by Amy Clipston
“I don’t know.”
It was an honest answer. Her feelings were a muddle of pain, longing, hurt, uncertainty, fear, and loneliness. Still, it wasn’t truly an answer.
The moonlight shone down on Phillip’s face. Stars twinkled and small, spritely clouds danced overhead. The aroma of fresh-cut grass and earth filled Hannah’s nostrils. And Phillip’s woodsy scent.
“You know where I’m going with this, don’t you?” The tender eagerness in Phillip’s face receded, replaced by indignation. His Adam’s apple bobbed. “You know I’d be a gut mann and a gut daed. You know that. You have no obligation to Thaddeus. I’ve been here for the past two years. He hasn’t.”
“It’s not about Thaddeus.”
That wasn’t exactly true. If he hadn’t hurt her, she might be able to trust enough to say yes and marry Phillip. Laura seemed to think if Hannah hadn’t loved Thaddeus to start with, she never would have made the mistake she did.
Or had she mistaken physical yearning for true love?
If it wasn’t love, why hadn’t the ache in her chest receded after all this time?
Phillip dropped her hand and faced the road. His features were etched in stone. “Let me ask you this. What if he hadn’t shown up this morning? Would you be able to say it then?”
Not a fair question. Anger welled in Hannah. At Thaddeus. At Phillip. At life. “Let me ask you this. What if he hadn’t shown up this morning? Would you be declaring your love this evening?”
Phillip stared into the darkness, his face lost in the shadow of his hat. “I’ve wanted to tell you for a while. I want to ask you to marry me.”
“But you haven’t.”
“I’m glad I didn’t. I know where I stand now.”
Phillip was a sure bet. He was sweet and kind and he said he loved her. The question was whether she loved him enough to marry him. Until she answered that question, she couldn’t say yes, as much as part of her wanted to fling herself into the security of his arms.
“I don’t know where I stand on anything yet. I need more time.”
“Maybe this will help you decide.”
He swiveled and leaned in. His callused hands cupped her face. His gaze met hers, his intent clear. She closed her eyes. His lips were cool and soft. His breath smelled of spearmint. A shiver started in her belly and raced up her spine. His fingers traveled across her skin to her neck. He felt good.
So good.
She jerked back. “Nee. Nee. I’m sorry.” She scooted to the far edge of the seat and gripped the side with both hands. “I can’t. Please take me home. Please.”
“I’m sorry.” Hurt mingled with the pain in Phillip’s voice. Both hands were in the air as if he had surrendered. “I didn’t mean to overstep—”
“You didn’t. It’s not your fault.”
What was she thinking? Letting herself go like that. She had promised herself. She’d promised God she would never do that again. Never give in to those feelings before her wedding night. No matter how much she repented, no matter how much she sought forgiveness, she was still the same wretched, sinful girl she’d been when Evie was conceived.
“Please, please take me home.”
Without another word, Phillip turned the buggy around and did as she asked.
The short drive was filled with a million unspoken words. A Plain woman didn’t tell a Plain man about kissing another, about letting go and living to regret it every single day or about fear so deep and so strong it threatened to strangle her with every breath she took.
At the house, she jumped down before he could get out. “Gut natch.”
“Hannah, please.”
“I’m sorry. I’m not who you think I am. I’m not gut enough for you. You need to find someone better than me.”
“I don’t want—”
“Gut natch.”
She dashed into the house, shut the door, and leaned against it. Her chest heaved. Her stomach roiled. Her body trembled.
God would forgive her, but would Phillip?
CHAPTER 9
No home. No buggy. No family. Thaddeus dumped his scarred duffel bag on the wood floor and commandeered a stool at the Purple Martin Café. He glanced around. No Hannah. It was just as well. He couldn’t face her accusing eyes this morning. He needed coffee to regroup.
Returning to Jamesport was hard. He’d told himself it would be from the moment he made the decision. But the reality of it was so much worse. Nicole offered a brisk hello and handed him a laminated menu. The words blurred. He swiped at his nose and refocused. The thought of food turned his stomach.
