“We were stargazing,” Kiah said quietly, although he sounded rather strangled. He stood, separating them more. As if he was ashamed to be associated with her.
She was ashamed to be associated with herself. She wrapped her arms around her middle, wishing she could pull the blanket over her head and disappear.
“And fell asleep.” Daed nodded as if it was a perfectly normal thing to do. As if his mind hadn’t automatically gone where hers had. Or maybe he was trying to deflect the direction this scene might go. “Of course. I did that when I was courting my wife. I’m sure you did, too.” He turned to Kiah’s daed.
“Is that the Amish equivalent of the car refusing to start or getting stuck in the mud that the Englisch use as an excuse?” Kiah’s daed almost sounded like he was joking, but he admitted to nothing. He didn’t need to. His mouth was set in a deep scowl—but also a truth-telling mottled red blush.
Aaron’s stiff stance indicated he didn’t believe Kiah for a second. Though come to think of it, he might’ve snuck out to chaperone them. But if he had, he would’ve interrupted their passionate kisses instead of waiting until they fell asleep. So maybe not.
“So are you still looking for the scribe or are you courting Ted’s Hallie?” Kiah’s daed tilted his head and looked between Kiah and Hallie. There was a hint of something in his voice. A knowing sound that confused Hallie. There might’ve been a hint of condemnation mixed in.
If only the last part of his statement were true. “No,” Hallie said. She untangled her arms from her knees, reached for the bandage, and started to rewrap her still-throbbing ankle.
“Jah,” Kiah said at the same time.
Hallie looked up at him, confused. “Jah?”
Kiah sighed. “No.”
“And that clears things up nicely,” Kiah’s daed quipped.
Hallie’s daed chuckled.
“I’m praying about it,” Kiah said a bit defensively. He crossed his muscular arms. “But what I want—need—to say is I love Hallie and—”
“A bit premature, don’t you think? Considering you’ve just met?” Aaron snorted. “But assuming it’s true, what is there to pray about?”
They didn’t just meet. They’d been corresponding for over a year. But she couldn’t say that.
“There’s all kinds of things to pray about, but specifically, I meant praying about what to do about talking to the real scribe, if she’s not Hallie, and if I accidentally find her since I’m no longer looking,” Kiah said. “If the scribe is Anna, she knows I’m here and why. I’m not real sure how to handle telling her the truth yet. I don’t want to cause problems. If she’s Hallie’s mammi, it doesn’t matter since she’s convinced I’m here to marry Hallie anyway, and if it’s someone else, I can simply tell her I fell in love with another girl. But that needs to be wrapped up.” He looked at Hallie and his expression softened. “And then I need to win Hallie’s heart.”
Oh. That was sweet. A rush of emotion flooded over Hallie, and in that moment, she loved Kiah, too. But, “Anna called dibs.” The words exploded from her. “And love hurts.”
She winced at the reminder of the past pain, the days spent crying, the oh-so-dark-depression that she’d barely climbed out of.
The three men holding flashlights exchanged glances.
“Somewhere down the road, a man will always break a woman’s heart.” Her throat was raw. The words ripped from deep inside.
Kiah startled. Stiffened. Stared. He opened his mouth, probably to deny it.
“No. No, I can’t do it again. I can’t. I won’t. Kiah is too risky.” She hadn’t intended to say it—any of it—out loud, but it all burst forth, uncensored. She wanted to curl up into the fetal position, arms wrapped tight around a big, fluffy pillow for protection for her fragile heart.
“Is this what your bishop means?” Kiah’s daed pointed at her with his flashlight. She squeezed her eyelids tight against the brightness, then opened them when the light faded.
“Bishop Nathan talked about me?” Maybe Hallie wasn’t supposed to hear that. It hurt. Hurt! Her eyes stung. She dropped the tangled cloth she’d been trying to wrap around her ankle and fisted her hands to try to keep the tears at bay.
“He shared a few things,” Daed admitted. “Like about how losing your boyfriend affected you. Of course, I already knew all that.”
Oh. Was that all? No big secret there.
“Me too,” Aaron said.
