“If you say so.” He didn’t see how. He finished his first sandwich and opened his other sandwich.
“Chocolate can solve the world’s problems.” She sliced the blueberry muffin in half. “Want half?”
“Danki.” Zeke accepted half of the muffin. “So chocolate would solve our relationship problems?”
She winced. “No. We’re going to figure it out, though, right? With the help of chocolate.”
“Okay.” He’d dump everything they needed to talk about out on the table before they were interrupted. He wanted answers. “What are you going to do about Timothy when he’s found? And speaking of which, you never did tell me about the conversation with your daed or about the Timothy who showed up at the visitation.” He stiffened.
She frowned. “He looked like Timothy. Or at least what he might look like after being sucked into a tornado and banged around. He had a scraped cheek, a black eye, and a bloody bandage on his head. But he was rude, acted like he didn’t know me or his parents, and said his name is James.”
“So he might not be Timothy. Unless he suffered a brain trauma and forgot who he was, people, and things,” Zeke said, alternating between hope that Timothy was truly gone and guilt that he should feel bad for the man if he was so injured he’d forgotten who he was.
“I believe he is Timothy. His parents do, too. And he knew enough to come to Toby’s house for the visitation.”
“If he’s the same one your daadi Cliff met, he thinks he’s Timothy, too. Just a smidgen of room for doubt, he said.” Zeke took a sip of his soft drink.
Gracie sighed. “Jah.”
“What did your daed say?” Zeke reached across the table and touched her hand.
“Not a whole lot. He mostly listened, but he frowned a lot. He looked sad and upset, but then he said, ‘Look for what Gott might be teaching you, grow, and make choices based on what you’ve learned.’”
“So, he’s giving you permission to dump Timothy?” Zeke hoped.
“I don’t know. He also said, ‘I’m not Gott. He’s the one you need to ask.’ But it may not do any good to ask, because I promised Mamm I’ll marry him if he shows up. And a promise has to be kept.”
Zeke swallowed. He ran his finger over the back of her hand. “Gracie…that was a bad promise. Think about it. You heard Patience. And…and maybe you should talk to your daadi Cliff about Timothy, too. It’s your call, but I think your daed is right. Pray about it, but I think you already know you should move on.”
No sense asking her to move on to him—because even without Timothy in the picture, Zeke couldn’t see how they’d work, having a long-distance relationship. And if they decided to marry, would he give up his job and move to Illinois? Or would she leave her family and move to Indiana?
His gaze drifted south to her sweet lips as she flipped her hand over, palm up, and grasped his.
His pulse rate soared.
And he wanted to spirit her away to a private place and kiss her again.
Chapter 21
Grace stirred the straw around in her icy soft drink. She wanted to question Zeke about his ex-girlfriend but kept biting the questions back. Now wasn’t the time. But she might not get another private moment to ask. She took a sip, then decided to go for it. “I don’t want to upset you, but tell me about your ex-girlfriend. Why did she choose Vernon over you?”
Zeke’s eyes darkened, and he pulled his hand away from hers. He shrugged. “Vernon is perfect. What can I say?” His voice held a twinge of pain.
Grace shook her head. After supper last nacht, she’d overheard her brother and Daed discussing which man to give what jobs to. And both of them agreed that Zeke was the harder worker, the most pleasant to have around, and—a big plus—Patience and Slush liked him.
All things she couldn’t say about Timothy. Except the hard worker part. At work frolics Timothy always used to try to show off by doing the most of whatever they were supposed to be doing. Like when they had a corn-shucking frolic. He always did more than the next guy. And strutted around when he won the prize. He had to be the big shot.
Whereas Zeke did kind things for others and never mentioned them, like helping Hallie’s daed repair the roof, or moving a tree off a shelter to free Elsie and her family. And Zeke’s pain when comparing himself to Vernon hurt her to the core.
She slapped the table. “Vernon is not perfect. What really happened?”
