by Amy Clipston
“Sure. Danki.”
She reached into the refrigerator for a piece of cheese and tossed it onto the eggs before folding them over in the pan. After removing the eggs from the pan, she dropped in a few slices of bacon and then put two pieces of bread in the toaster.
“I didn’t plan this right,” Emily lamented as she brought him the plate with the eggs. “I should’ve started the potatoes before the eggs so you can eat your breakfast all at once.”
Chris beamed. “Do I look disappointed? You heard my stomach growl so rudely earlier.” He rolled his eyes.
Emily set the plate in front of him. “You don’t need to worry about that around me.” She handed him utensils. “Kaffi?”
Chris paused as if debating if it was too much to ask.
“I’ll have a cup with you,” she offered.
“Okay.” He bowed his head in silent prayer and then dug into the eggs.
A comfortable silence fell over the room as Emily finished making his breakfast. She brought the toast, potatoes, bacon, and peanut butter to the table before bringing two cups of coffee, creamer, and sugar and sitting down across from him.
“This is a feast,” Chris said in awe. “You shouldn’t have troubled yourself.”
“I’ve already told you I don’t mind.” Emily sipped her coffee. How could she convince him to open up to her?
“Would you like some bacon or a piece of toast?” He moved his plate toward her.
“No, thanks. I already ate.”
“Come on,” he coaxed her, holding out his plate. “I can’t eat all of this by myself. If I do then you’ll think I’m a pig.”
“Fine.” Emily couldn’t refuse his cute expression. She took a piece of bacon and bit into it as he scooped up potatoes. She recalled the key chains he’d created earlier this morning. Had she finally earned the right to ask him questions? “How long have you had insomnia?”
He stopped eating and held the spoonful of potatoes in midair as his gaze snapped to hers. She immediately regretted the question, which seemed to float in the air between them. If only she could start the conversation over again with a less personal question.
“I’ve had it for a few months now.”
“Do you always work when you can’t sleep?” Maybe he would answer her questions after all.
“No.” He set the spoon on the table. “Sometimes I walk outside and other times I just stare at the ceiling and hope sleep will come and find me.”
“Did you sleep at all last night?”
Chris shrugged and lifted his cup of coffee. “I got a few hours in. Maybe four.” He sipped the coffee and then scooped more potatoes into his mouth.
A silence gripped the kitchen again, interrupted only when Chris’s utensils scraped across the plate. After he finished the potatoes, he spread peanut butter on his toast. She wanted to pull more information out of him, including why he came to stay with his aunt and uncle, but she didn’t know how to get him to really talk.
“What kind of work did you do in Ohio?” she asked.
Chris’s gaze locked with hers, and his face hardened. The invisible wall he’d built around himself suddenly reappeared, and Emily longed to take the question back.
“Mei dat owns a horse farm.”
“Oh,” Emily said. “So he breeds and sells horses?”
“Right.”
“Did you like working on the horse farm?”
He kept his focus trained on the toast as he responded. “I’d rather work in the harness shop, if that answers your question.”
“I see.” She yearned to know the whole story.
Chris looked up at her. “Did you want to ask me something else?” The question wasn’t brusque.
“Why did you leave Ohio?” she asked softly. Tillie told her she thought he needed a new start after his brother died, but Emily hoped Chris would share his burdens with her.
He leaned back in the chair and was silent for a moment. “I was tired of disappointing my father and constantly arguing with him. Leaving seemed to be the only option.”
Surprised by what he’d said, Emily looked at him, taking in the anguish and frustration in his eyes. She started to ask him another question, but he quickly interrupted her.
“Everything is appeditlich.” Chris wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Do you work only at the harness shop or do you also work as a baker or something?”
Emily blinked. He was deliberately taking the focus off of himself and pushing it onto her. She took the hint. It was time to back off and allow him to recover from her probing questions.
“No, I don’t work as a baker. Veronica has a bake stand, and she sells pies, relishes, and pickles. I used to help her when she lived at home. Now I work in the shop and help mei mamm with the chores around here. I also make quilts, and we host dinners for Englishers periodically. I’m never bored.”
