A Picture of Love

by Beth Wiseman

  Naomi opened the book, then eased it to her right so it was also in Amos’s lap.

  Perfect.

  After they both thanked her, she excused herself, wanting to give the young people some time alone. At least the book got them on the couch next to each other. She trusted Naomi not to let anything get inappropriate if things moved in a romantic direction, which she hoped would happen.

  Esther had a lot to think about. But first she just wanted to have a good, private cry in her room. She’d prayed and prayed for strength, but despite her belief that God heard her prayers, the urge to release some stored-up emotion still overwhelmed her.

  * * *

  Naomi eyed the mountainous landscape in the book, but she was very aware of Amos’s leg touching hers on the couch. His nearness made her senses alert in an unfamiliar way.

  “Someday I’d like to go see mountains like this.” Naomi gingerly ran her hand along the full-color photo of mountains covered in snow with a stunning blue sky in the background. “I don’t think I could ever paint as well as this artist, though.”

  “He was probably professionally trained and has been doing it for a long time.” Amos was holding one side of the book, Naomi the other. As he leaned even closer and eyed the painting, she breathed in his scent. He’d showered before supper, and the hint of musk filled her senses as her pulse quickened. Esther kept a basket of assorted soaps in the guest bathrooms, but Naomi couldn’t recall anything that smelled the way Amos did now. She waited until her heartbeat got back to normal before she said anything.

  “When I used to paint before, sometimes I felt like it was a waste of time, that I should be doing something more productive, like tackling the mending or ironing, cleaning areas I’d been putting off, or tending to other chores that needed to be done.”

  He looked at her, his eyes twinkling in the light of the lantern, shadows from the flames dancing above their heads. “I think it’s okay to just have fun sometimes.”

  There was no mistaking the seductiveness in his voice. Naomi couldn’t pull her gaze from his. A knot rose in her throat as blood coursed through her veins like an awakened river. She felt drugged by his clean, manly scent, along with the way he was looking at her, studying her. When he reached up and tucked a strand of loose hair behind her ear, the gentle touch of his hand was almost unbearable with tenderness. Her lips parted, and she waited, longing for the feel of his lips against hers.

  But he retreated, eased away, and cleared his throat. “I-I guess I should go to bed.”

  Naomi wanted to tell him to stay, to hold her in his arms, to remind her what it was like to be loved and protected. But the sting of rejection prickled her skin, even though neither of them had made an actual advance.

  “Ya, sure.” When she abruptly stood up, the book fell to the floor. They both leaned down to pick it up and bumped heads.

  Amos straightened with the book in his hand, and Naomi raised a hand to her forehead, wondering if his head hurt half as much as hers. They’d bumped hard enough that a goose egg was already forming on Naomi’s forehead.

  He eased her hand away, gently lifted her chin with his hand, and peered at her forehead. “Ach, wow. I’m sorry.”

  She shook her head and his hand dropped. “Nee, it was just as much mei fault as yours.”

  “You need some ice on it.” He picked up the lantern and rushed to the kitchen, returning with some ice cubes wrapped in a kitchen towel. Gently, he pressed it against her head, and she flinched.

  “You might need some ice on yours too.” She eased the towel and ice from his hand and tenderly reached up to hold it against the knot on his head. Surprisingly, he winced a little, too, but eventually took the ice from her hand and handed it back.

  “Here, take it with you to bed. Mei head is okay.” But he didn’t move, and neither did Naomi. Gazing into each other’s eyes, the heady sensation returned, the prequel to a kiss, something neither of them was ready for. Or maybe they were. Perhaps it would help push them past the darkness they both seemed to be stuck in. But he’d withdrawn from the moment earlier.

  Amos slowly lifted his hands and cupped her cheeks. Naomi dropped the towel she was holding, ice cubes tumbling across the wood floor, but even the noise wasn’t enough to break the trance.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” he whispered, still holding her face.

  “Ya.” It was all she could manage as she stared into his eyes, again anticipating the feel of his lips on hers. An undeniable magnetism had snuck up on them, but was it right?

