The image of him rushing across the street and nearly being hit by a car had seared itself into her brain. He’d been so worried about her that he’d been careless with his own safety.
In a way, he’d been a little responsible for her breaking things off with John. It hadn’t just been that she’d realized she had feelings for Nick when they’d kissed.
No, if Nick hadn’t been the man that he was—kind, caring, considerate, generous and not just to impress her—she might have believed that John was the measure of a good man and she’d have accepted that she should be with him. And she’d have accepted the manipulation and the slaps to her self-esteem.
Naomi smiled as she stitched. She had Jamie to thank for learning about that from her.
The gray clouds overhead—when sunshine had been predicted—reminded Nick of that saying “You don’t like the weather? Just wait five minutes and it’ll change.”
He had mixed feelings about picking Naomi and Leah up this morning to drive them to a quilting show a couple of towns over. Maybe he should think about asking one of his drivers to switch routes with him, he mused as he drove to Leah’s house. It might be better if he didn’t have to have contact with Naomi for a while.
Maybe then he’d stop thinking about her so often. Maybe then he wouldn’t be acting like a lovesick teenager over a girl he couldn’t have.
He was glad that she’d started looking happier, more herself again. She’d obviously made peace with her decision and was moving past it.
So why couldn’t he?
Leah opened the door when he knocked and invited him in. Naomi had gone to check on Mary, their elderly neighbor who lived next door.
“No more crutches?” he asked, gesturing at the footed cane she used. “No more ankle boot?”
“It’s doing much better,” she told him. “I promised my doctor I’d use the cane until my next visit.”
She sat down in the living room and invited him to do so as well. He declined her offer of coffee and waited for Naomi.
“I’m not going with Naomi today,” she told him. “I’m concerned about Mary. I’m going to stay with her until her daughter can come to be with her this afternoon. Naomi just went over there for a minute and then we’re trading places.”
Nick felt a mixture of elation and dread at the news.
“I see.”
Leah smiled slightly. “I’m sure you know by now that Naomi is no longer going to marry John. And that he’s moved away.”
He nodded, not sure where she was going with this.
“I know that you have …” Leah hesitated, staring down at her hands in her lap as she tried to find the right words.
Then she lifted her chin. “I know that you have feelings for Naomi. We started to talk about it in Florida but we got interrupted.”
“I haven’t forgotten.”
Suddenly restless, he stood and paced. “I know what you’re asking. You want to know if I’m going to act on those feelings now that John’s no longer in the picture.”
He stopped in front of her. “The answer is no, Leah. And if it makes you feel any better I’ll get you another driver for your work schedule. It’s too late for today, but I promise I’ll be on my best behavior.”
“I’m not trying to hurt you, Nick.”
“I know. You’re just trying to protect Naomi.” He sighed. “If you don’t mind, I’ll wait in the van.”
“Nick! Come back!”
Just as he reached the door it swung open.
“Oh, Nick! I almost hit you with the door!” Naomi pressed her fingers to her lips. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Are you ready to go?”
“Yes. Let me get my things.”
“Nick, if I could talk to you for a minute,” Leah began.
“Sorry, Leah, it’ll have to be later. We have to go.” He moved past Naomi. “I’ll be in the van.”
“But we have time if Grossmudder needs to talk to you,” Naomi protested.
“We really need to get on the road,” he said. “Traffic’s always bad around these shows.”
She joined him in the van a few minutes later, carrying a package wrapped in paper and a tote bag. He didn’t have to wonder what was in the tote when the van filled with the delicious scents of cinnamon and coffee a few minutes later.
When he glanced over at her she gave him a cool look. “Since you rushed us out of the house I’m sure you don’t have time to stop for coffee and a cinnamon roll.”
“You’re not that cruel.”
“You’d be surprised.” She stared ahead, her arms folded across her chest.
He subsided. The Naomi he knew had too generous a heart to make him suffer.
Sure enough, a few minutes later she turned in her seat. “You can pull over in that little park ahead.”
Grinning, he did as she directed and offered to carry the tote. She handed it to him. “Might as well. You’re going to eat most of what’s inside anyway.”
When they got nearer, they saw that the two wooden tables were occupied by others who had the same idea to have breakfast outdoors. Nick couldn’t blame them. The sun had come out and a gentle spring breeze was chasing the clouds away.
She took the tote from him and handed him the package. “Here, open this. I made it for you.”
Curious, he pulled the twine from the package and tore the paper off. “You made me a quilt! It’s gorgeous.”
“It’s called a Mariner’s Compass quilt. I thought you might like it.”
“I love it.” He stroked his hand over it.
“Go ahead, spread it on the grass.”
He stared at her. “Are you kidding? It’ll get dirty!”
“Then you can wash it,” she said, smiling. “It’s made to be used, Nick. You can throw it in the washer and hang it on the clothesline.”
“I have a dryer.”
“Then you can throw it in the dryer.”
He watched as she lowered herself to the quilt, and when the wind lifted her hem she tucked her skirt under each leg, disappointing him.