“He shared how concerned he was,” Daed went on as if Aaron hadn’t spoken. “And”—Daed looked deep into her eyes—“about your extracurricular activities.”
Oh. Oh. So now Aaron and Kiah’s daed knew she was the scribe. His daed knew how wounded she was…and he knew that Kiah’s heart recognizing her was spot-on. Would he tell Kiah? Had Bishop Nathan sworn him to secrecy? Or was she so broken that Kiah’s daed knew beyond a shadow of a doubt she’d destroy his son, and he’d just quietly take him away, praying he’d forget that girl in Hidden Springs? He’d be better off without her.
Truth.
And, oh, that ripped a hole in her heart, leaving it shredded and bleeding.
She was wrong, wrong, wrong to kiss him. To encourage him.
Now she had that memory to keep her awake, remembering things that weren’t to be. Like her and Toby. Her and Kiah.
Her original plan was best. It was too terrible to even consider. But necessary, even if she didn’t dare voice it to herself.
“Hmm. I see what he meant.” The visiting preacher continued to observe her.
What had the bishop said? But she knew better than to ask.
Hallie dipped her head to belatedly hide her expression, and her emotions, from the visiting preacher. From Kiah. From her daed and brother. The last two men worried enough about her emotional stability. They didn’t need to know that Kiah Esh could push her over the brink.
* * *
Even with the dim light from the moon and the spotlighted edges from the flashlights, Kiah could see—maybe even feel—the fear rising in waves from Hallie. He somehow was more afraid for her and wanted her to be restored. He wished he knew more of what was going on inside her heart so he could help her heal. The concern in his father’s expression—like that for a straying church member—smacked of the knowledge he was privy to something about Hallie that bothered him. As if maybe she was still on the rebound despite her hot kisses. Or maybe the extracurricular activities were worrisome.
But would he share those fears with Kiah? Or would he spend his time on bent knees beside his bed praying that Gott would intervene and break them up, as he’d initially done with Molly? That was when Molly stepped out on him. Was no girl good enough for Kiah in his parents’ opinion? Sometimes it seemed not.
But then again, Molly had recently done something to win Daed’s approval, since he was now firmly in the give-up-your-foolishness-and-marry-Molly court.
At least whatever was shared back in the kitchen seemed to be enough to take the attention off the fact that he and Hallie had been asleep in each other’s arms. And that their fathers had no idea how far their making out might have gone. Except for Hallie’s comment, which implied an untruth. Kiah was grateful the focus was off of him and Hallie in that way. His face heated, but still part of him was willing to face the logical consequences of sleeping together—being forced to marry Hallie—in order to get Hallie as his wife…except that might erect even more walls between them.
However, Kiah knew Hallie touched his heart in a way Molly never had. No girl ever had reached him that way. He needed to have a talk with his daed…
Hold on a minute. What did Hallie say?
“Wait.” Kiah turned back to Hallie. “Love hurts? And sooner or later a man will always break a woman’s heart? I’m too risky?” There might have been more than a twinge of pain in the last statement. He didn’t want to be too risky. Nor did he want to break her heart.
Hallie stared at him.
Kiah wasn’t a preacher’s son for nothing. “First Joh
n four-eighteen says, ‘There is no fear in love; but perfect love casteth out fear.’”
What it boiled down to was that Hallie wasn’t in love with him.
Yet.
Either that or he was taking scripture out of context, but he’d rather not go there at this hour of the night. Whatever hour it was.
As if on cue, Hallie’s daed yawned. “Anna was the one who sounded the alarm when you weren’t home in bed. She woke everyone, which made us realize that Kiah hadn’t returned, either.”
And that brought everyone’s attention back to Kiah and Hallie sleeping together under the stars.
“I imagine she wasn’t happy.” Hallie dipped her head and resumed rewrapping her ankle.
“That would be an understatement. She’s rather furious at you for stealing her man,” Aaron said. Then his eyes widened and he clamped his mouth shut.
Kiah frowned.
“I didn’t steal her man. I merely acted as hostess and tour guide during her absence.” Hallie sounded angry. “And he will be returned none the worse for wear.”
The fathers exchanged looks again.
