He’s my almost-teen, but I lump him in with the others.”
Elias gave him a nod, and Moses’s gaze turned shrewd. He was a skinny kid with a spattering of freckles across his nose. The sun had left him pink. He was suspecting more than a friendly visit, it would seem.
“Show me where you’re hurt,” Delia said.
Moses pulled up a pant leg, and there was a smear of blood on one shin. Delia tutted, got a cloth and opened a tin of Band-Aids.
“How did you do that?” she asked.
“On the fence.”
“You boys leave more of your own flesh on that fence,” she said. “You could walk around to the gate, you know.”
“It’s too far. I like going over.”
Elias couldn’t help but smile at that. In his home, it was all about school drama, deep sighs and his daughter telling him he couldn’t possibly understand anything about the right running shoes to go with her dresses. But he remembered being a boy who climbed over fences and skinned his knees. Boy problems were refreshing.
Delia bandaged Moses up and then looked out the side window.
“Did you finish weeding the fourth row?” she asked.
“Yah, that’s why I was going over the fence. I was going to get an apple from the tree.”
“Those are green,” she said. “You’ll get a stomachache.”
“Can I have a muffin, then?”
“Sure.” Delia handed him one and pointed him toward the door. “If you want a break, that’s okay, but after that you can either help me with dishes or check for eggs in the henhouse.”
“Aw...” Moses made a big show of sighing. Delia was unmoved. “Okay. I’ll check for eggs.”
“Good choice!” Delia shot her son a smile. “And thank you for your hard work, Moses. You’re really growing up.”
The boy’s shoulders straightened at the compliment, and he headed for the door. When the screen door flapped shut behind him, Delia took the Band-Aids back to the cupboard. She was strong and competent, and there was wisdom in those dark eyes of hers. He felt better just being in her kitchen.
“And I haven’t even offered you something to drink!” Delia said suddenly. “What kind of a hostess am I?”
“Don’t worry about it,” Elias said. “Sit down.”
Delia blushed a little and pulled out a chair. She reached for a muffin.
“The thing is,” Elias said, “you’re the only one I’ve talked to in two years who really gets it. The Early Widowed Club is a lonely group. There aren’t too many of us, and no one else really understands the challenges, even though they try. And your boys look like good kinner to me. I think I could probably get them to talk, especially if they thought I was trying to court you. They’d have a whole lot to say about that.”
That was how boys worked—they’d open up if they figured it was for a cause. Otherwise, they’d be tight-lipped.
“You might be too brave,” she replied with a low laugh.
“What happened to the other three men who tried courting you?” Elias asked.
“My boys chased them off,” she replied. “Or I caved in and called it off because my boys couldn’t handle it. It amounts to the same thing.”
It did. Her boys were locking things down around here—no matter how good their intentions were about taking care of their mother. And his daughter was going wild on him and threatening to leave the Amish faith just as soon as she could run away. That thought chilled his blood. But Elias might have a solution...
“If our kinner thought that we were courting,” Elias said slowly, “it might give us time to help them get over a few things.”
Delia turned her head to the side, then looked back at him.
“How would Violet feel about you courting someone?” Delia asked.
