Don’t kid yourself, Hooley. You’re more invested in this relationship than you want to admit.
He was grateful that their pizza arrived just then so he didn’t have to delve too deeply into feelings that were threatening to embrace him and never let him go. Rosalyn ate with the delight of a child, laughing when the cheese hung suspended between her slice of pizza and her mouth . . . a mouth Marcus found himself watching as she chewed. After they’d finished eating, he almost hated to leave the restaurant for fear the ambiance they’d woven like a magical web might get blown away once he drove her home.
His thoughts became more serious when they stepped outside, however. “Uh-oh, the snow has some ice in it now,” he said as he offered Rosalyn his arm. “Walk carefully. The parking lot’s turned into a skating rink.”
“It’s a gut thing you put a blanket over Sophie,” she remarked as she baby-stepped over the slick surface. “I’m glad she’s a Percheron rather than one of the fine-boned Thoroughbreds you’ve trained. She’s a much heavier horse with bigger hooves. Better on snowy roads.”
“We’ll turn on our lights and the flashers,” Marcus said. He reached under the seat to flip the switch of the car battery that powered the sleigh’s lights, hoping they would shine brightly enough to be visible to cars.
They’d only traveled a short distance on the icy street when Marcus realized they were in trouble. “We’ll take the same way back as we came, across the pastures rather than alongside the road,” he said. “Let’s hope Sophie keeps her head. I haven’t been working with her very long—”
“She’ll be fine, and you’re just the man to be driving her,” Rosalyn quickly assured him. She pulled the spare blanket from beneath the seat and draped it over their heads and shoulders to keep the sleet from freezing on their wraps.
Her confidence in his driving touched Marcus deeply and made him even more aware of his responsibility to get her home safely—to protect her. It was a new emotion for him, wanting to be Rosalyn’s guardian rather than just a guy showing off his prowess as a horse trainer and a driver. As he steered Sophie across the ice-crusted stretches of snow, he prayed for their safety.
I haven’t talked to you for a long, long, time, God, but if You could get us back to Willow Ridge . . . well, I’ll strongly consider being more faithful.
Marcus knew God didn’t like folks playing games with Him, promising to improve their behavior if He gave them what they prayed for, but he was asking for Rosalyn’s safe return home, so that made his plea more legitimate, didn’t it? He focused intently on the pasture they were crossing, allowing Sophie to instinctively choose the best path as she paced herself. He didn’t admit it aloud, but he was scared. Had he been by himself, he would’ve pulled into somebody’s barn for the night rather than drive in such treacherous conditions. The sleet was still pelting them and the trip home was taking a lot longer than their drive into Morning Star.
But we’ve got to get Rosalyn home, God, because—well, You know how much trouble she’ll be in if we don’t.
Even if they slept across the barn from each other—or if Rosalyn slept in someone’s house while he slept in their barn—Marcus would never convince Cornelius that he hadn’t compromised her. Amish fathers tended to jump to that conclusion, and he suspected Riehl would lash out with accusations rather than listen to reason.
Rosalyn shivered beside him, peering out from beneath the sleet-encrusted blanket. “Oh, but it’s gut to see the lights of Willow Ridge,” she whispered after they’d been traveling nearly an hour. “I’ve never been so aware of how dark it gets in the countryside, or in Amish towns where there aren’t streetlights.”
Aware. She hadn’t said she was frightened out of her mind—hadn’t once whimpered about the possibility that they might not make it home. Marcus didn’t dare let go of the leather lines, but he quickly kissed her cheek. “Thanks for not carrying on, Roz,” he said. “Other women would be—well, it doesn’t matter what they’d be doing. You’re a rock, and you’ve been kind enough to keep your doubts to yourself.”
“I didn’t want Sophie to pick up on my fear,” she said softly. “And truth be told, I’ve been too busy praying to fuss at you, Marcus.”
He chuckled despite how tired his tense muscles were getting. It was a sure bet that God was paying more attention to Rosalyn’s prayers than to his.
“You’re driving a lot better than I could,” Rosalyn went on. “We’ll make it. The lights at Wyatt’s place are just down the way now—and I can see lights in the upstairs windows at Luke and Nora’s house, too. We’re almost there, Marcus.”
