“You only want to talk now?”
He smiled. “Nee. But I think we need to put some space between us before things get out of control. No, I mean before I get out of control.”
Looking bemused, she nodded. “All right, John.”
Sitting across from her, he made a mental note to remember that if he really needed Marie to do something, all he had to do was kiss her and then admit that he wanted to do more than that.
Since it now seemed that they might have many more moments like this in their future, he planned to put that plan to good use.
No matter what John said, she knew he wasn’t the only person who was struggling for control. It felt like they’d been waiting for this moment for most of their lives.
When they’d been little, she’d always wanted to be near him because he was nice and had never made fun of the frilly sundresses her mother used to make her wear. Later, when they were young teenagers, she used to admire how steady and quiet he was. So many boys in her classes at school bragged too much or made too many jokes at the expense of others.
Then, when they were sixteen, everything between them had changed again. He’d gotten so handsome, and sometimes she’d even catch him watching her. They’d begun lightly flirting and would always seek to sit next to each other when the Eight got together.
She’d spent many a lazy afternoon dreaming of doing more than flirting. To imagine that there could one day be more to them than something clandestine or fleeting.
Leaning toward him, she said, “Tell me everything, John. What did your family say? Are they upset with you?” Suddenly worried, she blurted, “Are they upset with me?”
His eyebrows rose. “Why would they be upset with you?”
Because he’d done this to be with her. Because he’d known that she would never have made such a sacrifice for him. “You know,” she hedged. “Because you’re changing.”
“Well, they ain’t thrilled, I’ll tell you that. But they don’t seem to think it’s the end of the world either.”
“Really?”
He nodded. “I wouldn’t lie about this.”
“What happens now?”
“I’m afraid whatever happens in our future is up to you.”
“I meant for you. For your life at your home. Do you have to move out?”
He hesitated. “My parents haven’t said anything, but I think that would be best. I’m going to need to make some changes. That’s going to be hard, and I don’t want to disrespect them by adopting new things in front of them.”
She nodded. Everything he was saying made sense. “Do you know where you’re going to look for a place? I would invite you here, but I don’t think that would be a good idea.”
He laughed. “I don’t think so either.” He shrugged. “I’ll look around tomorrow and make a choice. It’s not really that important to me right now.”
John was making it all sound so easy, but she knew it was anything but. No matter how close he was to his parents and siblings, there was no denying that he was going to be different now. They’d never be able to go back, either.
“Let me know how I can help you.” Realizing something, she said, “If you need help with a loan or something, I could help you at the bank.”
“I’ll be okay. I have a bank account, Marie.”
“Of course you do. You know I’m just flustered.”
“Because you weren’t ready?” he asked softly. “Or maybe you didn’t want me to go English?”
Wanting to do justice to his question, she spent a moment thinking about it, then said, “John, I kind of feel like I had a dream for all my life that I wanted to happen but was sure that it never would. And now, suddenly, it has all become true. Part of me is afraid to open my eyes wide. If I do, maybe I’ll realize that it’s all just a dream.”
“I might have been the man you’ve been dreaming about, Marie, but I ain’t no figment of your imagination.”
“Ah. There you are. Still the same, full-of-yourself man that I’ve always known.” Getting to her feet, she said, “Maybe things haven’t changed all that much between us after all.”
Getting to his feet as well, he said, “I hope not.”
“What do you want to do now? I guess we could go look at apartments.”
“How about you go put on some clothes that you can relax in, and then we sit down on your couch and watch TV?”
“That’s it?”
“It sounds like a good idea to me. You need to relax, I need to become more English.”
“And you think hanging out on the couch and watching television is an English activity?”
“It for sure ain’t Amish, Marie.” He picked up her now-empty plate. “Go change now.”
“I can handle my plate.”
“I need to practice putting it in the dishwasher, right?”
Shaking her head at his teasing, Marie walked back to her bedroom and got ready to put on old leggings and an oversized T-shirt.
Spending a couple of hours curled next to John while they watched mindless shows sounded like heaven.
After all, they had far more important things on their minds.
THIRTY
“He said that one day all of us were going to look back on that afternoon and be glad for it. He said that what made life memorable wasn’t when everything went so right that it was easy . . . it was when everything felt so wrong that the only thing to do was accept it for what it was—a memory in the making.”
“Miss, can you help me, please?”
