Kiah punched him lightly in the arm, but his face screwed up. “I’ll miss you.”
Henry nodded, face sober. “Keep the faith.” He followed the old man out the door.
Kiah hesitated, then pulled Zeke into a man hug, pounding his back, before he followed the other two.
Zeke blinked at the burn in his eyes and looked around at the bases for six chairs. It wasn’t enough, but considering it was the first time any of them had made furniture, at least they’d made some progress after Vernon left. Very little, but some. And Luke had already nodded at this start, so the chair bases wouldn’t need to be remade.
Cliff strode into the shop promptly at five, just as Zeke finished putting the last tool away. “Where’s Vernon?” Cliff glanced around.
Zeke turned to close the lid on the toolbox and bent to knock the worst of the wood shavings off his legs before he looked around for a broom. “I have no idea. I haven’t seen him since before lunch.” And if Daniel Zook had come to pick Vernon up, he would’ve taken the time to talk to Zeke, because they promised the punishment would be swift and severe. He picked up the two empty lunch pails. “One of the other guys ate Vernon’s lunch.” After much joking about the pink lunch pail.
“I’m sure that’s fine.” Cliff came farther into the shop and inspected the chairs. “Looks like they’re off to a good start.”
Zeke stood a little taller. “Jah, Luke said something about somehow curving a piece of wood for a rounded back, but I don’t know how to do that.” And he wasn’t likely to learn, either, even though he was curious and would like to have the chance. Zeke swallowed, walked over to the doorway, and flicked the gaslights off, shrouding the room in near darkness from the dusty windows and almost completely set sun. “Any word on Jon? Or the lame horse?”
“I called the vet. Horse will be fine. He said he left some sort of ointment for a long gash on the horse’s leg and recommended rest. As for Jon, it’s too soon to tell. He’s still alive, which is a miracle in and of itself. Aubrey, his fiancée, claims that his fingers are flexing when she holds his hand, but Seth says he hasn’t noticed it yet. Doctors aren’t saying one way or another, but he survived the first night, which they said was critical.” Cliff rubbed his shoulder as if it ached, and sighed.
“Are you okay?” Zeke eyed him. This wasn’t a heart attack coming on, was it?
“I’m fine. Just aggravated an old injury.” Cliff leaned to inspect a chair more closely in the dim light. “So, Vernon. Where is he if he isn’t here?”
Zeke shrugged. He was tired and sore himself from leaning over the workstation, but the extra chores tonight would do him good. He swung the lunch pails as he moved away from the doorway to rejoin Cliff. “Again, I don’t know.” He didn’t want to tattle about Vernon’s temper tantrum or threats. “He walked out after I accidentally shut a cat into a pine box. The cat didn’t like it so much.”
Cliff grunted. “And neither did Vernon, I’m guessing.”
“I fired him.” Luke came through the door and turned the lights back on. “He had a bit of an attitude about my putting Zeke in charge. Vernon apparently messed up and blamed Zeke. So, he walked out after making a few threats, made a couple phone calls, and someone picked him up by the mailbox.”
Zeke raised his eyebrows. Who had picked him up? When? And why hadn’t they come inside to talk to him? Very odd.
Cliff scratched his head. He said nothing for a long minute; then he made a “hmm” sound. He glanced at Zeke. “Sounds like you and I need to have a talk, boy.”
Was he blaming Zeke?
That figured.
Zeke swallowed and nodded.
“Don’t come the next two days, Zeke, since Sunday is the Lord’s day and Monday is my son’s funeral. I’ll see you Tuesday.” Luke looked exhausted. He ran a hand over the wood as if to check Zeke’s sanding skills. “Good job.”
“I’m not sure I’ll still be here on Tuesday.” No, he’d be sent home in disgrace, with an overflowing bucket of fiery, hot coals ready for Daed to heap on his head.
“You’ll be here.” It was a statement. Cliff punctuated it with a decisive nod. “We want to keep you around.”
“How can you be sure?” Zeke wasn’t being a smart-mouth but was curious. These two men liked him. And it was so nice to be appreciated. Valued. Looked upon as an equal. Hallie’s daed liked him, too. Allies in a strange land. It was a rather amazing feeling.
