by Naomi King
Emma’s jaw dropped. Why was he letting this young woman kiss him if he claimed to be so interested in her? Why had she believed Jerome was ready to open his heart and soul?
Look again. Things are not what they seem.
Emma crossed her arms, assessing this evening’s surprises. She’d seen through the Wengerds’ little games at the table, so why would these women have changed their tactics? They were manipulating Jerome, and she didn’t have to tolerate such blatant behavior!
“Bess, this is pathetic,” Emma stated as she moved closer to the clinging blonde. “First, you and your mamm show up unannounced, expecting Jerome to court you again—mostly because he’s making gut money. And now you’ve thrown yourself at him. If he hasn’t started kissing you back yet, it’s not going to happen, honey.”
And where had that come from? Emma’s eyes widened, for she’d never in her life spoken out so brashly, with such a tone. But her little speech accomplished what she’d intended. Bess backed away from Jerome and glared at her.
“Puh! What could a handsome man like Jerome Lambright possibly see in a mouse like you, Emma Graber?”
Chapter Seventeen
Jerome thought he’d been hearing things. Was that Emma accusing Bess of throwing herself at him? He wanted to shout hallelujah, because the one person whose opinion mattered had seen the Wengerd women for who they were: fortune hunters. These two females had nothing better to do than kiss up to him, thinking that if Bess couldn’t lure him back with her looks, then Mabel would shame him into feeling sorry for their bereavement.
But Bess wasn’t finished yet. “Seems to me the choice is yours, Jerome,” she said in a cloying voice. “You know we had a gut love between us—that God Himself brought us together. So why are you wasting your time with Emma?”
The two young women were now facing him—one a blue-eyed blonde and the other a compelling brunette all dressed in black—their arms crossed as they awaited his answer. He could only hope this agonizing moment would settle the situation once and for all.
Jerome cleared his throat. “God may have brought us together a couple of years ago, Bess,” he replied firmly, “but your mamm drove us apart. I saw that our marriage wouldn’t stand a chance because of her interfering ways, so I ducked out. Not very nice of me, but there it is. The truth.”
Bess’s eyes got as round as the full moon. Then her chin began to quiver. “Jerome, I can’t believe you’d say such a thing about Mamma,” she wheedled. “It’s you and I who’d be getting hitched—”
“Stop right there.” Jerome held out his hand. “I’ve said all I’m going to say, and my answer is no, Bess. So don’t embarrass us both by playing any more games.”
Thank goodness she took the hint this time. As Bess left the pottery workroom, Jerome knew his rejection would come back to haunt him once Mabel heard what he’d done. But that didn’t bother him. At long last, he was alone with Emma Graber, the way he’d hoped to be all day.
Here was a woman who could indeed speak her mind, with a strength he hadn’t anticipated. Apparently Emma liked him more than she’d been letting on—or at least she refused to stand by and watch the Wengerds humiliate him.
“Denki, Emma,” he whispered.
Emma held his gaze, yet she appeared as dumbfounded as he about what had just happened. “You probably think I’m a buttinsky busybody, telling Bess—”
“Nothing’s gained by tiptoeing around the fact that I’ll never be happy with Bess,” Jerome insisted. “And I’m grateful that you saw through that kiss. I can’t believe she’d stoop so low, which means she’s getting . . . desperate. Sad, jah, but it’s not a situation I’ll be fixing.”
Emma’s tremulous smile did funny, wonderful things to his insides. Jerome held out his hand and was gratified when she took hold of it.
“I used to want . . . I needed to hear—from you, rather than the gossips—about why you broke up with two other girls you were engaged to,” Emma said in a low voice. “It was worrisome, thinking you might walk out on me as well and—”
“Let’s not put that cart before the horse.” Jerome tightened his hold on her hand, bringing it briefly to his lips. “I sincerely loved those girls, and I didn’t take it lightly, walking out on them. Breaking my promises.”
Emma’s brows flickered. Was that concern on her sweet face? Or maybe envy, because he’d confessed he’d been in love twice before?
