“No prob,” the kid said, grinning.
She turned to Mark. “Well, I guess you’re going to gloat.”
“Me?” he said, finding his voice at last. “I never gloat.”
“Hah! You love winning.”
She knew him so well. “Sure. But I wouldn’t think of it now.”
When she tried to put weight on her injured foot and winced, Mark swept her up in his arms.
“What are you doing?”
“Isn’t it obvious?”
“You don’t need to carry me!”
“It’s no prob.” He winked and started for the car. She was light as a feather.
“Bill, please put this bag in the car for the nice people,” the woman said behind him.
“Sure thing.” The kid grabbed Mark’s bag, hurried ahead of them to put it in the back seat, then opened the passenger side door for Miriam.
“Oh, wait, Mark! I wanted to get a bag of apples.”
“I can get those for you,” the teenager said.
Mark helped her into the car, then turned to the teenager and handed him some money. “Will this cover it?”
“Yup. Be right back.”
When he returned and put the apples in the back seat, Mark handed him a ten dollar bill. “Thanks for all the help.”
“Hey, man, I was happy to help. You don’t have to tip me.”
Mark gave him a level stare. “Yes, I do. Thank you.” He turned and saw Miriam wincing in pain. Crouching down, he touched her ankle and frowned. “It’s pretty swollen. I think I should take you to the emergency room.”
“Nee, it’s just twisted.” She fanned her face with her hand. “Just take me home and Mamm will fix it.”
He rounded the hood and slid into the driver’s seat. The minute he started the car, he turned the air conditioning up to full blast.
“Oh, I love you,” she said with a heartfelt sigh.
He jerked his head to stare at her. She was leaning close to the vent to cool her face.
Miriam opened her eyes. “Something wrong?”
“No.” He pulled out onto the road and headed home. He had a lot to think about.
Twenty-Two
The second the words escaped her lips, Miriam blushed. “I’m sorry.”
Mark glanced over. “Sorry? For what?”
“I didn’t mean to say I loved you. I’ve obviously embarrassed you.”
“You didn’t embarrass me. Attorneys can’t be embarrassed.”
She laughed and leaned back in her seat. “You’re just joking to try to make me feel less foolish.”
“Is it foolish to say you love someone?”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re making this worse. I meant it like, I love you, you know just what to do to make me feel better. Like turning on the air conditioning right away when I’m about to pass out from the heat.”
“So you love me for my air conditioning.”
“And the root beer. I really enjoyed the root beer. I was so thirsty.”
She had to keep this light. If he ever discovered just how much she’d meant those accidental words, he’d start stammering and feeling sorry for her. She wouldn’t be able to bear it. She just wouldn’t.
“I love you as a friend, of course. A very gut friend.”
“I was worried about you today,” he said, staring ahead. “You were in there for a very long time.”
“I know.”
“I’m sorry that I dared you.”
She shrugged. “You couldn’t know I’d get lost.”
“You’re so capable. The most capable woman I know. I really did think you’d make it out of there quickly. Not as quickly as me but . . .” He turned to her, his eyes alight with mischief.
Then he sobered. “In the middle of the maze, I had a thought that stopped me in my tracks.”
“About what?”
“You.”
“Me?”
“Do you ever think about what might have happened if my dad had stayed here? If I’d grown up here?”
“What do you mean?”
“I never thought about it before. So much would be different if Dad had stayed here. I’m not saying I’m not glad he left since he didn’t like it. But my life would have been so different. You know?” He hesitated, almost seemed to be about to say something, then stopped.
Oh yes, life would have been so different. Sometimes Miriam wondered if they’d have gotten married. . . . Schur, she’d fantasized about what might have happened.
“Miriam?”
“I was just thinking. Ya, you’re right. So many things would be different.” She smiled. “You probably would have been a farmer. And the farm would pass to you. And John would be a happy man now.”