“He got promoted to shift manager at the RV factory my daed works at, and Naomi—that’s my ex-girlfriend—overheard Daed berating me for being such a lazy bum and how I should be more like Vernon.” His voice was tinged with bitterness. “So she dumped me and pursued Vernon.”
“Why would your daed think you’re a lazy bum?” Because he was so not. She finished her half of the muffin.
“I hated my job and spent more time goofing off than working. To be truthful, his opinion was justified.” He shook his head. “Your daadi Cliff told me to lose the negativity and think positive. So, on the positive side, I now have a job I love and a boss who respects me, but I told you all that. I just have no way to prove my worth to Daed. I don’t know how to even begin, other than try to get hired back at the factory and drive myself crazy with the boredom. And because I embarrassed the family name by getting fired from a job I hated, he doesn’t hesitate to let everyone know I’m a worthless, rebellious loser.”
She winced at the harsh words. If his own father had been spreading those lies, no wonder Zeke doubted himself. Too bad he couldn’t see his true worth the way her family had.
“You are not a loser. My daed and brothers seem to think you passed some Lantz family initiation test. Daadi Cliff loves you, you use pink tools without self-consciousness, you are willing to give a dog a bath and spend time with needy me and Patience, you listen, and”—she pointed her chocolate cream pie–covered fork at him and his growing smile—“you’re honest.”
He leaned forward, grabbed her hand, and with an impish look in his eyes, aimed the pie-filled fork toward his mouth. “Mmmm,” he mumbled as his lips closed around the fork.
Her mouth gaped. “Pie thief!”
“Almost as good as your kiss. Wait. Maybe it’s better.” His eyes gleamed, lighting a fire deep inside her.
“I guess you’ll have to rely on memory because you said it’d never happen again.” She wrinkled her nose at him and stuck out her tongue.
Then retaliated by stealing a bite of his pie. She thought it might be cream cheese based.
“Ugh. It’s peanut butter.” She reached for her soft drink and gulped to wash the taste out.
“So I guess it’s safe to say my kiss is better than my pie.” He winked.
She was trying to think of a sassy comeback while fighting the very strong urge to march around the table, plop herself down in his lap, and proceed to kiss him senseless despite their very public setting and the others eating in the cafeteria, when a chair twirled toward them from somewhere and landed beside their table. A figure appeared behind it.
Gracie looked up into Timothy’s—or James’s—one unswollen eye.
His dark gaze latched on to her, some kind of challenge in its depths. “Mind if I join you?”
* * *
Zeke frowned as he looked at the Englisch janitor he’d seen yesterday morning at the school. He didn’t appreciate their playful teasing being interrupted by this stranger’s rude behavior, but as he opened his mouth to tell the man so, he caught the horror in Gracie’s eyes.
And he knew.
This was Timothy. Or James, the one who Cliff thought was Timothy.
The man was a jerk. A man who had kicked the dog and threatened Patience.
The intruder sat without waiting for an answer.
But Gracie was busy shoveling the rest of her chocolate cream pie into her mouth as if it really could solve problems and she needed an immediate fix.
Zeke shut his mouth as the man turned to stare at him with the look men used when they were sizing up the competitio
n.
So Zeke did the same.
The man turned his attention back to Gracie with a smirk. “I heard that you’re engaged, in the family way, and running all over town with another man. Is he the one you’re cheating on or the one you’re cheating with?”
Gracie sucked in a noisy gasp, dropped her fork, stood, picked up her icy soft drink, and proceeded to dump it over the man’s head. “What about you? You and Paige? You have no room to talk.”
Then she took her empty cup and stalked toward the exit.
Paige? The P on the cell phone they found? It took another second for Zeke’s brain to kick in enough for him to follow.
He followed Gracie to the drink dispenser, where she calmly refilled her cup, and left.
When Zeke glanced back, the man had risen and was mopping himself off with their discarded napkins.
Zeke caught up with her at the elevators. She speed walked when she was angry. “Wow. Remind me not to get on your bad side.”
