Quarterback Baby Daddy (A Secret Baby Sports Romance)

by Claire Adams

  "We hang our clothes on pegs," Mrs. Yoder said obviously having heard this question before. She pointed to a spot in the corner where there were two sets of pegboards hung high enough that even the longest clothing wouldn't touch the floor. I nodded as she continued, "The bathroom is the second door on the right. You'd normally share it with the other guests, but we're not expecting anyone else until next week so you'll have it all to yourself!"

  "Great," I said, scanning the room for electrical outlets.

  "If you need to plug in your electronics," she said cheerfully. "You can bring them down to the front desk and use the power strip there. The house is wired, but we didn't put in outlets in the individual rooms because it didn't seem necessary at the time. I guess we were wrong!"

  I was silently cursing Bugsy as I realized that no electrical outlets meant there probably wasn't a Wi-Fi connection in the house either, but before I could ask, Mrs. Yoder spoke up.

  "We do have Wi-Fi, though!" she chirped. "The password is AbidebyGodswill.”

  "Good to know," I said flashing her a faint smile to show my appreciation. "It seems I missed supper tonight? Is there somewhere around here I can get something to eat?"

  "Oh, of course, Mr. Wallace!" she said excitedly. "Lottie's Diner is just a block down the street and she serves breakfast, lunch and dinner. But she closes down at seven to get home and do her chores."

  "So I'm out of luck tonight?" I asked feeling annoyed by the small town approach to business. In Chicago, if I wanted a sandwich or an omelet or a five-course meal, I could get it whenever I wanted. In fact, I could pull up an app that would let me order from just about any restaurant in the city and have my meal delivered within thirty minutes. I doubted there was a company down here that could do that.

  "You could head down to Miller's Grocery," she suggested. "They stay open until nine, and they often have hot food that you can take out. If you need a lunch to take with you while you're here, I'll be happy to pack one for you if you let me know ahead of time."

  "Thank you, I'll keep that in mind," I said feeling anxious and wanting to get out of the room and away from the smiling Amish woman. "I'm going to go find some dinner and then I'll be back. Do I need a key in the evening?"

  "Oh goodness, no!" Mrs. Yoder laughed. "We leave the door unlocked until midnight and then Gabe watches the desk until morning."

  Mrs. Yoder firmly closed the door after we'd exited and then led me back down the wide staircase to the foyer. I thanked her for the hospitality and said I'd be back later with my bags. She smiled and waved as I walked out the front door. Once on the porch, I took a deep breath and reminded myself that I was only going to be here for a few days.

  Chapter Nine

  Grace

  It had been more than a week since we'd broken the news to Danny and then buried Mamm and Dat, and while I'd tried to keep things running smoothly, I'd struggled to shoulder all the burdens I'd assumed. The funeral had been simple and hundreds of Amish folks, some from as far away as Lancaster, had come to help us bury our parents.

  Hope and Faith had taken on the responsibility of coordinating the food we'd needed for all the travelers while Verity and Honor had kept the house running smoothly and kept an eye on Danny. As the newly appointed head of the family, I oversaw the funeral arrangements, the house, the farm, and the store. It was overwhelming, and there were moments when I thought I would crack under the pressure to maintain a calm presence. By the time the last mourner had shaken my hand, telling me this was God's will, I wanted to scream. Instead, I kept it in and nodded my head as I thanked them for coming.

  I was torn between wanting to return to my city life and all its little luxuries that I missed so much, and wanting to be here with my sisters and brother as we tried to make sense of this loss. With every day that passed, I felt more and more trapped by the Amish way of life and scared that I'd never find a way to leave. Honor and Danny were still too young to live on their own, and Verity would be getting married in the fall. I wondered if she and her betrothed, Levi Yoder, might be willing to take over running the house and the farm. I knew Levi had a lot of responsibility because his father had left the Amish when Levi was young.