  He leaned down, his breath warm against her mouth as he pulled her closer to him. Just before his lips met hers, he dropped his hands and stepped back.

  “I’m sorry.” He wound around the coffee table and headed toward the staircase, taking the steps two at a time.

  Naomi stood with her arms at her sides as the ice cubes puddled on the floor. She waited until her knees stopped shaking, then she picked up the lantern and went to get a mop. She would likely spend the next few hours analyzing what he meant when he said he was sorry. Sorry that he still loved Sarah too much to kiss another woman? Sorry that he bumped her head? Sorry that he didn’t want to lead her on since he had no desire to have a relationship? Or was it something else?

  Whatever his reason, the exchange had left Naomi longing for passion more than ever. But there was a difference between passion and love, and the love should come first. She barely knew Amos.

  Her thoughts shifted to Thomas. Prior to his hasty departure, she’d thought she had it all with him. He was handsome, and they had a lot in common. Thomas loved animals as much as Naomi, and they planned to have a big farm. And even though gardening was mostly women’s work, Thomas had loved to work alongside Naomi. They often laid on a blanket outside when the sky was clear, wishing on shooting stars and stealing kisses.

  What happened? She could still recall with painful clarity Thomas’s words when he ended their relationship outside his parents’ house. “I love you, Naomi, but I’m not ready to get married.” After asking him repeatedly through her tears why he wasn’t ready, he turned and walked away.

  They’d both been baptized and begun preparing for a life together. He left town two days later, before Naomi could question him further. Did he not love her enough? If she’d had more answers, would she have been able to move on? She’d likely never know. All she knew for sure was that romantic love caused unbearable pain when it didn’t work out.

  No matter her attraction to Amos, she was going to need to keep some distance between them.

  * * *

  Amos sat on the side of his bed, resting his elbows on his knees as he held his head in his hands. His head was splitting, but not from the bump on his noggin. He’d come close to kissing Naomi. Twice. A combination of longing and guilt consumed him. Even though he wasn’t interested in a relationship, he couldn’t deny his attraction to her. If he continued to live here with her, he wasn’t sure he could harness his temptation. Sarah had been his entire world. How could he be so desirous of a woman he barely knew?

  Lightning lit up the night sky, followed by claps of thunder that were becoming less frequent. The storm was moving out. Maybe Lizzie was wrong about it raining for days.

  He slipped out of his slacks, took off his shirt, and got into bed. Closing his eyes, he pictured Sarah, her bright blue eyes, the way her cheeks dimpled when she laughed—which had been often—and every curve of her body in just the right place. He was caught off guard when the image began to fade, something that had never happened before. He couldn’t visualize Sarah as clearly. As Naomi crept into his mind, he could see her brown doe eyes longing for him to kiss her. Shaking his head, he tried to clear the vision, but as he tried to sleep, she was all he could see.

  Groaning, he got out of bed and paced in the darkness of the bedroom, barely lit now by the occasional flash of lightning. He walked to the window and, from the light of the propane lamp in the yard, he could see that it was still misting rain. A movement caught
his attention.

  Peering out past the lamppost, he saw a man standing in the yard. Amos couldn’t make out any details, just that the person was wearing pants. It looked like he might have on a straw hat, but Amos couldn’t tell for sure. Was the man a threat? Or an elderly fellow who might be lost? He recalled a neighbor back home who suffered from Alzheimer’s disease. He was often found wandering the streets, unable to find his way home.

  Without lighting the lantern, Amos put his clothes back on and went to check it out.

  Thirteen

  Naomi picked at her breakfast. She loved pancakes, but she didn’t have much of an appetite this morning. She’d stayed awake until after midnight pondering what had happened between her and Amos last night. She’d thought for sure he was going to kiss her. And, right or wrong, she would have let him. But now she wondered if maybe she’d exaggerated or misinterpreted his gestures.

