Kiah’s stomach clenched and threatened to hurl as he mentally replayed his last spoken words. There was no way the bishop could have misinterpreted his intent. He was already in hot water, and this seemed like the final blow to his dreams. He’d be sent home in disgrace without the love of his life.
“I’m pretty sure he heard that whole conversation,” Hallie said, her voice strangled, as she appeared beside him.
“Did he? Wouldn’t he have stayed to lecture us? Or…Oh no.” He grasped Hallie’s hand. “He’s going to get our parents. I never should’ve taken that pain medication for my headache. It eliminated the pain, but it has something in it that kills my brain cells.” He needed to somehow do the right thing by Hallie.
Hallie squeezed his fingers and released them. “Your parents will know about your migraines and how the medication affects it. Don’t worry.”
His eyes widened and he jerked to stare at her. “How do you know about all that?”
“I…uh, I suppose you must’ve mentioned it.” Some of the color faded from her cheeks. She looked away.
Kiah couldn’t remember mentioning it, but his thinking and his recall were foggy at best. So he might’ve. Or Anna might’ve told her, too. It felt kind of good to think that Anna might’ve talked about him with Hallie. Or maybe even shared his letters. Confessed her love for him. “Did Anna let you read my letters? Did she ever mention me?”
Her chest rose and fell with her deep breath. “No. She didn’t. Not really. Other than when a letter arrived, she’d tell us and giv—” She clamped her lips together. “I need to get supper on.” And she walked—almost ran—out the door and toward the house.
The horse snorted in his ear. Kiah startled, turned, and ran his hand over the horse’s nose. He sighed. “What do you think? ‘Not really’ means she has mentioned me some, right?”
The horse bobbed her head. Whinnied. Maybe voiced her agreement.
Kiah grimaced, put on the disguise, then slowly guided the horse to the pasture. His stomach growled, but he wasn’t in a big hurry to go to the house. Who knew what kind of hornet’s nest he’d be walking into?
* * *
Hallie avoided glancing at the bishop and the other visitors as she dashed into the house. George, his wife, and their guests had arrived, and he shouted greetings at Kiah’s parents. Mammi stuck her needles into her handwork and placed it on the hutch. Daed and Daadi washed up at the sink, having already unloaded the broken-down buggy from the pickup and the horse from the trailer. Someone had pulled the table out to its biggest size and brought in benches and chairs. Even if Mamm and Anna weren’t home, there’d be sixteen people circled around the table that seemed crowded with ten.
Mamm hadn’t exactly planned for sixteen people when she’d cooked the small roast for sandwiches. And neither had Hallie when she’d made deviled eggs and picked radishes. But they’d just have to stretch what they had.
Of course, George might not stop shouting long enough to actually eat anything and his fondness for bean soup was legendary. Hallie peeked over her shoulder as she set a loaf of bread on the counter to slice. Kiah’s daed was making feeble attempts to answer George’s onslaught of questions, but all that accomplished was a demand to speak up and a commentary on how everyone muttered.
Mildred sat at peace, a smile on her face, as if now that the bishop knew about George’s many idiosyncrasies all her problems would be solved. And maybe they would be.
Bishop Nathan quietly wrote something in purple ink on a piece of paper Mammi must’ve given him when he came in.
The angry red was slowly fading from Daed’s expression. He offered Hallie a fleeting smile as he left the sink and headed for the table.
Joy bounced into the room, grabbed the platter of deviled eggs, and turned to carry it to the table.
Hallie returned her attention to the bread.
And then the door opened.
Gasps filled the room.
Hallie turned as Aaron came into the room. Kiah followed, wearing Mammi’s sweater and black bonnet. He carried Daadi’s cane.
And the room erupted.
“What in blue blazes,” George shouted as Kiah took the bonnet off. “It’s the murderer! He’s a she! I mean she’s a he! I mean what is it…” His voice trailed off.
“So that’s where my cane went,” Daadi whispered.
Mammi dropped the stack of plates she’d gotten out. They shattered at her feet. She’d abandoned her wheelless walker somewhere.