Cliff glanced around. “Sweep the floor while I have a word with Luke.” The two men left the room and shut the door behind them.
Zeke eyed the shut door. He wanted to hear what was being said, but peace filled him. No matter what would happen, Gott knew. He knew and He cared. And for now, Zeke was here in this community to help. And he’d keep on helping until they dragged him away.
He set the empty lunch pails on a worktable, looked around again for the broom, and found it leaning in a corner. No dustpan. The sawdust was probably swept right out the door. He gathered it all into a large pile, ready to push out.
With time left to spare, he grabbed a bottle of window-washing fluid and an old copy of The Budget and washed the shop windows.
The door opened, and Cliff peeked in. “Let’s go, boy.”
“I need to sweep this out the door first.”
“Let me get out of your way before you do that. I don’t want to disappear in a cloud of dust.” Cliff pushed the door wide open, then stepped behind the outside wall.
Cleanup complete, Zeke returned the broom to the corner, grabbed the pails, and turned the lights off again.
He followed Cliff to a closed buggy and they both climbed in. “Where’d this come from?”
Cliff waited until they were on the way before answering. “It’s mine. I asked one of my grandsons, Dan, to return Seth’s buggy. I’ll give him a ride home when I drop you off. I have a few more errands to run before supper.”
Zeke nodded.
“Tell my wife and Gracie to expect a few more guests for supper.”
“Okay?” It was a question, but if Cliff recognized it as one, he decided to ignore it. None of Zeke’s business anyway.
“I have a couple pounds of ground lamb in the buggy, if they want to use that.” He gestured over his shoulder at a bundle on the back seat. “I thought to grab catfish fillets, but one of the men coming for dinner has an aversion to fish.”
This was getting stranger and stranger. “Okay.”
“And tell my granddaughter to bake a few cherry pies. Just to sweeten things up.”
“Are you celebrating something?” Or would this be his last meal in Illinois? Zeke frowned. He loved cherry pie, and Gracie was already sweet. He couldn’t wait to see her.
Cliff ignored that, too. He stopped the buggy by Seth’s back porch. A brother, Dan, came out of the barn and approached. “There’s also a potted mum in the back, if you want to get it. I meant to take it up to the hospital for Jon, but my wife suggested it’d be better to have it here. If Jon and Aubrey are still able to marry as planned, it’d be nice to welcome them back home with a potted mum. After their wedding tour, of course.”
“Of course.” But with Gracie’s news about her pending marriage to Timothy, it might welcome them home first. Please, Gott, don’t let that happen.
Zeke climbed out of the buggy. Dan climbed in.
“Don’t forget the lamb and the flowers, now. Oh, and tell them to expect the guests around six thirty.”
Zeke retrieved the items from the back seat and carried them up the porch stairs.
“And don’t forget cherry pies. You can sweeten that up with a kiss.”
Zeke stumbled. He caught himself on the handrail and turned to stare at Cliff. “What?”
Dan’s eyes widened. “Daadi Cliff—”
“On the cheek. From me.” Cliff laughed and drove off.
It took Zeke a moment or two to recover as memories of Gracie’s kisses teased his senses.
A kiss.
Oh jah.
; * * *
Grace folded the clean clothes, still warm from the dryer, and carried the basket up from the basement. She entered the kitchen as Zeke came inside, carrying a white-wrapped package and a potted garden mum in a pretty shade of purple.
Her heart hitched as he looked at her. There was something glimmering in the depths of his eyes that made her senses sit up and take notice.
His lips curved into a smile, fleeting, to be sure, but a smile all the same. His eyes softened.
“What’s that?” She nodded toward his load.
He looked down. “Um, the flowers are for Jon—”
She caught her breath. “Nooo!” Tears pricked her eyes. The laundry basket thudded to the floor at her feet. The top layer of clean clothes flopped out on the floor.
He set the package and the mum on the table and reached for her.
She launched herself into his hug. He smelled of sawdust. Sawdust and pine and something citrusy.