Her encouragement meant the world to him as the sleigh crossed the big yard that surrounded Wyatt’s house. Just as he dared to feel confident, however, Sophie headed down the snow-packed lane toward the road. The sleigh began to slide sideways behind her.
“Easy girl. Side to side,” Marcus called to her. “Please, please don’t let us turn over and pull you down,” he murmured before he realized he’d said it out loud.
They were helpless as the sleigh skidded farther downhill on the ice-covered snow—heading toward a tree in what seemed like suspended animation. “Brace yourself, Roz,” Marcus whispered.
“Poor Sophie—hang on, girl!” Rosalyn said as the Percheron struggled to step forward and sideways—anything to keep the sliding sleigh in place without losing her footing on the icy hillside.
The side of the sleigh struck the tree trunk hard, jolting the vehicle and Marcus’s body. At least they’d stopped, and Sophie was still standing. He didn’t want to think about the broken legs or muscle damage the mare might’ve suffered, had she been pulled down by the sleigh’s weight—not to mention the repairs his sleigh was going to need—so he pondered his options.
“Maybe I should walk home,” Rosalyn offered.
“Too slick. You’ll fall and get hurt,” Marcus quickly insisted. He inhaled deeply to settle his nerves as he peered at the side of the sleigh where it rested against the tree. “I’m not going to ask Wyatt to come get us in his truck, either, because it’s likely to slide off the lane just like we did. Then he’d be stuck, too.”
He leaned forward to get a closer look at the county highway. The sleet was letting up. He was tempted to pull the heavy, saturated blanket off their shoulders and heads—but who knew how much longer it would take to reach the Riehl place?
“Sophie seems to be gathering herself, getting ready to pull again,” Rosalyn observed as the mare stomped tentatively on the ice-coated snow. “Our lights and flashers are still working, so maybe we’re safest if we stay in the sleigh and let her pull us out of this, jah?”
Marcus smiled in spite of his worries about the weather. “Your instincts are spot-on, Roz,” he replied. “It’s usually better to trust the horse—and Percherons can pull an amazing amount of weight and overcome a lot of resistance. They love the challenge of a heavy load.”
He looked toward the county highway again, relieved that the sleet was changing over to snow. “The road looks like it’s been plowed recently, so if we stay in the yard until we reach the pavement—instead of trying to reach the lane again—we stand a better chance,” he murmured. “With Sophie pulling and you praying for us, I think we can make it. I’ll steer as best I can. Geddap, Sophie.”
The sleigh’s wooden side made a sickening sound as it scraped against the tree, but they were moving again. Sophie picked her way across the yard, slowly pulling the sleigh to the road without further mishap.
When they reached the road, Marcus tugged the blanket from their shoulders and stuffed it beneath his feet. “Help me watch for cars, all right?” he asked as he steered Sophie into the plowed center section of the pavement. “I doubt we’ll see many, but if this storm took us by surprise, other folks might be trying to get home, too.”
Rosalyn turned sideways in the seat so she could look behind them. “All clear,” she called out.
Marcus let the mare have her head as they passed the mill and the Grill
N Skillet, which were closed and dark. At the next intersection, he carefully steered Sophie onto the eastbound road where the Riehls lived. Rosalyn faced forward again, peering through the darkness as she looked for lamplight in the windows of her home. “I have no idea what time it is,” she said. “Everyone must’ve gone to bed—”
Marcus fished his cell phone from his shirt pocket. “Just past ten o’ clock. Took us an hour and a half to get here.”
“But we made it—and you must be exhausted,” she put in. “Why not park in the barn so Sophie can eat and get warm? Meanwhile you and I can have some hot chocolate and whatever dessert might be left from supper.”
“Now there’s an offer I can’t refuse,” he replied. “By the time I’m ready to head home, maybe the snow will have stopped.”
After Rosalyn directed him to the barn, she hopped out of the sleigh to slide the big door open—and then she closed it after he’d pulled inside. When she lit the lantern, the light made her face glow—made him think of other ways to spend time in the hay. Instead, they quickly put out some feed for Sophie and covered her with dry blankets. Clutching each other’s hands, he and Rosalyn walked cautiously across the yard and entered the door at the back of the house.