Kiah’s daed half rose to his feet, then collapsed back into his seat, his face a mottled reddish-white combination. “Hezekiah James Esh!”
Chapter 12
Kiah hung the bonnet-slash-blinder on the hook, then tugged off the black sweater and placed it beside the evil bonnet. He braced himself, gaze down, to turn to face Daed and Mamm. Oh, he dreaded to see the expression on their faces.
Lord, help.
Okay, the prayer was a bit belated. He probably should’ve taken the time to pray as soon as he got out of bed that morning. But how was he supposed to know the day would turn out as it had? And him appearing to be a blathering idiot when he so wanted to make a good impression on Hallie and her family.
Being accused of murder and maybe almost getting arrested, kissing the right-but-wrong girl, being attacked by a woodpecker, making enemies right and left, and embarrassing his parents. There was probably more he could add to the list.
Should he go on the defense from the start? Or wait and see what happened first? Oh, this trying to do the adulting thing was hard.
Almost complete silence greeted him when he turned. Almost, because George was sniffling and muttering nonsense to anyone listening. Kiah peeked up. Daed’s mouth worked like a fish out of water, but thankfully his lecture was not verbalized. Tears filled Mamm’s eyes, along with a heaping helping of shame. That hurt the worst.
Or maybe the reaction of the local bishop and Hallie’s daed, because he had just ruined his chances with Hallie—er, the scribe.
Hallie pulled a broom and dustpan from a closet. “He helped me catch a woodpecker that’d somehow gotten into the attic and now the bird is holding a grudge.”
Her daed chuckled. “Funniest thing I ever saw. It targeted Kiah like he had a bull’s-eye painted on the top of his head. Dead center. I’d be tempted to cover myself, too.”
The troublesome mammi took the broom and dustpan from Hallie and started sweeping up the broken plates. “The boy went a bit overboard, wouldn’t you say?”
“If…if that is true, then why isn’t the bird targeting the girl?” Mamm asked, sounding a lot doubting and a little bit accusing. She pointed at Hallie.
“Um.” Hallie turned an interesting shade of pink and turned away.
“She wore swim goggles and her daed’s old straw hat in the attic. The woodpecker probably didn’t recognize her without the accessories,” Kiah said. No way would he mention that her beautiful long hair was loose and tangled and begging for him to touch it. To comb it.
Hallie’s daed gave him a grateful look. Kiah smiled. He’d done something right. Finally. Maybe if he got rid of the pesky young whippersnappers and fixed the buggy, then he’d be back in the man’s good graces.
Mamm made a disbelieving snort and frowned. “Am I really supposed to believe that Illinois woodpeckers have such a good memory and are out for blood? I wasn’t born yesterday, Hezekiah.”
“Believe it or not,” Hallie’s daed said. “Apparently, this bird is dead set on living in our attic.” He glanced away from Mamm and looked at Kiah. “But don’t think this excuses you for wrecking my buggy.”
“I’ll fix it. Monday.” Kiah met Daed’s eyes. Hopefully he’d agree to let him stay. A week of daily courting should be enough to win the scribe’s heart. And to fall in love with her, if she was Anna.
Not to mention, out of love with Hallie. Or at least get over his massive crush on her.
“Wrecked buggy, you say?” George shouted. “I repair buggies!”
Instead, the bishop slid a sheet of paper toward Kiah’s daed.
“We’re leaving bright and early on Monday,” Daed said harshly, ignoring the bishop. “You’ve done quite enough—”
The bishop rattled the paper.
Daed looked down. There was a long silence while he read and reread whatever was scrawled in lavender. Then he looked at Bishop Nathan, his eyebrows raised. “Are you sure?”
The bishop nodded. “We all need something to do, someone to love, and something to hope for.”
“He needs to get his head out of the clouds.” Daed sighed. “He’s just determined he’s going to find and marry that scribe when he has a perfectly good girl waiting at home.”
Except, she wasn’t perfectly good and more than likely she wasn’t waiting.
Hallie caught her breath.
Joy giggled. “That’s silly. Mammi is already married.”