“You make quilts?”
“Ya. Mei mamm and I sell them at stores and charity auctions.”
“Mei mammi made me a quilt a long time ago. I think I was about eight or ten when she gave it to me for my birthday. I wish I’d brought it with me. I left it on my bed.”
The regret in his words settled over her. She’d never imagined he would miss a quilt his grandmother had made for him. Only a couple of days ago she’d considered him rude, but now she realized he was a deeply emotional man. She looked into his eyes. What else did he miss about his home in Ohio?
“You’re staring at me.” Chris smirked. “Do I have egg on my face or potatoes up my nose?”
She laughed, and the tips of her ears blazed. “No, you don’t have food on your face.”
“What is it then?” He lifted a piece of bacon. “Do I look ridiculous or something?”
“No, it’s not that at all. It’s your eyes.”
His amusement faded. “What about my eyes?”
“They change color. When I first met you in the harness shop, your eyes were blue-green. Then the second day I saw you in the harness shop, they were bluer. Sunday night, they were green in the light of the lanterns when we sat on the porch together. But today they’re like a turquoise color. They seem to change color depending on the lighting in the room.”
“Really?” He smiled.
Emily took a deep breath and pushed on. “You have the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen,” she whispered, her voice trembling.
Chris’s grin vanished, and he set the bacon back on the plate.
“I said too much.” Emily longed to bury her face in her hands. She once again spoke without thinking. Her cheeks might explode from the heat of her humiliation.
“No, no.” Chris leaned forward and reached for her hand, but then pulled back before making contact. “I didn’t mean it that way. I’m just not used to getting compliments. You’ve complimented me twice in the past few days, and I don’t know how to handle it.”
“I’ve complimented you twice?” she asked, and he nodded. “When was the first time?”
“It was when we were sitting on the porch Sunday night. You said I had a great smile and you liked seeing it. No one has ever said that to me. And no one has ever complimented the color of my eyes.”
“I find that difficult to believe.”
“It’s the truth,” he said simply. “Danki.”
“Gern gschehne.”
Chris studied her, and something shifted between them. His eyes grew intense, and a thrill shivered through her body. She had to escape his gaze. She reached across the table, gathered up the empty dishes, and carried them to the sink.
“I’d better start cleaning this up.” She tossed her words over her shoulder as she began to fill one side of the sink with hot, soapy water.
“I told you I can do the dishes.”
“Oh no. Don’t be gegisch. I’m sure mei dat has plenty for you to do at the shop today.” She started filling the other side with clean water for rinsing.
“I appreciate the breakfast.” Chris pushed his chair back from the table. “I do need to make it u
p to you sometime.”
“That’s not necessary,” Emily insisted as she washed her coffee cup.
Chris appeared at her side and handed her the last plate and his cup. “Danki for everything.”
“Gern gschehne.” She looked up at him. “Maybe I’ll see you later?”
“I hope so.” Chris turned and headed for the back door.
As the door clicked shut, Emily replayed their conversation in her mind. She’d learned a little bit about Chris, but how had his brother’s death played into his issues with his dat? No one had ever told Chris his eyes and smile were attractive? If he’d ever had a girlfriend, then she certainly would have told him he was handsome.
Emily looked at the clock above the sink. She couldn’t wait for Mamm to get home. She had so much to tell her!
CHAPTER 7
“SO YOU MADE CHRISTOPHER BREAKFAST?” MAMM ASKED while sitting across from Emily later that morning.
“Chris,” Emily corrected as she lifted her mug of hot tea. “He likes to be called Chris. He says Christopher is too formal.”
Mamm gave her a knowing smile. “I see. And he told you he has problems with his father, which is the reason he left home?”
“Right.” Emily recalled the quilt his grandmother had made for him. “I want to make him a quilt. Maybe it could be his Christmas gift. He’ll probably still be here at Christmas, and I think we’re freinden now.” She was justifying making such an extravagant gift, but Chris needed a gift that would make him feel special.
