by Reid, Ruth
“He sure did, praise God!” Reuben turned to Grace. “You look exhausted, dochder. How are you holding up?”
“I’m better nau.”
“And your legs, have they given you more problems?”
She flicked a scowl toward Ben before turning back to her father with a pasted smile. “Daed,” she said, smiling at a few more members who walked up. She leaned closer and whispered, “Can I answer tomorrow? I haven’t even had time to take mei shoes off yet.”
“Fair enough.” He turned to Ben. “How is mei dochder? Has she been in much pain?”
She crossed her arms and aimed her narrowed eyes at him.
Ben smiled. “Your dochder is too stubborn to admit anything’s wrong. Nett to me anyway.” His comment elicited an under-the-breath growl from Grace. Ben faced her. “Is that your stomach growling, Grace?”
“Ben,” the bishop said, weaving through the crowd. “I can’t tell you how pleased I was to hear you had decided to stay.” He glanced upward. “God has a way of supplying for us before we’re even aware we have a need. I don’t know what Grace’s family would have done without you. By the time LeAnn reached our haus, the fire was encroaching and we were blocked in. I felt much better knowing you hadn’t left town, but were there with Grace and Erma.”
Ben smiled. “Apparently God had different plans for me because I had a ticket in mei hand.” And no reason to stay.
“I know,” the bishop said. He looked around at the men who had gathered after the search. “If I could have everyone’s attention,” he said. “Those of you who haven’t met Ben Eicher, he’s a young man from Florida and will be staying with us.” Several of the men nodded and welcomed him to Badger Creek, including Toby’s uncle, Alvin. Ben spied Grace whispering something to her father, then followed her with his eyes as she walked toward LeAnn and Erma, who were rushing to greet her with open arms.
The bishop continued. “Nau, I think we should let him rest. We can visit with him after service on Sunday.” He turned to Ben. “I know we had service last week; however, we always gather the first week the men are home regardless. And this year we have much to give thanks for.” He glanced at Reuben. “I’ll be sure to inform the search team that Grace and Ben are home safe. I know the police were canvassing the area where they found the men.”
The members dispersed, leaving Ben with Grace’s father, brothers, and Philemon. Even the bishop bid them good-bye once he realized Ben had to go back to the Waglers’ house to retrieve his duffel bag.
A gust of wind swept through the trees, sending a chill to Ben’s bones. He couldn’t keep his teeth from chattering. Philemon, purplelipped and shivering, walked a little faster. Ben had spent enough time submerged in the river since his arrival that he almost felt at one with it. As they made their way to the house, the men talked mostly about trees that needed debarking and plots of land to be planted and timbered, and Ben thought about fishing. Only thoughts of Grace invaded his dreams of hooking a great northern catch. Her banter earlier with Philemon about her fishing waders filling with water and him losing a pole over it in the process might have been an interesting story, but watching their ease of interaction left an aching void in Ben.
“I heard this wasn’t your first river crossing, Ben,” Grace’s brother Peter said. “Mei fraa said you caught a kalt when you tried to cross the time Mitch went missing.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever been that kalt, but Grace fixed me up with . . .” Seeing Reuben glance at his sons, then Philemon, Ben quickly added, “Mattie’s herbal brew was exactly what I needed to get on mei feet again.” He pointed to his boots. “Emery, I think these are yours. Grace let me borrow them, but I’ll be sure to return them.”
“You can keep them. I have another pair. We’re all grateful you were here.”
The others agreed.
Ben bowed his head. “I was glad to help. But the next time I fight that current, I’d like to have a fishing pole in mei hand.”
The men smiled and nodded in agreement and the conversation shifted when Philemon said, “I caught some prize steelhead last summer.”
“And your fish grow an inch every time you tell that story,” Emery teased.
“You’re just sore you haven’t caught a legal-size trout in a decade.” Philemon elbowed Ben. “I’ll show you mei spot upstream. You’ll catch one large enough to brag about back home. By the way, what do you do in Florida?”
“Landscaping mainly, and before that I worked for a commercial fishing boat.”
