“Does it hurt terribly, dearie?” Erma grasped Grace’s arm and held on as she shuffled her way into the kitchen, slower than the slowest snail would go. But bless her heart—she was doing it for Grace’s benefit, because even on her pokiest day, Erma walked fast. “Maybe it’ll help to put some ice on it.”
She’d pretty much have to pack her body in ice or take a handful of pain pills, but she deserved nothing less after her forward, foolish behavior.
But oh joy, there was still one cinnamon roll, waiting on the metal baking sheet on the table. Grace eyed it and inched closer, reaching out the arm that wasn’t gripped by Erma…
A bearded man grabbed the baked delight and turned away, adding insult to injury as Grace watched the very last melt-in-your-mouth piece of deliciousness get carried out the door. The whole reason why she had been hurrying in the first place.
She could’ve cried.
And that settled it. This whole thing was Erma’s fault. Because if she hadn’t brought cinnamon rolls, Grace wouldn’t have been hurrying; she wouldn’t have run into Zeke and almost fallen down the stairs and then gotten sidetracked enough to try to kiss him. Jah, it was all Erma’s fault.
Erma pulled out a chair and held on to Grace’s arm as Grace lowered herself into it; then Erma bustled to the freezer and pulled out a bag of mixed vegetables. “Where does it hurt most, dearie?”
Um, everywhere? But mostly her pride. And her conscience. But she couldn’t put ice on those. Nor on her bottom, which would likely be black and blue.
Grace waved it away. “I’ll be okay.”
Erma returned the vegetables to the freezer and then poured herself and Grace mugs of coffee and carried them to the table. She added cream and sugar. Sweet, but Grace didn’t like coffee. “Danki,” she murmured and tried not to grimace as she tasted the bitter brew.
The women, who’d arrived early, bustled around, carrying breakfast foods and drinks outside to a table that’d been set up from sawhorses and lumber. No more cinnamon rolls, but there were breakfast burritos, toast, hard-boiled eggs, cereal bars, fruit, bacon, and some fruit-filled pastries, as well as assorted juices and coffee to drink.
Jon, Vernon, and Zeke filed past to join the gathering crowd outside. Grace tried to catch Zeke’s attention to mouth her apology, but he wouldn’t look at her.
She couldn’t blame him.
Her eyes burned, and she swallowed at a stubborn lump in her throat. The coffee she’d forced herself to swallow didn’t stay put and she gagged. She slapped her hand across her mouth and raced from the room.
Every step ached. Her back, her neck, her rump, her…everything.
The first-floor bathroom was occupied, so she dashed upstairs. And barely made it. She didn’t even get the door shut, though she swatted at it.
Patience stumbled in and rubbed Grace’s back as she knelt on the floor, heaving and crying.
“Jesus, calm Gracie’s storm,” Patience prayed.
And the innocent words made Grace cry harder.
Lord, please forgive me for all my sins already this morning. Help me to make things right with everyone I wronged. Especially Zeke.
Oh, her behavior.
A fresh round of shame washed over her.
Patience dropped to the floor next to Grace and wrapped her arms around her.
So much for being strong for Patience. Maybe her sister was stronger than Grace thought.
Gracie twisted enough to wrap her arms around Patience. “Danki. Ich liebe dich.”
She rose to her feet, washed her face, and rebrushed her teeth; then she and Patience went downstairs together, hand in hand.
Some of the women were whispering together, hands over their lips, eyes focused on Grace as she appeared.
Patience released Grace’s hand and went to feed the peeping baby chicks in the boxes on the floor.
Erma wrapped Grace in a hug. “I wish I would’ve known, dearie. I never could drink coffee when I was in the family way. But Timothy’s mamm will be ever so glad to hear. Especially if he’s…gone.”
Grace stared at her. “Family way?” What? Why would they think that? Timothy and she had barely even kissed. Maybe only three times. And that wasn’t enough for…Oh. Oh no, no, no, no, no. Erma didn’t sound judgmental, but others would, even if it wasn’t true. Grace’s stomach roiled again. She swallowed the bile and made a second dash from the room.