“None the worse for wear? Wait. Merely acted?” Kiah fought an overwhelming urge to sweep Hallie back into his arms and remind her of what they’d shared a few hours earlier. It hadn’t felt like acting. Not from where he stood.
Hallie didn’t answer or look at him. Instead, she struggled to her feet.
“And furthermore, I’m not Anna’s man. Even if she did call dibs and even if she is the scribe, that doesn’t mean she owns me.” He was beginning to lose his temper.
“No, but Molly does,” Daed muttered.
Kiah growled deep in the back of his throat. “No, she doesn—”
Hallie took a step, wobbled, and started to fall.
Kiah stepped nearer and wrapped an arm around her. She clung.
He hesitated a moment, glanced toward Daed, then swooped her up into his arms. He carried her to the horse, kissed her cheek, then boosted her up. His hands might have grazed an inappropriate place or two—he noticed softness—but he didn’t stop to consider where. Then he turned to collect the blanket and the backpack.
Aaron was silently folding the blanket, a half-smile on his face.
“You take Hallie on home,” Ted said. “Put her on the recliner in the living room so her mamm can look at the ankle. Hallie can sleep there for the rest of the night if her mamm decides she doesn’t need to go to the hospital. You and Anna can discuss your relationship on Monday.”
“Before you go to visit George,” his daed added.
Kiah nodded, even though he didn’t want to visit George. Of course, he didn’t want to talk to Anna, either. No avoiding that, though. They had to break up even though they never dated.
“You also need to address the Molly issue,” Daed said.
“There is no Molly issue,” Kiah replied. He’d settle that with him later. He swung up on the horse, settled behind Hallie, wrapped his arms around her, and pulled her close.
“Just so you know, Anna will expect you to take her to the singing tomorrow evening,” Aaron said, handing him the backpack.
“You should,” Hallie said, her voice tight. “Considering you think she’s the scribe.”
The three men on the ground exchanged looks. Again.
Kiah didn’t want to. He wanted to focus on Hallie. But he did need to talk to Anna if only to tell her what the bishop said: Dibs smibs. And that they were through. Period.
But if Anna was the scribe, that was rude, too.
He’d figure out a nice way to break up with Anna later.
He breathed in Hallie’s lavender scent. Inhaled it, really.
For right now, Hallie was in his arms.
And he intended to enjoy every minute of it.
* * *
Hallie was battling tears by the time they rode up to the house. They hadn’t fallen yet, but they burned her eyes, making it hard to see despite the brightness of the moon.
She sensed Anna’s presence outside the house rather than saw her; anger radiated off her sister in waves. But at least she wouldn’t act like a shrew in front of Kiah.
“Where were you? I was so worried.” Sure enough, Anna approached the horse.
“Hallie’s hurt. I need to get her inside. Your daed said to put—”
“Oh, you poor baby,” Anna cooed in a sugary-sweet voice.
Baby. It figured. Hallie turned her head toward the barn. Away from Anna. A tear escaped. Dropped. She blinked, hoping to keep the rest from following. That would only prove she was a baby.
Kiah shifted behind her. “She’s hardly acting like an infant. Your daed told me to carry her in and put her on the recliner so your mamm can look at her ankle.”
Hallie wasn’t sure whether Daed actually told Kiah to carry her or not, but if he didn’t, he probably meant to. There was a thump as Kiah jumped off the horse.
“She can walk.” Anna sounded a tab upset. “What’d she do? Pretend to step in a hole and fall against you, claiming she couldn’t walk? Call her bluff, Kiah.”
Kiah moved up beside Hallie and gave her a quizzical look as if he wasn’t sure how to answer.
Hallie supposed it might have appeared as if she had, but she hadn’t. She scowled. That was Anna’s trick. She’d even tried it with Toby. It seemed as if Anna and Hallie were always competing for the same guy. As soon as Anna found out Hallie and the guy were interested in each other, the competition began.
Hallie gathered her courage, slid off the horse, and promptly sat on her bottom in the dirt when her ankle gave out. She might have whimpered.
“Oh, so dramatic.” Anna huffed a tiny bit. But then she reached out and patted Hallie on the top of her kapp as if she decided she needed to show a little sympathy. “You poor thing. Do you need Kiah’s help up?”