“You’re probably right. If I hadn’t grown up in Philadelphia, I might not have become an Englisch attorney.” He shook his head. “An unemployed Englisch attorney.”
She shifted in her seat, trying to get comfortable. Her ankle hurt so much.
“You sure we shouldn’t swing by the ER?”
“Nee, once I get some ice on it, I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
“Your parents are going to kill me,” he muttered.
“They are not. I tripped, that’s all.”
A few minutes later he pulled into her drive. Miriam reached for her door, but before she could open it he grasped her arm. “Don’t you dare move. Wait until I get around the car to help you.”
She threw up her hands. “Allrecht!” She hoped he wouldn’t touch her ankle again. His touch had made her shiver earlier. Fortunately he hadn’t noticed . . .
Then he was opening the door and reaching for her. “Nee!” she protested, batting away his hands.
He ignored her, scooped her up, and carried her up the porch steps.
“Remember what you said about my parents killing you?”
He gave her a wary look. “Yeah.”
“Well, don’t let Daed see you carrying me. Put me down.”
He did as she asked, and she was sorry she’d had to. But a maedel just wasn’t supposed to allow a single man to touch her that way.
And nothing made her sorrier. It had felt so wunderbaar to be cradled in those strong male arms.
She hobbled inside, Mark hard on her heels. Her dat was sitting in his recliner in the living room and he jumped up instantly.
“What happened?” he demanded.
“Just a silly accident. Where’s Mamm?”
“In the kitchen.” He followed them.
“Mamm, I twisted my ankle.” Miriam sank into a chair. Mark pulled up a second one and lifted her foot onto it.
Sarah hurried over and slipped her shoe off as gently as she could, but it hurt a lot. “How did this happen?”
“I tripped on a root when I was going through the cornfield maze at the Henderson farm.”
“Looks like a nasty sprain,” her mudder said. “Let’s get some ice on it.”
Miriam glanced at Mark. “I had a gut time,” she said.
He shuffled his feet, clearly uncomfortable as her father continued to stand there, silent. “Well, if you’re sure you don’t want me to drive you to the emergency room.”
“She’ll be fine,” Sarah said as she placed a bag of ice wrapped in a dish towel on Miriam’s foot.
“I’ll be going then. Hope you feel better.” Mark started to leave, then turned back. “Almost forgot the apples. I’ll get them.”
When he returned, he set the apples on the table.
“I thought the kinner and I could make caramel apples this week,” Miriam told her mudder.
“I’ll hide my knitting needles.”
Miriam laughed. “Last year,” she explained to Mark, “we ran out of sticks for the apples, so Jacob borrowed Mamm’s bamboo knitting needles when I wasn’t looking.”
Mark chuckled. “Well, see you later.”
She watched him go, then turned to her parents. “It really wasn’t his fault. I just turned my ankle when I didn’t see a root in
the maze.”
“I don’t approve of you going to such an activity.” He shook his head. “Halloween nonsense. Guess this was Mark’s idea.”
“It’s just a maze where Mrs. Henderson sells her baked goods and such this time of year. Not a haunted house.”
Daniel harrumphed and left the room.
Sarah set a glass of ice water in front of her, then sat down at the table. “We’ve talked about this before, Miriam. It’s not a gut idea to keep doing things with him. He’s not Amish.”
Miriam sipped the water, then looked at her mudder. “He said something interesting today, Mamm. He asked me if I’d ever thought about what would have happened if his dat hadn’t left here. If he—Mark, I mean—had grown up here.” She shifted the ice bag on her foot. The ice was helping a lot. “I think Mark would have become a farmer, like John, maybe be inheriting it from his dat if he’d stayed.” She thought about how Mark had hesitated, almost seemed to be about to say something and stopped. “And I wonder if I wouldn’t have ended up marrying Mark.”
“But his dat didn’t stay, kind, and Mark is Englisch.”
“I know, Mamm,” Miriam said with a heavy sigh. “I know.”