* * *
Zeke helped the men as they used a pulley system to raise the prebuilt sides of the barn into the air. Then, as several men held the ropes in place, he and a few others shimmied up and started attaching the sides. Around him conversation hummed, and jokes were shared as well as good-natured gibes.
Zeke listened to the ebb and flow of conversation, present but not a part of the group. He missed joking around with his friends and coworkers.
Vernon seemed to be working in the same solitude but on the opposite side of the building, so Zeke couldn’t even talk with him. Not that he had any idea what they’d talk about. What could a known goof-off say to someone as perfect as Vernon? Except, maybe, ask him to share his secrets so Zeke could learn from them.
Zeke should’ve stayed home. Then he wouldn’t be used by a pretty girl desperate to escape. He wouldn’t be the laughingstock of the Lantz men. He and his younger brother and Kiah could be hanging out, having fun after work, and…
Kiah. Zeke lowered himself to sit on a beam and looked around the crowd of men. Surely, Kiah had to be there somewhere. But he didn’t see him. Very few men from Shipshewana were there. Just him, Vernon, and a couple of Mennonite men that Zeke didn’t know very well.
An Amish man down below started mocking a street preacher he’d heard in town. Something about how the tornado was Gott’s wrath. “The funny thing was he is a pastor at that there church the tornado destroyed. Made me think maybe Gott was judging him.”
Several of the Amish men concurred, but unease slithered up Zeke’s spine and he shuddered. The Englisch man who oversaw the boys’ ranch where Zeke volunteered preached about everyone needing to be saved. That it wasn’t based on works, or on who one’s family was, or on what religion you were, or on anything except the blood of Jesus. I am the way, the truth, and the life: no man comes to the Father, but by me. The verse was engraved on the front of the chapel at the ranch. It always made Zeke a bit curious. He and his coworkers always sat in on the sermons, but he never was brave enough to ask about what he heard. Especially since Amish generally believe salvation is based on church membership and works.
The Mennonite missionaries stilled. One stood on the beam up near the top of the barn and loudly cleared his throat. “Amish or Englisch, we all need to be saved. If anyone has any questions, come see me.”
“Or me,” the other Mennonite said.
The two missionaries exchanged glances and returned to work.
Zeke fought the urge to go over there. It’d be a bad move when surrounded by Amish men who’d agreed with the storyteller.
Below him someone muttered, “I’m Amish. I don’t need to worry about salvation.”
More murmurs of assent.
Zeke’s stomach twisted.
“I agree with the missionaries,” a quiet voice said behind Zeke. “Salvation is not so widely preached among the Amish, but it’s a fact. We need Gott, and He is calling for us to come to Him. There’s this Gott-sized hole in each one of us that no one can deny, if they are honest.”
Zeke’s Gott-sized hole responded with a tug and a rush of longing. But Zeke wasn’t sure who the man was talking to. No one answered. But maybe the loudmouthed ones below didn’t hear him. Zeke carefully swung a leg over the beam he was sitting on and swiveled around to face the thin, wiry guy he’d first seen at the public school yesterday morning. Gracie’s grossdaadi. And he was on the beam next to him, his pale-blue gaze focused on Zeke.
“Cliff Lantz. And you’re Zeke Bontrager.”
“Good memory.” Now that he was face-to-face with the pun-loving daa
di, Zeke didn’t know what to say.
“I make it a point to remember people I like.”
People he liked?
“I remember you arriving. You were kind to the dog. Stood up to the man who kicked the dog. And returned him to his family.”
“And you named the horses and cows here.”
Cliff grimaced. “And the hog.” He glanced toward a tree, but other than a rope, nothing was there now. “Named her Crispy Bacon. She’s gone to the butcher. Guess she’s going to live up to her name. Tornado killed her.”
“I’m sorry. Loved the names you came up with, though.”
“How’s your stay so far? Any unmarried daughters?” There was a twinkle in Cliff’s eyes.
Zeke shook his head. “With twelve brothers, ain’t it a wonder?”
Cliff roared with laughter. “I knew I liked you.”
