“I didn’t say poison,” she objected.
His mouth curled. “No, but that’s what you meant, isn’t it?”
“Sometimes I expect you to say, ‘Ain’t so?’”
His eyebrows quirked in that way they had. “I’m reverting to my childhood speech patterns. Before, I tried hard to rid myself of any hint of an accent, never mind the peculiar way we structure sentences.”
“It’s not peculiar, it’s natural. German has a different structure than English. And even if Deitsh is a dialect—”
He held up a big hand and laughed. “No need to be so fierce! You’re right. But you know as well as I do how people out there perceive anyone different.”
“It’s human nature. Don’t the Amish look askance at anyone who’s different than they are?” she countered.
“We do.”
They looked at each other.
“Are you in trouble?” she asked.
“No more than I should be. My parents were hurt. Mamm thought I hadn’t trusted them to love Abby if she wasn’t my biological daughter. Daad . . . I think he thought when I came home, there’d be no worries.”
“There weren’t, were there?”
He made a sound in his throat. “I told myself there weren’t. It never occurred to me that accepting the humility I chafed against as a teenage boy was easy only because I hadn’t been challenged. I bought a house and land that pleased me, enjoyed the work here with Daad and the remodeling I started on the house. Everyone seemed glad I was home. Now, I think I was full of myself. Why wouldn’t I be able to handle everything?”
Why not, indeed? Luke had to be brilliant to have worked in an esoteric area of the digital world, and starting with only an eighth-grade education. He’d adapted to an entirely different way of life, wiped his speech clean of any trace of an accent. He seemed competent at everything he did. The only time she’d ever seen him look helpless was when Abby rejected him at first. Well, and because he’d probably never helped a little girl get dressed, or tucked one into bed—although that might not be true, Julia thought, given that he had two sisters, at least one of them younger. Surely the older kids among the Amish helped raise the younger.
What had disrupted his certainties? That was easy.
“And then Abby was brought to you.”
His mouth opened . . . but then he closed it, as if thinking twice about whatever he’d been about to say. His voice was a little huskier than usual when he said, “She disrupted my life, all right.”
“In a good way, as it’s turned out.”
His expression softened. “In a very good way. She is still not an easy child—”
Julia laughed softly. “Is she wearing Amish dress all the time yet?”
He made another of those sounds. “Only some days, and she absolutely refuses to wear a kapp. A hat, she persists in calling it.”
“She wouldn’t understand what it means.”
“No, but there’s something else, I think.” He shook his head. “I don’t know. My hat doesn’t bother her. It’s the idea of putting one on herself. Or else . . .”
“She’s just being contrary?”
His grin flashed. “That’s possible.”
Julia laughed again, happy just because Luke was so relaxed and truly talking to her. Her heart hurt when she thought about Abby, but not as it would if she’d never known what happened to the little girl she’d become so unreasoningly attached to so quickly. At least she knew Abby was healthy and happy . . . and speaking again to express her wants.
Too, there was always the chance Julia would see her again. She’d loved having Abby beside her at the fellowship meal, teasing her and helping her eat as if . . .
I were her mother. Her mamm.
Oh, yes, this pang was a strong one.
“You miss her,” Luke said, his tone odd.
She looked into his vividly blue eyes and realized he’d seen everything she felt thinking about Abby. It was disconcerting, having someone able to do that.
“I do. There’s something about her . . .” She trailed off. Love of any kind wasn’t always logical, was it?
“Yes.” Kindness and something more softened the often hard set of his mouth, altered the lines that would only add character with the years. “There is something about you, too.” He spoke in a low voice, husky. “You know that, don’t you, Julia?”
He wasn’t talking about Abby anymore. Did he mean himself? Could he have feelings for her . . . ? It was so hard to believe.
She felt strange, her face hot, the rest of her cold and shivery. “No,” she croaked. “I’m ordinary. Not—”
He shook his head. “I can’t believe you haven’t noticed. Abby wasn’t the first person to disrupt my life. You were.”
“Me? But . . . you didn’t want to hire me.”
He slowly pushed off the desk, rising to his full height. “I was afraid of what might happen if you were around all the time. I was right to be afraid, Julia.”
Her breath came faster. Unable to stay sitting when he towered over her, she stood, too, only that brought her much closer to him. So close, she had to tip her head back to see his face. Some of her symptoms felt like fear, but not quite.
“Julia,” he said. Whispered.
At the same time, he wrapped his hands around her upper arms, squeezing gently. And then his head bent, slowly, so slowly he must be giving her a chance to withdraw. But . . . how could she? This might be her only opportunity to know what it felt like to be tempted.
His lips touched hers, brushing them softly. Coming back again. Somehow, her hands had come to be grabbing him, her fingers clenched on the strong muscles that ran between his neck and shoulders. The next touch of his mouth was firmer, more sure.
She quaked.