Emery laughed. “A commercial fisherman, hmm . . . Philemon, you’ve met your match.”
“Sorry to disappoint you, but I didn’t have much opportunity to fish while I was on duty. I worked for a charter service and mei job was to help passengers bait their hooks, untangle lines, and reel in their catch.”
Philemon chuckled. “So, you fished for them.”
“Jah, I guess so.” Ben smiled. “And most of them were tourists who only wanted to take home a photo of them standing next to the fish, nett the fish.”
“That’s crazy.” Philemon motioned to another path branching off the one they were on. “It was nice meeting you, Ben. Anytime you want to go fishing, let me know.” Philemon tapped Reuben’s back. “About that matter I wanted to discuss with you, is tomorrow all right?”
Reuben nodded. “Nau that Grace is safely home, we have time tonight if you want to have a bowl of chili with us. We can talk after supper.”
“Nay, it’s been a long day for everyone. We can talk tomorrow.”
It sounded as though Grace’s bu wanted to ask for her hand in marriage. Ben silently rebuked the heaviness growing in his chest. Maybe Toby was right when he had accused Ben of wanting women he couldn’t have.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Ben had fidgeted all night waiting for the sun to rise. Now that it had, he still couldn’t get Grace’s kiss out of his mind. He was out to the barn to do chores at dawn. He had fed and watered the livestock before the bishop entered the barn.
Bishop Yoder filled the milking bucket with sudsy water. “Couldn’t sleep?”
Ben shook his head.
He dropped a rag into the bucket. “Anything in particular bothering you, sohn?”
“Nay.” Nothing he could talk about with the bishop. He was already feeling bad about his involvement with Grace. He didn’t need someone else telling him how wrong it was to kiss her.
Bishop Yoder set the bucket aside, then started filling another one.
“I’ll get started on the milking.” Ben reached for the handle and picked up the bucket. He carried it into the milking area where the cows were already fastened in the stalls and chewing on their cud. Ben doused his hands with sanitizer, then sat on the stool and washed the cow’s udders. He leaned his forehead against the cow’s side and began milking. Once he’d mastered the rhythmic technique, spraying milk into a galvanized pail sounded musical.
“It didn’t take you long to become a farmer.” Bishop Yoder entered the station next to Ben. “Any interest in becoming a lumberman?”
“Sure,” he said, then quickly added, “Today?”
“Nay, sohn, the men still need to bring the cut logs across the river. They were in the process of transporting them when they noticed smoke from the watermill fire. Besides, you need time to relax. Monday will be soon enough to start working.”
“Okay.” Ben eased into a lulling cadence milking, his mind reliving the moment when Grace’s kiss had sent him stumbling backward, tongue-tied and breathless. He’d never experienced anything like it. Women walked away from him dazed and touching their lips, not vice versa. It was just a kiss, nothing he wouldn’t share with another woman. But that wasn’t the truth. No other woman would bring his every fiber to a boil like she had.
“Do you have anything else you want me to do?” Ben asked after they had finished the milking. “I just remembered we left Reuben Wagler’s rifle by the river last night. I should get it before it rains and return it to him.”
“I’m glad you remembered. You run along. I’ll put the cows out to pasture. Should I tell Mary you’ll be home by supper?”
“I wouldn’t miss it.” Ben hurried out of the barn. The cloudless, blue sky didn’t hold any immediate threat of rain, but he wanted a reason to see Grace.
“You’ve got to help me convince mei father to let me go to Ohio, Aenti. I don’t want to stay here any longer.” Grace rubbed her leg. The strain on her muscles while on the run had taken a toll. She went to bed with her legs elevated and lathered with liniment, but the medicated ointment didn’t bring down the swelling or stop them from throbbing.
Aenti stretched her hand across the table and patted Grace’s arm. “Are your legs hurting more?”
“Enough so that I’m ready to see a specialist. If there’s a cure available . . .” She closed her eyes. Muscular dystrophy was incurable. But leaving Badger Creek would cure her broken heart. She would make sure of that.
