“Every Sunday night, when you’re having dinner with Twinkle-toes.”
“That’s what you call Pablo?” She laughed out loud. “Well, some girls like the twinkle in his eyes, but he is a good dance teacher, and that’s good for the studio. Good for the club, too. My parents can’t go on performing forever, and they’ve about given up touring. That’s why Poppy set down roots here when I was a little girl. He started the studio, and my uncle Raul built the club.” Through the years, the salsa dance studio and nightclub had proven to be a perfect venue for Anton and Sofia Greco, as the two businesses gave them the chance to teach and perform salsa dance for the growing Latin community in Philadelphia. All the locals knew Juanita’s parents, who were often called the king and queen of Philly salsa.
“Not to put the guy down,” Chris said. “I mean, if Pablo is helping with the family business, more power to him. I respect your parents’ artistry and the dynasty they’ve built here. But I don’t get the way they seem to think that marrying you off to this guy is part of a business deal.”
Basking in the light of his eyes, she smiled. “Are you jealous?”
“Sure. He’s a big-shot salsa dancer.”
“But when I’m in the room with him?” She shook her head. “There’s no fire. No chemistry.”
“Not like us?”
Sensation shivered through her as he smoothed his fingers along her jawline. When they were alone, he would murmur to her that her skin was so amazingly soft that he couldn’t resist touching her. And she would whisper back that she wanted to be touched. This was their secret dialogue, the sultry exchange of people in love, two people who were allowed so few precious moments together.
“Not like us.”
“Look, I don’t care if Pablo wants to dance rings around me.” His hands gripped her waist and he pulled her close, so that their bodies pressed together. “Just as long as I get to spend Sundays, and every other day of the week, with you.”
“Good. I’ll tell Pablo he can cha-cha to the moon. That will keep him busy for a while.” Pressing her face to the smooth brushed denim of his shirt, she dreamed of a time when they really could be together. In the past few weeks, she had realized it was her own fear of her parents that was keeping them apart. Freedom beckoned, bright as the flowers in the display case beside them, and it was up to her to make the next move. “I guess it’s really time to clear the way with my parents.”
“And with Twinkle-toes. Promise me you’ll let him down easy.”
She ran her palms over the hard wall of his chest, secure in his arms. When Chris was holding her, she had the strength to face everyone in her family. “I’ll be gentle, though Pablo doesn’t think of me as a girlfriend at all. We’ve known each other so long, we’re like brother and sister.”
“Let’s keep it that way.”
Chris touched his lips to hers, and she held tight to him as she surrendered to his kiss. He tasted of mint and coffee and longing.
She closed her eyes and swayed against him. How easy it would be to spend the next hour kissing him here in the marketplace, her hands gliding over his back as they enjoyed the cool shadow of the flower booth.
But duty called. They both had to get back to work: Chris to the family deli stand, and Juanita to Papito’s.
As she opened her eyes, Chris was leaning back, drawing in a slow breath. His hooded eyes watched her intently.
“So you’ll tell them today?”
It was time. Nita let out the breath she’d been holding and nodded. “Today.”
Chapter 3
Monday morning Lizzy rose before dawn with that familiar tug of sorrow. Sitting on the edge of the bed, watching as the sunrise began to glow through the pale curtains, she wondered if this sadness would ever go away. Talking with Remy and Mary yesterday had opened the old wound of loss.
“Joe?” She reached over and gave her husband’s shoulder a gentle shake. “Wake up, sleepyhead.”
“Mmm.” The sheets stirred behind her, and there was a gentle tug on her braid. A moment later, his arms slid around her waist. He pressed a kiss against her neck, a light butterfly touch that awakened her senses. “Waiting for the sunrise?” he asked.
“That’s the thing. I think I’ve been waiting too long. I swept all the pain under the rug, thinking it would go away, but instead it’s getting hard and dusty, like a big clump of dirt.”
Joe hugged her, pulling her against him. “This pain … you’re talking about the miscarriage?”
