by Kelly Long
Then she straightened her spine and wiped off the paint with clean strokes. But she could still feel its mark and the warmth of Seth’s cheek, blending them into a togetherness that was rich with promise.
CHAPTER 22
Come here a minute, will you, Seth?” Jacob asked formally. “Miss Mason—if you’ll give us a second?” Jacob had hold of Seth’s arm and was steering him toward the barn and away from the corral.
“What?” Seth asked.
“You’ve got blue paint on your cheeks.”
“Ach, I thought I got it all off.” Seth swiped an arm across his face.
“I don’t want to know why you’re painting your face, but this buyer is going to think you’re a weird Amish man doing some weird Amish thing.”
“I’ll go wash my face. Just keep her busy.”
“Yeah, right.”
Seth laughed. His brother hated this aspect of the horse-selling business—the women. Sure, there were male customers too, but there were also a lot of curious women. In this case, Jennifer Mason was blond, interested, and a rich daddy’s daughter.
“Listen,” Jacob said. “Behave yourself around this one, all right? You don’t want Grace to see anything.”
“What is there to see exactly, Jacob?”
His brother sighed. “Seth, you’re a born flirt, and you know it.”
Seth chuckled. Women were too much for Jacob, who had been hounded by females for years before marrying Lilly. “Maybe you should do the flirting, then.”
Jacob gave a snort. “Nobody’s flirting. We’re both married men, in case you need reminding. Now, mind what I say.”
Seth watched him stalk off, then ducked into the barn to scrub hastily at his face again with lye soap and a bucket of water.
Grace left the porch with a new determination in her heart, a commitment to try harder with Seth. Her steps slowed when she saw the young woman talking with Jacob in the near corral. She had long, loose blond hair and wore a tight pink T-shirt, curvy blue jeans, and boots.
Grace felt sure that Lilly would have a fit if she saw how the woman casually reached out and touched Jacob’s arm. Not that Jacob looked too happy about it. Then she saw her husband walk over to them, and Seth was smiling and shaking the girl’s hand.
Grace approached the corral in time to see the other woman link her arm through Seth’s. She felt a peculiar catch in her chest. She went to the fence railing and tried to act casual.
“Hi, Seth, Jacob. I thought your guest might like a glass of tea.”
Three pairs of eyes swung in her direction, and the woman, barely more than a teenager, flashed her a perfect smile. “Oh, how neat. A real Amish lady. I think your dress is so cool! But don’t you get hot?”
Grace tried to follow the jabbering train of words and murmured softly as Seth sought to disentangle himself from the girl’s arm.
“Uh, this is—my wife, Grace. Grace, this is Jennifer Mason. She’s looking to buy a little mare to ride.”
“Yeah,” the girl gushed. “My daddy’s nineteenth birthday present, you know? I wanted a car, but I like to ride. I can’t believe you two are together. I mean, your skin is beautiful, Grace, but you look older than Seth. Are there Amish women who like younger men? There’s a lot of women like that around where I live and—”
“How about that tea, Grace?” Seth interrupted.
Grace clenched the fence rail with white-tipped fingers and blinked in the bold sunlight. “Of course. I suppose I’m still spry enough to get it.” The Englisch girl’s words roiled in her head. No doubt she was used to saying what she thought—she was young and beautiful and naïve and probably meant no harm in her casual talk. But to be noticed as being older—what must other Amisch think?
“Please, come inside when you’ve finished. I’ll have the tea ready.”
Violet heard Grace come in, slamming the screen door behind her. She went and peered through the screen. “Who’s that wild-looking girl out there?”
“A customer.”
Violet didn’t miss the irony in her sister’s tone. “You mean a young customer, right? Young, rich, and beautiful. I’d be jealous.”
Grace frowned at her. “Why would you be jealous? You’re stunning and she’s a—well . . .”
Violet laughed and came to link an arm around her sister’s slim waist. “If I’m stunning, then I wonder what to call you, since I’m only a shadow of your beauty.”