Aenti Erma stirred a spoonful of honey into her tea. “You haven’t said much about what happened when those men took you.”
“I know. I was so tired when I got home, I just wanted to put those medicated rags on mei legs and go to bed.” Grace touched her cheek. The swelling had gone down some and it didn’t smart as it had at first.
“We should ask Mattie if she has anything for those bruises.”
“It’ll heal in time.” Her heart, too, she hoped.
“Maybe so, but you should have stayed in bed longer today.”
Grace smiled. Her aunt had coddled her since she was a child. Yesterday afternoon Grace had barely walked through the door and Aenti was fussing over her. Aenti shuttled her to the bathroom where she insisted Grace soak in a warm tub and wash her hair.
“Do I look that haggard?” she had asked jokingly. Aenti Erma shook her head, but Grace saw through that fib. Once she’d washed her face and removed the mud, Aenti’s face turned pale.
Aenti gasped. “What did he do, hit you?”
Deadpanning her expression, Grace shook her head. “Nay, I think this happened when we were skipping rope.”
“Grace Elizabeth Wagler, are you trying to give your ol’ aenti an ulcer?”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I just want to forget about everything that happened.” Including how wonderful Ben’s kiss made me feel.
Footsteps interrupted Grace’s memories.
LeAnn yawned as she entered the kitchen. “I didn’t expect to see you up this early, Grace.” She made her way to the cabinet next to the stove and removed a coffee cup.
Grace cleared her throat. “Ben told me about seeing you at the bus station.”
LeAnn’s face paled.
“What do you have to say for yourself—frolicking with an Englischer?”
LeAnn’s back stiffened. “I’m old enough to make mei own decisions.”
“Father will have something to say about that.”
“And I’m sure his oldest daughter—his self-righteous mole—will tell him everything. Or have you changed since you spent the nacht in the woods alone with a man?”
Grace’s jaw dropped.
“Nett so pure anymore?”
“That’s enough!” Aenti Erma scowled at LeAnn. “Your father will have something to say about this behavior and about you carrying on with an outsider.” She swiped the egg basket from the counter and thrust it at LeAnn. “Go pick the eggs, and when you finish with that, you can gather the dirty clothes for washing.”
LeAnn took the basket and left the room.
Aenti blew out a breath. “That maedel is going to give your father many sleepless nachts, I’m afraid.”
“And once he hears about the Englischer, he’ll expect me to spy on her—to be his mole, as LeAnn put it. Oh, Aenti, he won’t ever give me his blessing to go to Ohio.”
“It wouldn’t hurt if we make him his favorite meal,” Aenti said. “Once his belly is full, I think we can convince him.”
Grace nodded, but her mind reeled with LeAnn’s accusations about her changing since being alone all night with Ben.
“I’ll make peanut-butter cookies,” Aenti said as someone knocked on the door. Her aunt toddled out of the kitchen, and a few moments later, Philemon asked if Grace’s father was home.
Ben couldn’t remember leaving the gun this far downstream. He glanced up the grassy incline. This wasn’t the place. The embankment had been sandy and much steeper. Ben smiled, recalling how Grace had slid into him and how they’d tumbled down to the shore as one. With her warm breath fanning his cheek, he hadn’t wanted to let her go.
Focus, he scolded. Pining for a woman he could never have was more painful than having all four wisdom teeth pulled out with tongs. Overhead, an eagle glided down to the surface of the water and snatched a fish from the river. Ben walked along the edge of the water, amazed by the tranquility. He spotted a heron wading in a shallow section, its long neck making a backward S. The bird speared a fish with its long, sharp bill, then ingested it whole. As Ben approached, it let out a warning croak, then spread its wings and relocated farther downstream. He’d seen plenty of cranes on the fishing pier in Florida, panhandling scraps as the fish were cleaned on the dock, but watching them forage fish and frogs seemed different.
