“I thought if I was going to meet my Maker, hanging onto the preacher’s coattail was the smartest thing to do.”
He arched an eyebrow. “I did notice your attachment to my shirt.”
She smiled. “Your sermon was good, too.”
“Just doing my duty. Protecting Bill’s little girl.”
She felt her face burn.
Micah bent his knee and propped one foot behind him on the tree, studying her, trying to draw something from her that she wasn’t willing to reveal.
“So Lori had some damage at her place?”
“She lost a tree. She wants to pay me back by helping me with my research.” He scratched his head and brushed away bits of bark. “Usually librarians are sweet old widows. But Lori’s young and smells good. I like her. But I don’t know if I should take her up on the offer.”
It galled her that his statement was worded like a question, seeking her permission. Was he talking about Lori so Megan wouldn’t consider the root cellar incident anything more than a man doing his duty? It irritated her how swiftly he went from helping one woman to the next. Their night together obviously hadn’t affected him like it had her. She hadn’t been able to work through it yet, but this conversation was adding clarity.
She kept her voice nonchalant. “I can tell you what I know about her. Normally she doesn’t chase men. I don’t recall her helping Brother Troyer. But maybe I just didn’t know about it. Although she’s not old-old, she’s older than you. So maybe she’s just trying to be helpful.”
Micah laughed sarcastically. “She’s not old. And I don’t want to give her the wrong idea. I need to stay focused on my goals.”
Megan couldn’t tell if he was warning her off or if he was only talking about Lori. She knew what it was like to fixate on the wrong person. But Lori was a good Mennonite woman. “She’s smart, even progressive in her thinking. Maybe you should just give her the I-have-to-be-discreet speech you gave me. Tell her the truth.”
He looked out across the garden and fell quiet. Megan was just ready to end their conversation and go inside when he asked, “Did you know that church secretary is a volunteer position?”
Confused, she replied, “Sure.”
“The elders told Joy Ann they’re getting somebody to help her.”
Why was he dragging all his female admirers into their conversation? “Safety in numbers?”
“Right. Anyway, when they told Joy Ann, she didn’t bat an eye and recommended her friend Ruthie Ropp.”
“That’s surprising. I figured Ruthie would be her competition, interested in you herself.”
“No. Ruthie’s not interested.”
So there was one woman he hadn’t smitten with his Ichabod charms? Megan saw her chance to get under his skin. “Maybe I can help. I can give you Paige’s sure-fire ways to repel a man. Maybe they work for women, too.”
His lip twitched. “Repellents? Are these the tactics you used on me at college?”
“Hardly. I didn’t even know Paige then. I work with her. She recommends over-laughing at everything. She read this article. It also recommends nagging.”
“Men don’t nag.” He lowered himself to the base of the tree, placed his back against its trunk, and motioned for her to join him. “But this is amusing. So your friend Paige does these things to fend off men?”
Megan set her purse on the damp ground and joined him, tucking her skirt around her bent knees. “She’s happily married, and if anybody gets out of line with her, she clobbers them with her list of donors. She employs power and conquest. And perhaps the element of surprise. Oh wait”—her hand flew to his arm—“I remember another one.” She glanced at his wind-tousled hair. “Don’t wash your hair. Leave it all stroobly.”
His hand instinctively went up to his hair. He brushed it off his forehead and asked, “Or use hairspray?” Then he laid his head back against the tree. “No. I won’t do anything that puts me in a bad light.”
“But according to Paige, you have to make yourself less attractive.”
He leaned forward and scratched his head. More bark chips showered down his back. “That won’t be hard for me.”
Megan thought she’d teased him long enough. “My mom says you’re a real prize.”
He burst out laughing. “I’m sure you set her straight.”
“Just because I don’t want to date you, doesn’t mean I don’t think you’re a prize. You were there for me last night. If I’d had a brother, I’d have wanted him to be just like you.”
