Was it pointless to pray for comfort and then sit on the other side of the room and not offer it when he had the arms and shoulders needed?
Or should he stand up, cross the room, and pull the one woman he’d been attracted to in, well, ever into his arms and hug her?
Like he did with Patience. Purely platonic.
Right.
Well, she could think it was platonic on his part. He alone would know the truth that the hug was paid for with his heart.
Okay, now who was being dramatic?
He sighed again. He was being dramatic when he should be that comfort that both Seth and Cliff seemed to think he could be.
Zeke planted his hands on either side of himself and pushed up, then crossed the room. He hesitated in front of her. Should he sit beside her and offer a one-armed hug? Or kneel on the braided bedside rug and wrap both of his arms around her?
Oh, the temptation. And since this was likely the only opportunity he’d have to hold her…
He pulled in a deep breath, gently removed the pillow from her grasp, and knelt before her. “We can’t have you smothering yourself.” He opened his arms wide, giving her plenty of time to decide she didn’t want to hug him.
Then, joy of joys, she was in his arms, crying on his shoulder, while his arms were around her, his hands rubbing her back in little circles, kind of like how Mamm comforted Zeke’s eighteen-month-old nephew when he cried.
She buried herself nearer, wrapped her arms around him, and cried, saying something about learning to drive and the worst blizzard in Illinois history that made little to no sense because the words were garbled against his neck.
Or maybe because his senses were tuned into the fact that she was in his arms, her mouth moving against his neck as she talked, and not focused on the words she was saying.
He tried to pray, disjointed sentences like Comfort her and Please let Jon live and be okay that probably made as much sense to Gott as Gracie’s words did to him.
His knees were beginning to hurt, and he began to seriously consider moving beside her on the bed and giving her a one-armed hug instead when Gracie pulled back a little, then surged forward, knocking him on his rear.
“Danki. For being a friend.”
Then, Lord have mercy, her lips were on his.
He handed his heart over in its entirety, tugged her more fully into his arms, and settled into her tentative…not tentative…kiss.
His heart pounded, and he closed his eyes.
Her hands cupped his face, her fingers just reaching to tangle in his hair.
A kaleidoscope of colors burst, forming flares, rainbows, and stars.
He might not survive this assault on his senses.
He wasn’t sure he wanted to try.
He surrendered to the madness.
* * *
Grace was right. Kissing Zeke wasn’t good. It was great. Beyond great. Amazing.
His hands trembled against her back, pressing against her in what might be desperation, until she lost her balance and tumbled more fully into his arms.
Somehow, he scooted around until he leaned his back against Jon’s bed…
Oh, Jon…
She gasped, sucking in air, and then, in desperation, plunged her fingers into Zeke’s soft, silky hair. She needed to forget. And what better way…
Zeke made some sort of sound deep in his throat and settled her against him, taking control of the kisses, taking them from whatever temperature they were to something beyond comprehension.
She made an answering moan, wrapped her arms around him, and held on for dear life.
This—this was better than anything she could ever imagine.
She was melting…melting…melting…
Then, horror of horrors, it was over.
She was no longer in his lap. Instead, her lips felt bereft. She trembled beside him.
He gasped for air, his eyes wide with dismay as he scooted away.
Dismay. Confusion. Regret. Anger. A whole arsenal of emotions—none of them good—crossed his face.
He took another gasped breath, then stumbled to his feet. “I…I’m sorry. I never meant…I mean, it shouldn’t have happened. Oh, Gracie. It…I…I only meant to try to comfort you. I feel—felt—so sorry for you and all you’re going through. I never meant to take advantage of you. Gracie, it’ll never happen again.” He made a terrible groaning sound and left the room at a lurching run.
She covered her bruised, well-kissed lips with her shaking hand.
She’d wanted to say thank you.
He was sorry? It wouldn’t happen again? He felt sorry for her?
So when he took over…What was this—some sort of pity kiss?
