“She deserved it for sounding so smug. I don’t know what she was talking about anyway. Nothing we do affects her, or if it does, it would be negligible, right?” He grinned. “How’s that for using one of my new vocabulary words?”
“Wonderful-gut,” she teased. “Truly gold star–worthy.”
Aaron laughed. “Kayla, you’re one of the nicest women I know.”
Her cheeks turned a pretty pink. “You don’t have to say that.”
“It’s true. You’ve got an attitude and outlook on life that I really admire.”
She rolled her eyes. “Now you’re going to make my head swell with all these compliments.”
“If you’re not used to hearing such things, I reckon it’s time you did, then. You’re smart and kind and… one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever met.” Realizing he’d just stepped over the line, he looked down at his hands. “And please forgive me if I’ve just embarrassed us both.”
“You haven’t.” She chuckled. “Well, maybe a little, jah? But, um, since we’re being so honest and all, I must admit that I have always thought of you as attractive, too.”
She didn’t think of him as just a kid. Friendship and desire melded deep inside of him, giving him permission to let her see how he felt about her.
Kayla’s eyes darkened before she picked up her cup and took a long sip.
Yes, there was something there between them. It couldn’t be denied.
* * *
Later that evening, in the safety of her quiet house, Kayla reflected on her conversation with Aaron again.
What had happened? She wasn’t sure. One moment, she’d been minding her own business, and the next she’d met Aaron Coblentz and become his tutor. Now? Well, now, she seemed unable to do anything but think about him.
In a relatively short amount of time, she’d gone from being almost happily alone to secretly hoping that something might happen between the two of them.
It didn’t make sense. Not one bit.
After taking her cup of hot peppermint tea to her favorite chair in the living room, she lit a vanilla-scented candle and started a fire. And then, with a sigh, she picked up the third book she’d checked out from Sarah Anne. It was time to get lost in a story.
She just hoped this one was better than the other two. She wasn’t going to lie. She’d been disappointed in the first stories. She wasn’t sure why, either. They had been true to form. Boy met girl. They were both Amish, and the authors got most of the details just right. But the characters had seemed flat. There were no feelings or excitement or, well, anything that she reckoned was a part of being in love. Instead, it felt like the two main characters were simply going through the motions instead of getting swept up in their romance.
She was a little put out. Why wasn’t the heroine feeling all tingly and special every time the hero gazed at her with longing? Didn’t the author realize that was what people were looking for when they chose a book?
She sighed and opened the new novel, hoping to get swept away in the words. But for the first time in years, all she wanted to do was let her mind drift to another man, one with blond hair and hazel eyes. One who, in spite of her best intentions, had made her think of things that used to not matter, that honestly shouldn’t matter… but somehow had started to so much more than they ever had before.
What did that mean? Was she falling in love? And if she was, why did it feel so different than how she felt with Levi?
Was it because she’d wanted security and stability from Levi but only wanted happiness and love from Aaron?
Feeling startled by that thought, she got up and wandered around the room… then caught sight of Sarah Anne’s book. She’d put it on a shelf hours after the librarian had given it to her and then had promptly forgotten all about it.
Sitting back down again, she ran a finger over the raised words on the cover. Courage to Love. She’d thought such a thing was foolish when she first read the title. But now that she was beginning to understand just what falling in love might feel like, she realized that it did feel scary. Maybe she did need some courage after all.
So she did the only thing she could. She opened the book to page one and began.
fifteen
• RULE #15 •
Take time every day to read. If you don’t do that, you can’t recommend books.
“We should do this more often, Tiny,” Luke Yoder said as he threaded two more marshmallows on the end of a wire hanger. “I’ve missed spending time with you.”
They were sitting on a quilt in her family’s hearth room, roasting marshmallows in front of a roaring fire. Her mother had made them a pot of hot chocolate and brought out the filled pot along with two big ceramic mugs and a plate of marshmallows. Luke, with his freckles and blue eyes and red hair, was as kind as ever. He’d acted delighted to sit on the floor next to her and sip hot chocolate.
“I’ve missed you, too. You were gone for a long time.”
“Three weeks. As much as I missed you, I can’t say I regret my time in Pinecraft. It was warm and sunny. And, of course, my whole family was there.”
She now knew Luke well enough to know that every January his whole extended family met in Pinecraft for three weeks. An uncle had a big house just off the beach on Siesta Key and the whole Yoder clan congregated there.
“You’re blessed to have such traditions.”
He gave her a sideways look. “I am. And every year, it seems, we have more people added to the mix. New babies… sometimes new spouses. My cousin Abraham brought his bride this year.”
“Did she do all right?” Personally, Tiny couldn’t imagine anything worse than being a new bride in such a full house.
“But of course! Oh, I think she got a little tired of Abraham going off with us every morning to fish, but all the women were around. She had lots of company.”
“That’s good.” Noticing her pair of marshmallows was about to burn, she pulled the hanger back from the flames. “These look perfect.”
“They do indeed. Now, let me help you.” Before she could protest that she was just fine, Luke picked up a fork and carefully slid the treats into her cup. “Here you go.”
“Danke.”