Mamm raised her eyebrows. “You want to make him a quilt for Christmas? That’s a lot of work for one gift.”
“Ya, I know.” Emily cupped her warm mug in her hands. “What if I made him a lap quilt to keep him warm in his buggy? That won’t take as long.”
“That’s a great idea.” Mamm snapped her fingers. “I made one for your dat when we were first married. I think it’s in my hope chest.”
“May I see it?” Emily asked.
“Ya, I’ll try to find it.” She pushed back her chair and stood.
Emily followed Mamm into her bedroom on the first floor. Emily turned toward the far end of the room and spotted the cedar chest. Mamm fished around in the top drawer of her dresser and then pulled out the brass key. She bent over the hope chest and turned the key, and the lock clicked.
Emily wondered why the chest was locked, but she didn’t ask. It was Mamm’s chest, and she had the right to lock it if she chose.
Emily stood by Mamm as she opened the chest, and she breathed in the sweet aroma of cedar. Mamm sifted through the linens and a few small boxes until she pulled out a small quilt.
“I believe this is it,” Mamm said, holding it up. “Ya, it is. It was the first gift I ever gave your dat, and he used it for years. It was really special to him. In fact, I had to mend it several times because he wore it out.”
“Mamm, it’s so schee.” Emily gasped as she touched the quilt, which was stitched with a traditional log cabin pattern featuring blocks of different shades of tans and browns. “I’d love to make something similar to this.” An idea struck her and she looked at her mother. “Do you have any more of Mammi’s material?”
“Ya, I do.” Mamm glanced down at the cedar chest. “I’m sure there’s some in here somewhere.”
“Could I please use some to make Chris’s quilt?” Emily held her breath, praying Mamm would say yes. She loved feeling the connection to her grandmother, especially when she was creating a special gift.
Mamm dug in the cedar chest, pulled out some material, and handed it to Emily.
“Danki.” Emily sank onto the edge of her parents’ bed and sifted through the small pile. It wasn’t enough material, but at least it was a start.
Mamm frowned. “I know I had more than that.” She snapped her fingers. “The closet! How could I forget?” She disappeared into the walk-in closet and started moving things around.
“Do you need some help?” Emily offered as bumps, thumps, and mutters sounded from the large closet.
“No, no.” Mamm called back. “Aha! I found it!” She emerged pushing a large cardboard box. Emily read “Ruth” on the side in Mammi’s elegant, slanted handwriting.
Mamm pushed the box over to Emily. “It’s all yours.”
Emily opened flaps at the top of the box and gasped with delight at the rainbow of colors staring back at her.
LATER THAT EVENING, EMILY SAT ON THE FLOOR OF THE sewing room as she sifted through Mammi’s material box. She’d divided the material by color and had decided to create a log cabin quilt for Chris using different shades of blues and greens, which reminded her of his gorgeous eyes. She had a pencil in her hand and was sketching out the design on a notepad when she heard footsteps rushing up the stairs.
“Em! Em!” Rachel burst into the sewing room and flopped down onto the chair by the door. She took deep breaths to calm herself. “I have to tell you about my day. I met with the school board this evening, which is why I’m home late, and they let me resign. They already have a new teacher picked out, and Malinda is going to train her. That means I can quit now and just concentrate on my wedding.”
“That’s great.” Emily got up from the floor and sat down in the chair by her sewing table, across from Rachel. “I’m so froh for you.”
“Danki!” Rachel beamed. “I’m starting to doubt what color material we should get for the dresses. Do you think purple is the best color?” She frowned. “Do you think cranberry would be better? What if we went with an emerald green?”
Emily took a deep breath as frustration bubbled inside of her. Rachel had already decided on the color for the dresses. Why was she changing her mind now? They had more important things to discuss than the color of her dresses.
“Purple is fine, Rach,” Emily said, her words measured.
“You think so?” Rachel ran a finger over her chin. “Cranberry might look better with my dark hair.”