“Ach, Violet, go on with you. I’ve got to fetch that—girl—some tea.”
Violet gave her an impish look. “I could serve it for you, but I bet tea stains bleach-blond hair.”
Grace laughed and Violet darted happily away, glad she’d been able to cheer her sister somewhat.
I warned you,” Jacob said as he spread wax on a saddle.
It was almost lunchtime. The sale had gone well, with Jennifer Mason paying top dollar for a spirited mare. But tea with Grace had not been the brightest spot in the day.
“I didn’t do anything,” Seth protested, filling feeders with grain. But he knew what was coming because he’d felt it in his heart.
“That girl was all over you, and you let her hurt Grace.”
“Well, what exactly was I supposed to say, Jacob? The girl talked a mile a minute and Grace would have been embarrassed if I’d protested. By the way, do you think there is that much difference in our appearances?”
Jacob rolled his eyes. “What is wrong with you?”
“I’m serious.”
“That’s what worries me. Why don’t you focus on going in and making your wife feel like age doesn’t matter?”
“Ach, all right,” he said.
“Hey, you three are coming for dinner tomorrow night. Bring Violet too, if she wants.”
“Really? You got Grace to accept? How’d you do that?” Seth asked.
Jacob gave him a smug smile. “I used my charm.”
CHAPTER 23
Grace looked down to find that the carrot she had been scraping for the fresh vegetable plate was whittled down to nearly nothing. With a sigh of disgust, she dropped it into the compost bin and picked up another.
If only she could forget the morning. When she gazed out the kitchen window, all she saw was Abel playing happily with Pretty, but she couldn’t rid herself of the image of Jennifer Mason—the blond hair, tight jeans, and flirty manner. Coy, confident, and calculatingly candid.
She kept telling herself that a few years’ difference really did not matter, but she was resolved to find out Seth’s exact age once and for all.
She looked up in surprise as he came through the back door. He paused to stare at her, then moved past her to wash his hands at the sink. She went to the screen door to call Abel.
“Come on in, sohn. Lunchtime,” she said. “I made apple strudel.”
“Oh boy, my favorite!” Abel cried.
“Mine too,” Seth said.
Grace got a sudden impulse and smiled. “All right then, let’s have apple strudel first, before soup and vegetables.”
“What?” Seth and Abel asked in unison.
“You heard me.”
Man and boy raced to the table. Grace brought over three plates and then the pan of crusty apple goodness. Just as she finished serving everyone, there was a knock at the door. Grace rose to answer it, hoping that another female horse buyer wasn’t at the door. But it was her mother-and father-in-law.
“You never have to knock. You are always welcome here.” She held the door wide. “Please come in. We’re having dessert—before lunch.”
Seth got up to hug his parents while Abel continued to eat the apple strudel. Mary and Samuel joined them at the table, and Grace brought extra plates. As she watched the older couple, she wondered what it would be like to be visiting in a home where you had raised your children and lived for so long.
Still, she was grateful for the space and the privacy—both for herself and for Abel. The truth was that the boy could be odd, and even as loving as her new in-laws were
, she was concerned about revealing the true nature of her son to people. Grace was never ashamed of him, but she did sometimes feel embarrassed.
She looked down the table at him now. He still had blue paint streaks on his cheeks and was happily stuffing himself with strudel.
“This is delicious,” Mary said.
“Danki.”
Samuel cleared his throat, breaking into her thoughts. “There’s a new mare I’d like you to look at with me in town, Seth.”
“Sure thing.” He turned toward Grace. “Can the soup wait for supper?”
She nodded. “It just gets better with simmering.”
“Great. We’ll bring Abel along too.”
Abel looked up from his plate and grinned at the prospect. Grace tried to push down the alarm that rose up inside her. She had never let Abel go very far from her, but Seth was her husband and Abel’s new father.
“Please be careful,” she said to Seth.
“Of course.” He bent to kiss her forehead and used the distraction to swipe the last bite of strudel from her plate. She hugged her son briefly, then watched him slip his hand into Seth’s and head out the door.