Jerome didn’t want to spoil his chances of getting to know her better, so he vowed to slow down . . . to allow a solid friendship to develop before they made any other assumptions. This time, he would look before he leaped. It was the only way Emma would allow him to win her affection. Even before she’d been in mourning, she’d been cautious about sharing herself, her feelings, her deepest dreams.
Maybe he could take a lesson there.
“How about that sleigh ride?” he asked. “It’s a perfect moonlit evening, and I don’t feel like staying around all these ears and eyes.”
Emma’s smile was wistful and sweet. “Jah, I’d really like to go.”
Jerome had to hold himself back from kissing her out of sheer gratitude. He led her from the pottery room toward the kitchen, intending to slip out into the wondrous winter night without attracting any attention. But Jemima was taking muffins out of the oven and Simon was helping himself to a brownie from a platter on the counter.
“Where you going?” the boy asked hopefully. “Will you and Emma play outside in the snow with me?”
Jerome tousled the boy’s mop of hair. “Not this time, sport. Emma and I are taking a sleigh ride.”
“Sleigh ride! In our dat’s sleigh?” came a voice from under the kitchen table.
“Oh, but I’d love to ride tonight!” Dora and Cora popped up from where they’d been playing with Alice Ann, their eyes alight.
Jerome laughed. Why had he believed he could escape without these kids following his every move? “We’ll all go for a sleigh ride sometime soon, I promise. But right now I’d like to be with Emma.”
“Ah, but Bess, you should be going along, too!” Mabel Wengerd called over her shoulder as she entered the kitchen. Her face looked taut, as though she’d pulled her hair back into an extra-tight bun. “All three of you young people can fit in the sleigh, and it’ll keep everyone’s intentions honorable, ain’t so?”
Jerome reminded himself to be patient and to mind his mouth. “There’s no one more honorable than Emma,” he said. “You’ll just have to let the Lord be our chaperone and trust that He’s in charge of all our lives. He’ll take care of you as well, Mabel, if you believe in His goodness and mercy.”
He turned back toward Emma then, before anyone else could delay the ride he so badly wanted to share with her. “Shall we go?” he murmured. “I’m ready if you are.”
* * *
“It’s been way too long since I hitched up a sleigh,” Jerome said as he lightly clapped the reins on Sparky’s back. “I don’t think this one’s seen the snow since Uncle Atlee passed, and that’s a shame. Are you warm enough?”
Emma burrowed deeper beneath the quilts Jerome had draped over them. Now that she was settled on the plush old seat, leaning into Jerome as the sleigh tilted slightly on the downhill lane, she felt happier than she had in a long time. The full moon was beaming down from a blue velvet sky dotted with diamond stars, making the snow-blanketed pastures glimmer all around them.
“I’m cozy. And I’m having a really gut time,” Emma replied with a contented sigh. “Night rides are the prettiest, especially now that the wind has died down.”
“Jah, it’s a perfect evening,” Jerome replied. “I’ve been hoping for more time alone with you—well, since the day we went shopping, Emma.”
As she thought back to that day she’d spent trying to escape Jerome’s attentions, Emma let herself relax . . . allowed the breeze from the accelerating sleigh to
blow away her former objections to the handsome man who was driving it. The clip-clop of Sparky’s hooves on the snow-packed road settled her heartbeat into its rhythm while the warmth they shared beneath the quilts soothed her after a day of surprising guests and revelations. “Denki for giving me another chance, Jerome,” she murmured. “You were right at the wedding. I’ve missed out on a lot of opportunities to go out and have fun.”
“Emma, it’s me who’s grateful for another chance,” he said. “I nearly fell out of my chair when the Wengerds showed up—”
“They intended to catch you off guard. They’re a nervy pair, if you ask me.”
“But if you want to know anything else about why I walked out on Bess,” he continued in a heartfelt voice, “please ask me. I want to be totally honest with you, Emma. I want you to trust me, as a friend and . . . as a man looking to marry someday.”
Emma’s heart nearly jumped out of her chest. She almost blurted an objection, saying it was too soon to speak of marriage, but then she caught herself. Most fellows wouldn’t offer an explanation of their past romances, and she’d never figured Jerome for a man who could admit to his mistakes. Yet he’d proven that assumption wrong.