“Of course. I would hate for you to get burned.”
Everything he was saying was proper and sweet. But Tiny couldn’t help but feel a bit irritated by his heavy-handedness. She had a feeling that a life with him would be filled with little things like this—Luke taking charge because he knew better and she keeping her mouth shut even though she didn’t exactly agree.
It was all so different than with Joel. They sparred and fussed at each other, but then when he did things like try to keep her warm or help remove thorns, she was grateful to him.
Just as she was about to take her first sip of cocoa, Jack came in. “How’s it going, Luke? Long time, no see.”
Luke stood up. “I’m back from Florida. I was just telling Tiny about my trip.”
“I bet she loved hearing about it.” He looked down at the pot. “Tiny, did Mamm make you hot chocolate?”
“She did.”
“You’ve got a lot of marshmallows left, too. Mind if I roast a couple?”
“We do.” She gave her brother a meaningful glance.
“Fine. I guess I’ll have to fend for myself. See ya, Luke.”
After her brother disappeared into the kitchen, Luke smiled at her. “Maybe next week you could come to my house.”
“Oh?”
“We could sit in front of my stone fireplace there. It would be quieter.”
“I don’t know if my parents would allow that.” Or her brothers.
“I’ll talk to your father. I’ll point out that there’s a good reason for you to see my haus.” He chuckled. “I’m sure he’ll agree that we should spend some more time together.” He gazed at her meaningfully. “In private.”
She absolutely did not want to be alone with him in his house. For that matter, she was rather sure that she didn’
t want to see him anymore. Luke was far too full of himself. Nothing like Joel, and that was the truth.
But instead of telling him that, she hedged, “I’m not ready to take that step, Luke.”
“Really? I’ve been coming over here for weeks now.”
He was making it sound like she owed him for his time, which kind of made her skin crawl. “I can’t help how I feel.”
“I think it’s because you’re so young.” He scooted closer to her. “That’s why I’m good for you, Tiny. You need someone who is more mature to guide you.”
She jumped to her feet. “I’m old enough to know how I feel, Luke. It’s time you left.”
“Hold on, now.” He grabbed at her hand. “You’re overreacting. You need to calm down.”
“Nee. I don’t.” She’d spoken that loud and clear. And, as she’d hoped, Jack peeked in the room. “Tiny, everything all right?”
“It is fine,” Luke said, gripping her hand more tightly.
She pulled out of his sweaty grasp. “It is not fine, Jack. Luke doesn’t want to leave.”
As she’d hoped, Jack’s expression turned dark. “Would you like me to show you to the door?”
“Nee. I can find it.” Picking up his hat, Luke looked back at her. “I suggest that you speak with your mother about real relationships, Tiny. It’s obvious you need some guidance.”
“Don’t ever speak to my sister like that again,” Jack said as he pulled open the front door. “She doesn’t need anything beyond you leaving her alone.”
Tiny’s heart was racing as she followed at a much slower pace behind him. For a moment there, she’d feared that Luke wasn’t going to take no for an answer. Joel would’ve never acted that way to her.
With a grumble under his breath, Jack shoved the door closed. “I know you’re sick of me interfering in your love life, but he is not the man for you.”
She walked up to him and gave him a hug. “Danke for coming to my rescue.”
“Anytime,” he said, hugging her back. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”
“No. He was just overbearing and rude.” She smiled up at him. “And don’t worry, I know now that Luke Yoder is definitely not the man for me.”
He grinned. “Thank the Lord. I really didn’t want to have to see him all the time.”
“That’s what you’re happy about?”
“Well, jah. Can you imagine me having to sit across from him every Sunday supper? It would be awful.”
She giggled. “It would, indeed, Jack.”
sixteen
• RULE #16 •
Never underestimate the value of a good bookmark.
The following day was Tiny’s least favorite day of the year. Apple butter day. Looking at the wooden bushel of McIntosh apples, she grimaced. Peeling all those apples was going to take hours. Dicing them and then pulverizing them into a fine paste took even longer. All that was before she even started cooking.
Jack, who’d been walking by the kitchen before heading back to the barn, paused when he saw her mournful expression. “Let me guess, it’s apple butter day?”
“Jah.” She breathed out a sigh. “I can find joy in making almost anything except apple butter. I hate it so much.”
Jack eyed the overflowing basket filled with approximately a hundred Red Delicious apples. “Maybe you should make a smaller amount. Do you have to make so much of it at once?”
“I do. Otherwise I have to spend more than one day on it and I canna do this anymore than is necessary.”
Her mother entered the kitchen with a set of towels in her arms. Her impatient glare made it obvious that she’d heard Tiny’s complaints. “Ach, Tiny. You make too much out of this chore. Stop complaining and get to work.”
“I will. Sorry, Mamm.” She picked up her paring knife.
“You know how popular your apple butter is, child. Everyone appreciates your hard work.”
“I know. I’ll get busy right now,” Tiny said as she quickly peeled one apple and placed it in a large metal bowl.
“Gut,” Mamm said as she and Becca headed down to the basement to do laundry.
The moment she was out of sight, Tiny put the knife down again.
