Harvest of Hearts

by Laura Hilton

  Matthew looked away. He pulled his watch out of his pocket and glanced at it. “I need to go. By the time I get the horse hitched up to the buggy and get out there, it’ll be time to meet the realtor.”

  “I guess I can go. If you want, I’ll drive you.” Shanna came up beside him and touched his hand.

  He looked up and to the side, not quite meeting her eyes. “Nein, we’ll take the buggy. I’ll get it ready.”

  “Okay. That’ll give me time to finish the dishes and get the kitchen cleaned up. Danki for inviting me. I love going through houses. Sometimes, my girlfriend and I go to open houses in Springfield. It’s fun.”

  Matthew blinked. “Fun” wasn’t at all how he would describe going through buildings. It was just a necessary step when one was looking to buy. “I’ll be right back. Give me a moment.”

  Shanna waved him off, then scampered back across the room and plunged her hands into the soapy water in the sink.

  For a few seconds, Matthew couldn’t stop watching her. He finally forced himself to turn and follow Levi out of the house.

  “I’m willing to take a look anytime you want,” Levi reminded him, a hint of teasing in his tone, as if Matthew was courting Shanna and wouldn’t want him to intrude on their outing.

  Matthew ignored the implication. “I know. I’m not sure I’m that serious about this particular piece of property.” He shrugged. “When I decide, I’ll certainly ask you to kum.”

  Levi nodded and pulled a key out of his pocket. “I’ll see you later, then. You and Shanna have fun.”

  Matthew couldn’t imagine being in Shanna’s company and not having a good time. Unless she became defensive about something. He’d do what he could to keep the conversation pleasant.

  Taking a long drive through the district, talking and getting to know each other better, would be nice. Maybe on the way back, they could take the scenic route.

  Or maybe not.

  Matthew straightened, reminding himself that Shanna was home for only a season. Not forever. And definitely not for him.

  Unless there was something he could do to tip the scales in his favor.

  Chapter 13

  By the time Shanna finished the dishes, put her socks and shoes on, and went outside, Matthew had the buggy ready. Shyness hit, making it feel like she was being courted by her first bu. She tried to control a shiver, reminding herself that going with him to look at a house didn’t constitute a date. They were friends. Just friends.

  She would be going back to Springfield.

  But she wanted it to be a date. She wanted to pretend she’d be looking at this property with her future husband.

  Ach! Shanna reined in her thoughts.

  Matthew came around the front of the buggy to offer his assistance. Whether she needed it or not didn’t matter; accepting help would mean physical contact, and that definitely sounded appealing. She took his outstretched hand and climbed up on the step, wincing when the buggy sagged slightly under her weight. It’d been so long since she’d ridden in one, she’d forgotten that part.

  She slid onto the seat, while Matthew jogged around to the other side and climbed up next to her. He grabbed the reins and made a clicking sound with his tongue, and they were on their way down the lane. Shanna waited until they had turned onto the road before scooting closer to him. Close enough so that their arms brushed or bumped with every jostling motion of the buggy.

  Any nearer would be entirely inappropriate, but she wanted to be closer. It would make it easier for her to pretend that this was a date. Especially if he put his arm around her.

  He turned and glanced at her, the corners of his mouth lifting with the hint of a smile.

  Shanna grinned back at him. “Maybe I would like to go fishing with you tomorrow.”

  His smile deepened, and the right dimple flashed. “Maybe so?”

  “Jah. Maybe so.”

  His shoulders twitched, and he faced forward again. “Then, maybe I will take you.”

  Shanna settled back against the seat. The sway of the buggy soothed her. “You know, some of my friends in Springfield would think this is so romantic.”

  “What is?” Matthew shifted a bit. Now, his upper arm rested against her shoulder rather than just brushing it occasionally. And his right thigh pressed against her skirt. She imagined she could feel its warmth. But he didn’t put his arm around her.

  She scooted a bit closer, so that her shoulder was behind his, hoping he’d get the hint. So much for being inappropriate. If anyone saw them, they’d think they were courting. And courtship was supposed to be a private matter.

  But they weren’t courting. Even so, she wanted his arm around her.

  She struggled to remember what they’d been talking about. “Riding in a buggy,” she said, to answer his question. “You can take carriage rides in the old parts of Springfield, where there are cobblestone roads. My friend Carly and her boyfriend rented one. They dressed up in evening clothes and had dinner at a fancy restaurant, went to the opera, and then went for a carriage ride. And that’s where he proposed.”

  “He proposed in a buggy?” Matthew glanced at her, his eyes wide.

  Shanna nodded. “It was so romantic. All my friends were swooning over it.”

  “Did you?”

  Was it her imagination, or had his voice dropped a little in pitch? Shanna suppressed another shiver. “When she gushed about how poetic Bill is? Nein. A buggy ride is a buggy ride.” Though, with Matthew, it seemed so much dreamier.

  “Maybe it depends more on the company, ain’t so?”