“Hey, can I help you, dude?”
Mark turned from examining the SUV to the tall, gangly teenager walking out of the swanky home in a neighborhood of mini-mansions. “Yeah. You Jason Durham?”
“Who wants to know?”
Mark studied the teen, noting the wary look, the defensive posturing. Major attitude with a side of privilege.
“Me.” He gestured at the dent in the bumper. “What caused this?”
“You the insurance adjuster or something?”
“Ah.” Mark tilted down his sunglasses and pierced the kid with a hard look. “So you claimed this on your insurance?”
“That’s none of your business if you’re not the insurance adjuster.”
“Did you happen to tell him you hit a buggy?”
The kid turned pale. “I’m not talking to you.”
“Okay, then, maybe I’ll talk to your parents. Bet they don’t know the truth.”
The kid’s gaze slid past him to Mark’s BMW.
“You a lawyer or something?”
“Or something.” Mark gave him a feral grin.
“I don’t have to talk to you. You haven’t read me my rights.”
“That’s the cops. Maybe you’d like to avoid this going to court. Leaving the scene of an accident with injuries is a felony. The friend who was with you is an accessory, too.”
A nervous tic flickered at the corner of the guy’s mouth.
“The Amish don’t do that. They don’t go to the police or the courts. What are you saying, you’re like that show about the Amish mob or something?”
“You have quite an imagination.”
He backed up and nearly tripped on a sprinkler head on the lush green lawn. “Look, it was an accident.”
“No, it wasn’t. It was deliberate and you and your friend left the scene with injuries and property damage.”
A car pulled into the drive behind them. Now the kid looked panicked. “My parents don’t know. Keep quiet and I’ll work a deal with you. Promise.” He wiped at the sweat on his upper lip.
Mark stuck his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. He watched as an attractive woman in her forties got out of another SUV and approached them.
“Hello,” she said, giving him an appraising look. “Jason, who’s your friend?”
“I just stopped to ask directions to the Amish community,” Mark said. “I’m in town for a couple of days on business, decided to take in the sights.”
“I see.” She glanced at his BMW. “Well, after you tell him how to get there, Jason, we need to have a talk. The school called me today.” She marched into the house.
Jason let out a sigh of relief. “Thanks, man.”
“I’m having a chat with your mother in five minutes if I don’t like what you have to say.”
“Look, I don’t need any hassle with the cops.”
“No, you don’t. And a struggling family doesn’t need to scrape up money to fix their buggy or replace their horse if it doesn’t live. The father has a broken arm and the children have bruises.”
Jason swallowed again. “So how much are we talking?”
Mark had done the research. He’d asked Abraham how much the repairs cost, talked to the vet. The Amish community had pitched in to help Abraham with the medical costs, but Mark wanted that reimbursed as well as the vet bills. He named a figure.
The kid paled again and gulped. “I don’t have that kind of cash.”
Mark pulled out his cell phone.
“Hey, hold on! Jeez, I didn’t say I couldn’t get it!”
“How?”
He shoved his hands in his pockets, stared at his feet, and mumbled.
“I didn’t catch that, pal.”
“I said I’ll sell some of my stuff.” His jaw tightened as he glared at Mark. “I need two days.”
Mark pulled a business card from his pocket and scribbled on it. “Get a cashier’s check—not a personal one—made out to this name.” He fixed him with his best intimidating stare. “I’ll be back in two days, same time. Be here.”
Jason nodded and trudged toward the house.
Mark watched him. It was the first time he’d used his legal skills on a minor. He searched his conscience. Nope, he didn’t feel a drop of sympathy for Jason. Miriam had said Lovina heard the teens laughing as they drove off.
He’d seen those sad, too-quiet kids with their bruises, and didn’t want to think about what might have happened if they’d been more seriously hurt. When a car and a buggy clashed, it was almost always bad for the occupants of the buggy.
Miriam had said there should be consequences.