  At home, my brain spun on the hamster wheel of thought, so tonight, I welcomed the chance to be alone with my thoughts. I ached to return to the life I had been living in Chicago, but the store would be turned over to Uncle Amos, and I was fairly sure that would have gone directly against my father's wishes. Besides, the store kept the farm running, so I resolved to find someone who could run the store in my absence. I'd checked my phone a couple of times since I arrived, and aside from an email from Mike telling me that everything was going smoothly back at the office and not to worry, not much was happening.

  Around seven thirty, I sent John, the stock boy, home counted the money in the register and stuck a slip inside so that I wouldn't have to waste time doing it again once I locked the doors. With less than a half an hour before closing time, I turned my attention to straightening the displays at the end of each aisle. A few minutes later, I heard the mechanical door slide open and then close. I turned to see who had come in. Usually it was Amish teenagers out looking for a late night snack to take out to the fields where they partied until dawn. I was surprised to see a stranger standing off to one side, looking around as if he'd never seen a grocery store before. Most English tourists did the same thing this stranger was doing since they expected all our stores to look as if we lived in the eighteenth century. Their assumptions annoyed me, but Papa had consistently reminded me that it was our job to build a bridge between our community and the English.

  "May I help you, sir?" I asked as I put the boxes of butterscotch pudding I'd been stacking down and walked toward him.

  "Man, you all are really in a time warp, aren't you?" he said in a tone that sounded vaguely condescending.

  "We're a small town grocery store, if that's what you mean," I said as I stared at him. He was well over six feet tall with broad shoulders and sharp features, but what stood out was his wild mop of curly hair and his amber eyes. He shifted restlessly as he looked around, reminding me of one of our feral barn cats. Annoyed, I added, “We might have a smaller selection of goods, but they seem to satisfy the people who shop here.”

  “Whoa, no need to be defensive,” he said holding up a hand as if to keep me at bay. “I was just intrigued by the fact that you’ve got mechanical doors, but the store is so small.”

  “We’re not backward country people,” I said tersely. When he didn't say any more, I asked brusquely, "Is there something specific you're looking for?"

  "Dinner," he replied as he turned and looked straight at me not hiding the fact that he was studying me from head to toe. I looked away as I felt the heat rising in my cheeks. I hated the way outsiders stared at the Amish as if we were animals in a zoo. One of the reasons I'd moved to a big city after leaving Corner Grove was so I wouldn't feel conspicuous anymore. Chicago had given me a sense of anonymity that I was now denied. I also felt annoyed that my Amish clothes put a barrier between him and me. In the city, I would have looked like all the rest of the women who worked in the Loop, but here I was, a drab church mouse who attracted curious stares from handsome strangers. The stranger grinned at me as he said, "You got any hot food in this little place?"

  "I don't think I have anything that's still hot and fresh, if that's what you mean," I said pulling myself up to my full height, which was still at least half a foot shorter than he was. "But we do have a microwave and I can heat something for you, if you like."

  "You've got a microwave? I thought you people didn't believe in electricity," he said with a wry grin.

  "That's an ignorant myth," I shot back feeling intensely irritated at his feigned attempt at stereotyping. "We don't believe in being connected to the main power grid, but we do have electricity run off generators."

  "Oh, so you don't believe in tapping into the power supply, but you do believe in supporting big oil?" he sai
d sarcastically. "That totally makes sense. Why not drive cars, then?"

  "Because we’re not Mennonites,” I said dryly. “We believe in a separation of church and state, and we don’t believe in being connected to the power grid.”

  "Sorry, sorry," he said raising his hands in mock surrender. "Don't get your dirndl in a bunch."

  "What exactly do you want?" I said narrowing my eyes. There was no denying that he was striking, and something about him felt familiar, but I couldn't quite put my finger on where I'd seen him before. He seemed incredibly ignorant and his casual stereotyping of my community made me want to push him out the door and slam it in his face.

  "I told you," he shrugged. "I need hot food."

  "Fine," I said tersely then turned and marched to the back deli case where I stood in front of it as I pointed out the food we had. "We've got chicken, stuffed cabbage rolls, and dumplings. I can heat them up in just a few minutes and have you on your way."

  "Hey, hey, hey," he said backing up. "I didn't mean to make you mad, I was just making an observation."