  Heat rushed to her cheeks. His voice had deepened to a sexy rumble. Did guys do that on purpose? She looked away and didn’t answer. Apparently, he already knew how she felt, anyway.

  “So, Shanna.” He shifted again and lifted his arm, letting it drop carelessly around her shoulder, as she’d wanted him to do. Except maybe not the “carelessly” part. “Do you want to be proposed to in a buggy? After a fancy dinner and an opera?”

  Proposed to? She hadn’t meant to bring up that topic, just the romantic reputation of buggy rides. Time to change the subject. Shanna shook her head. “Nein. I’ve been to an opera, once. It wasn’t my thing. I mean, it was gut, but it isn’t something I ever really want to do again. Eating out is nice, too, but—and I guess this is my Amish upbringing—a gut home-cooked meal is better. Mamm can outcook any restaurant chef.”

  “Your mamm is a gut cook, but I like your cooking, too. So far.” He lifted his arm again and put it back at his side.

  She wished for the weight of his arm to return. At least he had done what she’d wanted, if only briefly.

  “This is it.” Matthew gestured to the right. “Think they said it was five hundred acres right now. They’ve sold off some acreage already. The barn you can’t even see from the haus. I guess, with cattle, you don’t want them so close. I don’t know. There’s a pond the previous owners kept stocked, like your daed does.” He pointed down the road. “And the haus, it’s a two-story with a basement. It has two and a half bathrooms and four bedrooms. There are big walk-in closets in all four bedrooms, but I guess Englischers have need of lots of clothes.” He shook his head, as if trying to imagine what that would be like.

  Shanna knew firsthand how quickly clothes could accumulate. And shoes. Ach, when she’d first moved to Springfield and discovered heels…. It had taken a bit of practice to toddle around on four-inch spikes without falling. The guys liked it, though. Would Matthew? She’d probably never know. Heels were not appropriate footwear for an Amish farm. Still, he was tall enough that she could wear heels and not tower over him.

  They weren’t talking about shoes.

  “Can you afford something like that?” Shanna asked, then clamped her hand over her mouth. That kind of question was way too nosy. “Never mind.”

  He chuckled. “Land is cheaper here than in Pennsylvania. My brothers bought my share of the family farm. Plus, I have money I’ve saved up, working. Daed took my paychecks and d
eposited them for me so I’d have a head start. I didn’t have much to spend my money on, anyway.”

  “Nein girl?” Oops. She had a talent for bringing up subjects she shouldn’t discuss. Yet she wanted to know if he had left someone behind.

  He laughed. “Fishing for information, Shanna?”

  Of course, he would see right through her. “You don’t have to answer that,” she muttered.

  He tugged on the reins and turned the buggy into a driveway. The house did appear fancier than most Amish homes, but it was plainer than some Englisch ones. It had no garage but a carport.

  The real estate agent must not have arrived yet, as there was no car parked in the driveway.

  Matthew wrapped his arm around her, this time in a loose hug. She snuggled against his side. “Nein. I’m not courting anyone. Yet.”

  Yet. There were mountains of meaning in that simple three-letter word. The unspoken implications. She pressed herself nearer to his side. His embrace tightened in response.

  “I meant back in Pennsylvania. Did you break some girl’s heart when you moved down here?” She looked up at him.

  Matthew frowned. “Break a heart? Nein. I gave a couple of girls a ride home from singing. I courted one. Briefly. We mutually decided we weren’t right for each other. She’s married now.” He glanced at her. “So, what about you? Anyone other than Nate?” His arm fell back along the edge of the seat. She missed the contact, the warmth, the sparks.

  “Just a bunch of guys who fall into the same category as Nate: casual friends. No one I have dreams of marrying.”

  At the sound of crunching gravel, they both turned and saw a car approaching. When Matthew looked back at Shanna, his expression had changed. A teasing grin had replaced his frown. “Gut. Because you’re going to marry me.”

  Talk about a comment out of left field. Her breath caught, but before she could think of an appropriate reply, something similarly flippant, the real estate agent opened her car door and stepped out.

  She’d never thought Matthew would be the type to kid around about marriage. The Amish didn’t treat it as a joking matter.

  Wouldn’t it be fun to pretend?

  She returned her attention to the realtor, an older lady, maybe middle-aged, dressed in brown slacks and a cream-colored top with a plunging neckline that showed way too much skin. Her hair was dyed a mahogany red—straight from a bottle, no doubt. Shanna’s roommate had tried the same color last semester, with similarly disastrous results.

  Matthew pulled his arm away. As he did, his fingers trailed along the back of Shanna’s neck. Whether it was on purpose or by accident, she didn’t know. Awareness sprang to life. He jumped out of the buggy, then came around to help Shanna out.

  “Matthew, hi,” the realtor said. “Sorry I’m a little late. Oh, you brought your girl. Well, let me open the door and I’ll let you look around. I’ll be in the living room if you have any questions.” She glanced at Shanna. “I’m Terri Mayberry. Really nice to meet you.”