“You’re schee no matter what color you wear. You should stay with the purple. It’s what you picked first, so it’s your favorite.”
Rachel’s smile was back. “We could go shopping for material tomorrow. I’ll call Veronica and see if she can meet us in town. What do you think?”
“That sounds great. Do you want me to leave a message for Veronica?”
“No, I’ll do it. I’m starving too. I’ll make something to eat and then call her.” Rachel stood and started for the hallway. She turned and grinned again. “I’m so excited, Em. Danki for sharing this with me.”
“That’s what schweschdere are for, right? Mamm, Veronica, and I will do our best to make your day perfect.” She meant every word, but she longed for her sister to take an interest in her life too. Rachel could at least ask how Emily’s day had gone. Did she only care about her wedding?
“Danki.” Rachel’s gaze moved to the center of the room and then back to Emily. “What are you doing?”
Emily was grateful Rachel noticed her project. “I’m putting material together for a quilt.”
“Really?” Rachel stepped into the room, glancing first at the material and then at the sketch. “What kind of quilt will it be?”
“It’s going to be a buggy lap quilt like one Mamm made for Dat when they were first married.” Emily held up Dat’s quilt. “This is the one Mamm made.”
“Wow.” Rachel touched it. “That’s schee. Are you going to sell it?”
“No, it’s going to be a gift.”
“A gift?” Rachel grinned. “And who is the special person who will receive this gift? Is it for Christopher?”
Emily frowned and tugged Dat’s quilt from her sister’s hand. “He prefers to be called Chris.”
“Is that so?” Rachel smirked. “I knew you liked him.”
“Stop,” Emily said, her tone strained with the touch of a moan. “It’s not like that. Don’t make more out of it than it really is.” She sat back onto the floor and examined the material to avoid her sister’s knowing look.
“You like ea
ch other.” Rachel squatted next to her.
“He doesn’t like me, Rach, so just stop teasing me.” Emily longed for her sister to leave. She’d rather listen to Rachel drone on and on about her wedding plans than discuss her nonexistent relationship with Chris.
“Em, look at me.”
She frowned up at her sister. “What?”
“He likes you.” All teasing disappeared from Rachel’s eyes. “I could tell by the way he reacted when you sat next to him on the bench Sunday night. He looked naerfich.”
“Just stop, Rach, okay?” Emily cringed. “I’m not in any mood for your teasing.”
“Will you just listen to me?” Rachel snapped. “I’m not teasing you at all. Chris hung on to your every word. He stares at you as if you’re the most schee maedel he’s ever seen. I’m not kidding at all.”
Emily swallowed as she looked at her sister’s serious eyes. “You really mean it?”
“Ya, I really mean it, Em. And this quilt will mean the world to him. I can’t wait to see it when it’s done. You’re an amazing quilt maker.”
“Danki.” Emily pointed to the piles of material. “I’m using Mammi’s material. Mamm gave me a whole box.”
Rachel’s eyes suddenly glimmered with tears. “That makes it even more special.”
Emily smiled. Despite all the teasing, she was thankful for Rachel.
CHRIS GASPED AND SAT UP STRAIGHT IN BED. HE TOUCHED the tears streaming down his face. He’d been crying. No, he’d been sobbing.
The dream came back to him, and he swallowed against another sob. In this dream, Chris heard Gabriel’s screams and ran to the pasture, his steps bogged down by an invisible force. By the time he reached Gabriel, he was motionless, lying on the ground in a pool of his own blood. Chris rushed to him, and with his pulse pounding in his ears, he gave his younger brother mouth-to-mouth resuscitation between screams for Gabriel to wake up. Despite his efforts, Gabriel remained motionless. He was dead.
Once again, Chris was too late.
The nightmare had been so real that Chris could feel Gabriel’s clammy skin, and when he looked down, his hands and clothes were covered in Gabriel’s blood.
Chris took deep, trembling breaths until his pulse slowed to a normal pace. He had to find a way to stop these nightmares. But how?