  Then why can’t I look at him? They’d bumped heads, and he comforted her. She reached up and touched her forehead, but the bump on her head was gone, as if it was never there in the first place.

  “Um . . .” Naomi looked up, and Amos wiped his mouth with his napkin before continuing. But he was looking at Esther. “Last night, there was a man in the yard. It had mostly stopped raining, and I thought I better go see if he was okay or needed something.”

  “Did he tell you his name? Was he Amish?” Esther set her fork on her plate.

  “I didn’t see him, except from the bedroom window.” Amos scratched his forehead. “He was gone by the time I got outside. I looked around for a while, but I never found anyone. There wasn’t a car or buggy, so he’d traveled on foot. From the window it looked like he had on a straw hat, but I’m not sure.”

  “That was probably Ben, Marie’s husband. At the last quilting party, she said he’s getting all ab im kopp.” Lizzie pointed to her head and twirled her finger, then cleared her throat and flashed everyone a big smile.

  “Ya,” Esther said. “Your teeth look lovely, Lizzie.”

  “I’ll probably die from some rare disease.” She stopped smiling and looked at Naomi. “I scrubbed these dentures, but I hope I don’t end up with cat-scratch fever.”

  Naomi chuckled and glanced at Amos to see him smiling too. “Lizzie, I think the cat would have to scratch you to give you that.”

  “Back to this man.” Esther tipped her head slightly to one side. “I don’t think that could have been Ben. Their farm is two miles down the road.”

  “Ach, well, who else would be silly enough to roam around at night in the rain?” Lizzie smiled again, even though there wasn’t really anything to smile about.

  Esther put her napkin across her plate, then got up and carried it to the sink. When she turned around she said, “I know we don’t usually lock the doors at night, but let’s do so for a few evenings, just to be safe.”

  Naomi nodded before lifting her eyes to Amos, who was staring at her. She lowered her gaze, wondering what was going on in his mind and still trying to decide if she’d misread him.

  “Look at that.” Lizzie pointed to the kitchen window. “The sun’s coming up, and there are only a few clouds in the sky. Doesn’t look like rain to me. Those fellas in the newspaper don’t know what they’re talking about. They made it sound like we’d be homebound for days.” Lizzie rolled her eyes and showed her teeth again.

  Naomi pressed her lips together to avoid grinning. She was happy Lizzie finally seemed to be getting used to her teeth and that she’d gotten over the cat incident—at least enough to wear the dentures again.

  “So, it looks like you two can resume your painting.” Lizzie flashed her pearly whites again.

  Naomi looked across the table at Amos and forced a smile, waiting to see if he would say anything.

  “I’m looking forward to it,” he said before he winked at Naomi.

  What is he doing? She glanced at Esther, then Lizzie. They were both wide-eyed as they exchanged all-knowing looks. The wink would only fuel their matchmaking efforts. Things were already awkward enough. Why did he do that?

  Naomi was sure her face was red, but she nodded. “Ya, me too.”

  “I-I guess I’ll get back to work while it isn’t raining,” Amos said to Esther before he turned to Naomi. “And I guess I’ll see you for painting tonight, weather permitting.”

  There was no mistaking the blush on Amos’s cheeks. So, he feels awkward too? Then why wink at me?

  Naomi grinned. “So, you aren’t planning on having dinner or supper?”

  “Well, uh . . . ya. Of course.” He stood up. “I’m not going to miss any of your wonderful meals.”

  Naomi prepared herself for the sisters, and when the front door shut behind Amos, Lizzie started.

  “I saw it!” She pointed a finger at Naomi, a huge smile on her face. “He winked at you, and he’s flirting with you.”

  Before Naomi could think of a response, Esther pressed her palms together and said, “And did you see him blushing? He’s nervous. That’s so sweet.”

  Naomi didn’t know what to say. The wink had surprised her too. She pushed her chair back and began clearing the table, shaking her head. After she placed the dishes in soapy water, she turned around and leaned against the counter.

