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An Amish Wedding

Page 13

by Kathleen Fuller; Beth Wiseman Kelly Long

“Deal.” He rinsed off a plate and handed it to her. “I take it Margaret left?”

  “Ya. She said to tell you danki and that she’s sorry.” Naomi wiped down the dish and set it to the side next to the stove. “I tried to convince her to stay, but she refused.”

  He frowned. “Hope it wasn’t anything I did.”

  Naomi sighed. She might as well admit the truth. “Nee. It’s what I did.” She looked at him as he handed her two dripping forks. “I should have told you about Margaret.”

  “Ya, you should have. I don’t appreciate being set up without knowing about it beforehand.”

  His tone wasn’t overly harsh, but stern enough that her cheeks heated. She rubbed the towel on the forks until it squeaked. “I’m sorry. And you’re right, I shouldn’t have done that without your permission.”

  He gave her another dish. “It’s all okay,” he said, his voice softer this time. “I guess I wouldn’t be so touchy about it if it hadn’t happened so many times before. Seems everyone thinks I need to be paired off. Even you.”

  When he put it that way, Naomi felt worse. She just assumed he would want to go out on a date. Maybe he had a girl back home. Maybe he was like she was, and not interested in dating anyone. “I shouldn’t have assumed.” She put the dried dish on top of the other clean one. “I’ve really made a mess of things.” Without looking she reached for another plate.

  Instead she found Zeke’s hand.

  Chapter Five

  NAOMI KNEW SHE SHOULD PULL AWAY, BUT FOR A MOMENT she didn’t want to. His hand, covered with watery bubbles, was a little larger than hers. She could feel the calluses on his palm. A shiver coursed through her body. She hadn’t felt this sensation since she last held David’s hand. Even then, her reaction hadn’t been this intense.

  Her ex-boyfriend’s intrusion into her thoughts jerked her back to her senses. But before she could move, Zeke cleared his throat and pulled his hand away. He thrust it into the dishwater and washed a tea glass. This time when he gave the glass to her, she made sure their hands didn’t touch. They didn’t say anything for a moment.

  Finally Zeke spoke. “You didn’t make a mess of things, Naomi. We misunderstood each other.” He paused. “Margaret seems like a nice maedel.”

  His assessment of Margaret gave her a bit of hope that she could salvage the situation. “She is. You should see her in the kitchen. She’s an excellent baker and a really gut cook. She has some great ideas for special Christmas cookies and she’s always interested in trying new recipes and techniques.”

  He nodded and pulled the stopper out of the sink. The kitchen filled with the sucking sound of the water swirling down the drain. “Sounds like she’s very gut at her job.” He looked at her for a moment.

  For the second time that day, a strange fluttery feeling came over Naomi. As her gaze met his, something in his hazel eyes pulled at her.

  “Naomi?” he said, his voice low and husky.

  “Ya?” The word came out of her mouth in a breathy sound.

  “Could I have the towel? To dry my hands?”

  She yanked her gaze from his and looked at the damp towel in her hand. “Oh. Ya.” Handing it to him, she made sure she didn’t look at him. Instead she moved to the oven a few steps away and opened the door. Warmth covered her face, but it wasn’t completely from the low heat of the oven. “Would you like some apple pie?” she asked, more to the oven than to Zeke.

  “Sure.”

  She grabbed the potholder near the stove. She pulled out the pie and set it on top of one of the cold burners. Behind her she heard the scrape of the chair as Zeke sat down. She sliced into the flaky crust, steam curling up from the piping-hot pie filling. She handed him a piece, making sure she didn’t look into his eyes again. She seemed to lose her senses every time she did. “Be careful, it’s hot. It also might be a little runny. The longer it sits the more the filling sets up.”

  “I don’t mind.” He took the pie from her. She dished herself a small wedge and joined him. She cut into her piece and blew on the rising steam. When she heard him groan she looked up.

  His eyes were closed as he chewed, seemingly unaffected by the temperature of the pie. Then he shook his head and opened his eyes, looking at her directly. “Hands down the best apple pie I’ve ever had.”

  Naomi smiled. “Really?”