“Just a cup of kaffi. Black.”
“Better add some sugar.” The owner beat his server to the coffee pot. He placed a mug in front of Thaddeus and poured the steaming coffee to its brim. “It’ll sweeten you up. Even better, have a cinnamon roll. They’re fresh from the oven.”
The aroma filling the restaurant gave substance to his claim. Thaddeus inhaled. He gritted his teeth against a swell of emotion. His mother made melt-in-your-mouth cinnamon rolls, usually on cold winter days to follow a hearty bowl of venison chili.
“Just kaffi, please.” He studied the menu, certain his homesickness was written across his face as clear as a postcard from Nappanee. “I’m not hungry.”
“I’m Burke McMillan. I took this place over from Ezekiel.”
Burke had a military style flattop haircut and piercing blue eyes. His accent suggested somewhere on the East Coast. He extended his hand. Thaddeus introduced himself and shook it. The man had a firm grip.
Hoping Burke would go about his business, Thaddeus stared into his coffee.
“How’s it going?” Burke laid an enormous roll slathered in white frosting on a plate and nudged it toward him. “Just a bite or two. Nothing like a hot, homemade cinnamon roll to improve a man’s disposition.”
“What makes you think mine needs improving?”
“You look like you just lost your best friend.”
He had. A long time ago, though. “I’m fine.”
“Hannah’s not working today.”
“That’s okay.”
“You’re giving up?” Burke poured a second cup of coffee and added a liberal dose of milk. “Already?”
“Nee. I’m not.” He halted. Burke had no business in his business. On the other hand, the man was at the wellspring of information in this small town. News of any sort circulated through the Purple Martin. Thaddeus sipped the hot liquid in front of him. The ice accumulated around his heart and soul refused to melt. “I’m looking for a room to rent.”
The height of understatement. Ben’s edict rang in his ears. No contact with his family or anyone in the community until the kneeling confession and resulting punishment, which would occur in two days.
Then what? Months of the bann. No Plain man would hire him for the duration of his punishment. He had a nest egg, but he still needed to work. For the income and his sanity. Plain men worked. That’s what they did. Besides, sitting around thinking about his stupidity and cowardice would drive him crazy.
Sour bile burned the back of his throat. He took a bite of the cinnamon roll to drown the taste.
“As it happens, I have one of those.” Burke added a second cinnamon roll to another plate, then strode around the counter. He eased onto the stool next to Thaddeus and grabbed a paper napkin from the dispenser. “I mean I have a spare bedroom in my little domain that’s just sitting there. You’re welcome to it. It’s only four blocks from here. Walking distance.”
“That’s kind of you, but I don’t want to impose.”
“You’re looking for a room. I’ve got one. I’m here morning, noon, and night.” Burke took a big bite of his roll, chewed, and swallowed. He had frosting on his upper lip. “It’s free to the right person.”
“Free? I couldn’t do that.”
“Don’t let pride get in your way, son. I make a decent living here at the Purple Martin. A kind man once did me this favor. Now I’m paying it forward.”
The m
an seemed genuine. Mattie had written good things about him, and a free room fit Thaddeus’s budget. “Aren’t you going to ask why I’m not staying with family or friends?”
“I’ve been here long enough to learn a little of the Amish ways.” Burke wiped his face with a napkin. The frosting on his lip refused to dislodge. “I was here when Hannah made her confession.”
“Then you know what I did to her.”
“I do.”
“So why are you being so nice to me?”
He stared at his roll a moment before answering. “I’m a sinner just like you, son. Just like everyone who walks through that door. I’ve made my own mistakes. Terrible mistakes.” Burke’s gaze meandered toward the kitchen window where Nicole was picking up an order. Sadness rippled across his face before falling away. “I would never cast the first stone. You made a mistake—more than one—but God’s grace is enormous. For which I’m deeply thankful. He is the God of second chances.”
