The Amish Wonders Collection

by Ruth Reid

  Grace lifted her head. “I hope you don’t think badly of me for . . . kissing you.”

  He brushed his palm over her cheek. “I wish you would have told me at the time.”

  “Why?” Her eyes searched his.

  “I would’ve put the gun down.”

  Her crooked smile was enough to overpower what reserve he’d managed to contain. He leaned closer, drawn by the vulnerability in her moonlit eyes. She didn’t pull away nor did she stop her trembling lips from parting or her eyes from closing. He lowered his mouth fully over hers, kissing her deeply. If she was going to have memories of anyone, he wanted them to be of him. He lingered, savoring the softness of her lips. “Mei Gracie,” he said, trailing kisses across her jaw to the lobe of her ear. He nibbled on her lobe until a soft moan escaped her lips, summoning him back to her mouth. This time, she met his kiss with matching passion. His control slipping, he melded completely with her, something he’d never done. A frightful shudder sounded the alarm in his conscience.

  He broke from the kiss, faltering back a few steps, exhaling ragged breaths, and for the first time, he was at an utter loss for words. Sorry didn’t seem right, but his conscience pulsated with a slew of reasons why he should be sorry—all of which regarded the hours left until daybreak, their lack of a chaperone, and the fact that she wasn’t safe—not at the moment—not with him. Lord, help me!

  “We probably should . . .” He stopped from adding, “wait until we are married.” Where did that come from? He scratched his bristled jaw. It must be the fatigue. “We have a few hours before it gets light,” he said, refocusing his thoughts. “Let’s find a tree to sit under. Maybe we can get some sleep.” After she’d awakened every fiber in his body, he wasn’t sure he could sleep. But the Lord knew he needed to.

  “Okay,” she muttered. Her eyes sorrowful and avoiding, she tilted her face to the sky and closed her eyes.

  Please don’t regret what we just shared. He gave her half a second, then cleared his throat. “Let’s check out the trees over there.” He traipsed through the meadow, his wet boots squishing water as he walked.

  Her big, brown eyes—the vulnerable gaze she’d given him—flashed in his mind, unleashing a tidal wave of guilt that washed over him like acid. He should have controlled his craving. She wasn’t the type of woman who gave anything away freely—not like Neva.

  Ben glanced over his shoulder at Grace. Her limp more pronounced, she wasn’t just lagging behind to avoid him. He stopped. “I’m sorry. I didn’t even ask how your ankle was.”

  “I think the cold river water took away the swelling. It’s fine,” she said, offering a tenuous smile.

  “I don’t believe you.” He scooped her up.

  “Ben, I’m more than capable of walking,” she said, her tone growing more agitated.

  “Can you allow me the privilege of carrying you just once without complaining?”

  She crossed her arms.

  “You look rather cute when you pout.”

  The line between her eyes deepened and she let out a low growl that he fought silencing with a kiss. He stopped under a large oak and let her down, then sat down beside her, leaning his back against the tree.

  She shifted in several positions.

  “Do you want to find another tree with a smoother bark? There is probably a beech nearby.”

  “Nay, I’ll be fine.”

  Clearly she wasn’t fine; she wiggled miserably. Ben slipped his arm around her, moving his shoulder so she could rest her head against him.

  “Do you think this is wise?” she asked while yawning.

  “Nett at all.” He smiled. “Nau close your eyes and go to sleep.” And dream of me.

  If Grace yielded to her own sage advice, she would insist that Ben not hold her so close. But wet and shivering, she wilted into his arms, absorbing his warmth. When he pressed her closer into his cocoon, she didn’t resist. She peered up at him, taking in his brawny jaw and the lips that ravaged hers so completely that they still pulsed.

  Ben grinned. “Grace, aren’t you tired?”

  Heat climbed her neck and dispersed over her face. She shut her eyes.

