Much later, a bump to the bed awakened her, and she opened her eyes to see Jack gazing down at her. “Jack!” she cried, raising herself to her elbows. “What are you doing? You gave me a start!”
“I’ll help with your stupid goat pen,” he said abruptly and turned on his heel to leave.
“Wait!” Mary said. He turned back around to stare at her again, and Mary straightened her shoulders. “You don’t need to anymore. I won’t need your help.”
His brows drew together in a frown.
“But thanks, anyway,” she added.
“Who’s helping you then?”
“I’m doing it myself,” she said, and as she declared her intention, she began to have doubts that she really could pull it off.
Jack’s eyebrows rose. “You’re doing it? Alone?”
“Yes.” Her tone dared him to question her.
“Fine by me,” he said. He turned away and went to the door. Instead of passing through, he put his hand on the doorframe as if bracing himself. When he didn’t move, a rush of pity came over Mary.
“Are you okay?”
He shrugged, not looking at her. Then his hand dropped, and he left her. Mary stared after him. She’d thought it would make him happy not to have to help her, but it didn’t appear so. She swung her legs off the bed to stand. She was doing him a favor by not needing his help.
That’s what she told herself, anyway.
But in all honesty, that wasn’t the entire truth and she knew it. She’d done it for herself. To prove something. And to restore her pride.
Pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall. She knew Proverbs 16:18 only too well. Was she headed for such a fall? She shivered and pushed down the thought.
She smelled like a sour bonfire and her blond curls had long since straggled loose from her kapp. She should have removed her kapp anyway when she lay down. She pulled it from her head and frowned to see smudges of coal on one side. She gathered up fresh clothes to bathe. If she hurried, she might be able to get her dirty clothes to Mamm before the wash was finished.
She padded barefoot to the bathroom, ignoring the emotions that tumbled through her heart. She was tired of thinking. Tired of trying to be good. Tired of everything.
****
By the noon meal, Mary felt almost normal again. She was cleaned up, warm, and back to helping in the kitchen.
“You aren’t making pies today?” Ruth asked her, pushing back the graying hair at her temples.
Mamm looked up from the stove where she hovered over a large pot of chicken dumplings. “No one is on the road today, Ruth. Plus, our Mary has been through enough since last night.”
“I should call the markets at least, jah?” Mary asked. She peered out the window at the thick snow-filled clouds. “I don’t want them to doubt my responsibility.”
Mamm’s eyebrows slanted into a frown. “Be quick, then. You’re barely warmed from the night.” She peered into the simmering pot. “Thank Gott, Benjamin knew what he was doing to put in that phone shanty.”
“I seem to recall your mighty strong opposition to it,” Ruth said, suppressing a smile.
“Ach,” Mamm said with a small grin. “S’pose you’re right on that.”
Mary fetched the markets’ phone numbers from her purse and slipped on her mamm’s wool cape since hers was still drying over a chair in front of the warming stove. She opened the front door and picked her way carefully over the shimmering ice. The shanty stood on the other side of the road in a shallow dip of land. Despite her care, Mary slipped and fell into the wood structure, banging her left elbow.
With a cry, she hugged her arm to her chest. The cold air raked down her throat as she unlatched the wooden door and stepped inside a cubicle the size of an outhouse. She dialed each market and told them she couldn’t make it into town with the pies. Every clerk was understanding and told her not to worry. They hadn’t expected her in the first place.
When she emerged from the shanty, her eyes widened and her heart reeled. Josiah was approaching the house in Abram’s buggy. What is he doing here? She stepped onto the road and half slid her way back to the house.
Josiah jumped from the buggy and threw the reins over the hitching post. He turned, saw her, and momentarily froze. Then he gave her a tight smile—which didn’t reach his eyes.
“Ach, there you are,” he said.
“What are you doing here?” she blurted.
“Hope asked me to come.”
“Whatever for?” She couldn’t imagine Hope sending Josiah out in this weather.
“She wants you to come for dinner.”