  "Yes, well, I don't appreciate it," I said squaring my shoulders. "It's offensive and inaccurate."

  "Alright, let me start over," he said holding out his hand. "I've obviously made a wrong turn as I didn't mean to offend you. I'm Adam Wallace."

  I looked down at his hand and then back up into his bright eyes before sticking my hand out and shaking his.

  "Grace Miller," I said brusquely. "It's nice to meet you Adam Wallace. Now, what can I get you for dinner?"

  "It's nice to meet you, Grace Miller," he said as he gripped my hand firmly and held my gaze. I could feel the warmth and smoothness of his skin pressing against mine, and it unsettled me. He continued, "I'm sorry I acted like an ignorant city person. Can you forgive me?"

  "I'll think about it," I said tugging my hand away from his grasp. "Now, what about dinner?"

  "Man, you're really all business, aren't you?" he chuckled. I ignored his amused expression and walked around to the backside of the counter. "Okay, fine. I'll take the chicken and some of that potato salad."

  I quickly pulled out a box and used the tongs to put several pieces of chicken into it before tossing it in the microwave and hitting the button. I grabbed a plastic container and spooned potato salad into it before snapping the lid on and placing it on the counter. The microwave dinged and I grabbed the box, pushed the edges down so that it was closed before grabbing the potato salad, and put everything in a plastic bag with a set of plastic silverware and some napkins before heading for the cash register.

  "Whoa, missy!" Adam laughed loudly. "What else do I need to complete my dinner?"

  "My name is Grace," I reminded him. "And I'd say this is more than enough."

  "What about dessert?" he asked with a smile. "Don't your people make great pies—or is that an offensive stereotype as well?"

  "Yes, we bake," I said more tersely than I'd intended as I walked a back around the counter and pulled a cherry pie off the top of it. Adam grinned at me as I cut him a large slice and put it in a container. I added the container to the contents of the bag. I gave him an irritated look as I asked, "Happy now?"

  "Very," he nodded. "Thank you."

  As Adam followed me to the front of the store, I could feel his eyes on me and I wondered what he was thinking. At the register, I quickly rang up his purchases and said, "Seven eighty-two."

  "That's all?" he said in a surprised tone. "I thought it would have been at least double that!"

  "We're in Corner Grove, not Chicago," I said as I took the ten-dollar bill he offered and made change. A surprised look crossed his face as I mentioned Chicago, and I was certain that that was because he saw me as an ignorant country girl who had no knowledge of the world outside Corner Grove. He made me even more irritated when I held out his change and he shook his head.

  "Keep it," he said as he grabbed the bag. "Consider it a tip for having taught me how to tame my impulse to stereotype."

  "This is a store, Mr. Wallace," I said holding out the change. "Not a charity."

  "Well, then hold on to it until I come in again," he said as he headed out the door without taking the money.

  "What a jerk," I muttered under my breath as I put the money back in the till and slammed the drawer shut.

  After he'd left, I stood looking out the front door wondering why Mr. Adam Wallace was in Corner Grove in the first place and hoped that he and his crooked grin wouldn't be staying long.

  Chapter Ten

  Adam

  I had enjoyed the dinner that Grace Miller had sold me immensely while sitting on the front steps of the Yoder house watching nightfall in Corner Grove. There was something soothing about small town noise, which was made up of mostly crickets and the occasional car passing by on Main Street. Through the windows of the surrounding houses, I could see lights and the flickering of television sets as the homes' residents settled down after dinner. Most of the houses around the Yoder place were owned by what Mrs. Yoder termed "the English," which I took to mean non-Amish folks like me.

  Once I was full of crispy fried chicken and mustard-based potato salad, which I topped off with the entire slice of cherry pie, I groaned and leaned back against the steps as I looked up into the night sky. Unlike in the city, I could see a wide swath of open sky above me. The stars shined more brightly than I'd ever seen them and I wondered about what it was like to live in a community like this your whole life. As I contemplated the mysteries, my thoughts turned to Grace Miller.