He lifted his head, his eyes blazing. And then he closed them. “I can’t do this. I’m in a fight with myself, but there is no excuse—”
His hands dropped from her arms and he took a step back, bumping into the counter, and him a man who was never clumsy. She lost her hold on him, too. They stared at each other, Luke seeming as shaken as she felt.
Luke Bowman had kissed her.
I was right to be afraid, he’d said. Of how he felt about her. Was that possible?
“I hear Daad,” he said suddenly. “I must go—” Almost past her, he stopped. “Did I scare you? I never thought . . .”
Slowly, wonderingly, Julia shook her head. “You didn’t scare me.”
“That’s good. But I should not have done it. I’m sorry, Julia.”
A man had kissed her, and she not only hadn’t been afraid, but enjoyed it. How could that be?
Because she trusted Luke on a level so deep, she’d been able to let go of the fear that had crippled her so long? The same man who was backing away, his expression tormented, his regret palpable.
A moment later, he disappeared into the workshop. Julia dropped into her chair, and pressed her hands to her cheeks.
Had he just opened a window for her, allowing her to see beyond the walls she’d built around herself for protection? Or had he allowed her only a glimpse before he slammed it closed again?
She had been foolish enough to fall in love with a man who might be tempted by her, but would never let himself act on it again. That he’d done so this once must have shocked him, violating his beliefs and the commitment that was central to his life.
One of the things she loved about him was the strength of that commitment, the bone-deep values that had pulled him back to the Amish.
Anguish poured through her. Luke would be better off if she quit her job, cutting off their friendship and all other possibilities. That would be the best thing for him, the loving thing for her to do.
She bent her head in prayer, reaching for the God who had sustained her through all her trials. “Help me understa
nd why I came here if this is how it ends. Is leaving how I can make everything right?”
She’d believed God led her here, but now, confused, she wondered if she’d really listened to Him at all, if He hadn’t had an entirely different purpose.
Chapter Twenty-Two
SOMEHOW LUKE GREETED his father in a voice that must have sounded normal, because Daad didn’t seem to notice anything was wrong. He rummaged among the chisels, mumbling under his breath because he couldn’t immediately lay his hand on what he wanted.
“I wouldn’t have just set it down,” he grumbled. “Do you have—?”
Luke silently pointed to a chisel sitting in plain sight on a bench.
His father opened his mouth, closed it, picked up the tool, and went to his workstation.
Luke sat with his back to his father and stretched out a measuring tape across a slab of elm. He didn’t see the promise in the wood or the uncompromising marks on the tape. Instead, he saw Julia, her cheeks colored, her lips soft, her lashes rising slowly to show him dazed brown eyes with sparks of gold.
How could he have ever allowed himself to lay his hands on her? Worse yet, to kiss her? Yes, he had battled the desire since the day she came in to apply for the job. He tried to comfort himself that God didn’t demand perfection, only that men and women learn from their mistakes.
Except . . . this hadn’t felt like a mistake, which made it a greater one. Julia had drawn him in every way from the beginning, but he’d foolishly let himself think they could be friends, that he could accept her counsel, protect her, without ever giving in to temptation.
Examining the depth of his feelings for her, he saw that if he hadn’t accepted baptism, he might have chosen her. That rattled him to his foundations, or the earth might even have suffered a tremor. Still, he followed where these thoughts led him.
Then, he could have maintained his relationship with his family, at least. Now, if he walked away for the sake of a woman, he would be under the meidung. He might never see his parents or brother and sisters again. He wouldn’t be invited to their weddings, or hold any new nieces and nephews when they were born.
And what about Abby?
That he was even asking himself such things stunned him anew. He knew the answer, he’d known it all along. God must come first in his life, followed by family and his brethren. His word was worth nothing if he abandoned everything else that mattered for Julia.
Perhaps he’d weakened after she came to their church service. Her presence had awakened him to hope, to the possibility that she might join the Amish. But how likely is that, really? he asked himself grimly. She’d said nothing about coming again, never mind speaking to the bishop. This wasn’t like converting to Catholicism from being a Baptist, anyway. The Amish didn’t save their religion for Sundays; they had made hard choices to keep that faith at the forefront of their lives. Hard choices especially for the women, his familiarity with the Englisch world told him.
What modern woman would take a step so drastic?
No, he couldn’t let himself hope. He had to apologize again and then avoid her to the best of his ability. He couldn’t ask her to leave the job, not after she had worked so hard to make a place for herself here, and even increased sales with her ideas and computer know-how. That wouldn’t be fair to her; the problem was his.
His thoughts took a sideways jump. He prayed that she hadn’t lied about not being afraid of him when he grabbed her that way. Having her get to her feet, stand so close to him that he could smell her soap and maybe her skin, his mind had clouded. He hadn’t thought at all. It scared him a little that she had such power over him. He asked himself again whether God might have brought her into his life as a test. If so, he had just failed.
“Working hard, I see.”
He jerked at the sound of his father’s voice coming from right behind him.
“I was thinking. I’ve changed my mind about what I want to do with the elm.” Another lie came with shocking speed to his tongue.