“No need to say another word about Bess and her mamm,” Emma assured him. “And if you don’t want to dig up old bones about your other engagement, well, that’s your business. Not mine.”
Jerome took the reins in one hand and slipped his other one beneath the quilts. When he found her hand, he grasped it . . . swallowed it up in his gloved grip, yet she no longer felt trapped. “The other girl didn’t say so until I’d popped the question, but she wanted to join a liberal Mennonite fellowship,” he explained. “She wanted electricity in our new home and a car to drive. Even to a fun-loving fellow like me, that seemed like a slap in the face to Aunt Amanda, after the way she and Atlee took me in and raised me up in the Old Order ways.”
Emma smiled in the darkness. “You’ve never wanted a car?”
“Sure I have. What young fellow doesn’t?” Jerome admitted. “But I couldn’t afford a car in my rumspringa—and maybe that’s why I got into mules,” he reflected aloud. “It’s another form of transportation, after all. And since mules aren’t as common as horses, it’s a way to distinguish myself. I hope that doesn’t sound prideful to you, Emma.”
It touched her that he valued her opinion about his livelihood. “James once told me he went into carriage making for the same reason,” Emma said. “And the custom carriages he’s designed for amusement parks have set him apart from other rig builders, just as you’ve chosen a different path with your mules. Seems like a smart business decision,” she went on with a shrug. “Lots of fellows train horses, after all. No harm in offering a different draft animal—especially when you’ve got such a way with your mules.”
Jerome was regarding her with something akin to awe. “Why, Emma Graber,” he teased softly. “I’ve never heard you string together so many sentences at once—and all of them in my favor, too. I’m glad you feel that way.”
Emma’s cheeks prickled. She had nattered on and on, hadn’t she? Yet now that she’d heard Jerome’s explanation of his broken relationships, her reservations seemed to be slipping away. Why, for these past several minutes, watching the pristine snow-blanketed pastures go by, she’d even forgotten her sorrow . . . forgotten that she was grieving Mamm’s passing.
Mamm adored Jerome! She’s probably smiling down on you right now!
When the sleigh hit a bump, Emma let out a whoop and laughed out loud.
Jerome’s whoop mingled with hers in the frosty air. “I like the sound of your laughter, sweetie,” he said. “If I’m going too fast—”
“Don’t slow down! This is—” Emma closed her eyes, trying to think of exactly the right word to describe how she felt. “It’s exhilarating. I can’t remember the last time I had so much fun.”
Jerome scooted against her, still holding her hand. “I’m really glad to hear that, Emma,” he replied. “I was a little worried about you yesterday, when you were so tired after your week at the mercantile.”
“I’ll settle into the routine,” she assured him as she gazed into his dark eyes. “I really have enjoyed helping Sam and learning so many things about running the store. And I’ll sleep gut tonight after getting all this fresh air, no doubt.”
Emma nipped her lip, unable to look away from Jerome’s intense gaze. Should she share one of the main reasons she’d taken the job? They were having such a good time, yet this sleigh ride was the only opportunity they would have to talk without several other people around them—and she certainly didn’t want to discuss her personal feelings where the Wengerd women might overhear them.
“I’m working in the store partly because I like to feel useful and partly because when you said I needed to get out more, I knew it was true,” she admitted. “You must think I’ve led a sheltered, limited life while I’ve looked after my parents.”
“Oh, Emma, not at all.” Jerome tugged on the reins, guiding the sleigh to a complete stop on the shoulder of the road. Snow-laced evergreens whispered beside them as his gloved hand tightened around hers. “I’ve always admired your caring ways, and I suspect your dat would be lost without you, now that your mamm’s passed. I think you’re a loving daughter—a wonderful woman—just the way you are, Emma. But if you enjoy working in the store, that’s a gut thing, too. I bet it helps you pass the time.”
Emma’s heart raced. Jerome understood her needs better than she’d anticipated. His expression suggested he might have something else on his mind as well, and she told herself she would not react by skittering away from him as she had in the past.
