with him as several of the bigger logs were being hoisted onto a wagon. Why hadn’t she kept her mouth shut instead of calling him rude? He must think she was a sharp-tongued woman without an ounce of meekness, and he would be right.
She drew herself up straight. Maybe she was. She didn’t have to be meek, but she did have to find work. She studied the older man beside Mark.
“Is that your father-in-law, Isaac Bowman?” Helen would ask him about a job as soon as the opportunity arose.
Fannie glanced out the window. “It is. The good-looking fellow with the short beard is my husband, Noah. The other two with them are Mark and Paul Bowman. They are Isaac’s nephews.”
“I almost ran into Mark earlier and then Clyde did. It wasn’t pleasant.”
Fannie grinned and took a step closer. “That sounds intriguing. Do tell.”
Something about the sparkle in Fannie’s eyes prompted Helen to confide in her. “On our way here, Aenti Charlotte dropped the lines and I grabbed them as we came through the bridge. The horse veered sharply and almost ran into Mark as he stood at the side of the road. He suggested that I let the dog drive if I couldn’t do any better.”
“He didn’t?”
Helen nodded. “He yelled at me.”
“Mark can be gruff, but I’m sure he was sorry he shouted at you.”
“That wasn’t the worst of it. A short time later, Clyde jumped on him from behind and laid him out in a mud puddle in front of your husband and Paul.”
Fannie giggled and clapped both hands over her mouth. “That I would have liked to see. Mark is the stuffy sort. It’s odd that Clyde should pick on him.”
“I haven’t noticed that Clyde is particular about who he jumps on.”
“He can be. Mark is all business. I imagine my husband was laughing, but I’ll guess that Paul was roaring. He has a...large...sense of humor.”
“I was so embarrassed that I barely noticed. Mark was not laughing. He called me a menace.”
Fannie smothered her grin. “He shouldn’t have done that. He owes you an apology. It was an accident. Everyone knows Clyde isn’t exactly well trained.” Fannie glanced at the dog lying quietly at her feet.
“I’m afraid I’m the one who owes Mark an apology. I told him he was rude and judgmental, and then I fled.”
Repeating her comment aloud made her ashamed of her behavior. She bowed her head. “I’m afraid I showed a serious lack of demut.”
Fannie slipped an arm around Helen’s shoulders and gave her a squeeze. “Humbleness is something I struggle with, too. Don’t worry about it. I will say you hit the nail on the head about Mark. Don’t get me wrong. I like him, but he’s not the friendly sort. He’s hardworking, diligent and thrifty, all fine traits, but not much fun. I think underneath there is a happier man waiting to emerge.”
Helen appreciated Fannie’s understanding and knew she had made her first friend in Bowmans Crossing. “Would it be forward of me to ask Isaac about a job today?”
“You’ll have to ask Mark. Isaac put him in charge of hiring new workers a few months ago.”
“Oh, dear.” Helen closed her eyes. How much worse could this get? So much for not caring what Mark Bowman thought of her. He wasn’t likely to hire her after the way she had spoken to him, even if he had been rude first. “Are you sure you don’t know of anyone else looking to hire a maid or a nanny, a gardener, anything?”
“I don’t. I’m sorry, but there will be lots of people here today. Maybe someone will have better news for you.”
“If you hear of anything, please let me know.” If nothing else was available, she would have to apologize and soon. What could she say that would make up for her stinging comments to him?
Fannie lifted a container of pastry from Helen’s basket. “These cream horns look yummy. Did you make them?”
“I did. Have one and tell me what you think. It’s a new recipe. I’ve added something special to the puff pastry.”
Fannie bit into the cream-filled treat and her eyes widened. “Oh, Helen, these are amazing.”
“Danki.”
“I hate to admit it, but I’m not much of a cook. I’d rather be taking care of the horses outside instead of doing anything inside.”
“Baking is a pleasure, not a chore. I love finding ways to improve on things I’ve made or try out ways to add different flavors and textures to breads and cakes.”
“My mother always told me that the way to man’s heart is through his stomach. At least that is how she claims she won my father over.”
Helen stared out the window where Mark had climbed out onto the mass of debris to loop a rope around a tangled root mass. Two men in a small rowboat on the river surveyed the mass and called out directions. Mark moved confidently, but it looked like dangerous work. She waited until he was safely back on the bank. “I’m not looking for a way to his heart, only a way to apologize.”
“For a plateful of these, I’d forgive you just about anything.”
“Even a dog-assisted tumble into a puddle?”
“Ja.” Fannie nodded as she licked some of the filling from her fingers. Helen prayed Fannie was right.
“Then I’ll set aside a half dozen and brace myself to grovel with them later if I have to.” If she found work with someone before the men came in to eat, she might be spared the pain.
As it turned out, she came up empty while getting to know many of Charlotte’s friends and the likable young women of the Bowman family. Clyde had been turned over to some of the children who were wearing him out with a game of fetch. Juliet was occupied with getting a grape from Charlotte, carrying it down to the river to wash and then eat it before racing up the hill to beg for another.
When the men came in, Mark took a seat beside Isaac without so much as a glance in Helen’s direction. Before the meal was served, everyone bowed their heads for silent grace. After that, she kept a close eye on the men and noticed Mark took three of her ham and cheese–filled crescent rolls and managed to snag the last of her cream horns when the plate was passed. When he licked a smear of filling from his fingers, she knew he liked them. She’d been smart to keep some back.
She rushed to the house and took the half-dozen pastries outside as she rehearsed her apology. To her chagrin, Mark was already on his way back to the river. She hurried after him and called out, “Mark Bowman, may I speak to you for a moment?”
He stopped and looked back. She saw the indecision cross his face, but he nodded. “I reckon.”
Smile. Don’t look intimidated.
“I’ve brought some of my cream horns as a peace offering.” She lifted the plate just as her foot encountered Juliet racing past. The outraged raccoon squealed. Helen hopped over her to keep from tripping. Clyde, who until that instant had been fetching a ball for one of the children, leaped on Helen from behind, knocking her forward. She plowed into Mark as he tried to catch her. Horrified, she looked down at the plate of pastry sandwiched between them and then back to his darkening brow. Clyde danced around them, barking excitedly.
“What was it that you wanted?” Mark asked in a cold, calm voice as he held her away. The remains of the smashed cream horns covering his shirt began dropping to the ground. Clyde darted in to snatch them up.
“To apologize,” she answered in a small voice. She still had the empty plate in her hands.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t know your name. Who are you?”
“I don’t think I want to tell you.” She began plucking the stuck pieces off his shirt.
He