She managed to pull herself to her feet, only to have her unexpectedly weak knees give out. She collapsed on Jon’s bed again, fell back against the pillow, and rolled to face the wall.
A huge sense of loss washed over her, covering her in grief.
It’d never happen again?
She wouldn’t be able to live without it.
* * *
Zeke stumbled down the hall, somehow made it to his temporary room that he shared with Vernon, and fell on his knees beside the bed. Oh, dear Lord. What did I do? Seth trusted me! He trusted me, and I…oh, merciful Lord. Please forgive me.
Would he need to confess to Seth that he’d violated his trust and taken advantage of his vulnerable daughter?
Or Cliff? Would he need to know?
Would Zeke end up surrounded by eleven of the twelve brothers, all armed with pitchforks or chain saws?
Not rational thinking perhaps, but he gulped.
Someone, somewhere, began beating something. And in his mind, it turned into a drumbeat, summoning the natives to war.
It’d probably be wise for him to pack his bags and find another host family. Preferably one without a daughter. Or at least one without twelve brothers.
He got up and started shoving his things into his bag.
“Ezekiel.”
He looked up and stared into Seth’s eyes.
“What are you doing?”
Zeke put the socks into the bag just to avoid answering. Besides, wasn’t it obvious?
“I thought I’d see if Gracie wanted to go to the hospital with us. We’ll leave Patience here because the women will look out for her, but since you have a special bond with her, I figured you’d keep an eye on her, too. However, it appears as if you are planning to leave.” Seth’s eyebrows rose. “Is something not to your liking here?”
“I kissed her. I mean, she kissed me.” Zeke groaned. “Actually, I mean, we kissed each other.” His face burned.
Seth’s mouth quirked.
Zeke looked down and picked up his pajama pants.
“Who kissed who first?”
“Does it matter? The deed was done. I violated your lack of trust.”
“It wasn’t a lack of trust. And jah, it does matter.” There was a touch of humor in Seth’s voice.
Odd. Not exactly the response Zeke expected.
“She kissed me first. But I was a very willing participant—at least until my brain caught up with me,” he mumbled to the floorboards, lacking the courage to look Seth in the face. He braced for the firing squad of angry family members.
Seth laughed. He actually laughed. Very strange, considering his youngest son was on the way to the hospital and Zeke had just confessed to kissing his daughter. Anger would be more appropriate.
Zeke looked up, frowning. Had the man gone daft?
“You’re welcome to stay, if you think you can adjust to the family dynamics…and drama. My daughter is…impulsive. And in light of some of the things I was told, I completely understand. Keep in mind, though, that understanding is not the same as condoning. Especially considering we still need to find Timothy.”
“I understand.” Zeke folded his pajama pants, stood, and placed them on his pillow. “Danki.” There was a foreign twinge of hope that he got to stay awhile longer, though it’d
be harder on his heart to be so close to Gracie—especially now.
And this—this level of parental guidance was amazing. He felt the discipline without the shame. And the grace of a second chance…
“And I thank you. I learned some very troubling things from both of my daughters and from my daed. I appreciate you convincing them to talk to me. I don’t understand why they wouldn’t have in the first place.” He frowned. Shrugged. “Danki for making yourself available to listen.”
Zeke didn’t know what to say. You’re welcome would imply he’d done it on purpose, and it was purely accidental. He swallowed. “I’m praying for Jon.”
“Appreciate it.” Seth walked across the hall. He knocked on Jon’s door, then entered, crossing to wherever Gracie was.
Zeke headed for the stairs. In light of what just happened, if he and Gracie ever talked about what she told her daed regarding Timothy, they’d need to be well chaperoned.
Because Zeke wasn’t totally sure he would be able to keep his promise not to kiss her again.
Especially since he was already going through withdrawal.
Chapter 19
Grace huddled on Jon’s bed, her face pressed into his pillow. Creaks sounded behind her, but she ignored them. If Zeke dared approach her after giving her a pity kiss, she’d…she’d…she didn’t know what she’d do. But it wouldn’t be pretty.