Marcus stood in the mudroom and listened for several seconds. All was hushed and dark. “Roz, I hope you know—”
“Marcus, you were wonderful tonight,” she blurted at the same time.
His heart warmed—until the fffft of a striking match made them both jump.
Rising from the kitchen table, holding a lamp in front of him, Cornelius glared at them. “Hooley, you dog, where have you been with my daughter?”
Chapter Sixteen
Rosalyn sucked in her breath, but after a wonderful evening and Marcus’s valiant effort to get her home safely, she wasn’t going to let him take the heat—nor did she appreciate the accusation lurking beneath Dat’s words. “We went to Morning Star for pizza, and then—”
“I didn’t ask you,” Dat interrupted brusquely. “But I’m highly disappointed in you, daughter. You’re known by the company you keep—and once again you’ve defied me.”
“I’m sorry we’re so late,” Marcus said, stepping into the kitchen. “We got caught in the sleet, so it took us—”
“The weather has nothing to do with the fact that I’ve forbidden Rosalyn to spend time with you,” Dat said in a rising voice. “You’ve obviously slithered into my naïve daughter’s romantic imagination, and you were planning to take advantage of her innocence—most likely upstairs in her bedroom. Get out of my house. You’re not welcome here.”
“Dat, you’ve got it wrong!” Rosalyn protested. “It wasn’t as though Marcus took me for a sleigh ride against my will. I wanted to go—”
“We’ll discuss your fall from grace—the way you threw yourself into the face of temptation—later,” he snapped. “Go to your room.”
Rosalyn’s eyes widened. After all of her years as a chaste, dutiful daughter, why would her father believe she had such lustful inclinations? The child inside her wanted to duck her head and hurry upstairs to cry—but you’re twenty-eight years old. You can’t let Marcus bear the burden of Dat’s wrath alone.
She crossed her arms, refusing to move from Marcus’s side.
Dat’s eyes widened, but he focused again on Marcus. “You’ve done enough damage for one night, Hooley. Move on!”
Marcus, too, stood fast. “Your accusations are unfounded, sir,” he insisted. “Please let me explain—”
Rosalyn heard rapid footsteps descending the stairway, and a few moments later Loretta entered the kitchen, clutching her bathrobe around her. “I’m so glad you two made it home,” she murmured.
Drew, also in his robe, came in behind her. He assessed the situation. “Hey there, Marcus. Glad you made it safely through the storm and—”
“Don’t encourage him!” Dat cried out. “Now get a move on, Marcus, before I forcibly remove you from the premises!”
Marcus stood taller, studying the man whose face was growing ruddier in the light of the lamp he held. “We’ve barely even met, Cornelius, so why do you act as though I’m not fit to be in the same room with you or Roz?” he asked calmly. “If you’ll let me explain—”
“I’ve heard all I need to know about your sins with women!” Dat spouted, pointing at Marcus. “Her name is Rosalyn. And now you’ve led her into temptation, dragging her down to your level of—”
“Do your feelings have anything to do with the time I introduced myself in the bank?” Marcus asked. He seemed unruffled, as though he was prepared to deal with Dat on a different level. “I thought it was interesting that you were depositing wrapped bundles of bills that day, and I bet you didn’t want me to see that. Am I right?”
Rosalyn’s heart stopped. Why hadn’t Dat said anything about speaking with Marcus at the bank? Why did Marcus think it was important that Dat’s money had been bundled—and what did it mean, that the money had been wrapped?
And why was Dat putting a bunch of money in the bank when we have so many past-due bills that need to be paid? He told Loretta and me not to buy groceries this week.
“That’s none of your business!” Dat blustered. “I see no reason to answer such an impertinent—”
“Maybe this is another chance for you to come clean, Cornelius,” Drew said in a low, purposeful tone. “Maybe you’re only going through the motions of grief counseling and repaying—”
“Don’t you start on me!” Dat interrupted. He had a frantic look about him, like a cornered animal, until he regained control over his emotions. “This conversation is finished, and what’s been said tonight is to go no farther than these kitchen walls. Do I make myself absolutely clear?”
Rosalyn exchanged a puzzled glance with Loretta while Marcus and Drew said nothing. The measured tick-tick-tick of the battery clock on the wall marked a long, strained silence.