He picked up a piece of bark and tossed it in front of the cat. It switched its tail. “But when it comes to the romance department, you’re looking for somebody more like Chance?”
She draped her arms across her skirt and shrugged. “Maybe.”
“What’s he got over the rest of us?”
“You’ve seen him. He’s fun. Likeable. Has this vulnerable side to him. Kinda like a teddy bear.”
Micah made a disgusted face. “I thought he seemed aggressive. Arrogant. More grizzly than teddy.”
She tilted her head thoughtfully. “He’s sure of himself, all right. There was something in his confidence that scared me at first. Not anymore.” Megan narrowed her gaze, followed the cat’s movements as it stalked a sparrow.
“If he’s like every other air-breathing man, you’ll have to draw him a line in the sand. He won’t stop until you show him that line.”
Megan smiled at him. “I can’t wait for you to meet my friend Lil. She’d tell you that’s a good thing. Lil’s draws her own lines.”
“Maybe. When does she get back?”
“This weekend.” The cat gave up on the bird and inched across the lawn toward them. She strode snootily past Megan and stepped possessively, one foot at a time, into Micah’s lap.
“Maybe I’ll take your advice. I’ll go on that MDS flight and set some boundaries.”
“If you’re not too swept away by the entire experience that you forget to do that.”
Megan grew weary of the topic. She reached out and touched the purring cat’s head, scratching her behind the ears. “So are you still worried Miss Purrty might run away?”
“Not really. I was worried about her getting lost in the woods at first. But she doesn’t seem to want to get too far away from me. And now she knows that the cottage is our home. I think she’s adjusting.”
“I guess if Miss Purrty’s so attached to you, she’s got her competition cut out for her,” Megan said, rising and brushing off her skirt.
“Nope, she’s the only female for me.”
Laughing, Megan picked up her purse and left him to go into the house.
Micah scooped up the tabby and headed for the cottage, watching Megan retreat to the house. He wished he could tell her how foolish she would be to go on that plane ride with a conceited outsider who wanted to despoil her. What else could the man be after? At the least, he wanted to despoil her soul, wanted her to give up her religion for him. It made Micah’s blood boil, made him want to drive over to Char Air and spin the man’s propeller.
But if he did that, he might drive Megan away forever. And probably drive her right into Campbell’s undeserving arms. He tossed Miss Purrty onto the floor, and she instantly leaped up onto her favorite chair, settling herself in for another spit bath. Micah slumped in the chair on the other side of the table and crossed his long legs on the footstool, his insides jumping more than they’d been during the storm.
It irked him that Megan would choose a man like Chance over himself or another good-hearted Mennonite man. He’d been foolish to attribute her actions in the root cellar to anything other than fear.
If he’d never chased Megan in school, would she look at him differently now? The question had little bearing on Megan’s infatuation with her boss. He’d just have to trust that she’d remain faithful to her convictions. Even though she’d spurned his own advances, he wanted the best for her. Chance Campbell was not the best.
Megan knew the right thing to do. But p
eople made foolish decisions all the time. He went over their conversation again, and then he remembered something she’d told him. “If I’d had a brother, I’d have wanted him to be just like you.” He snarled his lip. She thought of him as a brother. He liked the idea of Lori and Joy Ann, or even Ruthie, thinking of him as a brother. It was the exact image he’d hoped to create. But Megan feeling that way made his heart sink into gloom. Before a day had passed, their relationship had been redefined.
CHAPTER 20
As Megan approached the white-and-green-striped Cessna Caravan waiting on the tarmac, excitement tramped up her spine. Chance guided her to a right rear air stair, and soon she was inside the small cargo plane. She leisurely took in the plush cockpit then glanced back at the cavernous cabin, the exterior of which was now partly filled with boxes of supplies. She knew some had also been stored underneath the cabin.
“Make yourself comfortable while I do a few last minute things,” Chance said with a smile and eyes that mirrored the excitement churning in the pit of her stomach.
