by Amy Clipston
Emma Grace raised an eyebrow. “You sure you’re okay?”
“Of course.” Lorene started toward the porch steps, where Dat stood waiting for them. “Let’s go inside.” She followed her family into the Lapps’ house, finding Jon, his parents, and Joyce and her family all gathered in the large kitchen. No Ryan.
“Hello!” Verna gave Lorene a hug before reaching for the cake saver. “What did you make?”
She handed her the container. “It’s a lemon kuche. I just had an urge to make one yesterday.”
“Oh, I love your lemon kuche!” Joyce hugged her too. “You always used to bring those—” Her eyes widened as she gave an awkward laugh.
Lorene’s cheeks heated as she realized what Joyce had started to say. Because she knew they were Ryan’s favorite, Lorene had often brought lemon cakes to the Lapps even before he’d asked her to be his girlfriend. She and Joyce had been close friends then, and she’d harbored a secret crush on Ryan. The cakes were her way of trying to subtly win his attention.
Lorene wanted to throw the cake into the trash can. Why hadn’t she baked a chocolate cake instead of running the risk of giving Ryan the wrong impression?
Joyce turned toward the doorway as Maranda and Barbiann scampered in carrying cloth dolls. “Can you say hello to Lorene?” she asked the girls.
“Hi!” Maranda gave a wave, and her sister squealed.
Lorene smiled down at them. “Wie geht’s?”
Maranda giggled as Joyce scooped Barbiann into her arms.
“Rufus, what do you think of these two getting married?” Dat asked Jon’s father.
“Dat!” Emma Grace whined as Jon took her hand in his.
“I think it’s a gut idea.” Rufus smiled. “We think the world of Emma Grace.”
Verna turned from where she’d set the cake saver on the counter. “We’re delighted. Two of our kinner will be settled down.”
Lorene stilled at her words. Now she knew for sure that Ryan still wasn’t married or even engaged. She backed up against the sink, then glanced out the window, crossing her arms over her middle, trying to stay calm as she awaited his arrival.
“We have a lot to do before the wedding,” Emma Grace said. “I love Christmas, so I do want a Christmas theme. Red tablecloths with matching candles. Christmas kichlin. And wouldn’t it be perfect if it snowed?”
Lorene’s body went rigid when a horse and buggy came up the driveway, then halted. The buggy door opened, and her knees wobbled when Ryan’s face came into view. She held her breath, waiting to see if a woman climbed out of the passenger side. But Ryan just closed the door, then unhitched the horse and walked it to the barn.
He was alone. Maybe he was still single too—like her. But what did it matter? Nothing would ever happen between them again. “Lorene.”
She spun toward her sister’s voice to find everyone looking at her, and her cheeks felt as if they might burst into flames. “Ya?”
“I was going to ask you earlier, but I’ve been so excited . . . Will you be my attendant at the wedding?”
She tried her best to smile. “Of course I will.”
“Ryan agreed to be my attendant,” Jon said.
Lorene froze at the words. That meant she’d have to walk down the barn aisle with Ryan, hold his hand, sit facing him during the long service, and spend the day at his side. Could this whole situation get any worse?
But of course Ryan would be Jon’s attendant. He was Jon’s only brother.
Then Ryan stepped into the kitchen. Lorene clutched her hands together, trying to steady herself as she watched him smile and greet his family.
He was even more handsome than in her memory. He was older, of course, but he also seemed more mature. And his eyes looked bluer than she recalled, a bright contrast to his gray shirt. He also seemed taller, and although his waist was just as trim, his shoulders looked broader than she remembered.
His light-brown hair was a curly mess, most likely from sitting under his straw hat during the ride over. Then her eyes found his lips, which shot more memories through her mind. She looked down at her shoes and then back up again, willing herself to stop staring at him.
Ryan shook her father’s hand and greeted her sister. When his eyes moved to her, her lungs felt as if an invisible hand were squeezing all the air out of them. The room fell silent, and Lorene knew everyone was watching her.