She glowered.
“Okay. Is he Timothy?”
“He’s a jerk.”
Jah, that was a given.
Zeke didn’t know whether to make sure she made it safely to the surgical waiting room or return to the cafeteria and question the man.
He pushed the elevator button that would take them to the floor the waiting room was on. She fumed during the ride, not speaking, and when she got off, she speed walked toward the waiting room, her body stiff and definitely communicating Don’t talk to me.
He’d keep silent. She’d talk when she was ready. But for now she was back with family who would protect and defend her. He glanced in at the brothers. Jah, she was safe. And his curiosity was getting the best of him…
He stopped. “I left my peanut butter pie on the table. I’ll be back—just want to get it if it’s still there.”
She didn’t answer.
He backtracked quickly, hoping none of the remaining brothers in the room wanted to blame Gracie’s mood swing on him.
Timothy, or James, was still in the cafeteria, now sitting in Zeke’s former seat and eating Zeke’s abandoned peanut butter pie. Actually, he shoveled the pie into his mouth like a starving man.
Zeke paused long enough to buy another sandwich and slice of pie, then returned to the table. He put the sandwich in front of the other man and sat in Gracie’s abandoned seat. “The sandwich is for you.”
The man glowered at him, anger deep in the depths of his eyes. But after a moment, he nodded. “Thanks. I’m starved.”
Obviously, or he wouldn’t have eaten another man’s pie—especially one with a bite taken out. Zeke took a bite of his new slice, then looked at Timothy—James. “Are you visiting a friend here?”
The man’s dark eye filled with shadows. “Yeah. Peter may not survive. It’s not looking good.”
Peter. Wasn’t that the name of Timothy’s other best friend? The one the bishop mentioned?
“I’m sorry to hear that. What happened?” Would this man tell the truth?
Timothy—James—shrugged. “I don’t know exactly. One minute we were guys having fun, and the next I woke up out by the highway. I hurt all over, and the people who picked me up said I would have a shiner.” He touched the bruise around his swollen eye. “I couldn’t remember who I was, so I called myself James, and when I did finally remember my identity, it seemed easier to disappear as James rather than return to being Timothy.” He sighed. “The people who picked me up helped me find some clothes since I lost mine somewhere, then took me to the shelter set up at the school. I think I saw you getting off the van there.” His face colored. “I didn’t think I was so crazy drunk to lose my clothes.”
Zeke had heard the term before at the boys’ ranch. It meant stoned and drunk at the same time. Some of the boys called it “crunk.”
He fought to keep his expression neutral. Not judgmental. But this was Timothy. There was no doubt.
Timothy devoured the sandwich. “Thanks again, man.”
“Can I get you something else?” Zeke asked.
Timothy looked at the food in the serving line longingly but shook his head.
The man had been humbled by the storm and seemed a bit broken, as if he was trying to figure out who he truly was at the core. But there were still the harsh words he said to Gracie right before being doused in soda. Zeke frowned. Considered him. “It’s okay. I’m willing.”
Timothy looked down, his hair and bandage saturated from his soda bath. “Another sandwich would be great. They’re only feeding us one meal a day at the shelter until the Red Cross arrives.”
“I’ll be right back.” Zeke stood and went to buy two more sandwiches, a bag of chips, and a drink. He set them in front of Timothy, then reclaimed his seat. “No offense, but if the shelter isn’t feeding you well, why don’t you go home?” He was certain the man wasn’t suffering from amnesia since he just admitted the truth, but there was something about the man’s expression that made him seem somehow vulnerable. Or lost. Or hurting.
Timothy’s face reddened. “I lost my direction.”
For some reason, Zeke didn’t think he meant that he forgot his way home. He raised a brow and waited.
Timothy ate a couple of chips and half of one of the sandwiches. “My parents are forcing me into their idea of a perfect man.”
Jah, Zeke got that.
“Chicken farmer. I hate the foul things.”