“No, Gracie, Jon’s still alive. Your daadi just thought the flowers would be better here than cluttering the hospital room.”
She sighed. “Oh, danki, Gott.” But she didn’t leave his arms. The strength of him seemed so capable of carrying her burdens just for a moment longer. And even though she’d spent the afternoon praying about Jon and the rumors and her supposed wedding and wishing Daadi Cliff would come home so she could talk to him, there was no place she’d rather spend her future than in Zeke’s arms.
“Gracie.” His hands trembled against her back for a moment before he set her away. He glanced around as if to check for witnesses.
“Mammi is taking a short nap.”
Still, he shook his head and backed up as if distancing himself. “The white package is ground lamb. Your daadi said to do something with it for supper. He’s bringing a few guests. He said to expect them around six thirty.”
Grace frowned. “Oh? Who?”
“I don’t know. He also said to make a few cherry pies.”
She stared at him. “The bishop is coming?” Maybe she’d get a chance to talk to him about Timothy.
“I don’t know.” Zeke shrugged.
“Bishop Nathan absolutely loves cherry pie.”
“Then, maybe he is.” Zeke glanced around again. “Where’s…” He exhaled. Inhaled. “Vernon?”
“I haven’t seen him since he stormed out of the shop.” Gracie whirled and ran out of the kitchen into the living room and upstairs to the room Zeke and Vernon were staying in. “His bags are gone.” The words emerged on a breath. When had he come in to take them?
“They are?”
She caught her breath. Somehow she’d missed that Zeke had followed her.
“They are,” he said again. “Gone. His things are gone.” There was a note of panic mixed with relief in his voice. But before she could ask him about it, his arms wrapped around her from behind. She shivered as his head lowered and his warm breath tickled her neck. “Your daadi said to give you a kiss, from him, on your cheek.”
His lips brushed her cheek; then he pulled back.
She grasped his hands as he started to release her and held on tight. His strong arms held her so gently, unlike Timothy’s strength that often hurt her. The sawdust peppering his arms meant he wasn’t afraid of hard work and would be a good provider.
“Do you always do as you’re told?” Her voice came out breathy. She swiveled her head to look at him. He was so noble to try to do the right thing. If he ever promised to love her, she’d be the luckiest woman alive.
He chuckled. “Hardly ever, but I’ve been trying to do better. Oh, Gracie.” His gaze dipped to her lips. Lingered. “I want to kiss you again, but—”
He did? Then what was the holdup? She didn’t intend to stop him. “Then kiss me.” Her voice was husky. If things didn’t go well talking to the bishop after supper, if he indeed was coming, then this moment with him was all she’d ever have, and she couldn’t bear the thought of never kissing him again.
He sucked in air, his hands trembling against her. “Gracie, I want to, but your daed trusts you. And me.” He hesitated a moment. “Maybe not me. But you’ve got pies to bake and supper to cook for guests, and I urgently need a shower.”
“If you want to, you can.” She twisted in his arms. Wrapping her arms around him in a hug, she pressed herself against him. “Supper can wait a minute longer.”
Please, whatever it takes and no matter how foolish I seem, just kiss me one more time…
He groaned. “Gracie—”
“Unless it’s a pity kiss.” She frowned and edged away.
His arms tightened, holding her in place. “It’s not a pity kiss. It never was. But your daed…”
“Daed knows better than to trust me. If you want to, you can kiss me.” She tipped up her face. Please. One last kiss. Let me have this memory to warm me during the coldness of my loveless upcoming marriage.
Zeke caught his breath. “Gra—”
“Unless the chocolate cream pie truly was better than my kiss.” She pretended to pout and shifted to teasing. That was better than manipulating, though she had valid reasons. Maybe.
A chuckle, low and rumbly. “You’ll never know. But I’m content in the knowledge my kiss was better than peanut butter pie.” He winked. Released her.
“I changed my mind. Peanut butter pie is way better than your kiss.” Fine. Have it your way. She tossed him an impish grin and flounced toward the door.
She didn’t get far.