Ryan licked his lips, and a muscle flexed in his jaw. “Hello, Lorene.”
“Ryan.” She managed a nod, hugging her arms to her chest as if guarding the cracks he’d left in her heart.
A moment passed as they looked at each other, and her skin started to itch under his stare. Surely everyone—including Ryan—could hear her heart hammering against her rib cage. She wanted to rush out of the house and run all the way home just to escape the weight of everyone’s stares.
“Let’s get ready to eat,” Verna announced, and Lorene jumped with a start.
For the first time, she noticed the table was already set. She turned to Verna. “What can I do to help?”
“You’ll find two containers on the top shelf in the refrigerator. One has macaroni salad, and the other has potato salad.”
Between them, the four women brought out lunchmeat, chips, pretzels, and rolls along with the salads. Lorene set an extra pitcher of water on a counter, then turned toward the table. The other women had already taken their places, and when she realized the only empty chair was beside Ryan, she inwardly groaned.
“Have a seat, Lorene,” Dat said with an encouraging look.
Lorene walked around the table and sank onto the chair. As she pulled it in, her leg brushed Ryan’s, and she felt him flinch. She bowed her head and tried to concentrate on a silent prayer, but his nearness sent her senses spinning. How was she supposed to ignore the familiar spicy scent of his aftershave?
When everyone had prayed, Ryan scooped a pile of macaroni salad onto his plate, then passed the container to Lorene. She muttered a thank-you, and soon conversations swirled around the table. Lorene kept her head down as she made a sandwich, but out of the corner of her eye, she caught Ryan glancing at her.
“How’s the job, Ryan? Jon told us you work for your onkel now.” Dat bit off a piece of the pretzel in his hand.
“Gut.” Ryan nodded. “I like working there.”
“Ya. Ryan decided he’d rather spend time with sheds than cows,” Rufus said, winking at his son. That surprised her. Hadn’t Rufus been disappointed when Ryan left the farm?
“I can’t say I blame him.” Dat chuckled. “Sheds are less temperamental.”
Everyone laughed, and Lorene enjoyed Ryan’s deep, warm laugh. Had she missed that sound? Yes, she had. She stole a glance at him and found his eyes full of mirth.
“Emma Grace,” Joyce began from the far end of the table, “did mei bruder surprise you when he asked for your hand?”
Lorene caught a tender look passing between the young couple. The love her sister and Jon obviously had for each other sent a jolt through her. It was hard not to lose faith that marriage and a family was God’s plan for her. Ryan had looked at her like that once, but would another man someday? The few men she’d dated since Ryan hadn’t cared for her the way he had—or the way she thought he had. And none of them had warmed her heart the way Ryan had warmed hers.
Emma Grace nodded at Joyce. “He did surprise me. He took me on a ride to our favorite park, and when we sat down on a bench, he proposed.” She gazed up at Jon, and they shared another intimate look.
Lorene tried to ignore how her heart began to ache for the happier times she’d spent with Ryan. She wondered if he recalled those times with fondness or if his memories formed a different picture.
But five years ago she’d realized she’d rather be alone than with someone who balked at going forward with their future. Upon their engagement, Ryan was supposed to build her a house on the Lapp property his father offered them, but then he’d invented excuse after excuse for not doing it, let
alone setting a wedding date.
First, he said he wanted to save more money, and that seemed reasonable even though she knew the Lapp farm was quite successful. Then he said he didn’t have time to think about a house because he was helping his father teach Jon more about running the business. He was, but that went on for months. Last, he said he should probably get someone else to draw up the plans, but then more time went by without his taking any action.
When she finally confronted him, he said he just wasn’t sure if it was the right time.
That was when she finally realized Ryan would never marry her, that their engagement was nothing more to him than a dating relationship he felt comfortable extending indefinitely. That splintered her heart. He didn’t love her enough to take that step toward their marriage.
She pressed her lips together as the familiar despair squeezed her lungs. No, it had never fully dissipated. Perhaps it never would.