Grace turned to Mary in the sudden hollowness of the kitchen. “I don’t feel right here sometimes,” she said. “This is your place, your home. You should be here.”
“No,” Mary said. “I was glad to move to the daudi haus, and I am looking forward to the time when we will have other grand–children—in addition to Abel. We love him like our own, you know.”
“I know. Thank you.”
As they talked, Grace felt her spirit relax within her. The closest she’d ever come to an adult mother-daughter relationship was with Alice Miller. She had been barely out of childhood when she had married Silas, and he had kept her isolated from seeing her family. She had missed all the joy of becoming friends with her mother. And now Mamm was gone, and that void could never be filled.
“I wonder about other children too,” she confessed.
Mary smiled. “What do you imagine a child of yours and Seth’s would be like?”
Grace swallowed. “Ach, blue eyes and that laughing smile, tiny white teeth and golden hair.”
“Not black hair and those unusual eyes of yours?” Mary said.
In truth, it never occurred to Grace to think of her own violet eyes or dark hair. She rarely thought of herself at all. And she certainly never shared such personal feelings with anyone else.
Perhaps life was changing for her, after all.
Seth let his daed drive as they made their way into town. It was only three miles to Lockport, and Seth enjoyed spending time with his father.
“Well, sohn, how is married life?”
Seth glanced behind him in the buggy. Abel had fallen asleep against Pretty. The rhythm of the drive always soothed the child somehow.
Seth sighed. “Hard,” he admitted quietly. “Grace is such a complex person—there are so many layers to her that I can’t seem to fathom. It’s like throwing a rock into a deep pond and knowing you’re never really going to see it touch bottom. I don’t know what to do with her sometimes.”
His father laughed. “Welcome to the world of women. Even with your mamm, it took me two years of marriage to figure out some things—that she didn’t like turnips or the way I hung shirts on the line upside down.”
“You hung shirts?” Seth tried to remember if he’d ever seen his father doing laundry. He was used to Daed dealing with the horses. It was hard to imagine him doing domestic chores.
“Sure,” his dad went on. “You’ve got to help. The family is the center—remember that.”
“I know,” Seth said. “But she doesn’t let me near her.”
His father was quiet for a moment, then spoke thoughtfully. “Grace is a woman with a past. I can feel it in my bones. She has lived a hard life and yet has a beautiful spirit.”
“Danki, Daed,” Seth said.
They soon made the turn into Lockport and drove to a corral just outside of town. There an Englischer had a spirited palomino mare. In an obviously misguided attempt to calm her down, he struck the mare forcefully with his quirt. She reared against the lead, thrashing to get away from the whip.
Before Seth could stop him, Abel jumped off the back of the wagon, slipped under the fence, and ran toward the horse and the man. All Seth could see was slashing hooves and the lashing whip, and sheer terror gripped his heart as he dashed after the boy.
Then everything stopped. Abel’s hand was on the mare, and she was standing quietly under his touch. In one simple second, everything was calm and right.
Seth felt his heart pounding in his ears as he stared at Abel. The dumbstruck Englischer dropped the whip. Seth felt his father’s steadying touch on his shoulder.
“I’ve never seen anything like that,” the Englisch man said. He stared at the boy and the horse. “That kid ought to go on one of them animal whisperer TV shows they got.”
Seth looked at Abel, and the boy smiled as he ran his hands along the horse’s flanks. “You don’t hit,” Abel said.
“Nee, that’s right, sohn,” Seth said.
The Englisch man came over with an extended hand. “Maybe the kid’s got something. I sure didn’t know how to calm her down.”
Seth and his father shook hands with the man quietly. They made a deal for the mare, not giving in to the man’s exorbitant fee, but bargaining until a fair price was reached.
Samuel glanced at the sky as they finished. “What do you boys say to some lunch? That apple strudel was good, but I’m still hungry.”