Drew exhaled loudly. “We’ve heard what we’ve heard.”
“Okay, so I won’t say another word,” Marcus put in. He turned to Rosalyn with a resigned smile on his face. “I had a really nice time tonight, Roz. I’m sorry I’ve gotten you in hot water.”
Rosalyn’s heart clenched. Between his lines, she heard goodbye. She had visions of being trapped in this house with Dat for the rest of her life.
“I’m not one bit sorry,” she countered. “We have nothing to be ashamed of, Marcus. It was a wonderful evening, and I thank you for getting me home safely. I’m sorry your beautiful sleigh was damaged and I—I’ll never forget our moonlight ride or our fun supper together.”
Rosalyn hurried through the dark front room to go upstairs before Marcus could see her cry.
* * *
The next day was a visiting Sunday when there was no church service, and Rosalyn prepared herself for a long day of lectures from Dat. It was a surprise when her father poured a mug of coffee, put a square of warm coffee cake on a plate, and headed downstairs to eat his breakfast. At the basement door he paused, however.
“Ponder your wrongdoing, Rosalyn, so you’ll be prepared to confess your sins at church next Sunday,” he warned her. “We’ll discuss your situation further at a family meeting when Edith and Asa come for the noon meal.”
He closed the door behind him so forcefully that Rosalyn and Loretta both jumped.
“Why on God’s gut earth does Dat think you and Marcus behaved improperly?” Loretta whispered. She poured coffee for herself, Rosalyn, and Drew as he entered the kitchen. “When you weren’t eating in a public restaurant you were fighting your way through a sleet storm. It wasn’t as though you had a chance to—”
“Marcus was right,” Drew put in as he sat down at the table. “Your dat’s tantrum has more to do with his own secretive behavior at the bank than with anything you two did last night.”
“Dat’s going to remind me again and again that I’ve broken the fifth commandment by not honoring his order to avoid Marcus’s company,” Rosalyn said with a sigh. She
sat down and looked at the pan of coffeecake Loretta had baked. It was fragrant with sugar and cinnamon, but she had no appetite for it. “I can’t believe he accused us of being ready to sneak upstairs—and said Marcus was taking advantage of me. Does he think I have no moral sense at all?”
Loretta reached for her hand. “The rest of us know better, sister.”
“It was all a smoke screen,” Drew insisted. “And why has he gone downstairs to his shop rather than joining us for breakfast? Working on the Sabbath is as much a breach of God’s commandments as not honoring your parents, after all.”
Rosalyn felt numb, weary from lack of sleep and frustration. She focused on Drew, keeping her voice low in case Dat was lurking behind the basement door. “What does it mean that Dat had wrapped bundles of money?” she asked. “And why would he be putting them in the bank instead of paying our bills—”
“Or letting us go to Zook’s,” Loretta put in. “Our Sunday dinner’s going to be casserole—again—because he’s forbidden us to shop.”
Rosalyn frowned. “Do you suppose he’s run up such a tab that Preacher Henry’s not letting us charge anything else until Dat pays him?”
Loretta’s eyes widened. “If that’s the case, Dat wouldn’t want us to find out about it, so he’s making us stay home,” she said softly. “I’ve half a mind to take my money from working in Nora’s store to buy what we need—and ask Lydia about our account while we’re there,” she added in a rebellious tone.
Drew chuckled and took a second piece of coffeecake. “Save your money, honey,” he quipped, “because I’ll be happy to cover anything we owe the Zooks. Maybe Asa and I can compare notes and figure this out. Meanwhile, I’m glad it was Marcus who bought that fine old sleigh—and that you got to ride in it, Rosalyn,” he added in a more upbeat tone. “Did you have a gut time?”
Rosalyn’s heart thrummed. She’d been awake most of the night because Dat’s harsh accusations had upset her, but she’d soothed her soul by calling up every wonderful moment of her evening with Marcus. “We did,” she replied. “He drove us to Morning Star for pizza, and we talked and laughed—it was just perfect until the weather kicked up. Even after the sleigh slid down an icy hill and hit a tree at Wyatt’s, the Percheron mare pulled us through,” she pointed out with a touch of pride. “I felt safe and . . . well, I knew Marcus would take care of me.”
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