“No. I’ve got it. I’m not helpless, Anna,” Hallie snapped. But she felt helpless. And hopeless. The little glimmer of light from that morning had long since faded. All that remained was the suffocating darkness. She wished Anna and Kiah would leave so she could bury her face in her arms and howl.
But no. Instead of leaving, Kiah crouched beside her, a hand warm on her shoulder, the other on her lower back. “Hallie, liebling, I know you don’t need my help, but I’m going to lift you anyway. Your daed said to carry you in, I think, and since I’m trying to get on his good side…It’s kind of an uphill battle, you know, seeing as I’m an illiterate, murdering, young whippersnapper.”
“What?” Anna jerked back, as if unsure whether to make a run for safety or not. “Murderer?”
“He killed George’s ants.” And despite herself, Hallie giggled at both the ant misunderstanding and the woodpecker and the whippersnapper confusion. A foreign sound to her own ears.
Kiah’s hand on her back slid downward, killing the giggles. Then it jerked up as if he realized what he’d done.
“Illiterate? Then someone else writes the letters to the scribe for you? Reads them to you?” Anna sounded properly horrified.
Kiah frowned, but instead of answering her, he scooped Hallie into his arms and rose. “Don’t worry, sugar. I won’t drop you.”
Hallie snuggled against him, looping an arm around his neck, as he carried her toward the house. She tried not to look at her sister.
“And what’s with all the endearments? You know that’s not our way,” Anna said, following them.
“Maybe it should be.” Kiah stopped and turned slightly. “Besides, the scribe used some endearments when she responded to my letters.” There was a challenge in his voice.
Hallie couldn’t remember using any. If she did, it was accidental. Unintentional. Wait. She had said that she loved him, but she hadn’t meant it in the romantic sense. Maybe she had, but that was her secret. And she’d signed a letter or two with Yours, meaning “your friend.” Did that count?
Anna made some unidentifiable sound. “Or you did?”
Jah, he had. The words had been a healing balm. And Ha
llie—um, the scribe—had told him so.
Hallie sighed and relaxed against him.
“You mean you don’t know?” A teasing note appeared in his voice.
“Maybe I do and maybe I don’t.” She gave him a flirty smile.
Kiah sucked in a breath. “You mean you’re admitting that you’re not the scribe?” There was a measure of something, underlined with relief, in his voice.
Hallie felt a mixture of relief knowing that Kiah wouldn’t pursue Anna for that reason…and a bit of fear that his attention would be back on her as the most likely suspect. But would she still get into trouble if the bishop told Kiah’s dad and Aaron, and was she still supposed to keep it a secret from Kiah?
“I heard Mammi is.” Anna stated it as fact. “And if she is, you can’t take her seriously. She’s married, you know. And a bit off in the kapp.”
That was untrue. Well, mostly untrue. Mammi could be wacky. And dense sometimes. Not to mention, once she set her mind on something, she couldn’t be convinced otherwise. But that aside, it was also unkind.
“I came here to court the scribe.” Kiah continued toward the house, his arms tightening around Hallie. “Told her so, in my last letter.”
Except, he’d told their fathers that had changed. Would he tell Anna the same? Was he letting Anna down gently? Subtly? Except her sister had never been one to pick up on hints.
Hallie forgot to breathe when Kiah opened his mouth.
“Well, grossdaadi might have issues with you courting his wife. Besides, I’m pretty sure it’s against the rules.” Anna laughed. “Of course, it could be me, sworn to secrecy. The scribe is top secret here, you know. But that doesn’t matter. What does matter is, how would you know any of this if you can’t read or write?” She followed them.
Kiah made some sort of growling sound that did strange things to Hallie’s middle.
“Illiterate or not, I insist you take me to the singing tomorrow night.” A flirty sound still filled Anna’s voice. “I told all my friends that you would.”
Hallie winced. It took all her strength to remain silent. But she couldn’t blurt out the truth. She had to protect her sole source of sanity—the scribe’s column. Because Anna was right in that it was top secret and if she told anyone, the bishop would take the job away. But the rules obviously didn’t apply to him.
The Amish Secret Wish Page 16