She gulped air and tried to focus on the words Daed had said yesterday when they’d gone on their walk and talked about her concerns about marrying Timothy. He’d offered advice on what she should do if he resurfaced for real, and on her new feelings for Zeke. A man so totally out of her reach it wasn’t funny.
“Look for what Gott might be teaching you, grow, and make choices based on what you’ve learned.” Daed’s words had confused her then, but he had added, “I’m not Gott. He’s the one you need to ask.”
She would, whenever she’d stopped crying long enough to pray.
The bed sagged behind her, and a hand rested on her shoulder.
She gasped and rolled over, prepared to give Zeke a piece of her mind. And maybe bop him with a pillow.
Daed. His gaze was sober, his eyes filled with shadows she didn’t recognize. They scared her.
“Jon…?” His name came out on a wail.
“Oh, honey. I don’t know. I came to ask if you want to come with us to the hospital. The driver will be here in a few minutes.”
“Jah, I would. Danki.”
Daed pulled in a deep breath. “I, uh, caught Zeke packing.”
Grace caught her breath. “What? Why?”
Daed grimaced. “Something about he kissed you, you kissed him, you kissed each other.”
He’d told Daed? How could he? She sniffled. “Fine. He can go. He’s a jerk. It was a pity kiss.”
“So you’re over your earlier feelings for him? You pity him?” Daed frowned and shook his head.
“What? No! Why would you ask such a thing?” Grace ignored the first question. Her feelings for Zeke were a confusing jumble.
“Zeke said you kissed him first.”
Grace’s face heated. And she had nothing to say. Nothing.
“He’s not here to date, Gracie.”
“I know,” she whispered. “He’s made that clear.” And she’d told Daed that very thing when they talked yesterday.
Gravel crunched in the driveway and Daed stood. “If you’re coming, come quickly now.” He left the room.
Grace scrambled to her feet and ran after him.
As she followed Daed to the waiting van, men were going through the food line, piling their plates full of more of the leftover wedding food. Hopefully this would be the end of it. She was heartily sick of fried chicken and mashed potatoes, and that was more than she’d ever thought possible.
Zeke wasn’t anywhere in the line. Not that she was looking for him. Okay, she was. She found him standing beside Daadi Cliff and her brother Reuben in the unfinished barn. The three men stood in a circle. Heads bowed.
Her heart hurt. Zeke truly was a good man, and she was so needy. Desperate. High-maintenance. He probably didn’t have the foggiest of ideas what he was getting into when he climbed into the van in Shipshewana to come to Hidden Springs. Certainly he wouldn’t have expected a girl to be completely swept off her feet, fall madly into a crush with him, and then behave inappropriately.
He probably still didn’t know what he was getting into when he got out of the vehicle in front of the tree blocking the road and offered to help her.
And just twenty-five or twenty-six hours later, she’d fallen in love with him and proceeded to push him away. Lying about it being a crush. After kissing him. And after he made it clear he wasn’t here to date.
No wonder she’d gotten a pity kiss. And yet oh, what a kiss. If that was a pity kiss, what would a true kiss be like?
“Gracie.”
She forced her attention away from Zeke long enough to glance over her shoulder.
Daed stood by the open van door. “Are you coming?”
Oh. Right. They needed to go. She turned her back on the men and got into the van next to Mamm.
Daed slid the door shut and climbed into the front passenger seat.
When she came home, she owed Zeke another apology and…
Wait.
Daed said he was packing his bags.
She tried to contain a sob, but it escaped.
Zeke might not even be there when she returned.
She’d ruined her chances, and now when she came home, he’d be gone.
Probably for good.
* * *
Zeke bowed his head with Cliff and Reuben as they all prayed for Jon. And Zeke did pray for Jon, but his heart was troubled. He should have taken the time to pray about this mission trip before they’d left Shipshewana and for what Gott had planned for him to do instead of going into it blind. He should’ve made a decision about how he would act, planned as best as he could, prepped his mind for the possibilities he might face, and trusted Gott for the outcome. Maybe, if he’d taken the time to do that, he would’ve been better prepared emotionally and mentally and not so overwhelmed by the severity of the aftermath of the physical storm in addition to the effects of the ongoing emotional storm.