“What?” This made even less sense. Why would Hope be so concerned about her coming to dinner on such a day?
Josiah took off his hat and held it by the brim with his gloved hands. He straightened, sighing loudly. “Just relaying a message.”
“Why send you?” Mary asked. She cringed upon hearing her sharp tone.
“Abram’s no good on the ice, what with his leg and all.”
Of course. Abram limped even on dry ground.
“All right, then.”
A muscle next to Josiah’s mouth twitched. “You’ll come?”
“Let me tell Mamm.”
Mary skirted around him and mounted the steps. She found Mamm and told her Hope wanted her for dinner.
Mamm stared at her in surprise. “What? Out again? After the night you’ve had?”
“Josiah’s here. Hope sent him.” Upon saying Josiah’s name, Mary’s cheeks grew warm and she was irritated beyond measure at the current of excitement running through her.
Mamm brushed Mary aside and hurried to the living room. She pulled open the door. “Josiah Lambright, get yourself in. You’ll catch your death out there.” She turned to Mary. “Why didn’t you ask him in?”
Mary blinked. “I—I, well, can I go?”
Mamm stared at Josiah. “Is Hope all right? Is she ill? Why is she wanting our Mary today of all days?”
Josiah shook his head and gave a shrug. “She’s fine, ma’am. Just bored I think. A bit of cabin fever, jah?”
Mamm lifted her head, paused, and then chuckled. “All right then. And the roads? Is Mary going to be trapped again?”
“Mamm,” Mary interjected quickly. “If so, I’ll be at Hope’s. Quit your worrying. Can I take your cape? Mine’s still wet.”
Mamm waved her hand in approval. “Only makes sense. Don’t know that Benjamin will be pleased about this. But since it’s Hope asking … All right then, get on with you. Mary, I’ll see you in time for evening prayers, jah?”
“Jah.” Mary opened the door and pushed the screen door aside. She looked back at Josiah. “Coming?”
He strode to her, and Mamm shut the door behind them. Mary climbed into the buggy and settled herself, willing her heart to behave and slow its frantic beating. Josiah climbed in, and she smelled lye soap and shampoo. From the corner of her eye, she watched him drive the buggy back onto the road and toward Hope’s place. She noted the fine lines around his mouth and eyes, and the way he held himself—straight and tall and almost regal. He must have felt her stare, for his gaze flicked to hers. Embarrassed, she quickly averted her eyes.
“You all right?” he asked, his deep voice stiff.
“I rested some. You?”
He nodded. “I’m fine. Jack all right?”
“As all right as he ever is.”
They rode with no further sound, hearing only the echoing clip-clop of the horse’s steady gait. There was an eerie silence in the air, as if all the world had turned in for the day. Mary relaxed, letting the rhythm of the wheels lull her into an easy quiet.
Josiah seemed to unwind, too. His sturdy shoulders dropped an inch, and his face relaxed. Even at their slower speed, it didn’t take long to arrive. Mary climbed down and didn’t even get to the porch before Hope burst out of the door. Her rosy cheeks and dancing eyes told Mary something was up.
“You’re here!” Hope called.
“Hurry in! It’s frightful cold.”
Josiah headed toward the barn to see to the horse and buggy, and Mary mounted the steps. “You okay, Hope?”
Hope drew her into the warm house, pulling her cape from her. She tossed it onto the hall seat and guided Mary into the cheery blue kitchen. The aromas of chicken and onions and apples greeted them both. Mary breathed deeply.
“Smells like heaven in here,” she said.
Hope stirred a pot on the stove then joined Mary at the table. “I know it was foolish to fetch you in this weather, but I simply couldn’t wait a minute longer!”
Mary gazed at Hope’s eager expression and suddenly knew her suspicions from weeks ago were correct. “You’re expecting a wee one.”
Hope grabbed Mary’s hands and squeezed them in her own. “I am. Isn’t it wonderful gut?” she said. “It’ll be a boy for sure. I just know it. Ach, Mary, think of it. Me, a mother!”