They both fell silent, working on the barn, for fifteen, maybe twenty minutes. Below them, the joking and gibing continued. Zeke eyed the missionaries. Could Gott really love someone like him? Someone his own daed couldn’t love? He longed for that unconditional love and acceptance. Something inside him urged him to seek the missionaries out. Would he have a chance to talk to them privately sometime? Maybe on the way home.
Then Cliff shifted. “I think I’m going to talk to one of those missionaries.”
Zeke puffed out a breath of relief. “I’ll go with you. If you don’t mind.”
“It’s easier with two, ain’t so?”
“Much.” Zeke swung down to the ground and headed in the direction of the missionaries. Vernon was already there. Huh.
Patience approached with two glasses filled with what appeared to be water. Probably had apple cider vinegar added to it like they did at home. Her eyes shimmered with tears. She handed a glass to Cliff, then turned to Zeke.
Zeke took a cup. “Danki, Patience. What’s wrong?”
“They say Gracie in family way. She not in way.”
She was pregnant? Zeke’s stomach twisted and cramped. Had Timothy forced her to…? His heart skipped a beat. She wasn’t with child. It wasn’t true. When she’d appeared to try to kiss him, she’d said, “I must be dreaming.” When Patience caught them, she’d pushed him away. He could hear the pain in her voice when she talked about Timothy’s behavior and her doubts. He thought of the curve of her assets in the windblown dress, and Patience’s obvious tears and denial.
A verse in Proverbs came to mind. He paraphrased it in his mind: A person with wisdom has patience. It’s in one’s glory to overlook an offense.
Distance was good for his sanity’s sake, but Gracie needed a friend and a listening ear. He’d just keep making it clear that he wasn’t here to date. And if it turned out she’d been trying to play a game with him, well, then Daed would be right if he called him a fool for falling for it.
Cliff stilled. He stared at Patience. “What did you say?” His voice was dangerously calm.
Zeke’s stomach roiled. A throbbing began in his temples.
Patience tearfully repeated it.
“That boy,” Cliff muttered. “That boy.”
Jah. Twelve brothers would be circling the missing groom.
If he was still alive.
Chapter 15
Grace brushed her teeth again, then headed downstairs to somehow set the gossips straight without coming out and saying she was not pregnant. That just wasn’t spoken of except in whispers to trusted family members. The loose dresses hid—for the most part—the shape of a woman’s body.
Mamm was on her way up, and they met in the middle. “What is going on? I’m hearing whispers that you—”
“Let’s go to my room.” Grace grabbed Mamm’s hand and tugged her upstairs. Once there, Grace shut the door. Her back twinged as she twisted it.
Mamm’s forehead was wrinkled, her lips curved down. “Gracie, I simply cannot believe you would do such a thing. Timothy—”
“I didn’t. I’m not in the family way. Timothy and I, we never…” Grace’s face heated. “It’s Zeke. He, I mean—”
“What!” Mamm’s eyebrows shot up.
Okay, never mind heated. Grace’s face burned. “No. I mean I might have developed a crush on Zeke. I know nothing will come of it, so no reason to send him away. I’ll marry Timothy…” She gulped. “If he’s alive. If he shows up.”
Mamm smiled. “I’m glad to hear that.”
Jah. But the thought made Grace’s blood pressure rise. And not in a good way. “But I might have flirted with Zeke and then I felt guilty, and between falling down the stairs and the coffee Erma gave me, everything mixed wrong, and well, I got sick.”
Mamm’s expression cleared. “Sarah Jane made the coffee. She gets way too many grounds in it. But don’t tell her I said that. I’m surprised more don’t get sick from it. Don’t worry. I’ll set the gossips straight.” She glanced around the room. “You need to take a moment and straighten your room; then make sure the boys’ beds are made. I’ll have the misunderstanding cleared up by the time you finish.”
Grace hoped so. It would be beyond terrible if that gossip spread further than the kitchen. She couldn’t imagine what Zeke might think. Maybe that she was more than a flirt—that she was also very loose. Easy. She shuddered.
Mamm gave Grace a gentle hug and bustled from the room. Moving slowly, due to her aches and pains, Grace made the bed that she and Patience shared and picked up Patience’s discarded nightgown, folded it, and placed it under the pillow. Patience normally took care of things, but she must’ve been excited to get downstairs, too.
