A Reunion in Pinecraft

by Shelley Shepard Gray

“Sharon, tell the truth,” Vera said a minute later as she returned from retrieving her and Carla’s suitcases from the bus. “Were we ever that impetuous?”

  “I know I wasn’t. Maybe you were?”

  Vera laughed. “Maybe I was when Stefan and I first started seeing each other.”

  “If you were, he must have liked it. After all, you are an engaged woman now.”

  Vera stood a little straighter and smiled. “That I am. And you are a maid of honor.”

  Sharon smiled back. She didn’t want to do or say anything to spoil Vera’s happiness, but being only a maid of honor wasn’t exactly what she’d been hoping for a year ago.

  She helped Vera locate the rest of their bags, said good-bye and thank you to the bus driver, and then the two women put all their belongings in a neat grouping so no one would accidentally walk off with them.

  The hot Florida sun felt as though it was toasting her skin, and she was already sweaty and in need of a shower and a change of clothes. She also needed a couple of hours’ sleep in a real bed.

  “Now that we have all our bags, let’s go see if we can round up those girls and get to the inn,” Vera said. “I need a nap.”

  Scanning the thinning crowds, Sharon smiled. “You read my mind.”

  “There they are. Boy, Sharon,” Vera murmured, “I didn’t remember those guys looking like that. Did you?”

  Sharon turned her head and followed her friend’s gaze. And then she felt like gulping.

  Sherry and Carla were standing with two men. They were chatting with them like they were long-lost friends. Long-lost best friends.

  And the man standing closest to Sherry was not only smiling at her, but appeared to be intently listening.

  He was easily the most handsome man Sharon had ever seen.

  Her stomach dropped. He was also that man! The only man she remembered meeting at the wedding.

  “Vera, you remember them? Do you know their names? I talked to one of those guys for a while the morning after the wedding.”

  Vera adjusted her glasses. “Really? Which one?”

  Sharon realized the meeting that had been blurry for months was slowly becoming clearer. “I think he was that man with the sandy-brown hair. The man standing closest to Sherry. Do you by any chance remember his name?”

  “Sure I do, now that I’ve put the name and face together. I did meet him at the wedding. That’s Graham Holland.”

  His name was Graham. For a few minutes he’d made her feel special, helped her forget how her dreams of marrying John Marc were over, how John Marc and Viola had hurt her. He was the man she’d thought about from time to time since, and had kicked herself over not remembering his name.

  He was her sister’s pen pal?

  She was starting to feel sick.

  It didn’t matter to Graham that he’d flirted with both sisters. He simply made a choice between them, exchanging letters with Sherry, dismissing Sharon as if they’d never met.

  What kind of man did such a thing? Worse, what kind of sister was she for feeling even the smallest bit jealous?

  CHAPTER 2

  GRAHAM WASN’T EXACTLY SURE WHY HE’D DECIDED TO come greet the Pioneer Trails bus after all. Maybe it was because he was so eager to see Sherilyn. Maybe he was simply tired of his buddies, Matthew and Toby, asking questions. He’d been fairly secretive about his pen pal, never even agreeing to tell them what she looked like.

  Or maybe it was because he was too nervous to be completely alone when he and Sherilyn were first reunited.

  Whatever the reason, he was now thoroughly confused. Sherilyn looked nothing like he remembered. The Sherilyn he’d recalled had light-brown hair, green eyes, and lovely, high cheekbones. She had a reserved air about her, almost tentative. She made him feel as though she needed a friend, and that friend should be him.

  But this Sherilyn was the girl he only now remembered talking to a few times at the wedding. She was redheaded, freckle-faced, rather petite, and bold—not his usual type at all. Definitely not the picture he’d had in his mind all this time, flattered that she’d obtained his address and initiated their letter writing.

  How had his memory been so wrong?

  Now, after exchanging a few minutes of awkward conversation—a smile plastered on his face, desperately trying to covering up his dismay when she’d said, “Hi, Graham! It’s me, Sherilyn!” and listening to her regret that he hadn’t received her last letter—he was wishing he had anywhere else to go. He needed a few minutes to wrap his mind around the fact that he’d been writing to this near stranger.