Kiah frowned and looked at the older woman sweeping up the broken glass plates. “What?” His vocal cords threatened to strangle him.
The disturbing mammi met his gaze, fluttered her lashes, and winked.
Seriously? Kiah’s stomach twisted into knots.
“I told you she’d be eighty if a day,” Mamm said. Then she gasped as if realizing that could be considered offensive.
“Not quite. I’m seventy-six,” Hallie’s mammi said. “I’m just beginning my second childhood.” She winked again.
“But…but Anna’s the scribe,” Kiah stammered. He looked at Hallie for help, but she was busy at the sink doing something and didn’t look at him. His gaze slid to her sister Joy. Then Aaron. There had to be an ally here somewhere. Or maybe he could just escape back out the door—except the woodpecker was waiting there.
“Are you sure, sugar?” The unnerving mammi carefully shuffle-stepped around the piles of glass shards and pinched Kiah’s cheek. She added more eyelash flutters and a girlish giggle.
He flinched. No. He was sure of nothing by this point.
“Scribe?” George shouted. “You don’t need no scribe! Come by Monday and I’ll teach you your letters. And you can help catch all my cats that haven’t come home.” He pounded the floor with his cane. The floor vibrated.
“And that’s why I raced the horse.” Kiah attempted to give Hallie’s daed a meaningful look, then stared pointedly at the thumping cane.
“So you admit it?” Her daed glowered.
Apparently, the meaningful look failed. Kiah frowned. He didn’t want to come out and accuse George of deliberately sabotaging the buggy. At least not now. Maybe when they were alone.
Hallie carried paper plates to the table, then took the broom that her mammi had abandoned and swept the glass shards into the dustpan while Joy filled glasses with lemonade.
“It’s tart,” she warned as she set the glasses on the table.
“It is,” Hallie agreed. “I thought it was lemonade, but maybe it was limeade instead. I didn’t look at it that close.”
Kiah glanced at the glasses. The liquid did have a slight greenish tint. Of course, he probably did, too. Hopefully tomorrow would be a much better day. He couldn’t think how he could possibly mess up more on the Lord’s day. Especially since he’d be sitting for hours on backless benches, listening to preachers—including Daed—drone on and on about something they read in the Bible and getting lost on a thousand and one rabbit trails and maybe not reach their intended destination but fudging enough to make it appear they did.
Kiah leaned against the wall, not sure where to sit. Next to his parents? Or could he finagle a seat next to Hallie?
Hallie’s mammi opened the refrigerator and peered inside. “Do we have any crackers?” she asked. “There’s some cream cheese spread.” She pulled out a shiny mixing bowl.
“That sounds good.” Joy got a box of crackers out of the cupboard and arranged them on a platter as her mammi got out the mixing bowl.
“When did Mamm buy cream cheese?” Hallie asked.
“Who cares? I think we’re ready to eat,” Joy said.
“Feet?” George bellowed. “What about feet?”
Mildred stood, looked George in the eye, and pointed to the chair she’d been sitting in. “George, you old whippersnapper. Sit.”
Kiah stiffened, staring at George. Old whippersnapper…young whippersnapper…Oh, shoot. He was a fool.
“Now, Mildew,” George began.
Bishop Nathan cleared his throat. “Let’s pray!” He shouted it loud enough even George could hear. And George plopped into the chair. Something cracked. But if it was the chair, it didn’t fall apart.
Kiah scurried for an empty seat, closed his eyes, and bowed his head for the silent prayer. Someone sat on the bench next to him. An arm brushed his. And judging by the way his pulse skittered out of control, it was Hallie.
Hallie, who planned to take him out to show him a whippersnapper. Hallie, who claimed she knew how the pain medicines affected his head. What would she be doing, really? The Amish equivalent of a snipe hunt?
He gulped. He hated being made fun of. Hadn’t enough people laughed at him today? But being made fun of, especially by her, really hurt because her opinion mattered more than it should.
He opened his eyes and peeked at her. Her hands were folded demurely on her lap, tan against the lavender material. Her scent filled his senses. The picture of innocence.