  He brushed strands of hair away from her face, threading his fingers through her hair and gently caressing her temple with the pad of his thumb. Within a short time, he’d lulled her into sleepiness. She was sure he’d called her Gracie—something only Philemon had called her—and she didn’t know how she felt about that.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  The kiss Ben and Grace shared stole his breath, his heart, and his mind all at the same time. Now, as she slept in perfect peace, cozy in his arms and practically purring, he wrestled with notions of waking her just to kiss her again. Never had a woman affected him so completely, nor had someone awakened his conscience to this degree. He should pray. Ben squeezed his eyes closed. Except for before meals, he had never been one to pray much—especially like he had over the last several hours, but he couldn’t deny the peace he felt when he had. As if this experience had confirmed that the true hope of salvation could only be found in Jesus. Ben trembled at the thought that God’s grace had extended to him despite his lukewarm attitude toward fully embracing his faith, becoming baptized, even joining the church.

  Ben gazed upward as the morning light filtered through the oak branches above them. Working on a fishing boat in Florida, he’d seen plenty of beautiful sunrises, but none as breathtaking as today. Golden rays of light illuminated Grace’s face in an almost angelic glow. A heavenly reminder to keep his hands off her. But what harm could come from letting her sleep awhile longer so he could hold her?

  Grace moaned softly, then without waking, she turned her face into the crutch of his arm and lifted her hand to his chest. His heart hammered with unrestrained force. As if she knew the effect she had on him, her lips curled into a smile. Then her eyes fluttered open. She blinked several times before steadying her gaze on him.

  “Gudder mariye, Gracie.” He lifted his hand to his chest and placed it over hers. “Sleep well?”

  Her eyes widened and she jerked her hand out from under his. “How long have you been awake?”

  He shrugged. “I heard you talking in your sleep.” He shouldn’t tease her so early in the morning, but he was fond of the rosy shade of pink her face was turning. “I hope those dreams were of me.”

  She shot up, lashes shuttering.

  His arms empty, a chill settled over the place where she’d been. He chuckled nervously. “Don’t you want to know what you said?”

  “Yes—no! Never mind.” She shook her head and took a few steps backward. “I don’t want to know.”

  He stood and, kinked up after sitting so long, stretched his muscles. She turned her gaze away, but not before he saw the deep crimson hue her face had turned. She’d only mumbled a few words during the night, nothing that he could decipher, but oh, how he loved getting under her skin. “Oh, I think you would want to know what secrets you shared, Gracie.” He grinned with inflated confidence and moved toward her.

  A rosy shade of pink still colored her cheeks.

  Hands covering her face, she spun around. “Why do you call me Gracie?”

  He placed his hand on her shoulder and kept it there despite her flinch. “It’s a term of endearment,” he said, turning her to face him. His gaze drifted to her lips and the moment she licked them, he couldn’t shift his focus. He cupped his hand over the back of her neck and brought her closer to him. “Don’t you like it?”

  Hearing her raspy breaths made fighting the urge to kiss her nearly impossible, but as he leaned closer, her words cut him off. “Do you call many women that?”

  “Nay,” he said. “The only other Grace I know is mei mamm’s age.” He moved back into position.

  His lips had barely brushed against hers when she pulled back. “You know what I mean, Ben.”

  He dropped his hand to his side, then raised it to rub the back of his neck.

  “I thought so,” she hissed. “You’
re nett adding me to the lot.”

  He’d wanted to be honest with her about his past, but her self-righteousness ignited a fire he couldn’t squelch. “Yes, I’ve flirted with women—several. If you’re waiting for someone pure like yourself . . . it’s nett me.”

  She stiffened, stared at him blankly, then closed her eyes and dropped her head in disgrace.

  “Grace.” Ben’s mouth dried and he swallowed. “Mei feelings for you are real . . .” Until this moment, he hadn’t realized the fullness of what he’d felt toward her, but he would never question his love for her now. If she would have him. “Most of mei flirting with maedels has been innocent.” He shouldn’t have said that. Her jaw tightened. “But one person . . . Neva. Mei flirting was . . . misunderstood and, well, she was drunk and . . . we ended up staying out all night on the beach.”

  Grace bristled. “Spare me the sordid details.”

  “Will you just hear me out before you cast me to the devil?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “I’m nett God. I don’t need to listen to your confessions.”

