by Amy Clipston
He glanced at his clock; it was midnight. He could fall back to sleep, but the nightmare was too much to bear again. One nightmare per night was already too difficult for him to handle. He pulled on his trousers, pushed his hands through his thick hair, grabbed his lantern, and started down the stairs.
After locating the key hanging on the nail by the back door, he pushed his feet into his boots and walked out to the shop. He took a quick inventory of the items for sale on the round displays and saw that only a few doorknob hangers were left. Hank had shown Chris how to create them yesterday, and he was confident he could do it. Chris located the tools and supplies and then set to work.
While creating the first one, Chris’s thoughts turned to his breakfast with Emily. He’d spent all day analyzing their conversation. None of the girls he’d known at school or in his youth group had commented on his eyes or his smile.
Of course, he had never felt comfortable letting any of them get close enough to him for that. He didn’t even have close male friends—except for Gabriel.
But maybe now Emily could be his friend.
Suddenly the memory of the pity in Emily’s eyes when Chris told her about his father clobbered him square in the chest. He didn’t want her pity.
He’d give anything to have someone to talk to and listen to him—yes, someone who would really and truly listen to him. His soul yearned for a true friend, and he hoped he’d be blessed with one someday.
EMILY ROLLED OVER AND RUBBED HER EYES. HER ROOM WAS cloaked in darkness, and the house was deathly silent. She looked over at the digital clock on her nightstand to see 12:15 a.m. What had woken her up?
Was Chris awake too? Was he working in the harness shop as a way to deal with his insomnia?
Emily jumped out of bed and opened the shade. She peered over toward the harness shop and spotted a light burning. Chris was there! She should go help him. She’d mentally kicked herself earlier for not telling him to try warm milk. She could take him some milk now and offer it as a possible solution to his insomnia.
Emily pushed a brush through her waist-length hair, quickly braided it, and tied her pink robe over her white nightgown. Retrieving a lantern and padding down the stairs to the kitchen, she quickly heated a pan of milk and poured it into a mug. She pulled on the first coat she found in the mudroom and pushed her feet into a pair of boots before walking out the back door.
The air smelled of rain, and a cool mist kissed her cheeks as she followed the rock path to the harness shop. She pulled open the door, and the chiming bell somehow sounded louder than usual. Two lanterns on the counter illuminated the front of the shop, the lights she’d seen from her bedroom window.
At the sound of the chimes, Chris looked up from the workbench at the back. “Emily? What are you doing here?”
“I woke up, and when I looked out the window I saw the lanterns burning out here.” Emily held out the mug of warm milk. “I thought this might help you.”
Chris looked at her with his eyebrows drawn together.
“It’s warm milk.” She took a step closer to him, and when he wouldn’t take the mug, she set it on the workbench beside him. “I should’ve suggested it to you earlier. When I was little, mei mamm always made me warm milk when I couldn’t sleep. Milk might help you too.” She sat on a stool across from him.
Chris looked at the mug for a long moment and then met her gaze again. “I don’t think warm milk can help me.” His words were thin and his voice shaky. His eyes were red-rimmed. Had he been crying?
Her chest tightened. Why hadn’t she woken up earlier? Maybe she could’ve offered him solace.
“Do you want to talk about it?” she whispered.
His eyes flashed with frustration and then hardened, stealing her breath.
“No.” The word was terse and laced with contempt. Suddenly, the man who had teased her and smiled during breakfast was gone, and the angry man who had rebuffed her his first day in the harness shop was back.
Panic seized her. She had to get out of there.
“Okay.” Emily scrambled to stand, nearly knocking over her stool in the process. “I’m sorry I bothered you. I only wanted to help.” His tone had sliced right through her, but she couldn’t allow Chris to know how deeply his rejection hurt her. Keep it together, Emily! Don’t let him see you cry.
She headed for the door, and as she grabbed the doorknob, tears trickled down her cheek. A light tapping sound caught her attention. She glanced up at the large shop windows and saw raindrops hitting the panes.
