How was he supposed to bring up that Sarai had other plans for the old man?
“Nothing,” he said. “Let’s clean up and head over.”
“Yah, let’s do that.” His grandfather headed back to the table and began to clear it. “A woman can’t be left on her own to clean up after a storm like that. That’s why there’s men’s work and there’s women’s work. She’s a good woman, that Ellen. She’s kind and decent. And she makes the best pie I’ve ever had.”
“What about Mammi?” Arden asked. His grandfather’s late wife.
“Your grandmother made the best strudel, and she wouldn’t have been jealous at all to know that another woman bested her pies. She knew her strudel couldn’t be beaten. But Ellen has been having a hard time lately. She’s had one thing after another go wrong. It started with her wringer washer popping a leak, and then some fool teenagers in a pickup truck knocked her egg sign right over... One thing after another, and I’ve been doing my best to help her out. It’s just been a spell of difficulties.”
Dawdie bustled over to the icebox and put the milk back. He was more lively now, and Arden helped to clear the rest of the table. His grandfather did seem to get more energized when he talked about Ellen. He seemed more determined, more sure of himself. Was Sarai right? Was there something budding between their grandparents?
“Dawdie, are you courting Ellen?” Arden asked.
“What?” Moe stopped short, and color suffused his cheeks above his white beard. “No. No, of course not. I’m her friend. We’ve known each other for years. We’ve helped each other out more times than I can count. And now it’s my turn to help her. We’ll get her property cleaned up and anything else that needs fixing. And I won’t be leaving that to the rest of the community. I’m her neighbor, Arden. Around here, that means something.”
Arden nodded. “Of course, Dawdie. I was just wondering if maybe there was something more than friendship between you.”
“A man doesn’t help a woman only in return for her romantic affections,” Moe retorted. “That’s not right, is it? You help because women aren’t as strong, and Gott gave us men muscles for a reason. That’s why. In fact, young man, I think you could learn that lesson. Helping a woman in her time of need isn’t about charming her or flirting with her. It’s about being a good and decent man.”
In his eighties, Dawdie Moe didn’t quite have the muscular physique of a younger man, but Arden could appreciate the point. Even when a body aged, a man still felt his masculine duty.
“I’m sorry, Dawdie. I didn’t mean to offend you,” Arden said.
“I’m not offended.” But Dawdie certainly looked a little miffed. “My neighbor matters to me. She’s been a dear friend to me for years. This is what we do. You might learn a thing or two about being neighborly, Arden.”
“Yah, I understand,” Arden said quickly. “You’re doing the right thing, and I’ll help. Let’s head over.”
Because the sooner they started, the sooner they could finish up and Arden could get his grandfather to make a firm choice about going back to Ohio. It looked like Dawdie Moe needed a little more time to adjust to the idea, and Arden wasn’t sure they had that.
Chapter Three
Sarai tossed a handful of feed into the chicken pen. The birds scratched at the ground, pecking at bugs, and startled when the feed fell, then turned toward it to eat. For creatures who’d had their roof ripped off the night before, they were surprisingly calm, and that was a mercy. Birds twittered from the apple trees, and the horses ambled through the pasture munching fresh grass. If it weren’t for the damage, she wouldn’t know anything had happened.
The missing roof to the smaller chicken coop lay several yards away with nails ominously sticking out of it. A small white butterfly landed on the tip of one of the nails and rested there, wings still for a moment before it fluttered away again.
“What a strange storm,” Mammi Ellen said, and she bent down, picking up a stray shingle. “But sometimes we get them. What can you do?”
Sarai looked over her shoulder and saw Moe and Arden on their way over. Moe had picked up his pace more than usual, but it was Arden who caught her eye. He’d always been good-looking—with the kind of looks that made even Englisher girls stop and take a second look. But some handsome teenagers grew into very ordinary-looking men. That seemed to be a blessing, in a way, because they knew what it was like to make a girl blush, and then they matured and knew what it was like to work hard and not be any more special than any other man in the community.
But Arden hadn’t lost his looks as he aged. He had a way of walking that seemed more like a saunter, and his gaze was like steel. She let out a shaky breath and purposely glanced away again. Arden might be fine to look at, but that didn’t matter a bit when she knew the bedrock of his character.
Sarai tossed another handful of feed into the pen and then headed over to the second, smaller one that held her specialty fowl. She opened the door, and the chickens clambered over for their breakfast. The chortles and bock-bocks filled the air.
“Here’s hoping the storm didn’t startle them too much. I’d hate for them to be put off laying,” Sarai said, raising her voice so her grandmother might hear her.
“What’s that, dear?” her grandmother called back.
“I said, I hope the storm didn’t scare the hens too much,” she said, louder still. “I don’t want them to be put off laying.”
“That would be a shame.” But the voice was deep, strong, and she startled, turning to see Arden come up behind her. He’d arrived faster than she expected.
“It would be,” Sarai said. “But they seem calm enough. I hope that means they’ll keep up their laying.”
“That was a big storm last night,” Arden said.
“I didn’t hear it,” she admitted. “I guess I slept too deeply.”
“I listened to it howl half the night,” Arden said. “It looks like your place got walloped worse than my grandfather’s, though.”
“I wish I knew why,” she said, and her mind went back to her earnest, insistent prayers the night before. That was surely a coincidence, wasn’t it? Gott didn’t punish His children for pleading with Him, did He? Unless she’d been truly too presumptuous. But who else could she turn to if not Gott?
“You look worried,” Arden said.
“No.” She forced a smile.
“We came to help,” Arden said. “We’ll get your yard cleaned up and repair your coops...and I saw where some shingles came off your stable—we can fix that up, too.”
“That’s a lot of work,” Sarai said.
“I thought we agreed we’d help each other with our grandparents. Fair is fair, I think. Besides, my grandfather made an eloquent point this morning about helping his neighbors.”
Sarai looked over to where Moe and her grandmother stood talking. Moe had his hat pushed back on his head, and he bent down to pick up the piece of plastic tarp that had blown in. It took him a little longer to stand up straight.
“Moe is a good man,” Sarai said quietly. “Really good. I mean, he’s better than most.”
“Yah, I know,” Arden agreed. “And he’s determined to set your grandmother’s property to rights again. On his own, if he has to.”
Sarai smiled faintly. “He means well.”