Of course, no amount of preparation and planning would’ve prepared him for Gracie.
Patience’s words came to mind. “Jesus, please calm the storm.” Jah, Lord. Please. Calm the Gracie storm, the Timothy storm, the Jon storm, and the other emotional storms I’m not remembering. Oh, and the storm waiting at home with Daed. And my impossible feelings for Gracie.
He blew out a breath of frustration. She deserved a good, solid man. Someone like dependable, perfect Vernon.
A hand landed firmly on his lower arm.
Zeke raised his head and opened his eyes.
Cliff stared back at him. “I’m sensing some negativity here. Positive thoughts, boy. Give it all to Gott.”
Right. And Zeke had gotten sidetracked from his tasked assignment—given by Reuben—to pray for Jon.
“Sorry. I’m having some trouble focusing.”
“That is obvious.” Cliff studied him, and Zeke stiffened his spine to avoid squirming. “Maybe it’d help you focus if you prayed out loud.”
Zeke shook his head to rid himself of troubling thoughts. “I’m fine.” He quickly dipped his head again and this time, prayed. Lord, touch Jon, help him to live, and heal him. Guide the doctor’s hands. Comfort his family and friends. Zeke included, Yet not my will but Thine be done. Amen.
He raised his head, as did the others.
“I’m going to get a bite to eat.” Cliff was already heading toward the end of the food line.
“I’m not hungry,” Reuben said, stating Zeke’s feelings.
Cliff stopped, turned. “Both of you need to eat something to keep your strength up. Come along, now.”
Reuben grimaced. “Daadi Cliff has spoken. We must obey.” There was a bit of sass in his voice.
> Cliff put his hands on his hips. “I’ll have none of your lip, boy. You may be bigger than me, but I am still your elder.”
Reuben glanced at Zeke. “He talks tough, but as the oldest of the twelve brothers, my oldest child is as old as Patience—fourteen.”
“Jah, but that changes nothing. You’re still my grandson.” Cliff shifted his stance. “Come along, Zeke; we’ve got to get you away from this bad influence, teaching you that it’s okay to disrespect your elders.”
The mild arguing was probably meant to distract from the worry over Jon, because no one laughed or even cracked a smile. Their eyes were grim.
Zeke obediently got in line behind Cliff and Reuben. He’d force something down because Cliff was right. He needed to keep up his strength.
As he waited at the end of the line, he scanned the women serving them. Patience was there. He didn’t see Gracie, though.
He raised his gaze to her bedroom window. She’d probably gone to the hospital with her parents.
Lord, please let Jon live. And help me to solve the puzzle of Gracie.
* * *
Grace paced the floor in the huge emergency waiting room. Even though some Englisch people sat at the far end of the room near the television, she felt totally and completely alone. Mamm had stopped to use the restroom, and Daed had gone to talk to someone at the front counter.
Was Aubrey still with Jon? Or had she been rerouted to yet another waiting room?
Was Jon alive?
Grace pressed her fingers to the corners of her eyes, willing the tears to stay at bay. It was surprising that no one had called her on being such a big baby, crying at every little thing ever since the tornado.
If only Gott would calm the storm. It’d be nice to sit in some peaceful spot, not worrying about the winds and the rain destroying her.
Emotionally, she was bruised and battered.
She dropped down into the nearest chair as Mamm bustled into the room. Mamm dropped her never-leave-home-without-it bag on the seat next to Grace and crossed the room to where Daed still stood at the counter.
Grace opened Mamm’s bag enough to peek in. Knitting. As upset as Grace was, she’d be dropping stitches constantly. Knitting wasn’t near as relaxing as Mamm claimed.
The Amish Wedding Promise Page 17