And it took all his strength to keep from reaching for her fingers, staring into her blue eyes, and demanding answers.
* * *
Hallie should’ve headed for a different seat, letting either Joy or Mammi snuggle up close to Kiah. But at seventeen, Joy was too young for Kiah, and Mammi was flirting way too hard, even though Daadi was getting a certain gleam in his eyes when he looked at her. Now, with Hallie pressed up against Kiah’s side on the backless bench, she hoped Anna wouldn’t come home that night, that she could sneak out with Kiah under the guise of showing him his reflection under the light of the moon in Hidden Springs—the actual springs the district was named for. And she and Kiah could flirt, talk, and maybe play in the water, and her long-dormant senses could come alive…
But that’d be dangerous and stupid, playing with fire when it was certain she’d get burned. Unless he truly realized the truth by then.
Not only that, but there was also probably an unwritten rule in the world of sisterhood about going after the same man. Especially when Anna called dibs. Honestly, Hallie didn’t want the pain that came from loving and losing. Loving and leaving. Loving and…loathing. Okay, maybe that last word was a bit too strong. But she had come to sort of loath Toby after learning about his buggy racing during a tornado. The recklessness that had been a bit exciting was now a deterrent.
It also seemed as if Kiah was a bit too still. Sure, they were praying—or supposed to be—but was he even breathing?
She opened her eyes and peeked at him.
His head was turned toward her. Green eyes open. His gaze collided with hers. Locked. The pain and misery reflected in the depths rocked her to the core. He exhaled a shuddery breath as moisture pooled on his lower lashes; then he blinked and looked away. And shuddered again.
Poor man. Was the headache still that bad? Or…was he repulsed by her closeness when he was so fixated on wooing Anna?
No. That didn’t fit. Not with the way he’d been pushing boundaries since they met at zero-dark-thirty that morning. It was her—Hallie, the real scribe—he wanted…and he’d said so, multiple times.
Oh, Kiah—
“Amen,” Bishop Nathan boomed.
Hallie jumped to her feet. “Coffee, anyone?” She’d say her silent prayer while reaching for mugs from the cupboard. “Mammi, why don’t you sit by Kiah, seeing as he wants to court you?”
Mammi giggled again. Daadi grunted, but there was a twinkle in his eye. “Flirt all you want, young man, but I’m confident in the knowledge of whose arms she’ll be spend
ing the night in.”
Kiah’s face reddened. He rested his hands flat on the table, but they shook. “I saw the notes,” he said quietly, not looking at anyone.
The bishop frowned and looked at Hallie.
“They were on the bed upstairs,” she said.
Kiah nodded. “Jah, and Anna came and took them. I saw them in her hands. She needed them for the birth somehow. I may have a migraine and be on pain pills, but I am not stupid.”
“I’m not going to ask why you were in my daughters’ room,” Daed said darkly, staring at Kiah. “Or if it has anything to do with her hair being down and tangled.”
Bishop Nathan’s eyebrows shot up.
Kiah’s mamm gasped and covered her mouth.
His daed turned a dangerous shade of red and stood, knocking the chair backward. “So help me, Hezekiah James Esh! I won’t be shamed this way. You will marry the girl—”
Kiah’s hands flexed. Balled. A muscle jumped in his jaw. But what girl was his daed referring to? Molly or Hallie?
Hallie caught her breath. “No. No, it has nothing to do with it. I showered after work and that woodpecker in the attic interrupted me before I got my hair secured.”
“That woodpecker. Again,” Kiah’s daed scoffed.
Hallie pressed her fingers against her eyes and bit back words she wanted to say. She shouldn’t back-talk a preacher even if he wasn’t from their district. Even though his words were heavily laced with sarcasm and judgment. Kiah always spoke highly of his daed in his letters.
The bishop shook his head. “Simmer down. I believe Hallie. Ted already verified the bird’s existence. No one is getting married.” He looked at Mammi. “And you stop teasing the poor boy, Gloria. You may or may not be the scribe, but either way, you’re married and should know better.”
The Amish Secret Wish Page 11