  “Absolutely. Naomi King, you know how to cook.” He dug back into the pie with relish.

  Naomi couldn’t help herself. She watched him eat, glad he appreciated her cooking. It was different from baking for her business. His reaction was more . . . personal. And other than her weekly cooking class, she didn’t have anyone to really cook for, other than herself. Occasionally she helped her mother cook in the main house, especially when they hosted church or other gatherings. But when she ate alone at her house, she usually didn’t go to the trouble to make a complicated meal.

  “Does all your familye live in Middlefield?” she asked.

  “Nee. Three of my bruders live in Holmes County with their families. One schwester lives in Ashtabula with her husband and kinner. The other two schwesters live in Middlefield.”

  “So they’re not married?”

  “Oh, they’re married. All my siblings are.” He paused. “Between them I’ve got twenty nieces and nephews.”

  “Twenty?”

  “Ya. And they’re all terrific kinner.”

  Naomi smiled at the pride in his voice. Although humility was a prized quality among the Amish, it touched her to know how much Zeke loved his family and wasn’t afraid to express it. She was more convinced than ever that he was widowed. She couldn’t imagine him not ever having had a wife.

  “What about you?” he asked. “You seem to know a lot more about me than I know about you.”

  “Besides Priscilla, I have two other sisters. Hannah is already married and expecting her first kinn. Then there’s Sarah Mae. But we’re not holding a wedding for her anytime soon.”

  “Why not?”

  “She’s five.” Naomi chuckled. “My parents call her their little surprise.”

  “So how long have you lived here?” Zeke asked between bites.

  “In Paradise? My entire life.”

  “Nee. I mean here.” He tapped on the table with his finger. “In this little haus.”

  She dipped the side of her fork into the warm pie. “About two years. Our grandparents passed away when we were young, and it seemed a shame to leave this house empty. So after my younger sister Hannah married, I moved in.”

  She ate the bite of pie, savoring the explosion of apples and cinnamon in her mouth. Zeke was right, this was good, one of her best pies yet. Then she frowned, feeling bad that Margaret didn’t get the chance to enjoy it.

  Zeke paused in his eating. “Something wrong?”

  “I wish Margaret hadn’t left on such poor terms.” Any good feelings Naomi had before disappeared at the thought of how miserable her friend looked when she left. “I’d hoped she would have stayed.”

  “Me too.” Zeke polished off the last bite of pie.

  Naomi looked at him for a moment. Could it be that he’d seen past Margaret’s awkwardness to the sweet woman beneath? If so, why did the idea suddenly bring on a twist inside her? Wasn’t this what she’d wanted—to help Margaret? Maybe they both would be open to a second chance, but she would have to go about it a different way.

  “You mentioned you wanted to have a ride around Paradise.”

  He nodded. “Ya. I’d like to take a look at the town, to see what’s changed, visit old places. It’s been a long time since I was last here.”

  “That sounds like a gut idea.” She put down her fork. “When were you planning to do this?”

  “Any time in the next week or so.”

  “Would you like a tour guide?”

  ZEKE GRINNED. HE FELT BAD THAT MARGARET HAD TO leave, but he wasn’t too disappointed. It gave him more time to be alone with Naomi. He thought about how their hands had touched. How she hadn’t moved
away. But uncertainty had flashed through her eyes, and he didn’t want to take advantage of the moment, even though he easily could have.

  Everything about this woman felt right. God had to have a hand in this, he was certain of it. He’d prayed for a woman like Naomi. And it had been a long wait, but now she was sitting right in front of him.

  Yet he had to be careful. Although unlike Margaret, Naomi didn’t seem to scare easily. He tempered his emotions before he spoke. “I’d appreciate some company. I would get pretty bored talking to the horse while I drove around.”

  When she smiled, his heart did a tiny backflip.

  “I know the perfect guide for you.” Naomi’s smile grew larger.

  “Ya? And who might that be?”

  “Margaret! She knows Paradise inside and out.”

  Zeke’s smile deflated. “I don’t think she’d be interested, Naomi.”

  “I know she feels bad about this evening. This would be a gut way for you two to get back on track. If you’re agreeable to that, of course.”