“Emily!” Chris called, his tone urgent and pleading. “Emily, wait. Please, Em. Don’t go.”
CHAPTER 8
EMILY FROZE AT THE SOUND OF HER NICKNAME. SHE TURNED and faced Chris, who was now standing next to the counter. The fury was gone from his features, and instead, he looked humble and forlorn.
He studied her, and his eyes widened. “Oh no. I made you cry.” His face contorted with what seemed to be regret. “I’m so sorry, Em. Please, please don’t go.”
“Are you sure?” She brushed away the tears. “I don’t want to intrude.”
“I’m absolutely positive.” He held out his hand, but she didn’t take it. “I’m tired of carrying this burden around all by myself. I need someone to talk to. What I really need is a freind who will listen to me.”
“I’ll listen to you anytime, Chris. I thought I was your freind.”
“You are, but you shouldn’t be because I haven’t been a freind to you.” He pinched the bridge of his nose as if battling a headache. “Em, I’m sorry I was awful to you again tonight, and I’m so sorry I was cold to you the first day I met you. I keep pushing you away, but you still come back to me.” He tipped his head to the side and looked at her, his brow creased. “Why is that?”
“Because you need a freind.”
Chris shook his head. “But I don’t deserve your friendship.”
“Everyone needs a freind, Chris.” She pointed toward the work area. “Do you want to sit back there and talk?”
“Ya, I’d like that.” He looked relieved—as if he were dying of thirst and she’d offered him water.
She followed him to the work area and perched on the stool beside him. He rested his elbow on the table and dropped his chin into the palm of his hand just as he’d done this morning during breakfast. She drank in the sight of his handsome face, observing his red-rimmed eyes. Something was tearing him apart emotionally, more perhaps than his relationship with his father or losing his brother, and she yearned to find a way to encourage him to open up to her.
“You’ve been crying,” she whispered, hoping he wouldn’t explode again.
“Ya.” Chris blew out a deep sigh. “I woke up sobbing in my sleep.”
Emily gaped with confusion. “I don’t understand. You said you had insomnia.”
“I do, but sometimes I sleep a little and then wake up.” Chris looked up at her and his eyes were green in the soft glow of the lantern sitting on the worktable in front of him. “You asked me earlier why I left Ohio.”
“That’s right.” She held her breath, awaiting his explanation.
“My younger bruder died in an accident in June, and it was my fault. That’s why I have . . . insomnia. But tonight, when I did get to sleep for a while, I also had a dream.” He looked down at the unfinished doorknob hanger. Was he avoiding her gaze?
“I’m so sorry, Chris. What happened to your bruder?”
He kept his gaze focused on the worktable as he spoke. “I told you mei dat owns a horse farm. He’s bred, trained, and sold horses since my older bruder, Paul, was born. I was never gut at horse training, but Paul always has been. Mei dat has told me more than once that he doesn’t understand why I struggle with horse training when it came so naturally to Paul. He said I should be more like Paul.”
He took a long breath and his body trembled. Emily longed to reach out and comfort him, but she didn’t want to appear forward.
“Mei dat wanted to buy this horse with a
bad reputation to prove he was the best horse trainer in town. Paul has his own successful horse farm now, and he told Dat not to buy the horse because he was dangerous. Of course, Dat wouldn’t listen, so he got this horse named Mischief.”
Chris shifted his body so he was leaning back against the wall and facing her. His eyes misted over. “Dat went to town for supplies, and he left Gabriel and me alone on the farm. He told us to do our chores but not to train any horses until he got back. I was too immature and headstrong to follow his instructions.”
His voice faltered and he paused, licking his lips. “I told Gabriel we should get Mischief out and try to train him to show Dat how gut we were, though I really meant I wanted to prove both to myself and Dat that I could be good enough. Gabriel was only seventeen. He looked up to me, so he always went along with my idiotic schemes.”