The room straightened, she went down the hall to her brother’s room. It was clean, nothing out of place.
Then she peeked into the room Zeke and Vernon were staying in. They’d been in a rush. Both twin beds were jumbled, tangled messes, and the contents of both men’s bags lay strewn across the room, divided by a swath of bare floor in the middle.
Grace made the beds but hesitated to touch their personal belongings. It’d be wiser to let them pick up their dirty socks and other garments themselves.
She went down the hall to the room across from hers—the bathroom. She took a couple of pain pills, then looked around. That was clean. The towels Zeke and the others had used were dropped in the hamper, and there was a kind of manly piney scent lingering in the room.
She hadn’t noticed when she was in there earlier. But then she’d only been focused on herself. And when she was in his arms, she’d thought it was part of her dream.
Maybe she could find a candle with that scent. To remind her of him.
It was time to stop hiding. Hopefully, Mamm had quieted the rumors.
Grace firmed her shoulders and, careful not to move any unnecessary muscles, returned downstairs. She entered the bustling kitchen. Uninterrupted chatter continued, but at least no one whispered behind cupped hands. Someone had discarded Grace’s barely touched cup of coffee, and everyone did chores that were assigned by one person—typically bossy, take-charge Deborah Fisher.
Deborah wasn’t there. She was related to Toby, though, so she’d be at visitation.
Hallie would be there, too.
Grace gulped. Should she go to support her friend? Or stay home for the barn raising?
Mamm came in from outside carrying an empty tray in one hand and a plastic dishpan full of dirty glasses against her hip. Patience stood at the sink, washing dishes. And sniffling.
She glanced over her shoulder at Grace and lifted her hands from the suds. Dripping, she rushed to Grace and wrapped her warm, wet arms around her. “You not in way, Gracie.”
Grace returned her hug. “I…” What was Patience talking about?
Erma caught her gaze and, with a sheepish smile, mouthed, “I’m sorry.”
Oh. Patience had heard the rumors. And misunderstood.
Grace tightened her grip on her sister. “Danki, Patience.”
Patience smiled brightly and returned to the sink.
The door opened and Gracie’s oth
er best friend, Elsie, poked her head in. “Gracie, my family is here for the barn raising. Daed said I could go to the visitation if you go with me. I think we need to be there for Hallie.”
Grace sighed. “I’ll ask.” Hopefully, Mamm would agree.
Mamm had returned outside sometime while Grace and Patience were hugging, so Grace hurried to join her friend in the yard. Mamm was arranging more breakfast burritos on a tray. A man snatched one as she worked.
“May I go with Elsie to the visitation?” Grace stopped beside her.
Mamm waved her hand in a shooing motion. “Go on. We have plenty of help here for now. Try to be back in time to help with the noon meal.”
“Danki, Mamm.” Grace hurried after Elsie to the buggy her family had brought. She scanned the skeleton of the future barn, looking for Zeke, but she didn’t see him anywhere. Of course, men clung from every beam already in place, and some men were perched on the eventual roof. Zeke could’ve been any one of them working at dangerous heights.
Daed crouched beside one of his four-year-old grandsons, showing him how to use a hammer.
And oh, wait. Zeke stood next to Daadi Cliff and Vernon, talking to two men Grace didn’t know. Zeke’s eyes locked on hers for a brief moment; then he deliberately looked away.
Oh, her heart. What had she done?
* * *
Zeke tried not to watch Gracie walk with her friend to a closed buggy. Tried being the key word. His gaze kept drifting to her as he listened to the Mennonite missionaries explaining the ABCs of salvation: Admit you have sinned, believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and confess with your mouth. All things from scripture he had thought about or that he and Cliff had discussed.
All things they had done at one time or another, though Zeke had never thought to pray and ask Gott to save him.
“The truth is once you believe the promises of God, you not only have hope—your life is forever changed,” one of the missionaries said.
“I think I’d like to pray.” Cliff bowed his head.
Jah. Zeke wanted to, also.
“Repeat after me,” the same missionary said, closing his eyes.
The Amish Wedding Promise Page 14