For the remainder of lunch, Emma Grace and Jon answered questions about their plans, but she hardly listened.
“Why don’t we have our dessert?” Verna announced as she lifted the platter of leftover lunchmeat and an empty roll basket. Lorene rose as well, along with the other two women. Joyce gathered several plates and started toward the counter. “I’ll put on kaffi.”
Lorene did her best to avoid Ryan’s eyes as she retrieved drinking glasses from the table.
“I made a carrot kuche.” Joyce carried it to the table, then set it alongside the cake saver Verna had just placed there.
Verna opened it. “And Lorene brought a lemon kuche.”
“Oh, that looks fantastic.” Elias rubbed his hands together.
Dat nodded. “My oldest dochder makes the best lemon kuche.”
Lorene made the mistake of glancing toward the table just as Ryan looked at her.
“I remember that.” Ryan’s eyes focused on her, sending a tremor through her body.
She looked away and turned off the water, then reached for the dish soap.
“Lorene,” Verna said as she carried clean plates to the table, “we’ll worry about the dishes later. Would you please get the sugar and milk for the kaffi? Joyce is finding clean plates.”
Soon Lorene took her seat next to Ryan, careful not to brush his leg or arm as she ate the only cake she could stomach—Joyce’s.
Verna turned to Emma Grace. “May I be a part of the wedding planning? I promise I won’t interfere. I would just like to be involved.”
Lorene glanced across the table and found tears sparkling in her sister’s eyes.
“I would like that.” Emma Grace’s voice shook a little. “With mei mamm gone, it would be nice to have your help.” When she sniffed and wiped at her eyes, Jon patted her back and whispered something in her ear.
Lorene felt a sudden crush of grief, and she tried to clear her throat against a sudden knot. Losing her mother had been a devastating blow from which she would never fully recover, and moments like these made that especially clear.
When she spotted Ryan looking at her again, she turned her gaze toward her half-eaten piece of carrot cake. She didn’t want his pity.
“I would love it if you and Lorene came here to plan the wedding, as well as to make preparations,” Verna continued. “Then Joyce can help, too, if she wants to.”
“I do!” Joyce said. “Especially if mei dochdern can nap here. Mamm and I could help with the sewing and writing out the invitations.”
“I love that idea,” Emma Grace said. “What do you think, Lorene?”
When Lorene looked up, she sensed all the eyes in the room once again on her, including Ryan’s. “That sounds fine.”
She knew what would be more than fine—Ryan gathering outside with the other men when they finished dessert so she could catch her breath.
4
Ryan couldn’t take his eyes off Lorene. Even after all these years, he was captivated by her beauty—her red hair peeking out from under her prayer covering, her eyes that reminded him of dark chocolate, her long neck, her pink lips . . .
From the moment he’d walked into the kitchen, he’d felt as if an invisible magnet was pulling him toward her. And he had to admit how relieved he’d been not to see her with another man. But why did his heart still crave her after the way she’d left it in shambles? That his attraction to her hadn’t faded after all this time made no sense to him whatsoever.
But attraction wasn’t the only thing plaguing him. He’d also longed to console her when Emma Grace mentioned their mother. Almost physically feeling her grief, he’d had to stop himself from touching Lorene’s shoulder.
He was losing his mind!
“Let’s get the kitchen cleaned.” Mamm lifted the remnants of the lemon cake and stood.
Had Lorene made that lemon cake for him? He couldn’t even count how many of them she’d made before they started dating and even after they became a couple. It had been his favorite dessert and her signature cake. He longed to ask, but he couldn’t bring himself to form the words.
Lorene reached for his coffee mug, and he blocked it with his hand, causing her fingers to brush his. She quickly pulled her hand away as if he’d bit it, and he pressed his lips together with annoyance. Was he truly that repulsive to her?
“I’m sorry,” she muttered, turning her attention to his father’s mug.
“It’s okay,” he said. “I’m just not finished. I’m going to take this kaffi out to the porch.”