He turned his attention back to the worktable again, running his thumbnail over the edge of it. “I got Mischief from the stable and told Gabriel to take him to the pasture, promising I’d be right there. I got distracted and then—” His voice hitched and he made a noise deep in his throat that sounded like a sob.
Emily scooted her stool over to him and placed her hand on top of his. “If it’s too painful, then you don’t need to tell me.”
He looked up and the tears rushing down his face shattered her heart. “I need to tell you,” he whispered. “I need to get this off my chest.”
“Take your time.” She reached up with her free hand and wiped away his tears, enjoying the feel of the stubble on his cheeks. It was bold of her to touch him, but she couldn’t bear the agony in his eyes. She longed to find a way to comfort him.
Chris kept his eyes focused on her as if she were his lifeline. “By the time I got to the pasture, Gabriel was dead.” His lower lip trembled with every word, but he pushed on. “Mischief had kicked him in the head, and it was too late. He was lying in a pool of blood, and there was nothing I could do. I think Gabriel walked up behind the horse and startled him. It’s a horse’s natural instinct to kick if they are spooked or scared.”
Emily tried to hold back her tears, but she couldn’t. She sniffed as they streamed down her hot cheeks. She attempted to share her condolences, but she couldn’t speak.
“I called nine-one-one, but there was nothing the paramedics could do.” Chris looked down at his lap where Emily’s hand remained on top of his. “My parents were devastated. After Gabriel was buried, mei dat’s grief turned into fury, and he directed it all at me. One way or another, he reminded me almost daily that I killed Gabriel by blatantly disobeying his instructions that day.”
Emily gasped. “He couldn’t possibly blame you. It wasn’t your fault. It was the horse that killed Gabriel, not you.”
Something flashed in Chris’s eyes, and Emily was almost certain it was appreciation.
“He does blame me. And the tension got so bad that all we did was argue—about anything and everything. He hasn’t always said it directly, but in so many ways Dat has let me know for a long time that I’m a failure, an embarrassment, and a disappointment to him—especially when it comes to working with the horses. After Gabriel’s death it only got worse. And this time, he said, there was nothing I could do to make up for my mistake. I couldn’t take it anymore, so I called Onkel Hank and asked if I could stay with him until I earn enough money to live on my own.”
“Chris.” Emily squeezed his hand. “This is so unfair. You made one mistake, but you don’t deserve to be treated like that. I don’t understand your dat. He’s already lost one son, so how could he let you leave?”
He shoved his free hand through his light brown hair. “Mei dat didn’t look at me when I told him I was leaving. He didn’t even say good-bye to me. Mei mamm begged me not to go, but I couldn’t stay there and continue to see the disappointment in mei dat’s eyes. It’s better that I’m gone. I’ve embarrassed my parents enough. I just wanted to come here and find some peace. I need to find a way to move past this grief and move on with my life.”
He paused and looked at Emily as if pondering something intently. She held her breath again, waiting for whatever he wanted to tell her.
“I’m such a coward, Em.” He squeezed the back of his neck with his free hand. “I don’t even have the courage to call mei mamm and tell her I’m okay. Can you believe that? Do you still want to be mei freind now that you know the truth about me?” His eyes begged her to say something encouraging. He broke the trance and stared down toward his boots.
Emily leaned forward. She placed a finger under his chin and tilted his face, forcing him to look directly into her eyes. He sucked in a deep breath and the air around them seemed to crackle with electricity.
“Look at me, Christopher Hochstetler, and listen to what I’m telling you,” she said, her voice quavering with each word. “I don’t think you’re a coward. I think your dat is wrong to berate you for Gabriel’s death when it was clearly an accident. And if you want me to, I’ll call your mamm and give her a message for you. And to answer your question, I’ve wanted to be your freind since the first time I met you. I just had to figure out a way to make you realize I was here for you.”
Chris stared at her with what looked like a combination of awe and bewilderment.