“While we’ve got this time alone, I want to tell you something I’ve not mentioned to anybody else, all right?” His smile was only inches from her face, and in the moonlight he looked a little bit nervous. “I—I’m taking my instruction to join the church.”
“Jerome, why—that’s so gut to hear!” Emma gripped his hand beneath the quilts. “I never really figured you for a fence jumper.”
“Denki for saying that.” Jerome let out the breath he’d been holding. “After all the times you’ve tried to avoid me, I got to thinking that a woman of faith like yourself might have reason to run the other way. I’ve been going to church all my life, living our Old Order beliefs, after all, so it’s high time I committed.”
Emma felt his gaze pulling her in, holding her on a deeper level. In all the years she’d spent wishing Matt Lambright would realize she existed, she’d missed the chance to talk this seriously with a man. A woman of faith, Jerome had called her—even after all the times she’d scurried away from him, expressing doubts about everything from wedding presents to quilting at the Brubakers’ because he’d be around all day.
And doesn’t it say something, that Jerome didn’t take his instruction for those other two girls, even after he got engaged to them?
Not long ago, such a thought would have frightened her. Yet as Jerome shook the reins and spoke to Sparky, the sleigh once again glided effortlessly, and Emma felt herself sinking deeper into the seat and settling against Jerome’s shoulder.
“I’ve always known you were a solid sort of fellow,” she finally replied. “Sometimes your confidence scares me, on account of how I’m basically a mouse, like Bess—”
“Don’t listen to her!” Jerome blurted. “She has nothing on you, and she’s always up to something tricky. With you, Emma, I don’t have to play games or second-guess your motives. You are who you seem to be. And I like who you are. A lot.”
Emma’s heart fluttered in spite of the fearful thoughts that raced through her mind. She wasn’t used to such serious talk—had no idea how to respond if Jerome kicked the conversation up a notch by alluding to their future. “In my way,” she said, “I was as . . . close to my mamm as Bess is to hers, as far as depending on her advice and—”
; “Except when it came to me!” Jerome chuckled. “Your mamm, bless her soul—and your dat, too—took to me from the first. Which only seemed to make you that much more determined to hurry off in the opposite direction whenever I showed up. I was starting to wonder if I smelled as gamey as my mules.”
Emma laughed so loudly that the sound echoed in the evergreens beside them. She couldn’t stop laughing, either, as though Jerome’s idea about smelling bad had grabbed her funny bone and wouldn’t let go. “I—I’m sorry,” she murmured between a couple of final giggles. “I’m not laughing at you, Jerome.”
“Why not? I’m an odd duck.”
“I just . . .” Emma paused. If anything, Jerome had the nicest scent of any fellow she knew. He had a woodsy fragrance she found appealing—and very bracing in the cold air, as they sat so close together. “I must have made quite a sight, running off every time you came my way,” she said with a sigh. “I’m not sure why I was so skittish.”
“Until tonight, there were a lot of things you didn’t know about me. Important things.” Jerome gazed into her eyes. He slowly drew his arm from beneath the quilts to wrap it around her shoulders. “You’re as cautious as I am impulsive. That would make for a good balance between a man and a wife—but we’ll not talk about that just yet.”
Emma held her breath. Her pulse started pounding so loudly that Jerome could surely hear it, yet as he guided Sparky from the meadow onto the road again, she allowed her head to rest on his shoulder. Just for this glowing moment, surely it would be all right to savor the moonlight and the company of a fellow who wanted to hold her close . . . wanted to consider a future with her instead of with that pretty blonde back at the house.
“I’m determined not to have a third strike against me, as far as engagements go,” Jerome went on in a low voice. “And I don’t dare hurt you by acting like a clueless kid anymore, either. You deserve better than that, Emma.”
She let out a long sigh . . . immersed herself in the sensations of this romantic ride, enjoying Jerome’s solid warmth and the way her breathing fell into rhythm with his. The freshly washed scent of the quilts . . . the steady hoofbeats of the mule as it maintained a trot down the snowy road . . . the briskness of the winter night on her face while the rest of her felt cuddly and secure.