  “And I bet you’re stingy with forgiveness too.” He nodded, fueling himself. “You’re all balled up in self-righteousness. You’ve judged me since the moment we met.” Ben snorted. A gentle answer turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger. Ben blew out a breath as the verse from Proverbs spoke to his spirit. Apologize. Ben grimaced. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “You shouldn’t have said what? That you slept with someone, who apparently you cast aside to come to Michigan—or what?”

  A gentle answer turns away wrath . . . gentle answer. Gentle. “I shouldn’t have called you self-righteous. And the time Neva and I stayed out all nacht, I was trying to sober her up.”

  Her glare never faltered.

  Either she was stone deaf suddenly or she’d disregarded everything he’d said. The back of his neck prickled defensively. He should let it go . . . but he couldn’t. “You’re stingy with forgiveness.”

  She squared her shoulders and tipped her chin smugly.

  Ben crossed his arms. “But you’re nett stingy with your kisses.” He smiled, wide and gloating.

  The air left Grace’s lungs in a whoosh and she spun around as her eyes burned with tears. Ben was right, she hadn’t been stingy. She’d even kissed him in her dream during the night, only in her dream, they were married. He probably knew that, too, because he teased her about talking in her sleep. Grace batted away the tears as they collected on her lashes. Once she moved to Ohio, things would return to normal.

  She heard Ben approach from behind before he spoke.

  “Gracie, please don’t hate me.”

  “I don’t,” she said, avoiding his rueful gaze. “I just want to go home.” She collected her hair, her fingers fumbling to braid it.

  “Can we talk about—?”

  “Nay.” She didn’t need any more pleas of forgiveness and she didn’t need more memories to infest her dreams. But what she did need was to contain this tangled mess of hair. A simple braid shouldn’t be this difficult.

  Ben sighed. He reached into his pocket and pulled out her prayer kapp.

  Her hands froze. Had he had her prayer kapp all this time? Perhaps if he’d returned it earlier she wouldn’t have been so forward. I’m sorry, God. I shouldn’t need to depend on a kapp to remind me to pray or to avoid temptation . . .

  “I found it when I was searching for you. I went half mad when I found it next to the river. Jah, I was really worried.” He nodded as if amazed by the realization.

  “Only half mad? Why doesn’t that surprise me? Is the other half of your worry still in Florida with . . . Neva, was it?”

  He furrowed his brow. “Are you going to criticize everything I say from nau on? I went completely mad—I even prayed for a miracle.” He mumbled something under his breath, turned a sharp circle, and came at her with fire in his eyes. “You know,” he said, pointing his index finger close to her nose, “had God nett answered mei prayer—I wouldn’t have found you.” He inched closer to her still. “Or maybe I would’ve arrived too late. Maybe Jack would’ve done more than kiss you. Would you have asked me to erase those memories as well?”

  Every fiber within her ignited. She narrowed her eyes.

  He took a step back, lifting his hands in surrender. “All right, I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “I hit Jack with the shovel, so you might not want to . . . to get me riled.”

  He grinned. “You’re nett riled yet?”

  Ben ignited more than her temper, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing. She resumed braiding her hair. He would probably hold it over her forever that she had initiated a kiss. Thankfully, he didn’t know what effect it’d had on her. Nothing so wrong had ever felt that right. Lord, forgive me.

  The sound of branches snapping and dead leaves rustling underfoot startled Grace. Ben heard it too. He stood in front of her, spreading his arm out protectively.

  Her breath stilled in her lungs. She peeked around Ben’s shoulder as the figure emerged from the thicket, and then, recognizing Philemon, she let her tension drain with a breathy exhale. Ben shot a glimpse at her over his shoulder, but kept his arm locked in place.

  Philemon charged toward them. His clothes wet and clinging to his body, he appeared as weary as they did.

  “It’s okay.” She gave Ben’s shoulder a pat and stepped out from behind him.

  “Gracie!” Philemon rushed to her, surprising her with a bear hug that lifted her off the ground and into his lumberman arms. She giggled as he whirled her around, then gently lowered her to the ground. He eyed her over, head to foot, as heat prickled to the surface of her face. A look of shock spread over his face and he lifted his hand to her cheek. “You’re black-and-blue. What have they done to you?”