He caught her by the waist. Turned her to face him. “That’s not fair. Now I’m obligated to defend my honor.”
Her breath hitched. She shivered. The next moment she was caught up against him. Right where she wanted to be. Her heart rate surged. He was close to the target but not close enough…yet.
“Take it back.” He brushed a tiny kiss across her lips.
She might have whimpered. “Never.”
He kissed the corners of her lips. “I’ll have to torture it out of you.”
Her back arched. “You’ll never change my mind.”
He kissed her eyes shut, then blazed a trail of fire to her ear. He nibbled it. “Last chance,” he whispered.
“Not happening.”
His lips burned a path to her neck. He nibbled her pounding pulse.
She moaned. She couldn’t help it.
“Do you surrender? Admit it.”
Oh jah. But that would only free her. Not what she wanted. “No. Never.”
His fingers tickled her ribs. She squirmed closer. And then joy of joys, his lips were on hers, and he was kissing her the way she wanted him to.
She tried to pretend to not to be affected, but oh…she whimpered. Pressed closer. Her hands rose to tangle in his hair.
He growled, deep in his throat. “Do you admit it?” Another kiss that stole the breath right out of her.
“No.” She might’ve gasped.
His lips worked magic that left her clinging, unable to do anything but lose herself in the moment.
“Gracie.” The faint call was as annoying as a needy fly. She ignored it in favor of the dangerous fire Zeke was lighting inside her. Mammi could wait a few more minutes.
He pressed her even closer to him and stopped kissing her long enough to whisper another “admit it.”
“Peanut butter pie wins,” she teased.
He growled, and the assault on her senses began anew.
“Gracie?” The unwelcome call came again. Louder.
She whimpered. Again.
“Grace Lynn Lantz!” a man said.
Zeke released her so quickly she stumbled. Her knees buckled. She struggled to stay upright.
He bent to pick up his bag. Shoved something into it. What? “No. Zeke, no.”
He straightened, his gaze going from her to the door. “Hi, Timothy.”
* * *
Apparently, no one would be getting a happy ending. The only possible outcome here would be for Zeke to be returning home in shame. Especially with Gracie’s stil
l-fiancé standing in the doorway, eyes wide, mouth agape as he caught Zeke in the process of seducing a woman who wasn’t his.
A woman who’d gasped, turning to stare at the man in the doorway. “Timothy…”
Zeke had known better, of course, but with Grace teasing him so relentlessly about the peanut butter pie being better than his kisses when she so obviously hated it…and then flouncing away, hips swaying…
He knew better, but his honor was at stake there.
Okay. He crossed the line.
Big-time.
Admit it. He groaned. Caught enticing another man’s woman into his arms with a foolish challenge. One he’d been able to avoid—though not exactly easily—when Gracie offered to let him kiss her when he stupidly admitted wanting to. But the second she sashayed away, his overactive male hormones kicked in, and…
And Timothy had actually caught his fiancée in another man’s arms. Kissing another man.
Never mind that Timothy had cheated first. It was still wrong.
And after Zeke had promised it wouldn’t happen again.
The consequences would be stiff and severe. And if Vernon had witnessed it, Zeke would be caught in more than quicksand. Still, there was no way he’d still be around on Tuesday. Might as well pack after all…
He deserved it.
He bent to shove another pair of socks into his bag.
“Zeke, stop.” Gracie tossed the words over her shoulder. “Timothy, I have a few pies to make. Let’s take this to the kitchen.” She moved toward the door as if she’d been unaffected by Zeke’s kisses. As if peanut butter pie had actually been better.
“Your mammi sent me up.” Timothy still stared at Zeke, betrayal darkening his eyes.
“Well, I’m sending you back down. Go on, now.”
Timothy didn’t move.
Zeke found his voice. “I’m sorry. We were just goofing off.” Not exactly. Because the twin bed had been too close and too present in his mind, and they would’ve crossed another line. One of no return.
Really, the interruption was a blessing.
His words earned him a glare from Gracie.
“I meant we were settling a debate,” he amended.
The Amish Wedding Promise Page 23