The first inkling of hope trickled through Thaddeus since he’d seen Hannah sitting at this counter with Phillip. “What I did to her was terrible. Horrible. We’re taught to forgive. No matter what. But I just don’t see how she can forgive this.”
“What you did was human.”
“A better man never would have abandoned the woman he loved.”
“Do you believe God can take anything and use it for your good?”
“What are you? A preacher?”
“I was a Navy chaplain in another life.” Burke studied his cup of coffee as if he would find the answer to Thaddeus’s questions in the dark creaminess. “Now I cook for a living.”
Cooked and dispensed Scripture. “You don’t think I’m the scum of the earth for what I did?”
“I think you’re doing a pretty good job of punishing yourself.”
“How can I make it up to her? How can I make her trust me again?”
“By being a better man.”
“You work with her almost every day. You know her. Do you think I still have a chance with her?”
“Give it time.” A bell tinkled. Burke glanced over his shoulder. “More customers. I better get my rear in gear and get to work.” He stood, dug around in his pocket, and produced a single key on a braided leather keychain. He held it out. “You know where the old Cleary place is?”
“Jah.” The Clearys retired to Florida the year before Thaddeus left Jamesport. Their small house and yard had been pristine in its neatness. He took the key. “You’re just handing over the key to your house? I’m a stranger.”
“Maybe I have my own amends to make. Get yourself settled in. It’ll be late before I get home.” He waved to Kyle and Mildred Jacobson, then trotted around the counter to stow his mug and the remains of his cinnamon roll next to the coffee pots. “Oh and say hello to Jazz. My dog. Her bark is worse than her bite. She loves company. You can take her for a walk if you want. Fresh sheets are in the hall linen closet. Help yourself to whatever’s in the refrigerator.”
“I don’t understand why you’re doing this.”
“I told you. I’m paying it forward. I’ll tell you the story sometime. Right now, I have to work.” Order pad in hand, he paused by the counter. “I imagine you’re also looking for a job.”
“I am.”
“I heard Clayton over at the hardware store is looking for a clerk. Part-time.”
It wasn’t the nursery job he hoped for, but a man in his position couldn’t be choosy. One step at a time. Clayton Bellaire was English. That would work even during the bann. As long as the Plain customers avoided him.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. I just work here.”
From his grin, it was apparent Burke wasn’t talking about the Purple Martin.
Thaddeus had a place to lay his head tonight. He had the possibility of a job. God had provided. God and an Englisher with an East Coast accent.
CHAPTER 10
In charge. Phillip relished those two words. He unleashed them in his mind, trying to outshout the words Hannah had not said. Yes, I love you. Yes, I’ll marry you.
More telling than her lack of words was her reaction to his kiss. She’d run away. From him. From his touch. A man didn’t need a billboard to understand that message. He jerked open the door to the Combination Store and marched inside.
Leo had left Phillip in charge while he and Jennie went to Branson for a few days of vacation. Just the two of them. Jennie was as flushed and smiling as a newlywed when the driver picked them up the previous day. They were so happy. Phillip wanted that kind of happiness.
A squelching sound emanated from his boots. Phillip glanced down. Water pooled at his feet. The dark-stained puddle stretched from near the front door all the way to the open bathroom door on the far wall. “Christina? Christina!”
“In here!”
Her shout held aggravation.
Phillip stamped to the door and peered inside the unisex bathroom. A crescent wrench in one hand, Christina knelt on the floor next to the bathroom sink. The hem of her lavender dress had turned a darker purple from the water. Her cheeks were rosy, and tendrils of hair escaped from her kapp. Grease smudged her upturned nose.
She glanced back at him. “It was like this when I came in this morning. The pipe sprang a leak.”
Now the words in charge took on a whole new meaning. Phillip might be handier with a saw and sandpaper, but he knew his way around plumbing too.
A little.
“So you thought you’d fix it yourself?” He squatted next to her. “Do you even know how to use that thing?”