The Englisch man declined but agreed to keep the mare in the corral until they were done in town. Seth got in the buggy and stared straight ahead. “You ever see anything like that before, Daed?” he whispered.
His father lifted the reins. “Nope. Not ever. That boy’s something special.”
CHAPTER 24
I’ve decided I’m going to do a honeybee quilt,” Grace told Mary Wyse. “Browns and yellows and rich and warm colors, as if for a man.”
“Perhaps a certain man?”
“Well, maybe. Seth likes art and creative things, but I guess you know that.”
Mary nodded fondly. “Jah, it’s been our family’s secret. Perhaps we should have told the bishop, but something in me would not break Seth’s spirit when he found such joy in the painting. As a child he spent money that he had worked for on art supplies—walked all the way into Lockport to buy a watercolor set and some paper. He kept the drawings under his bed, but finally I found them one day. When I confronted him, he started to cry. I knew I could not take it away from him. Jacob, too, has been fierce in protecting him with his art.”
Grace hesitated. Mary’s words shamed her. She had not exactly been protective of her husband’s art.
“So, shall we start this quilt?” Mary asked.
“Well,” Grace said, “I always pray before I begin any quilt. Would you pray with me?”
“Of course.” Mary stretched her hand across the fabric pieces.
Grace loved the feel of Mary’s skin—weathered from work, but strong and warm. Grace began to pray out loud quietly.
“Dear Gott, thank You for this talent, this chance to serve You in making a quilt. I pray for the design, that it would be of Your making and not of my own mind. I pray for time to finish. I pray for those it covers, that You would gently lead them closer to You, and that You would grant them grace through the threads of the quilt itself.”
“I didn’t understand before how you came up with such beautiful designs,” Mary said. “But now I know that der Herr has a hand in it.”
Grace ducked her head.
Mary laughed. “I know we’re taught that praise is vanity, but as a mother I cannot help myself.”
As a mother. Grace cherished those words. Her own mother had been dead for almost six months now, and Grace hadn’t even known it until Violet brought her the news. How strange, to think of someone you love as alive, only to find out they had pas
sed on. Raw grief welled up in her, and regret.
After Silas’s death she could have gone back. But she had been in such a hurry to flee the property, to get away to a place where Tobias couldn’t find her. And perhaps, just a little, she resented her parents’ decision in sending her to Silas in the first place.
Whatever the cause, she had left Middle Hollow without contacting her family. Now it seemed like a foolish choice. But it was too late.
The drift of her thoughts disturbed her, and she chose instead to concentrate on putting the brown and yellow percale pieces together. She had in mind the pattern of a honeybee hive and the motion of flight, and she let the natural rhythm of stitching take over.
“So how is marriage?” Mary asked. “I don’t mean to be nosy. I just thought you might like to talk.”
Grace felt her mother-in-law’s kind eyes upon her across the expanse of the fabric. She carefully pulled a thread through before answering.
“It’s good,” she said.
“I hope that I have raised my sohns to cherish their wives.”
“Oh, I am cherished,” Grace said.
She longed to talk to this woman who was her mother-in-law. But how could she explain that she didn’t even feel married to Seth? It certainly wasn’t something a mother would want to hear.
Samuel Wyse drove the buggy through Lockport, and Seth’s eyes strayed to the passing storefronts. Emily’s Mystery—Seth knew from his brother’s experience that it was a place with pretty underthings for a wife, the kind that would please a man. Seth dragged his eyes away from the store. He hadn’t done more than kiss his wife on the forehead, and thinking about kissing was not something he wanted to do while he was with his father.
They drove up to Pinky’s Restaurant and tied up at the hitching post. Pinky’s was a hole-in-the-wall place that served both Amisch and Englisch. It was filled with neon lights and an old jukebox that was playing “The Candy Man.” They found a booth, and Seth watched Abel as the boy stared at the lights, utterly fascinated.
Pinky greeted them himself, a tall Englisch man with a pencil-thin moustache. His place sold the best burgers and fries around, and he knew it. He greeted Samuel and Seth with a smile.