“Sure.” Her eyes traversed the plane’s features, ten times more luxurious than her Nova. As she waited for her pilot, she gazed out at the familiar tarmac, easily visible because of the plane’s high wing position, and reassured herself about her decision. She worked for a charter flight company. It made her a better employee to experience a real flight. It would be foolish to turn down the opportunity when it was the reason that she took the job with Char Air. Barbara claimed that paths cross for a reason. She couldn’t be obstinate just because her pilot was attractive.
She’d done everything to persuade him that she wouldn’t veer from her convictions. Now she needed to give God the opportunity to show her why their paths had crossed. She was merely taking supplies to MDS volunteers. And she would do her share of the workload. It was more worthwhile than anything else she could have done with her time.
“All set.” Chance moved into a plush beige leather seat and touched the W-shaped yoke.
Megan glanced at the control columns on her side of the plane, amazed at all the dials, levers, and the three large screens. As Chance did his job to prepare to taxi and take off, she fastened her restraints. She watched through the tinted glass cockpit as they moved down a taxiway and then sped down a runway. When they lifted into the sky, her stomach did a little flip, but she gave Chance a huge grin.
“You’re a natural.” He smiled at her then gave his attention to piloting.
She glanced at his headgear. After all the stories she had heard about surviving impossible landing scenarios and storms and near misses, she now felt confident to have the plane in his competent hands. “Don’t you think it’s a little early to tell?”
“I can tell.”
She relaxed and settled in for the flight. The cabin was quieter than she had expected, but Chance wasn’t all that talkative while he worked. He did point out various landmarks such as the Wabash River that wound through square quarter sections of farmland. The time went so quickly that she could hardly believe it when he was pointing out the recent tornado’s destructive pathway.
“Looks like someone ran their finger through the sand,” he said.
From the air, that’s exactly what it resembled, only instead of sand, it was housing communities and forests and fields. Looking at the destructive power of nature brought back the terror of trying to outdrive the funnel cloud. What would she have done if she’d had to spend the night alone in the root cellar? Her heart clenched with fear, even though the incident was behind her. She tried to hide her anxiety from Chance. She hadn’t told him the entirety of what had happened. She knew he wouldn’t approve of her time alone with Micah.
She looked down, took some deep breaths, and tried to focus on God’s creative and sustaining power. When they dropped to a lower elevation, she was able to peer into homes as if they were dollhouses without roofs, their contents strewn and trees uprooted. Her heart instantly filled with compassion for the people who had not been as fortunate as she had. They had lost so much. “It still looks bad. As if it just happened.”
“They work first to set up temporary housing, do the search and rescue. But now they’re ready to start cleanup and rebuilding. It all takes time. There used to be a trailer park down there.” He pointed. “I saw a lot of devastation the last time I was here.”
Now the stripped lot with twisted metal looked more like a junkyard. Megan tried not to imagine what the occupants had experienced. Chance spoke to the control tower and turned the plane. “Prepare for landing, Megan.”
She glanced over at him, wondering what it would be like to join him for a day in Ecuador. In his paradise, there would be mountains and rain forest instead of corn and soybean fields and cities. The plane gave a little bounce, but mostly it was a smooth landing; then Chance steered the Cessna to a specified taxiway. At the ramp, they were immediately met by a handful of MDS volunteers.
The married couple in charge stepped forward and introduced themselves. Danny was a retired farmer, and his wife, Cindy, was a friendly woman who told Megan, “The UPS driver should be here anytime. That company’s been a Godsend the way they activated an action team and provided trucks and services.”
“Whoa. There he is now.” Danny waved the driver over.
Chance quickly raised the cargo doors on either side of the plane and pointed out which were the lighter boxes. They lifted the boxes out of the plane and dollied them to the van. The group worked for a good hour moving boxes of gloves, first-aid kits, bleach, shovels and rakes, trash bags, tarps, and food and water. Perspiration had collected on Megan’s brow by the time the last box had been loaded inside the brown truck.