  “Oh! Now that the crowd has started to thin out, I see our sisters,” Sherilyn said to Graham as she moved a step closer to him. Almost as if they were a couple.

  He scanned the area. “Where are they?”

  “There. The woman with the rose-colored dress is my sister, Sharon, and the woman in the violet-colored dress and wearing glasses is Carla’s sister, Vera. Vera is Sharon’s best friend.”

  He scanned the area, then froze as he realized that, while he might not have remembered this woman beside him very well, he definitely remembered the woman in the rose-colored dress.

  He almost sighed in relief. Maybe he wasn’t going crazy after all.

  “I see them too,” Carla called out. Seconds later, she groaned. “Uh-oh. They’re standing near all our suitcases and bags. Sherry, we better go help them.”

  Turning to Graham and his friend Toby, Sherilyn said, “Would you guys like to come over and say hello, or just wait to meet the girls when we get to the inn?”

  “We’ll go over so we can help you with the bags,” Toby said. “There’s nee way we’re going to let you carry everything on your own.”

  “That’s so sweet of you.”

  “That’s because we are sweet,” Toby teased.

  Still staring at the woman in the rose-colored dress, Graham murmured, “Jah. We’ll go help you.” As they started to move through the remaining crowd, he swallowed hard. “Hey, uh, Sherilyn, I’m sorry, but what are their names again?”

  “My sister is Sharon. Her friend is Vera.”

  “Your sister is Sharon and you’re Sherilyn. Your names are mighty similar. And Carla just called you Sherry too.”

  “They are similar, and I remember you commenting on that in one of your letters. And Sherry is a nickname you can call me if you like. Sharon and I were named after our parents’ two favorite sisters. Sharon is our father’s oldest sister, and Sherilyn is our mother’s oldest sister.” She sighed, revealing she’d told this story more than once. “Both my parents wanted to honor their sisters. After they named Sharon, Mamm teased my father, saying since he got his way for the first baby, she was going to get her way for the second . . . if they had a girl.”

  Graham couldn’t help but chuckle. “And they did.”

  Smiling back at him, Sherilyn nodded. “Indeed, they did. So that’s how I got my name. To be honest, I don’t think they considered how our similar names might sometimes be a problem, especially when Mamm got mad at us. She’d trip over both our names!”

  “I can see how that could happen. Especially, say, if one didn’t know either of you well.”

  Maybe it was because of the tone of his voice, but Sherilyn began to look a little confused. “Um, anyway, that’s my sister and Vera. Vera is engaged.”

  “Is Sharon betrothed too?”

  “Oh, nee.” Looking at him curiously, she said, “Why do you ask?”

  “Nee reason,” he said quickly. “I’m, uh, just trying to get to know everyone a little bit better.” He knew that made him sound like an idiot, but at the moment he didn’t care. Especially because he now realized he’d been writing to the wrong sister.

  How could that have happened? How could he have been so stupid? At the wedding, he hadn’t even realized these two were sisters. They were such different ages too. At least four or five years separated them!

  “Come on, I’ll go introduce you.”

  “Danke.” F
ollowing Sherry, Graham knew he had about ten seconds to get his composure and his tongue under control. He needed to not embarrass Sherilyn—Sherry—her sister, or himself.

  He had a feeling it was going to be a bit difficult.

  The fact of the matter was that Sharon Kramer was even prettier than he remembered. She was truly beautiful. And that pale-pink dress she was wearing set off her pale, porcelainlike skin. Her brown hair was neatly confined under her kapp, and as he got closer he noticed the color of her eyes leaned more toward hazel than the true green of her sister’s.

  But it was the way she carried herself that held his attention and made his pulse beat a little faster. When they met at the wedding, his first impression had been that she needed a protector. But perhaps he’d been mistaken. She looked icily composed and calm. Reflective.

  “Whoa,” Toby murmured, low enough that Sherry couldn’t hear. “Ain’t she something?”