Jack gave her a sympathetic smile. “Sorry about your long day.”
“Danke, but Mamm is right. I shouldn’t complain. We get more orders for our apple butter than any of our jams, and making it only takes one day.”
“One very long day!” he quipped as he entered the mudroom, put on his boots and heavy coat, then left to work in the barn.
When Tiny heard the door open and shut, she knew she couldn’t dally any longer. She slipped on her apron, sat down on their ancient wooden stool, and picked up her paring knife once again.
It was time. Picking up the prettiest red apple, she got to work. Within a few minutes, her hands worked efficiently as her mind drifted to how her mother had painstakingly taught her to do each step when Tiny was only six or seven. For years, Tiny would work by her side, trying her best to emulate her mother’s neat, efficient way of peeling and quartering the fruit.
As she continued, she tried to think of the positives instead of her many awful apple butter memories. She wasn’t sure how it had happened, but every accident she’d had in the kitchen took place when she’d made this butter. One time, she’d burned herself bad enough to have to bandage her hand. Another time, she’d sliced off part of her thumb with a rather dull paring knife. Then there was the day she had lost track of time, had the stove on too high, and burned the whole batch—and ruined the pot to boot. Her mother had been so put out, she’d made Tiny use her own money to buy a new stewpot. Remembering the moment when she’d had to give most of her savings to the shop clerk at the store still made her wince.
However, her mother was not wrong. Even though she’d had many, many bad apple butter experiences, it was worth it. That counted for a lot.
Yes, she needed to think more positively. Honestly, it was better to be busy than not, especially since she still was mourning the end of her relationship with Joel.
After pausing to make sure no one was around to hear, she talked to God, as was her way. She knew most people preferred quiet, respectful prayers. Not her. She liked to believe the Lord was standing right beside her in whatever room she was in, carefully listening to everything she had to say.
“Got, I still canna believe my Joel could be so sneaky. Why did he decide to start spending so much time with Jane Shultz? And jah, I know I shouldn’t be so petty and mean. I realize she has lost her husband and I’m sure that was mighty hard. I’m sure she’s been through more than I can imagine. And yes, I promise I’ll pray for her and pray for me to be a better person. But, I’m sorry, I’m still not happy about Joel spending so much time with her!”
Of course, she only heard silence, but Tiny kind of, sort of felt His displeasure. She didn’t blame Him. She sounded selfish and spiteful. Of course God wanted her to be a better person.
But she wasn’t perfect; she was only herself. And if she didn’t nurse her disappointment, she feared she was going to dissolve into tears again. That would be so awful.
Sighing, she continued to peel as she attempted to think more positive thoughts. Tried to think about how happy she’d be tomorrow when she’d put up dozens of jars in the cold cellar and the long day of doing her least favorite thing was behind her.
She picked up another apple and peeled away, trying to imagine feeling happy, content, and not angry at Joel. She started thinking about all the other men she knew and attempted to picture herself by one of their sides. Why, more than two eligible men had sought her out. Some weren’t even that bad.
No, that wasn’t true. Most weren’t bad at all… except for Caleb. Just remembering the rude way Caleb had cornered her during last year’s Christmas gathering made her shiver.
Which caused her to make a good-sized slice on her left palm. Oh, oh why did her mother insist on having such sharp knives?
Running over to the sink,
she stuck her hand under the cold running water and tried not to yell, whine, cry, or make things worse. All she seemed to be able to do was bite her bottom lip hard enough to make it bleed, too.
In the middle of her small crisis, she was vaguely aware of a knock at the front door and her mother speaking to whoever was there. Then she heard footsteps.
“Tiny, why are you standing there with your hand under the faucet?” her mother asked. “Oh my word. You did it again!”
“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of the blood in a minute. It’s only on the countertop. The apples are clean.”
“You better double-check.”
“I will. I promise,” she called out as she tried to will her hand to stop bleeding.
“Oh, Tiny,” a deeper voice murmured.
She knew that voice! Turning around, she gaped. “Joel, what are you doing here?”
“Helping you patch up your cut, it seems,” he said as he walked to her side and turned off the faucet. “Now, let me see,” he murmured as he took hold of her hand.
She was too stunned to see Joel to pull her hand away. Feeling out of sorts, she glanced up at her mother hovering in the doorway. For the first time Tiny could ever recall, her mom wasn’t spouting off her opinion or cautioning her to be more careful. Instead, she was simply watching the two of them.
He turned to look over his shoulder. “Violet, where are the Band-Aids?”
“There in the drawer next to the pantry. I’ll get them.”
“Nee, that’s all right. I can do it.”
“That’s mighty nice of you. Are you sure?”
“Jah. Tiny and me need to have a talk anyway. If she doesn’t mind, I’ll stay here and help her with this apple butter.”
“Tiny?” her mother prompted. “Is that what you want?”
Not really. She was still upset with him and confused by his hot and cold actions. But, on the other hand, she’d known him too long to refuse to hear what he had to say. “Joel staying here is fine. He’s right. We do need to talk.” And yes, she sounded as if she had just announced that she was getting ready to clean toilets.
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