Ben almost missed the footprints in the sand where he and Grace entered the water. He located the gun where he had stashed it, then clamored up the river embankment and sat on the edge. As terrifying as the night had been, once they were safely across the river, he’d wished their time together wouldn’t have to end. But it did. Why hadn’t Grace told him she had a bu? Ben rubbed his jaw. It must be true that extreme stress allows you to detach from reality, see and hear things differently. He was certainly delusional when it came to her. She had a way of leaving him unbalanced after he kissed her, and those memories were real. Was she as haunted? He had to find out.
Ben pushed off the ground. He caught sight of something shiny in the grass and reached for the Mason jar filled with stones. Ben removed the five smooth stones, perfect for skipping across the water. He returned them to the jar. Gordon’s treasure wasn’t anything more than ordinary stones. Now a token of the time he’d spent with Grace.
Ben took the wooded path to Grace’s house, and Erma answered the door. The moment he stepped inside, he smelled cookies baking.
Erma motioned to the gun. “Have you been hunting?”
“Oh nay. This is Reuben’s gun. I wanted to . . .” His gaze roamed the sitting room.
“She’s nett here.”
Ben crinkled his brows. Was he that obvious?
“Grace went for a walk.”
After everything she’d gone through yesterday, she was taking a walk? But before he opened his mouth to ask which direction she had gone, Erma cut him off.
“She won’t be long.” Erma led him into the kitchen. “Would you like a cup of kaffi?”
What he’d like was to find Grace so they could have a few minutes alone, but he replied, “Sure,” and followed her like a golden retriever.
Erma served him a mug of coffee that looked as thick as mud, and even doctoring it with cream and sugar didn’t mask the bitterness.
She peeked inside the oven, then removed the cookie sheet and placed it on a cooling rack. “You’re just in time to sample the first batch.”
“They smell great.” His mouth watered, watching her place the cookies on a plate.
She set the dish on the table. “You might want to give them a minute to cool,” she said with a chuckle as he reached for one. Erma pulled the chair out from under the table opposite him and sat. “So, tell me how you found Grace. I was worried sick about you two.”
“Do you believe in miracles?”
“Of course I do.”
“Just as it was getting dark, the entire sky lit up in color. It was a miracle.”
Erma patted his hand. “That was the northern lights. I’m sure living in Florida you’ve never seen them. Although, in all mei years, I’ve never seen them so bright that th
ey lit the sky like it was daylight.”
“A miracle,” he said, reaching for a cookie. “I prayed for the sun to stand still. I wouldn’t have found Grace had God nett provided the light.”
“That reminds me of the verse in Psalms, ‘Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path.’ ”
He took a bite of the soft, warm cookie and chewed it slowly. He had read that scripture many times—even prayed for God’s Spirit to light his path spiritually—but he’d made so many mistakes in the past, he’d stumbled off the path. Maybe the biggest miracle was that God heard and answered his prayer. Although God would have done that for Grace, not necessarily for him. His sins went too deep.
“I’m worried about Grace,” Erma said.
Ben pulled the cookie away from his mouth. “Why? Is she sick?”
“Something is . . . different. She’s nett herself.”
“She was traumatized. I’m sure in time . . .” In time what? She would forget what happened that night? He didn’t want her to. Narrisch fool.
Erma picked up a cookie and inspected it. “How long were you and Grace together last nacht?”
Ben choked on his cookie and took a swig of his coffee.
The door opened and laughter flooded into the room. “We’re back, Aenti. I smell your cookies.” Grace rounded the corner of the kitchen, Philemon behind her.
Ben took another sip of coffee.
“Ach, I didn’t know we had company,” she said, then looked at Philemon. “Are you staying for kaffi?”
“If you’re offering a cookie to go with it.” He pulled out the chair at the head of the table and sat. “So, how are you doing, Ben? Are you as exhausted as Gracie?”
“Nope. I slept like a boppli last nacht.” Ben eyed Grace at the stove. “Couldn’t you sleep, Grace?” Up all night, wondering why you never said anything to me about your bu? No wonder she’d asked Ben why he’d called her Gracie. She should have told him about Philemon.
Coffee spilled over the rim of the mug, and she sucked in a gasp. She mopped up the spill with a rag, then brought it to the table and gave it to Philemon.