  She smiled again, but Zeke thought it looked a little forced. Which didn’t make much sense. Actually none of this made sense. Why was she so determined to pair him and Margaret together?

  “No offense to Margaret, but I was hoping you’d like to geh with me.”

  His comment seemed to take her aback. She stared at him for a moment, her chestnut eyes widening. Then she rose from her chair and picked up his plate. “Danki for the invitation, but I can’t.”

  “May I ask why?”

  “I’m much too busy.” She took his plate to the sink.

  He was hoping to have another piece of pie, but apparently that was out of the question. “Oh.”

  She faced him, her cheeks and forehead flushed. “I don’t mean I’m too busy for you. But with the wedding coming up, the bakery, and I have one more cooking class before the wedding, plus I’m working on a quilt for Chester and Priscilla . . .” The words came out in a rush. “There’s just so much to do, Zeke. I’m sorry. That’s one reason why I suggested Margaret.”

  “It’s okay.” He stood, suppressing a sigh. Maybe he’d been wrong about Naomi. “I guess I should be going, then. There’s still some daylight left. I’ll head over to Chester’s and see if he needs some help.” His voice sounded flat to his own ears, but he couldn’t help it.

  He started to leave the kitchen when Naomi called his name. He turned and looked at her, hope blooming inside him. Had she changed her mind after all?

  “Should I ask Margaret about giving you a tour?”

  Zeke paused. “Sure,” he said, with about as much enthusiasm as a dog being thrown into the tub for a bath. It didn’t matter anyway. After the way Margaret left, she would probably turn Naomi down.

  “How about next Thursday?”

  “Fine.”

  “I know she’ll be happy to do it.” Naomi smiled.

  Zeke fought to return it. He just wished she would smile for him.

  “I DON’T THINK IT’S A GUT IDEA, NAOMI.”

  Naomi finished sponging off the excess white flour from the table. She dropped the yellow sponge into the sink and turned to Margaret. Her friend was placing brown sugar brownies onto square pieces of white Styrofoam and slipping them into plastic bags. “It’s a great idea, Margaret. You’ll get a chance to talk to him again, and to show him around Paradise. Also, you’ll get to thank him in person for saving your life.”

  Margaret twisted a red wire tie and fastened the bag in place. She sighed. “I know. I should have thanked him Saturday.” She set the package to the side and started on another one. “How am I ever going to face him again?”

  “By taking him on a tour of Paradise.” Naomi turned on the faucet and squirted some dish detergent on a large baking pan.

  Margaret shrugged. “I don’t think it matters anyway. He has to geh back home eventually. So what’s the point?”

  Naomi paused, the water trailing over the silver pan. Margaret was right. After the wedding Zeke would go back to Middlefield. Why did that thought disappoint her? She shook the feeling away and scrubbed the crumbs off the pan. She rinsed it off and put it in the dish drainer. “I’m not asking you to marry him, Margaret. Just geh with him on a buggy ride.”

  Margaret tied up the last package of treats. “I really do appreciate your trying to help me, Naomi.” She glanced over her shoulder. “But maybe I’m beyond helping.”

  “I don’t believe that.” Naomi turned off the faucet and faced her. “Even if you and Zeke aren’t meant to be a couple, that doesn’t mean you can’t show him around town. Besides, he’s such a nice, easygoing mann. He might be able to help you get over your, uh, your . . .”

  “Awkwardness?” Margaret displayed a half smile. “I don’t know why I can’t be myself around men. Maybe it’s because I have all sisters and my daed is always so busy working. I just get so nervous.” She lifted up her hands. “Just thinking about going on that buggy ride gives me the shakes.”

  “Are you nervous when Ben Hooley picks you up?”

  Margaret paused for a moment, then shook her head. “That’s probably because he ignores me for the entire buggy ride. He’s just trying to get into Daed’s gut graces. I might as well be a sack of horse feed sitting next to him.” She sighed. “But Zeke—and every other mann I know—they’re different.”

  This was worse than Naomi thought. “Then you absolutely must geh with Zeke. He really does have a way of putting people at ease. And obviously you didn’t scare him off.”

  “That’s true.”