“Ya. I was talking with Remy and Mary yesterday, and it got me thinking. I followed what the bishop said. I tried to let it go. I didn’t bring it up with Mamm and my sisters. I only talk about it with Juanita at the market. I tried to close the book on that part of my life, and every day I pray that Gott will ease the pain. But something is missing, Joe. There’s something we should have done for our baby.”
He shifted, and his soft beard tickled her bare neck. “Like a funeral?”
She nodded. “Not that you can expect a funeral for a child who can’t be born. But there should be something … some way to celebrate our baby’s life. Some way to say good-bye.”
“Mmm.” The sound was between a groan and a sigh. “I know what you mean. When it happened, I knew nothing could be done to save the baby. All my prayers were for you. You were so sick, Lizzy. For Gott to spare you, that was a miracle.”
“I know, and I’m grateful for that, but—” She paused. But what? Did she think it wasn’t enough? Did she believe Gott had let her down?
Nay. She trusted in the Almighty, even when she didn’t understand His plan for her. The thing that was troubling her was about their tiny baby. “Our little bean,” she said aloud. That had been what they’d called the baby after Lizzy had read that the developing fetus at eight weeks was around the size of a kidney bean. She felt Joe sag against her as he let out a breath, and for a quick second she regretted saying anything. She was not a complainer, but she also did not keep secrets from her husband.
“I know I’m blessed,” Lizzy said. “It was a good thing that Juanita found me right away.” After she’d passed out in the washroom at the market, her friend had called an ambulance.
“And a good thing that we were in Philly. Close to a hospital.”
“Ya. I’m grateful that Gott spared me. But … I can’t just put it all behind me, like everyone says to do. I don’t mean to cross the bishop, but I can’t just pray this all away.”
“I know.”
Lizzy shook her head, staring at the pink glow behind the curtains. Sometimes, she felt like she was suffering alone.
Joe released her and shifted so that he was sitting beside her on the edge of the bed.
“The pain in your body is gone,” he said quietly. “But there’s still an ache in your heart.”
She drew in a breath. “That’s it.” She turned to him, soothed by the compassion in his big brown eyes. “You do understand.”
He lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles. “I do my best.”
“Your best is mighty good, Joe.” She could barely speak with the knot of emotion forming in her throat. But that didn’t matter when he took her into his arms and held her close.
In the language of love, words were not required.
Chapter 4
All that morning, Market Joe had to be careful not to stare at his wife, a woman so fiercely strong and delicate at the same time. Five years they had been married, and yet she still surprised him. She pulled him into her heart in such unexpected ways. She scared him when she set her mind to something. She worried him when she ignored how close she’d come to dying with their baby. That was the day he’d learned that life was as fragile as a china cup. He had almost lost her. On that terrible day, he had learned to be grateful for each day of life. Lizzy still hadn’t learned that lesson.
Her talk of the baby got him thinking back on that horrible time, and he spent the morning thanking Gott for every good thing about Lizzy. He noticed the glints of gold in
her coffee-brown hair as she brushed it in their bedroom. In George’s van, on their way to the city, there was the curve of her ear, pink and smooth as a seashell against the white of her prayer Kapp. Her quick pace as she unloaded the boxes and crates from the van, humming as she worked. The ring of her laughter, a merry sound that reminded him of sleigh bells on a snowy day. The glow of her touch as she patted him on the back and told him that she would handle the women looking to buy quilts. That was a relief, as always. Joe could hardly figure out the woman he loved; he didn’t have a prayer when it came to dealing with Englisher women with big purses and skin that sparkled as if one of the angels had just spilled a star on it.
A customer approached, and Joe turned to Simon King. “Do you want to handle this one?” he asked.
The boy nodded eagerly, and Joe stood back to watch. Every day someone from the family came into town to take a turn helping with the market shop. Joe’s young cousin Simon was their helper for the day, and already he’d proven himself capable and willing. The boy was probably just ten or eleven, but strong as a bull. He could lift the heavy crates.