  She was a stubborn woman, but she was lively. I hadn't expected an Amish woman to be so outspoken, but then I thought about how she'd accused me of stereotyping and I shook my head realizing I was at it again. She'd been dressed so plainly that she almost disappeared into the scenery, but her face was extraordinary. Grace Miller wasn't beautiful in the way that most women I knew were; instead she seemed to possess an almost otherworldly kind of beauty. She looked like the stereotypical country girl with blonde hair and piercing, blue eyes that missed nothing.

  I wondered what her life was like at home and tried to envision it. There was something not quite right about the way she had dealt with me in the store. She wasn't as submissive as I imagined Amish women would be, but then again, as I thought about bossy Mrs. Yoder, I had to admit to myself that I knew nothing about these people and their lives. I did know that I wasn't dealing with the hard-edged Chicago women I was used to meeting, but in the end, Grace Miller was Amish and I was one of the English.

  I stood up and headed to my car where I grabbed my bag from the trunk. I headed back into the house where Mrs. Yoder sat knitting in almost exactly the same position she'd been in when I'd arrived a few hours before.

  "Ah, Mr. Wallace, did you get yourself some supper?" she asked with a cheerful smile.

  "Indeed, I did," I nodded. "Ms. Miller fixed me a nice dinner over at the grocery store and I enjoyed it on your front porch."

  "Wonderful, wonderful!" Mrs. Yoder crowed. "Miller's Grocery has been a tradition in this city for years. It's a wonderful place to get groceries and a hot meal!"

  "So I see," I said. "Are they related to Bishop Miller?"

  "Oh yes, the bishop is Mr. Miller's older brother," she said before stopping and correcting herself. "Was. He was his brother."

  "He's no longer his brother?" I asked hoping she'd clue me in on the family dynamics in a way that could help me understand how to approach Bishop Miller and sell him on the idea of our turbines.

  "Yes, the Miller children buried both their mother and father last week," she said sadly as she bowed her head and whispered a short prayer under her breath. "I don't know how Grace is going to manage all of the duties of the farm and the store, but if I know Corner Grove, I know people will step in and help as best they can."

  "Grace Miller is in charge of the store and a farm?" I asked feeling like a stupid outsider.

  "Mmm hmm," Mrs. Yoder nodded as she replaced her glasses on the bridge of her nose and picked up k
nitting where she'd left off clearly indicating that she was not going to continue the discussion. "She's quite a young woman. Very independent. And mighty stubborn according to her Mamm, God rest her soul."

  "I see," I said as I headed for the stairs. I wanted to sit with Mrs. Yoder and grill her about the people in this community, but I knew that if I did, it would most likely blow through the town gossip mill like wildfire.

  "I put fresh towels on your bed, Mr. Wallace," she called when I was half way up the stairs. "And there's plenty of hot water in the heater if you decide you want a shower!"

  "Thank you, Mrs. Yoder," I called back. More than a shower, I wanted to know what had happened to Grace Miller's parents and more than that, I wondered if Grace Miller might be able to help me sell the turbines to the people in her community.

  Chapter Eleven

  Grace

  "Well, this place has gone to hell in a hand basket since Mamm's been gone, hasn't it?" Faith said as she entered the kitchen before sunrise. She had her smallest child strapped to her chest and a basket of eggs draped over one arm.

  "Knock it off, Faith," I said as I pulled out the milk and flour preparing to make pancakes for the younger ones. "You know I'm trying to keep the store running while Verity and Honor do the housework. There's no need to be so petty."

  "Cleanliness is next to Godliness," Faith said in the prissy voice that I'd hated since we were children. When I rolled my eyes, she added, "You'd better not make a habit of that, Grace Miller. Your eyes will get stuck in the back of your head."

  "That's an old wives tale and you know it," I replied as I slammed an egg against the side of the bowl causing the shell to splinter and slide down into the mix. "Dammit!"

  "Grace! Language!" Faith admonished.

  "Oh, do shut up, Faith," I said as I tried to pick the shell out of the bowl. "I'm doing the best I can with what I have."

  "Why do you always have to be so rude?" Faith asked as the baby started to fuss. She pulled it out of its sling and checked its diaper.