He’d sure suffered consequences when he’d done something wrong growing up. How well he remembered his own mother disciplining him and calling it tough love.
The law called it justice.
He showed up at the appointed time two days later. The front door opened before he knocked, and the check was thrust at him.
But Mark had another idea. “Come with me. The offer to settle this includes your delivering this personally.”
They stared at each other for a long moment. Then Jason grabbed his keys from a hook by the door. “Fine. But I’m taking my own car.”
Mark glanced in the rear view mirror as he drove. Jason followed him dutifully. He pulled into the Millers’ drive, parked, and watched as Jason’s SUV pulled in beside him.
Abraham sat on the porch. Mark climbed the steps with Jason and introduced him.
“Jason here has something he wants to give you.” With that, Mark stepped back.
Jason handed Abraham the check. Abraham’s eyes widened.
“It’s to fix your buggy, pay for the medical bills,” Jason said, reddening.
“I see.” Abraham studied the check.
“Look, he said that’s what I needed to give you.” Jason jerked his head toward Mark.
Abraham lifted his gaze. “Did he tell you that you had to?”
The screen door opened. “Mark? I thought I heard cars.” Lovina glanced at the SUV and paled. “That’s the car that hit us.” She put her hand to her throat as she turned to stare at Jason. “Why are you here?”
Abraham held out the check to her. “He brought this. I was just asking Mark if he made him do it.”
“Mein Gott!” Lovina gasped.
“Mamm? What’s wrong?”
The Miller children stepped out of the house and clung to their mother’s skirts.
“Nothing’s wrong,” Lovina said. “This man came to see us.”
One of the two girls looked at the SUV. “That’s the bad car! It hurt us!”
Jason edged toward the stairs, but Mark grasped him by the arm. “They were in the buggy that day.”
“I didn’t know,” Jason sputtered. “I didn’t know. Sorry.”
“Don’t say that to me.” He indicated the Miller family now gathered around Abraham’s chair.
Jason closed his eyes, nodded. He opened them and turned to the family. “I’m sorry.”
The smallest girl walked over to him and grinned. “You want a cookie? Mamm makes gut cookies.”
“I—” He looked at Mark. “I guess so. Yeah, I like cookies. My mom never makes them.”
“You can have two,” she promised him. She looked at her mudder. “Right, Mamm?”
“He schur can. Take him into the kitchen and all of you can have some,” Lovina said, her eyes on Mark.
The children took Jason’s hands and led him into the house.
As soon as they were out of earshot, Lovina turned to Mark. “Did you make him do this?”
“I just encouraged him to do the right thing.” Mark turned to Abraham. “I wanted him to see what he’d done. At first it was just about getting you the money. Then I realized he needed to see the consequences of his actions.” He glanced at the front door. “Would you deny this young man the chance to do the right thing by you? To learn from his mistake?”
Lovina looked at her mann. “Kinner need to learn such things, Abraham,” she said quietly.
“Mamm,” said one of the children as they returned to the porch. “I put some cookies in a bag for Jason. Is that allrecht?”
Lovina touched her face. “Of course.”
“Well, I better go,” Jason said. “My mom will pitch a fit if I haven’t finished my homework by the time she gets home.”
“Bye, Jason!” the children chorused.
“Bye!” He looked at Abraham and Lovina. “Thanks. I hope you feel better, Mr. Miller.”
Abraham stood and held out his good hand. “Abraham. And this is Lovina. You stop by anytime and say hello.”
Jason gulped and nodded. Then he rushed off to his vehicle.
“I hope he’s learned something,” Mark said. “I think he’s been raised to have everything and hasn’t thought about what he’s doing, thought about other people. Hung with the wrong crowd.”
Lovina smiled. “So are you trying to be a teacher like Miriam, Mark?”
He chuckled. “I hadn’t thought about it that way.”
“Ruth, are there any cookies left?” Lovina asked her daughter.
Seeds of Hope Page 19