“I need some garlic Colby,” the older man said. “Can you help me with that?”
“Yes, sir. How much would you like?” Simon asked.
Joe helped him measure off a pound, then let Simon take care of the rest of the transaction. Once the customer left, Joe clapped the boy on the back.
“Good job. No one would ever know it was your first time.”
Simon grinned, pleasure in his amber eyes. “I like to see who the cheese will go to. It’s the end of the line that begins when we get milk from our cows like Daisy or Brownie.”
“That’s right.” Joe pushed up his glasses and smiled at his young cousin. The boy had gone through a bad time when his parents were killed a few years back. Everyone in Halfway had felt the loss of Esther and Levi King. But it was good to see Simon growing into a fine young boy.
Earlier in the day, before customers trickled in, Joe had taken Simon around the marketplace to explore the food and produce stands, delis, and shops selling sundry items from flowers to nuts, honey, kites, and coffee. This was Simon’s first time working at the market, and Joe had enjoyed seeing the colorful produce and fat fish on ice through his eyes. Sometimes it helped to see things through a different point of view.
A few more customers appeared, and Joe and Simon waited on them separately. As Joe worked side by side with Simon, he imagined having a son working here with him, just the way he had worked beside his own father. A son to join in the business … who would fill his heart with joy.
“My family always asks for this Havarti. It’s so creamy,” one customer said as Joe handed her the change. “Thanks, Market Joe.” As she left, there was another lull, and Joe reached into the glass case to reorganize the cheese display.
“Why do they call you Market Joe?” Simon asked.
“Because I’m the lucky one who comes to the market nearly every day to manage the King Family Cheese stand. Besides, there are too many Joseph Kings in Lancaster County. My father and two of my uncles. Some cousins, too. It gets confusing, so folks just call me Market Joe.”
“It’s a good name.” Simon popped an olive in his mouth, his eyes serious as he chewed. Joe had let him pick out a snack from one of the shops, the Olive Tree. “Do you like working at the market every day?” Simon asked.
“Ya. I grew up in this place, working beside my father. Lizzy’s used to retail work, too. She always helped out with her family’s bakery in Halfway.” Joe closed the display case. “What do you think? Would you like a job like this?”
“I like the market, but I would miss my family. The horses, too.”
“That’s right. You’re the horseman. I heard you talk to horses to calm them down. You’ve trained a few mean horses that everyone else gave up on.”
Simon nodded. “Most people don’t understand horses. They don’t start off mean. It’s mean people that put the horses in a bad temper.”
“But you talk them out of it.” Joe adjusted his apron. “What’s your trick?”
“Mostly patience. You can’t rush a horse that’s been whipped and mishandled. I go real slow. Gain the horse’s trust. And then, bit by bit, the horse lets me teach it.”
“Patience is a good thing,” Joe said as he turned to see Lizzy wrapping up a quilt over at the side table. He could take a lesson from Simon, and be patient with his wife as she found a way to ease her heart. Folks understood when her body needed to heal from the failed pregnancy. They would have to understand about healing on the inside, too.
Chapter 5
Sitting in the dining area of the food court, Juanita tuned out the noise of the market and wondered how she could explain this to Chris. The warm quesadilla loaded with cheese, chicken, and fresh asparagus sat before her, untouched. She had grilled it herself, from Papito’s handmade tortillas and fresh ingredients, but it was difficult to eat.
Her appetite had fled, along with all hope of happiness, when her parents had laid down the law last night. What began as a conversation about how she wanted to be more independent had skidded out of control, crumpling Nita’s plans.
She was to leave her job at the market, start working at the studio, and give Pablo a chance to get reacquainted. In fact, they needed a receptionist at the studio, so she could start right away.
That had been Mommy’s idea. Mommy the matchmaker. “Working at the marketplace, you don’t get to see Pablo very often,” her mother had said. “Maybe that’s the problem. You two need to spend more time together, get reacquainted. How will you two ever marry when you don’t see each other anymore?”