“You’ll be a great mother, Hope. Congratulations.” Mary felt an odd twinge of something akin to disappointment. What was the matter with her? She was happy for her sister. And she wanted to be an aenti. This was cause for great rejoicing. She put a smile on her face and stood to give her sister a hug.
“A boy, then.” She smiled and sat again. “Have you told Mamm or Dat?”
Hope’s face grew solemn. “Remember when I didn’t tell you my secret marriage plans with Abram? Remember that Sally knew before you did?”
Mary nodded. It wasn’t so long ago, after all. She well remembered her hurt at what felt like a betrayal. She couldn’t believe her hardly-known cousin had been privy to such privileged news first.
“I know I hurt you, and I determined to never do so again.” Hope rose and put both hands over her still-flat stomach. “So, outside of Abram, you’re the first to know.”
“Ach, Hope, thanks. I’m so happy for you.”
“I’m to tell Mamm and Dat tomorrow if the weather clears a bit. Abram’s fussing over me like a mama hen, won’t hardly let me out of his sight.” She giggled and grabbed two quilted pot holders. “Come on, then. Let’s get dinner served.”
Seven
Abram sat at the head of the table, his brown hair falling over his left brow, and his whole face a smile. Mary felt as if she was sitting in a holy place. The exchanged looks between her sister and Abram radiated a private joy. Even though the both of them had brought Mary and Josiah into their excitement, she felt like an intruder stepping into a place where she didn’t belong. She stifled a strange urge to flee from the table and hide herself away.
Josiah glanced at her and raised his brows. He tipped his head toward Abram, and the smile he offered her brought an immediate softening to his features. Mary couldn’t help but return his smile with one of her own. Their gazes locked and a shiver went up her spine.
She pulled her attention from Josiah and looked at Hope. “Have you thought of names?”
“Ach, we’ve got time. Plenty of time. The little one’s not due for months yet.”
“A summer boppli, then?”
Abram laughed. “Might even be a harvest boppli. We don’t know the date. Hope visits the midwife later this week.”
Mary was perplexed. “Not visited the midwife yet? I didn’t think you’d share the news before then.”
“I couldn’t wait. I just couldn’t.” Hope turned to Josiah, and she reached across the table to him. “I apologize, Josiah. This isn’t dinner conversation.” She flushed slightly and pulled her arm back. “But you’re family, so I hope it’s all right.”
“It’s fine, Hope.”
Mary studied his expression, looking for evidence of his affection for her sister, but his face had been wiped blank. Almost too blank. What was he thinking? And feeling? She knew he’d wanted Hope for himself. And Hope expecting a boppli only cemented the fact that Hope would never be his. How did a person handle such revelations?
How did she?
Josiah turned and caught Mary’s intent look. He shifted in his seat and grabbed a bowl of sweet potatoes. “Care for some more?” he asked Mary, offering her the bowl.
“Nee. I’ve had plenty, thank you.”
Did he know what she’d been thinking? Was he toying with her?
“Are you staying through the entire winter?” Mary asked him.
His dark eyebrows arched, and his eyes came up to study her face. “Depends.”
She waited for him to continue, but he only began eating, looking down at his plate and taking large bites of Hope’s dumplings.
Mary watched him eat and then realized Hope was staring at her with a knowing look in her brown eyes. Mary flinched and picked up her fork. The atmosphere had lost some of its exuberance, and the four of them tucked into the meal without further talk.
When it was time to go, Mary approached Abram. “You taking me home, brother-in-law?”
Abram frowned and rubbed his knee. “Would love to, Mary, but a fall on the ice with this leg of mine would set me back months. Ask me again come February or March, and I’ll be glad to. Anyway, Josiah’s offered to take you.”
Exactly what she was trying to avoid.
“All right, then.” Mary gave her sister a warm hug and whispered in her ear, “It’s wonderful good news, Hope. I’m happy for you.”