“Aren’t you sitting down?” she asked as she pulled a foilwrapped package from the tote bag.
He sat.
She opened the foil and set the rolls near him. He chose one and bit in, letting the sticky roll melt on his tongue.
He accepted a napkin from her, but when she turned to unscrew the thermos of coffee he couldn’t resist licking a couple of fingers before he used it.
“So good,” he mumbled. “Thanks.”
“They’re not such a big deal, you know,” she told him. “I’m sure there are fancier things I could have made for you.”
“It’s the simple things,” he said, wiping his lips and taking a sip of coffee. “Like this,” he said, gesturing with the hand that held the roll.
One of the couples that had occupied a nearby table walked to their car.
“Want to move to a table?” he asked Naomi.
“I’d rather stay here if you don’t mind,” she said. “Feels more like a picnic.” She chose a smaller roll than Nick and took a bite. “I always loved picnics. No matter what the weather.”
“Remember the one we had on the beach?”
She laughed. “We got sand in the sandwiches.”
He made the mistake of looking at her then and their gazes met.
“I had a wonderful time there,” he said slowly.
“Me too.”
“I felt that—” he stopped. “I felt something changed between us. Was I wrong?”
Naomi looked away. “Nick, it doesn’t do any good to talk about it.”
“I’m right, aren’t I?”
“Just because I’m not going to marry John doesn’t mean—”
“What? Doesn’t mean you’re interested in me?” he persisted.
There was a flurry of movement to their side and the other people walked to their vehicle.
Naomi screwed the cap back on the thermos and shoved it into the tote, then began folding the
foil around the uneaten rolls.
Nick’s stomach churned. He threw the roll he’d been eating to the squirrel who’d been sitting by a nearby tree, watching them with avid eyes. The animal grabbed it and scampered off to eat it.
Getting up, Nick reached down to grasp Naomi’s hand and help her to her feet just as she apparently started to rise. Her forward movement caught him off-guard and he steadied her, his hands grasping her forearms. She looked up at him, her lips parted in surprise, and then she raised up on her toes and kissed him.
His head reeled with the taste of her and his arms slipped around her waist and held her close, kissing her, kissing her.
He held her when they came up for air, his eyes sweeping her face, seeing the rosy flush on her cheeks. She looked stunned, the image of innocent passion, as she touched her fingers to her lips.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that,” she whispered, staring up at him.
“Yes, well, I hardly fought you off,” he told her, trying to lighten the mood because he was as shaken as she appeared to be.
“It can’t happen again. It can’t,” she repeated.
He frowned at her. “Who are you trying to convince? You—or me?”
Naomi bent to gather up the quilt, shaking the few leaves and pieces of grass that clung to it. Just like he had in Florida, Nick picked up two corners and shook it with her, then they folded it, but this time, he moved closer and closer as they matched corner to corner, until they were standing less than a foot apart.
She bit her lip. “You said what happened in Florida stays in Florida.”
“I know. I did. But I can’t forget.” He took the quilt and tucked it under his arm. “Can you?”
15
It was like being a kid in a candy store.
Quilts had been a passion for Naomi for years and years. She attended quiltings and quilt shows with her mother and grandmother, read quilting magazines, and quilted in slow periods during the day at the shop.
She couldn’t get enough of quilting.
But today her mind just wasn’t on it. Her mind was on Nick and how they’d kissed.
Even if she’d been able to forget the kiss, she couldn’t forget him.
“Since when did you develop an interest in quilts?” she asked him.
“I’m a collector,” he told her as they walked the crowded aisles of the building that housed the show.
“Collector? How many do you own?”
“One.”
She stopped to admire a log cabin quilt. “One and the one I just gave you?”
“Nope. Just one.” He smiled at her. “A perfect one. Custom order. Perfect.”
Naomi blushed. “You don’t have to say that.”
“Well, it is. I love it, and it’ll remind me of Florida every time I look at it.”
Don’t bring up Florida, she silently begged him.
“Naomi!” a woman called.
A friend hailed her and they chatted for a few minutes. The woman, Lillian, knew Nick and nodded at him before Nick excused himself so they could talk.
“I thought Leah was coming.”
“She stayed home to be with Mary. She’s not feeling well.”
“I didn’t know Nick liked quilt shows,” the woman, who was her grandmother’s age, remarked with an upraised brow.
“He drove me. He said he was bored waiting in the van and asked if I minded him walking around with me.” She said it matter-of-factly, hoping that nothing seemed untoward.
“My Eli sure wouldn’t want to be here with me,” Lillian said. “Well, I think I’ll be going now. Tell Leah I’ll be by the shop later this week. I hear my order’s in.”
Naomi nodded. She turned to go down another aisle and Nick reappeared at her side.
“Lillian said Eli wouldn’t have any part of the show.”
“Yeah? He doesn’t know what he’s missing,” Nick said. “The show’s cool. And there’s even a museum exhibit with Civil War quilts in the building next door. Did you know that?”
She nodded. “They often have a museum exhibit at this show. You know, you didn’t have to walk away while I talked to Lillian.”