Ah, jah. Zeke remembered that place. And the odor. To quote Timothy’s mother, it was “horrible, horrible, horrible.”
“Marry the perfect woman. Okay, she’s not so bad, but I love another. Though she gets on my last nerve sometimes. A mutual friend told me where to find her, since her old trailer was blown away, but she won’t let me in where she’s staying. Told me I’m a mean drunk.”
The mysterious P on the cell phone? Paige, Gracie called her.
And Timothy loved another—and not Gracie? Joy washed over Zeke. Maybe Timothy would be willing to break up with her and then Grace wouldn’t have to keep her promise to her mamm after all.
“I just can’t fit into the life my parents have mapped out for me, and this is my chance to break free. If I can find the direction I want to go.”
Trust in the Lord with all your heart; and lean not unto your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct your paths.
The verse popped unbidden into Zeke’s mind. And even though he could relate to Timothy’s issues, he didn’t know what to say.
Except, “My daed’s the same way. Not chicken farming, but factory work. And because I chose my own way, I can do nothing right.”
“What did you do?” Timothy asked.
Zeke chuckled but without humor. “I’m still dealing with the fallout.”
He hated that he had no wise advice, but everything he thought of to say seemed too judgmental or too preachy. And according to the director at the boys’ ranch, neither should be said out loud…and yet the words were screaming in his own mind for him to pay attention.
I’m trying to trust You, Lord. Are You directing my path?
Timothy finished the other half of the sandwich and the rest of the chips during the silence. Then he gathered the trash and stood. “Look. Thanks for the food. I appreciate it. And please don’t tell anyone anything I said.” He inhaled. “Except Gracie. Tell her I’m sorry. I was out of line.”
Especially since he’d been cheating on Gracie long before Zeke came on the scene.
“I think you need to tell her that yourself.” Zeke stood. Hopefully, Gracie had calmed down by now.
Timothy sighed, a wild look appearing in his eye. Nodded. “Tell her I’ll be in touch. I need a fix.” He walked off, carrying the sandwich he hadn’t eaten.
Zeke watched him go as Timothy’s words about his chance to break free replayed. Funny how Zeke felt the same, as if coming here might be his chance, too. As much as he wanted Timothy to be punished for past mistakes, he had Zeke’s sympathy for the current situat
ion.
And then he remembered words the boys’ ranch director had said many times.
Rock bottom will teach lessons that mountaintops never will.
* * *
After backtracking to use the facilities, then walking the halls for a while in a futile attempt to calm down, Grace stalked into the waiting room, found an empty seat, and plopped down in it, hard enough that the drink in her cup slopped out the top, onto her hand and dress. Her fault for not grabbing the plastic lid and for not controlling her temper.
Her eyes burned. Her lips quivered.
Six brothers had gone home. The five brothers remaining in the room stared. Whispered. Jaws hardened.
And with a grunt, Daadi Cliff rose to his feet. He strode, fists clenched, toward the door. “That boy. Oh, that boy.”
Five brothers followed.
As much as she hated her brothers fighting her battles for her…
Good.
Her brothers and Daadi Cliff would put that cafeteria jerk in his place.
She basked in that knowledge for a bit; then the truth hit with blunt force.
They didn’t know she was with the man who most likely was her errant groom.
They thought she was with Zeke. Which, she was, but…
Oh no. No. No. No.
She set her drink down on the end table, bolted to her feet, and rushed toward the door…
And plowed headlong into Daed.
Her overprotective family was long gone, pursuing the wrong man.
Daed caught her by her upper arms. He had a terrible expression on his face.
“Jon!” she wailed, and crumpled against him.
Chapter 22
Zeke cleaned up the mess the three of them had left at the table, returned Timothy’s still-sticky chair to the other table, and looked around, hoping to apologize to the janitor for the dumped soft drink. The only people in the room were eating, though. He didn’t see any of the cafeteria crew—the cashier had even disappeared. Messes happened, but maybe not often on purpose.
The Amish Wedding Promise Page 19