“Of course I do. I have five schweschders and no bruders. I’m the oldest.” Her glare did nothing to make her less pretty. The unbidden thought blew by him. An observation, nothing more. “Do you have a Shop-Vac to squeegee up the water?”
“Didn’t mean to offend. Leo has a Shop-Vac in the other building.” He studied the pipe. The water had slowed to a steady drip. “Is it the gasket or does the nut just need to be tightened? All this plumbing was new when Leo turned the barn into a shop.”
“It doesn’t look like there’s plumber’s tape or putty on the pipes.” She waved the crescent wrench. “I tightened the nut, but it’s still dripping.”
“I’ll run over to the hardware store and get both. On the way back, I’ll pick up the Shop-Vac. You might as well put the “Closed” sign back up and lock the door behind me.”
“Leo will be upset.”
“Leo approved the work done by his plumber.”
“I wouldn’t remind him of that.” Grinning, Christina straightened, laid the wrench on the sink, and wiped at her face with her sleeve, smudging the grease on her nose.
“You have grease on your nose.”
Phillip touched the offending feature with one finger.
Christina’s thin eyebrows rose and fell. She smiled. “I must be a mess.”
“Not really.”
“You’re such a sweet talker.”
Phillip snorted and laughed.
Christina joined him. Concerns over the leak receded with the sound. They’d take care of it together. She snatched a paper towel from the dispenser and held it out. “Do me a favor?”
“Gladly.” He scrubbed with vigor.
“Hey, not so hard.” Still laughing, she backed away until her foot smacked into the toolbox sitting in front of the toilet. She teetered. Phillip caught her. “This is one of those days, isn’t it?”
“That’s what happens when Leo leaves us to our own devices, I reckon.”
“He’s a gut boss, but you’re nicer.” Her face reddened, and her hands went to her cheeks. “I mean—”
“Hey, no taking it back now.”
“My mudder says I never think before I speak.”
“It’s never bad to say something nice about a person.”
She picked up the toolbox and edged toward the door. “How is Hannah?”
It seemed everyone in this small community knew about his efforts to court Hannah.
“I better go get the supplies.”
“I’ll start mopping up the water.”
Phillip hurried to put space between Christina and himself. He untied the reins from the hitching post and patted Caramel’s back. “What just happened in there?” Caramel arched her long neck and pranced. “You don’t know either? Then what good are you?”
He climbed in the buggy and set off for the hardware store.
Christina was funny and pretty and open. He found talking to her easy. She carried no baggage.
Shame swept over Phillip. Evie was a little girl, not baggage. From the first time Hannah allowed him to hold her, all blanket and cloth diaper, he’d been held captive by her inquiring gaze and tiny, tiny fingers.
Leo’s question from the other day battered him. Had he fallen in love with the mother or the daughter?
Both. He loved both.
But Evie loved him back. Hannah did not. Everything about her reaction two nights ago underscored that fact.
He shoved through the hardware store’s double glass doors. The cowbell overhead dinged. The smells of metal, grease, and man stuff greeted him. It reminded him of his dad. He took in a deep breath and the muscles in his shoulders relaxed. Here, he was in his element. He headed for the plumbing aisle, intent on scooping up the items he needed and getting back to the Combination Store. The sooner they fixed the pipe, the sooner they could reopen the store.
He and Christina would take care of it. The thought pleased him. And surprised him. His muscles relaxed some more.
“Is there something I can help you with?”
Phillip turned to confront the owner of that low, rugged voice. Expression indecipherable, Thaddeus approached. He wore a red carpenter’s apron with the name “Bellaire Hardware Store” emblazoned in white thread across the chest.
Phillip’s shoulder muscles bunched again. His temples began to throb. “It didn’t take you long to get a job.”
“It’s just part-time. Clayton’s cutting back on his hours while his wife goes through chemotherapy.”
“So you’re staying.” The words were out of his mouth before he could think about how they would sound. “I mean—”
“I’m staying. I’m making my confession tomorrow.”