“I know.” He handed her a bag. “Bought you something. And I don’t want to hear that I didn’t need to do it. Not after giving me that quilt this morning.”
Naomi lifted her shoulders and then let them fall. “And that was a thank you for all you did for my grandmother and me, taking us to Florida.” She smiled at him. “She’s like a different person since we came back.”
She paused, thinking about it. Well, part of that could be because an old friend of hers had been stopping by to see her a lot. A male friend. But that was private, not something she’d be sharing with Nick.
She pulled out of the bag a pair of scissors that had a long ribbon to carry them around your neck. “Oh, perfect! I’m always putting my scissors down and then looking for them.” She looked up at him. “Thank you.”
As they walked around some more Naomi became aware that Nick’s hand would occasionally brush against hers. At first she thought she was imagining it, but when she paid attention she found that he was, indeed; it wasn’t her imagination.
They walked over to the Civil War quilt exhibit. The quilts displayed were worn and delicate, their colors faded. But the intricate stitching and the complicated patterns told a story of women who created something useful and beautiful from mere scraps of material after they’d worked hard all day.
Women had used scraps of fabric to fashion quilts to warm members of their family from birth to death—soldiers were often even buried in their quilts, she read on a placard.
Quilts had been used to finance the war at first, then, toward the end, medical treatment for the soldiers who were wounded or sick. The time period, the scarcity of them when textiles became hard to get, and the fact that women kept finding scraps and sewing in spite of the hardships and the tragedy made the quilts fascinating to Naomi.
It was there, reading the stories of each quilt, that Nick moved a little closer and took her hand in his. Startled, her initial thought was to withdraw it and glance around to see if anyone noticed. The Amish were very private, and couples didn’t often engage in public displays of affection—PDAs, Jamie called them.
And they weren’t a couple, she and Nick.
His hand felt so good in hers, large and warm and comforting. But this was dangerous, this … flirting with the attraction they felt for each other.
No one else seemed to notice as they stood surrounded by a group of Englisch and Amish studying the quilt.
“You okay?” he whispered. But she understood that his question was more, “Is this okay?” when he glanced at their joined hands, then at her.
She looked up at him and frowned, uncertain of what to say. Part of her wanted the contact. Part of her was scared to death to encourage his attention. It was like a war was going on inside her—a war of emotions.
He started to withdraw his hand but hers curled around it almost without volition. His was a comfort she craved. A secret temptation. A dangerous thrill.
Nothing could come of it. Her feelings for Nick were just a temporary infatuation. They were friends who had become a little more than they should have while in another place that was a paradise.
Now they were back in reality, where the Amish and Englisch were occasionally friends but seldom more than that. Certainly, only rarely were they more. She’d thought about this a number of times since she and Nick went to Florida with Leah. These were dangerous thoughts, and she had to stop thinking them.
Nick opened Naomi’s door and helped her inside before rounding the hood and climbing inside.
He sat there, staring ahead, trying to figure out what to say to her.
“I think you have to put the key in.”
Turning, he saw that she was smiling at him.
“Yeah, I know.”
“So are you going to do it?”
He inserted the key and the engine roared to
life. He started to put the van in gear but then stopped and turned it off.
“It’s not all one-sided, is it? This attraction I have for you.”
Naomi closed her eyes and then opened them. “I wish it was.”
“Well, thanks.” He drew back.
She touched his arm. “How can it not be? You’re Englisch; I’m Amish.”
“So that’s it?”
She avoided his eyes and looked out her window. “It can’t be anything else.” Turning back, she met his gaze. “I don’t know what I was thinking when I kissed you.” She bent her head, feeling herself color. “I sure couldn’t think afterward.”
“Well, thanks.” He liked knowing that he affected her. Then he realized that she was really upset. “I’m sorry.”
“For kissing me? I was the one who started it today.”
“I’m not complaining.” He shot her a grin.
“No, you wouldn’t, would you?” she asked seriously. “It’s not as big a thing as it is in my community.”
“Look at me.” When he saw he had her attention, he said, “It was a big deal to me.”
Her eyes widened. “Really?”
“Really.” He hesitated, then found the words tumbling from his lips. “Naomi, I want to start courting you.”
“Courting me?”
She stared at him, stunned as if he’d just turned into an alien.
“That’s what you call it, right?”
“Well, that’s what the older people call it. We call it dating.”
He shrugged. “Dating sounds Englisch. Casual. Courting’s what it’s called when you’re seeing a woman and you think you want to marry her.”
“M—marry?”
“Did you think I’d offer anything less to a woman like you?”
“Nick, I never thought anything about it.” She pressed her fingers to her temples. “I can’t blame you for being confused. I haven’t been myself, kissing you such a short time after I broke off my engagement with John. I don’t know why any man—Amish or Englisch—would be interested in me.”
She dropped her hands into her lap. “It’s too soon. It’s just too soon to think about it, Nick. It’s just too … big to think about. It’s not like we’re both Amish or both Englisch. There are such … complications.”
The Heart's Journey: Stitches in Time Series #2 Page 17