She nodded without meeting his gaze, then turned away. But he’d thought he’d seen her blush. Or had her cheeks just heated with the same resentment she’d made clear the day she broke his heart? He didn’t know, but he recalled how she’d blushed the night he asked her to be his girlfriend. How had she gone from loving him to despising him so? Spending any time with her would be a nightmare—and this was only the beginning.
Lifting his mug, Ryan stood and followed the other men out to the porch. Christmas had always been a wonderful time for him and his family, but he couldn’t wait for this wedding to be over. The sooner he could get away from Lorene, the better.
* * *
Lorene stationed herself at the sink to wash the dishes while her sister dried. Behind her the conversation hovered around wedding plans. Lorene looked out the window toward the porch, where the men all sat in rockers.
“I have this schee green material you might want to look at for your wedding dresses,” she heard Verna say. “It would be so Christmassy and go well with the red tablecloths and candles you mentioned earlier.”
“Oh ya!” Joyce chimed in from her place sweeping the floor. “Green would look lovely with your reddish hair—and Lorene’s hair too.”
“I would love to see it. I’ll pay you for the material,” Emma Grace said.
Verna stepped beside her, dropping a wet cloth next to the sink. “Don’t be gegisch. You can have it if you like it.”
Lorene scrubbed a large serving spoon harder as if trying to erase Ryan’s face from her mind. She longed to go home, but she had to wait for her family to finish visiting. Maybe Ryan would decide to go home soon. That would relieve her anxiety.
A wail sounded from the high chair, and Lorene turned just as Maranda, who’d been sitting on the floor playing with her doll, jumped up and hurried to her baby sister.
“Mamm!” Maranda hollered over the sobs. “Barbi is crying.”
Joyce seemed amused as she joined her children. “Ya, I know, honey. Danki.” She looked at her mother. “May I put the girls down for a nap in your room?”
“Of course. Do you need help?”
“No, but danki.” Joyce gathered Barbiann in her arms and then led Maranda toward the downstairs bedroom.
Once again Lorene found herself wondering if she and Ryan would have had children of their own by now if they’d married.
Stop torturing yourself!
“Could I see the material when we’re done?” Emma Grace asked Verna.
“Of course.”
“Why don�
�t you go look now?” Lorene said.
“But we’re not finished.” Emma Grace pointed to the two serving bowls still sitting on the counter, waiting for their leftovers to be put away.
“I’ll finish up.” She waved them off. “Go on. I’ve cleaned up after meals before.”
Verna gave a little laugh. “Okay. Danki.”
Emma Grace and Verna headed up the nearby staircase, most likely to the sewing room, and Lorene breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, she had a moment alone to collect her scattered thoughts. She scooped potato and macaroni salad into containers, and then as she washed the serving bowls, she found herself stuck on the intense look Ryan had given her just before he went outside. Most of his looks that evening had been hard to decipher. Did he despise her? Did he want her to leave as much as she longed to go?
She rinsed the bowls before drying them, then set them in the cabinet where she knew they belonged. She pulled the plug from the sink, and when she turned around, she swallowed a gasp. Ryan was leaning on the doorframe to the mudroom, his jacket still on.
She pressed her hand to her chest as she worked to calm herself.
“I’m sorry.” His lips twitched as he stepped toward her. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“It’s okay.” She held out her hand for his mug. “Do you want more kaffi?”
“No, danki.” He studied her, his eyes again intense, and she thought they might bore through her skin. “You look gut,” he finally said—with no apparent loathing in his expression.
“Danki.” She shifted her weight on her feet, feeling off-balance by the compliment.
He walked past her, then set the mug on the counter. “How have you been?”
“Fine.” She shrugged as she grabbed the wet cloth Verna left to wipe down the sink, not looking at him. “You?”
“Fine.”
She racked her brain for something to say. Only when she came up with a question did she dare look into his eyes. “Do you like living in Gap?”
“I do.” He leaned against the counter.
“And you like working for your onkel?” Her questions were lame and redundant since he’d already answered them during lunch, but what else could she say?