No, not a lie; it was true that he’d had second thoughts at seeing the especially fine grain in this wood after the order arrived yesterday from one of their suppliers.
“I thought you planned while you were sleeping. You don’t usually sit here and stare into space.”
“Something just didn’t seem right.”
His father rested a hand on his shoulder and said quietly, “That happens.”
He could only nod and pray Daad was still talking about work.
“Did the dining room set get off all right earlier?”
“Ja. It was almost all loaded when I got here. Julia said she didn’t need me, but I could tell one of the two men made her uncomfortable.”
“Then we won’t leave it to her to meet strangers like that again. I wouldn’t want Miriam doing anything like that.”
“No.” Julia might be mad, but Luke could never erase from his awareness the knowledge that she had been hurt and was afraid of men.
Except, of course, he’d done just that when he snatched her to him and kissed her.
Ashamed, he pushed back his tall stool and said, “I’ll check on the horses and maybe go for a walk. That might clear my head.”
His father met his gaze with kindness. “Is this to do with what you told us last night?”
“No. Just some confusion, nothing to worry about.”
He would make very sure his parents never had to worry about his commitment to his faith again.
His decision might be made, but his chest felt as if it were being crushed.
* * *
* * *
ELAM CAME TROTTING from the back door of their parents’ house even before Luke had reined Charlie to a stop.
Thumbs stuck jauntily under his suspenders, he grinned up at his brother. “I thought I made trouble around here, but me, I’m a beginner compared to you.”
Luke opened the buggy door and got out. “Mamm and Daad told you, then.”
“Ja. Mamm went to see Rose and Miriam today to tell them, too. She didn’t want them surprised Sunday along with everyone else.”
“You think everyone will know by tomorrow?”
“Of course they will,” Elam said cheerfully. “You know what the bishop’s wife is like.”
Maybe Amos would have kept to himself what Luke had told him. But Luke knew better. Forget Twitter. Mamm had speculated that Amos made use of his wife’s propensity for gossip to keep his flock informed. Unfortunately, that made sense.
“As long as nobody says a word about it in Abby’s hearing.”
“Who would do that?” his brother asked simply.
Luke nodded a concession. Nobody would want to upset a three-year-old girl.
“What did you want to talk to me about?” Elam tied Charlie to a post, not as if the gelding would have gone anywhere. Already, he stood hipshot, patient. He knew the routine.
“Dinner isn’t close?”
“No. You’re not staying?”
“Not tonight.” Hiding his turmoil all day had been hard enough. He didn’t need to sit under his parents’ discerning eyes and pretend everything was fine. “Walk with me,” he suggested.
They didn’t go far, only to a bench that Daad had built to encircle an old maple behind the house. It was rarely used; how often did Mamm slow down long enough to sit and watch the birds or feel the sun on her face? Miriam was no better. If Elam dared relax so visibly, someone would be sure to decide he could do a chore.
“How is the job going with Willard?”
“It’s good,” his brother said. “I might do some things differently than he does. He’s not interested in bothering with a cover crop, for one.”
“What else would you do?” Luke asked with real curiosity.
“If it were me, I’d grow crops for the organic market. It’s big now among Englischers, you know.”<
br />
“I noticed that.”
“Getting certified organic doesn’t take such big changes, since we don’t use most of those poisons anyway that you read about. Any crop will sell for a better price, then. I like the idea anyway, of caring for the land that way and being sure the food I produce is safe to eat.” He bent to pick up a twig, which he began to break into increasingly tiny pieces. “Why am I talking about such things? Willard will never listen. Unless I join a new settlement where land is being divided up . . .” He shrugged.
“My idea has to do with this. Not a new settlement,” Luke amended. “I wanted to be sure you hadn’t gotten bored with your job and were thinking of trying something else.”
“No, I’m lucky Willard hired me. I’ve never liked being stuck inside. Hard work outside is best, growing things, helping trees produce their best fruit, seeing crops prosper.” He shook his head as if embarrassed. “I know that was never what you wanted.”
Luke grimaced at being reminded what—whom—he wanted, but he said, “You know I have plenty of money left from my job in computers.”
Elam looked at him. “No, I never thought—” His mouth tightened. “I asked Daad for a loan. The store is doing well enough, he could afford it, but he isn’t convinced I’m serious. He was disappointed I didn’t love furniture making. As far as he’s concerned, I’m flitting from thing to thing. By my age I should know what I want. When I say that I do, he doesn’t believe me.”
Luke had heard enough to suspect that Elam needed more respect from their father than he’d been getting. He did say, “You haven’t been baptized.”
“No,” his brother mumbled. “What difference would it make? It’s not as if I like to party. But here I am, still living at home. I almost took a job on a construction crew so I could travel, but that’s not work I want to do, either. Mamm complains that I’m not married, but how can I court a woman when I can’t afford to support a family?”
“Mamm and Daad would be glad to let you live in the grossdaadi house.”
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