  “I have already explained to Amos that I am not interested in a romantic relationship. And he is still recovering from the death of his fiancée and feels the same way about not wanting to get involved in anything romantic. We are just friends. So, please don’t make a big deal out of a little wink.” She folded her arms across her chest and raised her chin.

  “Whatever you say, dear.” Esther nodded, but she was still grinning as she left the kitchen.

  Lizzie followed her sister, giggling like a schoolgirl. “He’s sweet on her,” she said before she looked over her shoulder and gave Naomi an exaggerated wink.

  Naomi held back a grin. She was looking forward to painting with Amos tonight more than she cared to admit, even to herself.

  * * *

  Amos shook his head as he marched to the back fence. Maybe if he tossed his head around enough, he’d clear the loose marbles having a party in his mind. What in the world am I doing? He had clearly and intentionally flirted with Naomi. And he’d done it in front of Esther and Lizzie.

  By the time he reached the back fence, he had a headache from overanalyzing his actions. Or maybe his head ached from bumping hers the night before. He touched his forehead. Nothing was there, not even a bruise.

  Then it hit him. He’d flirted with her because it felt good. It was nice to be attracted to someone and to act on it. Besides, feeling good about anything hadn’t been a part of Amos’s life until recently.

  But were his actions going to be like taking a step back? Would he scare off Naomi completely? He enjoyed having a friend he was comfortable around. If she wasn’t so gorgeous, the friendship would be easier to maintain without the temptations that went along with Naomi’s looks. He’d thought he was clear on his position about relationships and no desire to have one. He’d also thought he was clear about Naomi’s position and lack of desire to be anything more than friends. But he was sure she’d wanted him to kiss her last night. They seemed to be sending each other mixed signals. Why?

  He spent another ten minutes remembering the moment in the living room. Part of him wished he had kissed her, for his own selfish reasons. But he knew they both would have regretted it afterward. He didn’t want to lose her as a friend. They would have crossed a line they’d clearly set for themselves.

  Amos’s chest tightened. He hadn’t thought about Sarah even once all day. And that left him engulfed in guilt, but strangely, entangled in his mind with the marbles and guilt . . . there was hope.

  * * *

  Esther was happy things might be moving in a romantic direction with Naomi and Amos, but thoughts about her health weighed heavily on her mind. She’d decided not to go with Lizzie and Naomi to the Bargain Center in the late afternoon. She usually looked forward to the ou
tings, but she was nauseated after breakfast and had skipped lunch, feigning a headache—which wasn’t a lie.

  Amos had finished the fence and was splitting wood they’d need for the winter. With Lizzie and Naomi gone, Esther decided to get her most dreaded task behind her. The rain had let up for today, but Indiana weather was unpredictable. She was going to take Gus an entire pie. Why hadn’t she thought to do that before? It would make for fewer trips to his house.

  She packed up a chocolate pie since that seemed to be his favorite. Maybe he wouldn’t be in such a foul mood today. It was unlikely, but she’d stay hopeful. She wrapped her cape around her and was only a few steps into the yard when she noticed a car in front of Gus’s cottage—a red car, like Mary said she’d seen.

  Esther slowed and considered going back to the house, but she was too curious about the possibility of seeing Gus’s daughter. She started walking again, glancing at the sky, thankful for the sunshine.

  When she stepped onto the front porch and raised her hand to knock, she heard loud voices and lowered her arm, knowing she should leave. Instead, she leaned an ear closer to the door.

  “Then why’d you even come here if you feel like that?” Gus’s deep voice bellowed out the words. “Just to rub my nose in your troubles? They ain’t my troubles, so I don’t see how it can be my fault!”

  “You are even worse than you were when I was a kid, and I never would have believed that possible. You were mean back then, and you still are. I guess I came just to see if growing older had changed you at all.” There was a pause, and Esther held her breath, waiting. When the woman—who had to be Heather—finally spoke again, her language was worse than anything Esther had ever heard.

  Esther covered her mouth with her hand, almost dropping the pie. She knew she should set it on the table by the rocking chair, but she couldn’t bring herself to leave.