Chapter 2

After depositing his ax in the back seat of his truck, Seth eyed the pile of wood he'd just chopped. Would it be enough for Tabitha? He wasn't sure. Last night's temperatures had hovered close to forty degrees, and the weather reports said that a cold front was on the way.

He hated the idea of her being cold.

Actually, he hated the thought of Tabitha suffering at all. She was such a tiny thing and had already been through too much. Leon Yoder had been a mean son of a gun. Just about everyone had given him a wide berth, Seth included. And everyone had been shocked when their new schoolteacher consented to marry him. She'd been only seventeen.

Back then, Seth was one of her students. He'd been fourteen, anxious to pass his graduation tests and get out of school. But he'd also had an awful crush on his teacher. She was so sweet and so pretty with her long brown hair tucked neatly under a crisp white kapp. He'd spent hours wondering what her hair looked like around her shoulders. He knew he wasn't the only boy thinking about things like that, either. Why, the whole class had fallen in love with her. It had been a very dark day when Miss Tabitha announced that she was getting married and that her fiancé didn't want her working anymore.

Eight months later, when Seth had spied her at the market, Tabitha looked like a different woman. Her plump cheeks had thinned, her perfect skin had grown pale, and most of the light in her brown eyes had faded. And a little more than a year after that, she'd worn a haunted expression as Leon announced that his wife was with child. Tabitha had stood so stiff by his side that Seth reckoned a strong wind could break her in two.

When his mother tried to hug her, Tabitha had flinched at being touched. Mamm had acted as if nothing was amiss, but Seth had known better. He'd been sure that Tabitha was hiding bruises under the long sleeves of her dress.

Back in those days, Seth had been full of righteous indignation. He'd hated that Leon was mistreating Tabitha and he'd yearned to put a stop to it. But no one had wanted to hear about it. His father had told him not to gossip and his mother had acted shocked that he would mention such a thing. She hadn't looked him in the eye when she'd lectured him, though. Like she was going through the motions. Simply saying the words that should be said. Even when neither of them believed for certain that they were true.

A few months after that, right about the time Seth had come upon Peter Miller assaulting Bethanne Hostetler, accidentally killed him, and then landed in prison, Tabitha lost her baby. His sister, Melonie, had told him all about it. Well, she'd written letter after letter to him while he was in prison. In each one, she'd detailed all the gossip around their former teacher's circumstances. And then Leon had beaten up Tabitha so badly that she'd had to go to the hospital. There, she'd lost a whole lot of blood and her baby too.

Next thing everyone knew, Tabitha had pressed charges and Sheriff Johnson arrested Leon. And then, maybe just a day or two later, Tabitha Yoder was gone and no one saw hide nor hair of her for almost an entire year. Rumor had it that she'd gotten herself a lawyer and divorced Leon.

Melonie wrote that everyone had an opinion about that. Some folks had acted shocked that she would do such a thing. Divorce was forbidden. Melonie had shared that though their mother didn't participate in the gossip, even she had been surprised by Tabitha's actions.

Tabitha hadn't been shunned for filing charges against Leon. No one could find it in their heart to cast out a woman who'd been hurt so much in marriage. However, her decision to hire a lawyer and get a divorce had forced Tabitha to leave their faith. His sister had told him that more than a couple of folks thought Tabitha should've simply remained separated from Leon. After all, if he had apologized and had been arrested and even had to serve six months behind bars, shouldn't she give him another chance?

She had not.

Sitting in a cold cell behind bars, Seth had been so proud of her that he'd written her a note and posted it. She'd never responded, though. He hadn't been surprised. He was a convict, and she'd been a victim of violence. Of course she wouldn't want to have anything to do with him.

Still, her silence hurt. Seth knew in his heart that he was not cut from the same cloth as Leon. He would never hurt a woman, and especially not a woman he cared deeply about. Then again, words didn't mean all that much. Not anymore.

Shaking off the memories, Seth focused on the present. He needed to take care of Tabitha and then get on his way. He was working a construction job on the other side of Marion, and he'd told the foreman he'd put in five or six hours' work in the afternoon. Figuring it was time to go, he picked up several pieces of wood and carried them to her front door.

Just in time for her to open it.

Seth didn't know who was more shocked to realize that after all this time they were only a foot apart.

"Tabitha."

Her brown eyes widened. "Jah. Um ... Good day, Seth."