  Yes. Yes, she was. Torn between continued dismay about what was happening and being strangely possessive over this woman, Graham was feeling more and more awkward. And sweaty.

  Then there they were, all standing together.

  “Sharon, this is Graham Holland,” Sherry said. “Graham, please meet my sister, Sharon.”

  He held out his hand and gently clasped Sharon’s hand in his own. “We’ve met,” he said, searching her face. “Do you remember?”

  She smiled, though that warmth didn’t spread to her eyes. “I do, now that you mention it. We talked at the good-bye breakfast the morning after the wedding.”

  Sherry raised her eyebrows, obviously surprised. “You never told me you knew Graham.”

  “I didn’t.” Looking a little apologetic, and not as calm, Sharon sputtered, “I mean, we met, but we didn’t really talk. Much. We didn’t really know each other. I mean, not like you and Graham obviously knew each other before we headed home. We only shared one brief conversation.”

  Sherry’s expression cleared. “Oh.” Turning to Graham, she said, “Isn’t that something? We only had a couple of short conversations, and that was in groups. Yet it meant enough for you to write me back . . . and send me those lavender seeds.”

  He hoped she would never find out he sent those seeds because he thought she smelled like fresh, fragrant lavender.

  Well, her sister had.

  “That is something,” he agreed, his mouth going dry.

  After Graham managed to introduce Toby to Sharon and Vera, and after Vera—to Graham’s further embarrassment—reminded him he had met her at the wedding, too, Toby reached for one of the suitcases. “Are you girls ready to leave this parking lot? It’s time to go, I think.”

  Looking around in surprise, Graham realized most everyone else had left. He took hold of the nearest suitcase. “I’ll take this one.”

  Sherilyn frowned. “That one’s Sharon’s.”

  As if it was burning hot, he quickly released the handle. “Is that a problem?”

  Sharon shook her head. “Of course not. Sherry, I’ll simply take yours.”

  Suddenly looking embarrassed, Sherilyn mumbled, “Nee, I’m being silly. I can take my own. Let’s just go.”

  That was how they all ended up in the formation they did, each one carrying at least one bag or suitcase. Toby was walking next to Vera, Sherry was following—whispering to Carla by her side—and he and Sharon were taking up the rear.

  Graham was so tongue-tied he had no earthly idea what to say, so he decided to just keep quiet.

  Sharon must have felt the same way, because she seemed content to stroll at his side, glancing at the shop windows and various front yards they passed, never saying a word. After they’d walked two blocks without speaking, Graham gathered himself and cleared his throat. “So, Sharon, are you exhausted from the journey here?”

  “I wouldn’t say I’m exhausted, but I am certainly tired. I’m not quite the traveler my sister is, I’m afraid,” she said in an apologetic tone. “I guess I’m more of a homebody.”

  “I am, too, though I suppose it’s by circumstance instead of choice. Farmers are tied to the land.”

  She turned to him, fresh awareness shining bright in her eyes. “I had forgotten you said you farmed. Tell me about it.”

  “About what? Planting corn?” He smiled, giving her an out. After all, who really wanted to hear about a farmer’s life?

  “Jah, I want to hear about planting corn. And plowing fields and whatever else farmers do.”

  “You’re serious?”

  She shrugged. “I am. Tell me all about it, Graham. I really am interested.”

  He doubted that, but he figured conversation about plowing and ears of corn was better than anything else he could think of. So he started talking about crop rotation and rainfall and worms and mud.

  Sharon gazed ahead as they walked, but whenever he glanced at her, he could tell she was listening as though he was telling her something of value.

  And just like that, he knew. Sharon was exactly the woman he’d remembered. And she truly was more than just a pretty face. She was special.

  But of course, now if he told everyone the truth it would only set off a real mess of emotions. No, it was better to keep his secret to himself and hope neither sister ever discovered his mistake.

  But then, while he was keeping that secret, maybe he could find a way to extricate himself from Sherry’s grip and get Sharon Kramer to give him the time of day.

  That was all. Just that.

  He sighed. This vacation—the one he’d been counting the days toward—suddenly felt like the worst idea ever.