Their faces were so close that if Chris leaned forward merely a few inches, his lips would brush hers. An unfamiliar shiver of wanting danced up her spine. She had never experienced such a strong attraction to a man, but she had already gone too far when she touched his shoulder, held his hand, and brushed tears off his cheeks. She had never been comfortable enough to touch a man, and here she was talking to one alone when she should be asleep in her bed. She had to put some space between them before she broke even more rules tonight.
Emily lowered herself back down onto the stool and released her hand from his. Rain drummed a steady cadence on the roof and skylights, and the sound filled the thick silence hanging between them as they stared at each other.
She was suddenly aware of her attire, sitting in front of a man with her hair uncovered. She touched her braid and then hugged her arms over her father’s large coat.
What would Mamm say if she saw me now?
A TREMENDOUS WEIGHT HAD BEEN LIFTED OFF CHRIS’S chest, and he could breathe, truly breathe, for the first time since Gabriel died. Opening up to Emily had released something deep in his soul and allowed some of the grief he’d been carrying to melt away. He’d never felt such a close connection to anyone in his life, and he suddenly wasn’t lonely anymore. Emily had changed his life just by listening to him. For the first time since he’d lost Gabriel, he had a friend. No one had ever listened or responded to him the way Emily had.
He’d never given anyone the chance.
He yearned to pull Emily into his arms and hug her until she was breathless. If he were that forward with her, he risked scaring her away, which was the exact opposite of what he needed. Fantasizing about touching her was wrong, but he couldn’t deny an invisible magnet was pulling him toward her. Emily was like no other maedel he’d ever met, and he longed to hold on to her and never let her go.
Chris had taken a terrifying risk by pouring out his soul to Emily and sharing nearly all his secrets. He had worried she would reject him, but to his astonishment, instead of running she’d defended him fiercely, insisting he wasn’t a coward.
He didn’t deserve Emily’s friendship. He’d hurt her feelings more than once and even made her cry with his stinging words, but she remained by his side. And now he didn’t know what to say to her. The most logical thing would be to thank her.
“Danki,” he finally said. “Danki for listening and not running away.”
“Gern gschehne,” she said, hugging her arms over the giant coat she wore. “I’ve already told you I don’t plan to run away from you.”
Emily looked adorable sitting there on the stool. She was obviously dressed in her father’s coat and boots, which were much too big for her. Her golden hair, styled in a braid, hung
to her small waist. Her skin was almost ivory in the soft light of the lantern. She reminded him of a painting of an angel he’d once seen in an Englisher church when he attended a funeral for one of his father’s frequent customers. What would it be like to have a maedel like her at his side, supporting him emotionally and telling him everything would be all right during the bad times?
A hurricane of emotion swept over Chris—admiration, grief, worry, regret, and longing. He wasn’t good enough for her, but he couldn’t bring himself to push her away again. He couldn’t risk losing her. He needed her too badly.
She yawned and covered her mouth with both hands.
“You need your sleep,” he said. “It’s late.”
Another yawn overtook her pretty face.
“You can barely hold up your head,” he said. “You should go home.”
She shook her head like a petulant child and then grinned. “I’m not going home until you do.”
Chris leaned forward and breathed in her aroma. Was it the smell of strawberries? “I’m not the only one with a great smile.”
Emily’s eyes widened, and her cheeks flushed bright pink. She was even more attractive with her rosy cheeks. “I don’t have a great smile.”
“Ya, you do. In fact, you have schee eyes too,” Chris said as she continued to look flabbergasted. “Your eyes remind me of the summer sky.” He reached forward to touch her braid and then stopped, quickly setting his hand in his lap. Hands off, Chris! “Your hair is like spun gold. It reminds me of the summer sun.”
Emily blinked. “Danki.” She yawned again, her eyes glistening in the warm yellow light.
“Come on, Em. You need to sleep.” He stood and held out his hand. To his surprise she took it, allowing him to lift her to her feet. He enjoyed the feeling of her warm skin against his. He turned off the lantern on the workbench and then started toward the door.
“Wait.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him back.