“I keep telling you that we won’t be getting married,” Juanita had said, her eyes averted out of respect for her parents. “Don’t be disappointed, Poppy. You know we haven’t been close for many years. I have other friends now, and I’ll bet Pablo does, too.”
“Friends have nothing to do with the man you’re going to marry.” Poppy sounded as if he were talking to a child. “You’ve always been such a good girl, Nita. Always respectful and obedient. Don’t let us down now.”
“By not marrying Pablo?”
“Don’t snap at your father,” Sofia said quietly. “No one is forcing a marriage.”
Not true, Nita thought. You’re pushing me at him!
“Why don’t you see the sense of this?” her father asked, his hands sweeping the air gracefully to emphasize his point. “We need a receptionist at the studio, and we would like to fill the job with family. You are the best choice. Carmen can find someone else to work at the market.”
“But I like my job at the market. I have many friends there, Poppy, and every day I meet someone new. I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but it’s not right for me.”
“You must try it,” her father said.
“It’s like when someone serves you a dish you’ve never had before,” her mother added. “You take a little taste, see what you think, right?”
“Mommy, I know what the dance studio is like. I grew up there.” As family lore went, the Greco babies had napped on mats on the studio floor. And when Nita was older, every day after school she was there in the office, doing her homework while the heated beat of salsa music throbbed from the next room.
“Then it will be an easy adjustment,” Sofia said. “Don’t look so sad. We’re trying to help. I worry, you know. I look at you … twenty-four and so far behind your sisters. When Carmen was your age, she was married with two little ones. What are you waiting for?”
The chance to marry the man I love. The freedom to choose my future. After all, this is America, land of the free!
Of course, Nita could not bring herself to voice her protest. She loved her parents and she didn’t want to make waves in the family. Still, she could not marry a man she did not love. But if something big didn’t change, she would be seeing less and less of Chris and more of boring old Pablo … every night at the studio.
In the end,
they had managed a compromise. Nita would keep her job at the market, and work nights at the studio. Once again, her parents had won.
“Nita?” The soft voice repeated her name a few times before it penetrated Juanita’s cloud of quandary. She lifted her chin to see her friend Lizzy King calling to her. Lizzy worked at the Amish cheese shop adjacent to Papito’s, and Juanita had found a friend in her neighbor. When business was slow, the two of them gathered at the counter bordering their shops to chat. So far this morning, there’d been no chance to talk, as restocking had kept Juanita busy.
“Lizzy! Just the girl I wanted to talk to.” Noticing that Lizzy held a small cooler with her lunch, Juanita invited her to sit down. “Do you have a minute?”
“I’m sure I have two or three.” Lizzy sat down with a grateful sigh and a smile Juanita couldn’t return. As usual, Lizzy wore a solid-colored dress, apron, and bonnet that she called a prayer kapp. Simple clothing, in keeping with the Amish way of life.
But Juanita had learned that Lizzy’s life was anything but simple. Lizzy King wanted desperately to have a baby, but so far that was not working out for her and her husband, Joe. Things had been looking good a few months back when Lizzy had confided that she was pregnant. The joy of prospective parenthood had glowed on Lizzy’s and Joe’s faces, and Juanita had been thrilled for them.
Then came the day when Juanita didn’t find her friend at their usual lunch spot. When she went looking for her, she’d discovered her in the ladies’ room, hunched over, a severe pain in her belly. Lizzy kept insisting that it was something she’d eaten. But when Lizzy passed out, Juanita had called 911. Lizzy was rushed to the hospital by ambulance, where she had needed surgery for an ectopic pregnancy.
After that, Joe and Lizzy always thanked Nita for saving Lizzy’s life. There’d been many thank-you gifts—creamy cheeses and a colorful quilt that Juanita cherished. But most of all, Juanita valued the bond that had grown between Lizzy and her. They had gotten past the awkward stage of friendship, and now they could talk about anything. Which they did.
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