Cindy thanked them and hugged Megan. “We can give you a ride to the shelter, where they divvy out the supplies.”
Chance thanked her. “We need to get the plane back this afternoon so that it can get serviced. It’s booked for another flight. This one was barely squeezed in.”
“Well, it’s much appreciated.”
Megan watched the older couple and other volunteers get into a white van and drive away.
“We do have time for a bite to eat,” Chance said. “There’s a restaurant within walking. Nothing fancy like Lil’s place.”
“Sure.”
He locked things up, talked to some flight techs, and led Megan through a side door. The restaurant was more of a fast-food cafeteria for the working crews.
“All this just to get your hot dog?” Megan teased.
Chance laughed. “They have some deli sandwiches and salads.”
“I’ll have whatever you have. Hold the onions.”
“You got it.”
Megan found a small booth by a huge window that looked out over the airport apron. When Chance returned, she took a long drink from the soda he had provided. “Seems even hotter here,” she remarked.
“Farther south.” He gave her a look of admiration. “You worked hard today.”
“You worked harder.”
He shrugged, took a bite of his hot dog. He swallowed. “All day, I kept seeing you with me in Ecuador.”
She felt a sharp intake of breath. “I thought about it, too. What it would be like to drop down into the jungle instead of an airport.”
“It’s not Indiana. It’s dangerous. There are no UPS trucks with helpful drivers.”
“Just the other day I learned that one of my ancestors was a hero.”
“I’d love to hear the story.”
“His name was Dirk Willems. He was a Dutch Anabaptist, before we were called Mennonites, who had been imprisoned during the Reformation.”
“The 1600s?”
“Yes. Many were getting burned at the stake for their beliefs. Anabaptists believed in baptism for adults instead of infants, and the state church called them heretics. Anyway, Dirk tied strips of cloth to make a rope and escaped from a prison tower. As he ran across the countryside, a guard chased after him. They came to pond covered in ice, and Dirk took the risk and crosse
d it safely. But his pursuer broke through the ice and was doomed. Dirk had to decide if God was securing his escape or if he should go back and help the man. He decided to go back. But the guard took him back to the prison, and Dirk was later burned at the stake.”
“It sounds like the missionaries who helped the Aucas.”
“Yes.”
“And he’s your ancestor?”
Megan leaned forward. “I just found out from my dad. He doesn’t talk much about these things because it troubles Mom. She’s adopted, and I guess she has some blank spots in her background.”
“But she’s Mennonite?”
“Of course.” Megan took a sip of her drink and hit bottom. Then she pushed it away. “The point of the story is that I read about Dirk Willems in college. His story is in a huge book of Anabaptist martyrs called The Martyrs Mirror. These stories always stir up my faith. And now to find out that this man I always admired is a relative just makes me a stronger person. I have to wonder if his mother prayed for her descendants, what ties connect us.”
“But if he died, then how—”
She laughed. “That’s the same thing I asked. Not him, per say, but his bloodline.”
“I see.” Chance glanced at his watch. “Maybe this stirring in you is a calling. Think seriously about Ecuador. It could be the reason we met.”
Megan’s pulse raced, and she wondered if it was true. She wouldn’t have to marry Chance to go to Ecuador.
“I have a DVD at home I’d like you to see.”
“I don’t watch television or movies,” she objected, reminded of her conversation with Micah. She had told him that she could use this trip to draw the lines in her relationship with Chance.
“I think you could make an exception for this one. It’s called The End of the Spear. It’s the story of the missionaries who were killed by the Aucas. And the scenery is representative of Ecuador.”
“It wasn’t filmed in Ecuador?”
“No. Colón, Panama. On the Panama Canal much farther north. It’s more touristy, but the movie gives a true picture of what it’s like.”
Plain City Bridesmaids Page 79