  “Shanna Stoltzfus. It’s nice to meet you, too.”

  Matthew and she followed Terri to the front door. She unlocked it and then stood aside to allow Shanna and Matthew to enter first. “I told Matthew this, but the previous owner died, and the son is looking to unload the property fast. He has it listed way below its value, which is good, because I know the house doesn’t meet Amish standards.”

  Shanna nodded. She’d heard at least a partial list of necessary “de-improvements” firsthand from Matthew.

  She entered the living room. It was big and inviting, with a large stone fireplace and beautiful, built-in, floor-to-ceiling bookcases flanking the mantel. A bay window overlooked the road. Lovely, really. But Shanna wasn’t sure what the bishop would say about it. She wasn’t familiar with the procedure of buying new property.

  A ring tone split the silence. Shanna glanced at the realtor.

  “Excuse me.” Terri held her cell phone to her ear and stepped outside on the porch.

  Leaving Matthew and Shanna alone in the house. And making it so much easier for Shanna to pretend that she was here with her fiancé. That he was serious about marriage.

  Shanna glanced around the living room. The house was definitely fancy. Nobody she knew had a home like this. Her family and her Amish friends all had turn-of-the-century—and not this century—farmhouses. Similar to the ones that lined the streets of the inner city, the bad part of town. Maybe the Amish kept their homes in better condition. Or maybe not. Depended on the homeowner.

  When it came to Amish families, their barns tended to get more care than their houses.

  Shanna followed Matthew through a set of doors, noticing a half bath they passed, into a big country kitchen with a built-in breakfast nook. A screened-in back porch beckoned through the window. “Ooh, this is lovely. Can you imagine canning and baking in here?”

  Matthew shook his head. “Nein. It’s all electric. Did you catch that? Completely unacceptable. Might as well start from scratch.”

  Shanna faced him. “Then, do that. You could buy the land, rent out the haus, and build a new one closer to the barns. It would save having a barn raising, but you’d have to build a haus yourself; it wouldn’t be a community thing. At least you’d have the haus of your dreams.”

  “The haus of my dreams would have you in it.”

  Her lips parted, and she stared at him, hunting for the teasing look she’d seen earlier. She didn’t find it. Instead, he appeared to be in shock himself at his words. Still, the jolt of electricity that ran through her could have lit up the kitchen.

  His eyes dropped to her lips, where they lingered for a long, searing moment before he met her gaze again.

  What was he doing? The Old Order Amish community forbade kissing on the lips until marriage. Well, at least until you were courting. Matthew shouldn’t be looking at her like that. She swallowed hard. She’d probably goaded him into it with her shameless flirting, treating him as she would an Englisch boyfriend. Tempting him by suggesting they make out. Her face heated. She turned away and went into the next room, a dining room, ignoring him when he whispered her name.

  Shanna massaged her neck, trying to work up the courage to face Matthew. He’d spouted so many things today that were nonsensical. Meaningless. He’d probably wanted to throw her for a loop. He’d succeeded.

  Hearing his footfall behind her, she turned and watched him enter the dining room. He stopped and stood in silence, studying her. Shanna shut her eyes. Maybe she shouldn’t have led him on like she had. But he seemed equally guilty of that. Now, she was the one who had to find her footing.

  He sighed. “I guess I’ll ask your daed to kum and check out the barns and outbuildings with me. And I’ll ask what he thinks about subletting the haus. Do you want to see the upstairs?”

  Upstairs, where the bedrooms were? With him? Ach, that’d be asking for trouble. Those areas were much too private to see with a man. Especially this man.

  ***

  He probably shouldn’t have told her earlier that she’d marry him, but the words had escaped before he’d thought much about them. Uncharacteristic of him. He usually mulled things over for a while before voicing them. His heart had recognized Shanna from the start, but he knew she wasn’t prepared—mentally, spiritually, or emotionally—to come home to the Amish faith. Especially not for him, a man she barely knew.

  He needed to control himself. His tongue had issued two invitations for heartbreak this afternoon. God, don’t let there be an outright rejection to my too-forward comments. “You’re going to marry me,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head. How could he have said that? He may have wished it to be true, but—

  “Oh, I am, am I?” Shanna spun around and marched past him, back into the kitchen, then turned to face him. “And you’re going to become Englisch, then? You might need that big closet, after all.”

  He hadn’t meant for her to hear him. It seemed he had two choices: ignore her and let it go, or make some foolish comment that wo
uld make her laugh and get him off the hook.

  “You’re going to return to the Amish.” He winced, even as the words left his mouth. His tongue apparently had a mind of its own.

  Shanna made some kind of noise his stunned brain couldn’t interpret. A snort, maybe.

  Time for damage control.

  He stepped into the kitchen and grabbed her arm, gently pulling her back toward him. “Listen, I’m sorry.” He’d taken it too far. “Don’t be mad at me for keeps.”

  Shanna swayed on her feet. Not wanting her to fall, he drew her against him and wrapped his arms around her.