She was talking as if they'd been chatting each time he'd come over. Well, he supposed he could play this game too. "Good day to you." Realizing that he still held the wood in his arms, he walked over to where he usually stacked it. "It's getting colder. I thought you might need more wood today."

"It's so kind of you to do that." She watched him neatly stack the logs, then added, "I mean, I'm grateful for all the things you've done for me, Seth. I don't know why you are, but it's appreciated."

"I have time." He didn't see the need to mention the obvious—that no one looked out for her anymore. Sometimes he wondered if anyone ever really had.

"Someone told me that you work at a construction company."

He nodded. "Porter. I do the carpentry and trim work. I'm heading there now."

Looking flustered, she stared down at her hands. "Oh, wait a moment, would you? I forgot the item I was going to bring out for you."

Tabitha didn't wait for his response, just darted back inside the house. Though he still had to fetch the rest of the wood, Seth remained where he was. She was as skittish as a newborn fawn. No way was he going to do anything to make her think he left.

Two minutes later, she opened the door again and stepped out onto the porch. In her free hand was a beautiful red woven basket with a dishcloth covering the contents. "Here. This is for you."

He took it from her and held it with both hands. "Tell me about this."

She blinked. "Well, inside is a loaf of fresh bread and a jar of strawberry jam." Looking unsure again, she added, "I hope you like both?"

"Homemade bread and jam? Of course I do. Don't you remember how my little sister, Melonie, was always teasing me about my breakfast of jam and toast?"

Something in her eyes faded. "Sometimes I forget that I was once your teacher."

"I can't seem to forget it." He smiled. "You were a good teacher."

Tabitha looked even more uncomfortable. "I don't know about that."

Hearing the self-deprecating way she spoke about herself hurt him. Almost as much as realizing that she didn't like being reminded of their long acquaintance. Feeling more uneasy, he studied her face. "Do you not want me to mention it?"

"Of course not. It's just ... well, those days seem like a lifetime ago."

"I reckon that's because my classroom days did happen a lifetime ago. I was young then."

"I was too."

He hated that he'd brought those bad memories to the surface again. "So, tell me about this jam and bread. Did you make them both?"

"I did. The bread yesterday and the jam back in June." Looking at the basket again, she winced. "It's really not much, is it? I mean, not compared to everything you've done for me," she continued in a rush. "I should've thanked you before too. I'm—"

"It's fine," he blurted. No way was he going to let her apologize for being wary around him. She looked so alone, so in need of kindness, Seth wished he could pull her into his arms and tell her that everything was eventually going to be okay. That he would make sure her life got better, someway or somehow.

But of course, holding a fine woman like her was only going to happen in his dreams.

Instead, he inclined his head. "Your gift is appreciated. I'll enjoy both. Let me give you back your basket, though. It's too fine to pass on."

"No, the basket is for you as well. I have lots of baskets." She bit her bottom lip. "Too many."

Encouraged that they were still conversing, he kept his voice soft. "Is that right? Where did you get them?"

"Nowhere. I mean, I make baskets."

He couldn't have been more surprised. "And the red?"

"It's red from berries. I stained the wood."

She knew how to color wood from berries. She knew how to weave beautiful, finely woven baskets—and fill them with homemade bread and jam. Any one of those things was something to be proud of. Altogether? It was rather awe-inspiring. At least to a man like him.

"You are full of surprises today, Tabitha Yoder." He didn't expect her to comment on that. Seth supposed he'd muttered the phrase to himself mainly because he felt it needed to be said. Yet again he thought about what a shame it was that such an amazing woman was hiding in the shadows.

She met his gaze. Her brown eyes pinned him down. Making him feel that for a split second they had a connection. For a second, Seth was sure she was about to smile. But then she turned and went back inside. The door shut with a heavy thunk, and the click of a deadbolt followed. She was in her safe place again.

But she'd come outside today and spoken to him. They'd had a conversation.

Unable to help himself, Seth grinned as he turned around to take her basket to his truck. Yeah, Tabitha was unsure and skittish, and chatting with her took the patience of a saint. But he didn't care. As far as he was concerned, their conversation had been perfect. After all this time, she'd trusted him enough to step outside her door. She'd blessed him with that trust.

As he returned to the woodpile to finish stacking the wood, he decided that maybe he wouldn't wait so long to stop by again.

Maybe he wouldn't wait very long at all.