  “I’m all right nau.”

  Ben approached, smiling buoyantly. “You must be one of Grace’s bruders.” He thrust his hand toward Philemon. “I’m Ben Eicher.”

  With Philemon’s hand still capping her shoulder, he extended his other hand to Ben. “I’m Philemon Troyer. But I’m nett Gracie’s bruder. We’ve been very close friends for . . .” He gazed at her with a gleam in his eyes. If she didn’t know his plans to propose to Becky, her heart might have been fooled by the affection in his tone. Even so, it felt good to be missed.

  Ben cleared his throat. “I think he’s asking you, Grace.”

  “Ach.” She exchanged smiles with Philemon. “Feels like . . . forever,” she and Philemon said in unison, then laughed. She glanced at Ben. His smile had faded and his slightly narrowed eyes were aimed at her. “Ach, Philemon, this is Ben Eicher.”

  Ben’s jaw twitched.

  “Ah . . . I meant to say, Ben is from Florida.”

  “Jah, so I’ve heard. Bishop Yoder says you’ve been staying with them,” Philemon said, adding, “I know I’ve been giving Gracie all the attention, but everyone has been worried about you, too, Ben.”

  Ben lowered his head sheepishly.

  Philemon clapped his shoulder. “Danki for taking care of her. She’s a very special woman.”

  Philemon had spoken highly of her and always with a hint of pride that fed her false belief that one day she would become his wife. Her thoughts adrift, she hadn’t even noticed Philemon staring at Ben until she followed his line of sight and noticed her prayer kapp in Ben’s hand. She stifled a short gasp.

  “Jah, she is special.” Ben handed her the prayer kapp without lifting his gaze.

  Her stomach pitted with a heaviness she wasn’t expecting as a mix of relief and regret fought to dominate her thoughts. She was anxious to get home and relieved that the nightmare had ended, but she regretted having ever kissed Ben.

  Ben masked his somber mood with a smile when Philemon made the comment about how he and Grace must be starved. Ben’s stomach stopped growling hours ago, but his physical hunger—the craving, which burned in his gut whenever he held Grace—could never be satisfied.
<
br />   “Well, should we get started?” The lines that cornered Philemon’s eyes softened as he looked to his side at Grace. “I know where there’s a safe place to cross the river.”

  She offered a weak smile. “I’m afraid I gave Ben a fit when we crossed it last nacht.” She glanced over her shoulder at Ben. “Isn’t that right?”

  “We were in a dogfight with Jack,” he replied dryly.

  Her nose scrunched as if she didn’t like his snippy answer and she redirected her attention to Philemon. “It was awful. I thought I was going to drown. Jack held me under . . .” She wiped her eyes with her dress sleeve.

  Philemon certainly had more willpower than Ben, not taking her into his arms at the first sign of a tear. It wasn’t Ben’s place now to console her. He’d done enough of that last night.

  Philemon merely offered her a crumpled hankie, damp from the river. “The police found him washed up downstream.”

  “Dead?” Ben asked.

  Philemon nodded. “Jah.”

  Ben couldn’t help but notice Grace’s back stiffen. He would have expected some sort of elation, but when she glanced at him, all that showed was hooded despondence. She lifted the hankie to her nose and blew.

  Another man met them on the trail. It didn’t take long listening to the conversation to know that he was Mattie’s husband, Andy. Grace introduced him once again as “Ben from Florida.” Not as the man she’d passionately kissed—or who’d held her in his arms all night. Not even the man who had rescued her from Jack.

  “Ben?” Grace lifted her brows. “Philemon asked what brought you to Michigan.”

  “Mei rebel tendency got me into trouble,” he said, fixing his gaze on Grace. “I was on the first bus out of town.”

  She peered at him just as he expected—with disgust—then jutted her chin in that self-righteous snub and looked away. It would be easier if she despised him, he decided.

  “Mattie’s been worried sick about you,” Andy said. “She told me how the man had threatened to take her first . . . I don’t know that she would have been strong enough to . . .”