  “Plus, if you can get over your anxiety, then you’ll be able to be yourself around everyone.” Naomi touched her arm. “He said he’d come by and pick you up on Thursday after work.”

  Margaret’s eyes widened. “I can’t—”

  “Ya, you can. Remember the Scripture we heard on Sunday?”

  “God did not give us a spirit of fear and timidity,” she said.

  “Exactly. I think that applies to this situation as well. Don’t be afraid of Zeke.”

  Margaret shook her head. “Naomi, I’m not afraid of Zeke. I’m afraid of myself.” Then she burst into laughter. “That sounded silly, didn’t it?”

  “A little.” She gave Margaret a hug. When she drew back she said, “Just remind yourself of that verse and you’ll be okay.”

  “I will.” Margaret drew in a deep breath. “I promise. And I’ll show Zeke places in Paradise he’s probably never heard of. We’ll have a gut time.” It sounded like she was trying to convince herself.

  “I know you will. Now, geh on home. I’ll finish straightening up here.”

  “Okay. Danki, Naomi.”

  “For what?”

  “For keeping your promise. And for not giving up on me.” Margaret grinned as she took her jacket off the peg and left the kitchen.

  Naomi smiled. But her mind kept wandering back to the conversation with Zeke. About how he wanted Naomi to go with him on the tour, and his reluctance when he agreed to Margaret showing him around. She was sure he’d asked Naomi to be polite, or possibly out of friendship. She did consider them new friends. But the way he looked at her when he said it . . . the memory made her warm inside, like drinking smooth hot chocolate on a winter day. She’d given him a list of legitimate reasons why she couldn’t spare the time to go with him, but to her own ears they sounded like excuses. From the look on Zeke’s face, she could tell he thought so too.

  But what else could she have done? She couldn’t have said yes to Zeke, not when she had made a promise to Margaret. And even though chances were slim that he and Margaret would be a love match, she didn’t want to be the reason they weren’t. But there was another, deeper reason she refused to go with him. Even after her talk with Margaret, even after thinking about the verse in Timothy about God not giving her a spirit of fear, she couldn’t deny the truth.

  She was afraid. Not of Zeke, but of her feelings for him, feelings she was certain he didn’t have. How could he? They barely knew each o
ther. There was no such thing as love at first sight.

  And even if there were, she couldn’t forget what David had done to her. She couldn’t take the same risk with Zeke. She had promised herself long ago that she wouldn’t open her heart to anyone unless she was absolutely sure about his feelings. And right now she wasn’t sure about anything.

  Chapter Six

  THURSDAY MORNING DAWNED BRIGHT AND CLEAR, WITH only a few cottony wisps of clouds in the blue sky. The temperature was crisp, but refreshing. A perfect day for a buggy ride. Naomi stood on the front porch of the daadi haus, ignoring the twist inside her that came every time she thought of Zeke and Margaret alone in the buggy. It was stupid and irrational, and she’d always considered herself practical. Being jealous of an innocent buggy ride was as far from practical as she had ever been.

  By the time nine o’clock came, however, her jealous thoughts had turned to worry because Margaret had failed to show up for work. Naomi was mixing up a batch of sweet roll dough when someone knocked on the front door. She wiped her hands on her apron as she walked to the door. She opened it to see Margaret’s father standing there.

  He tugged on his thick salt-and-pepper beard, which hung a few inches past his chin. “I dropped by on my way to work to tell you Margaret’s sick. Got a stomach bug or something.”

  “Oh nee. I’m sorry to hear that. She seemed fine yesterday afternoon.”

  “Ya.” He gave his beard one more tug, then shrugged. “It came on all of the sudden. Just hope none of the other kinner get it.”

  It passed through her mind that maybe Margaret was faking the illness to get out of going with Zeke. Yet now that she thought about it, Margaret had seemed unwell near the end of the day yesterday. Naomi had chalked it up to nerves. Guilt nagged at her for doubting her friend.

  “She wanted me to make sure you understood that she was really sick. She threw up in my buggy this morning.” He made a face, his lips tugging down. “That’s one reason why I’m late for work. Made her geh straight to bed after that.”

 

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