  CHAPTER 3

  THE REUNION HAD BEEN AWKWARD, AND SHE’D KNOWN exactly why.

  Sharon couldn’t think of a more accurate word to describe how she felt when Sherry introduced her to Graham. From the moment she’d met his gaze, she’d been flustered—though she was thankful that even Vera hadn’t seemed to be able to tell. Even though she’d been sure she blushed like a girl far younger than twenty-five, she had done her best to pretend she wasn’t shocked to see this was the man her sister had been writing to for six months.

  And she had done her best to pretend to her sister and their friends that she could totally see the two of them together.

  But she couldn’t. She decided then and there that she’d never tell Vera anything more about this if she didn’t have to, even if she was her best friend. It was too embarrassing.

  It didn’t mean she was right about Graham, however. She’d been wrong about men and relationships before, especially when it came to herself. And not just with John Marc, either. No, she seemed to make a habit of misjudging men’s interests, imagining there was spark in places there wasn’t.

  Now here they all were in the living room of the inn, just a couple of hours after arriving and getting settled in their rooms. Sharon was beginning to wish she was anywhere else.

  Not a great way to start a two-week vacation.

  Holding a heart-shaped cookie liberally frosted with light-pink frosting, Sharon debated whether to simply set it down on a plate and hope no one noticed she hadn’t eaten it, or to find a place to throw it away without anyone seeing her do it.

  She couldn’t eat a thing.

  She was the only one, though. It seemed that every afternoon, Mrs. Beverly Wagler served tea, cake, and cookies to her guests. Today she had fresh-baked brownies too. From what everyone had been telling her, and from what she observed, half her neighborhood stopped by as well. The Sugarcreek crowd, who had already been there two days, told the new arrivals the gathering wasn’t to be missed.

  Realizing she was going to have to find a way to eat this treat so she wouldn’t seem rude, Sharon continued to nibble. It was a perfect sugar cookie. Firm but not hard, sweet and tinged with the faint essence of both vanilla and lemon. This proprietor definitely had a way around the kitchen.

  “I trust your room is all right?” the innkeeper asked as she came to stand beside Sharon.

  “Oh, yes!”

  B
everly visibly relaxed. “Thank you for understanding. I don’t know how the reservations got so mixed up, but I’ve felt awful about it. I know it must be awkward with your sister and friends in the triple upstairs while you’re in the single room down here, on your own.”

  “Please don’t worry about it. I like being on the first floor. As you might have noticed already, I’m a little on the quiet side. If I was up in the attic room, I’d be up all night with three women who really like to talk. Now, at least, I can be assured I’ll get some rest.”

  “I’ve had more than one group of girls here over the years. You may have a point. Plus, it’s not as if I’ll mind if you go up and down the stairs as often you like, at all hours of the night too.”

  Sharon liked that image of her sneaking back to her room after a long night of laughing in the attic room upstairs.

  “Is the cookie okay?”

  “Yes. I’m, uh, just not as hungry as I thought I was.”

  Beverly pointed to a trash can. “If you don’t want it, you can throw it out, dear. I promise I won’t be offended.”

  “Thank you. I don’t want to do that, though. It’s really good. I work in a bakery, so I know cookies like this are to be treasured.”

  Beverly’s cheeks turned pink. “That’s so sweet of you to say. If you work in a bakery, I’m guessing you like to bake too?”

  “I do. Very much.”

  “Maybe we can sit down one day and discuss recipes.”

  “I’d like that a lot.”

  Beverly smiled at her again before walking to the next guest.

  “Your sister mentioned you work as a baker,” Graham said as he drew up beside her, a thick, chocolate-chunk brownie in his hand.

  “Yep. I’ve worked there for eight years now, since I was seventeen. I started washing dishes in the kitchen, then began helping all the ladies with the baking. Now I’m one of the lead bakers. I really enjoy it.”

  “My aunt works in a bakery in Sugarcreek. She says it’s hard work.”

  “It is. Hot and a lot of heavy lifting too. But I love creating something people can enjoy immediately.”

  “That must be nice. Nothing happens like that in farming.”