Hope squeezed her back and then fussed with Mary’s cape. “Stay warm, you hear?”
“I’ll take care of her,” Josiah said from the door. “Buggy is hitched up. Come, Mary, and I’ll get you home.”
Mary followed Josiah from the room, giving a backward glance at Hope. Hope smiled with encouragement, even nodding her head toward Josiah. Mary knew what she was implying and frowned. You don’t know what you’re asking, Hope. If only you did know…
The sun had broken through the heavy gray clouds and reflected off the ice causing Mary to squint as she climbed into the buggy. The cold temperature hadn’t budged, and the air felt thick and still and clean. Josiah reached around her to the seat behind and Mary instinctively drew away, closer to the door. He brought up a quilt and placed it around her lap, leaning so close that his white wisps of breath floated over her face. As he tucked in the far corner, he paused and a faint light twinkled in the depths of his dark eyes.
The hint of mischief there caught Mary off guard, and she fidgeted with her mittened hands.
Josiah chuckled and picked up the reins, leaving her to stare at him in surprise. What was that about? And what was it about him that wouldn’t let her go? Her lips thinned with annoyance. How many times would she have to forget him?
They took the return trip as slowly as they had come. The ice lay over the ground like sheets of glass. There was no wind, not even a light breeze. Scattered frozen stubs of corn stalks stood like flattened soldiers throughout the fields.
Abram’s mare, Rosie, snorted white steam, and plodded steadily toward the Lehman’s farm.
“You asked how long I’d be staying,” Josiah said, breaking the silence. “Why?”
His eyes caught and held hers.
She squirmed under the quilt, and it slipped from her lap. Grateful for the distraction, she took her time in gathering it back up over her knees.
“Mary … why?” His voice was smooth, but insistent.
“Just wondered,” she replied, knowing her answer was weak and meant nothing.
“Why?” he repeated again.
She looked away, irked with her own jumble of emotions. He pulled on the reins and slowed Rosie to a stop. The buggy gave a small shudder, and Mary twirled to stare at him.
“Why did you stop?”
Josiah leaned back and narrowed his eyes as if to get a better look at her. “We’re almost to your house, and we haven’t talked.”
“Talked? We’ve talked. What do you mean?”
“About last night.”
To her annoyance, she found her cheeks warming with a blush. “There’s nothing to talk about, is there?”
“I think there is.” His earnest eyes sought hers. She gazed at h
im without blinking, and stiffened when he took her hand in his. She felt his warmth through her knitted mitten. In slow motion, he leaned close, and his gaze still held steady. A familiar shiver of awareness shook through her, and she felt a heady sensation as his lips tenderly brushed over hers.
“Perhaps we should talk about that,” he whispered.
She pulled her hand from his and shook her head. “There’s nothing to talk about.” She wasn’t about to get swallowed by his charm. Not this time. “Can we continue?”
He laughed. “With the kissing?” He gave her no time to react, but turned from her and slapped the reins on Rosie’s back. They started again down the road. Josiah must have sensed Mary’s irritation because he nudged her gently. “I’m sorry. Don’t know what comes over me when I’m near you.”
She was suddenly anxious to escape his disturbing presence.
He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. “Hope wouldn’t consider going overseas.”
Mary’s brow furrowed. Where was he going with this line of talk?
“I don’t suppose she would.”
“But you would.”
She stared at him. “I told you so last night.”
“Well…” He looked at her.
“Well, what?”
“Remember what you said about me and Hope?”
Her eyes narrowed. “I remember…”
“You’re different.”
Everything within her roared. “Are you comparing me with Hope?”
He flinched as if struck. “But I’m comparing you in a good way!”
Mary remained seated, but everything inside her stood up. “Don’t you get it? I don’t want to be compared to her at all! I’m sick of being compared to Hope! We’re different people, I tell you! Different!”
He stared blankly at her with his mouth open. “But that’s what I was saying!”
Amish Days: The Runaway: An Amish Romance Story (Hollybrook Amish Romance) Page 5