Molly turned to the English man who’d just called out, hoping that he hadn’t noticed that she’d been staring into space for at least five minutes. “Of course. What do you need?”
Looking completely confused, he held up a pair of cookbooks. One was a Martha Stewart book, the other from Betty Crocker. “Do you know anything about these?”
He seemed nice. He looked to be about the age of James or John and had kind-looking brown eyes. “Beyond that they’re both cookbooks?” she teased.
He smiled. “Yeah. Beyond that.”
“Well, I know a little bit about them.” Her mother didn’t really use cookbooks but had never minded if Molly tried out new recipes from time to time. Enjoying the various authors’ stories and all the pictures, Molly had sat down and skimmed through all of the cookbooks at one time or another. “What is your question? I’ll help if I can.”
“I’m trying to make a meal for my girlfriend. I don’t know which one to use, though. I’ve heard of Martha Stewart, but some of the ingredients in her recipes are unfamiliar. Some of them look complicated, too.”
“Well, now. I’m no cooking expert, but I think Martha Stewart might have more difficult recipes. Are you a good cook?”
“Not exactly.” He looked at her, almost as if he thought she was going to laugh about that. When she didn’t, he continued. “I can make simple things. You know, grill. And I can make eggs and bacon.” He brightened. “And a lasagna.”
“Lasagna is gut.”
He nodded. “I thought so. But my Melissa is a great cook. I don’t think she’s going to be too impressed by my lasagna.” Looking at the two books that were now spread out on the table in front of him, he murmured, “I know she likes Martha Stewart. Do you think she makes an easy lasagna?”
Molly thought Martha Stewart would probably make a very delicious lasagna with fresh-from-the-garden sauce and homemade noodles. “It sounds like you are planning a pretty nice supper. Are you, um, sure that it needs to be fancy?”
“Doesn’t fancy mean ‘special’?”
She couldn’t help it, she laughed. “I’m Amish. We aren’t real comfortable with fancy.”
He smiled sheepishly. “I guess not. Anyway, I still want to do something special, something that she knows I went to a lot of trouble to do. We’ve been going out for a while now. Four months. I thought it was probably time to do something that meant something, you know?”
She nodded. “I’m thinking you could either
check out both books and look at them at home on your own, or we could flip through a couple of the recipes together now. What do you think?”
“Do you really have time for that?”
“Of course I do. Helping patrons is my job.”
He pointed to one of the higher tables. “Let’s go over them and figure this out.”
She laughed. “Jah. Let’s figure out something for this Melissa.”
Over the next fifteen minutes, they talked about the merits of chicken casseroles and Mexican enchiladas, and even something called Beef Wellington, which needed goose liver pâté. After deciding that neither he nor his Melissa liked that, they decided on a whole meal from the Betty Crocker cookbook.
They even got out some scraps of paper and marked the pages for a chicken casserole with spinach and wild rice, a green salad with homemade dressing, and a pan of brownies because Melissa was a real fan of chocolate.
When they finished, Craig—they were now on a first-name basis—held up his hand. “Give me a high-five.”
She chuckled as she playfully slapped her palm against his. “Gut job, Craig. It’s a mighty fine meal.”
He grinned at her. “Thanks for your help, Molly. I couldn’t have done the planning without you.”
Molly didn’t know if she’d ever gotten as nice a compliment as that at work. “You are welcome. Take your time and don’t worry too much. Cooking is easy if you can follow directions.”
He handed her the Martha Stewart cookbook. “Would you mind putting this one away? I don’t think I’m ready for Martha yet.”
“I’ll be happy to. Good luck with your supper. I hope Melissa enjoys it.”
“I hope so, too.” Just as he turned away, he said, “Hey, thanks for helping me. I . . . well, you really helped a lot. At first, I was sure you were going to think it was kind of weird that a guy like me was trying to learn to cook.”
“A guy like you?”
He waved a hand over his jeans and dark red T-shirt that Molly now realized had CAMERON AND SONS emblazoned across the front. “You know. I probably look like just a dumb construction worker.”
She shook her head. “I think you look like a man who cares enough about his girlfriend to step out of his comfort zone.” Taking a chance, she admitted, “I was just glad my wheelchair didn’t make you think that I wouldn’t be of use.”
Two lines formed on his forehead. “What? Like that you can’t cook because you’re in a chair?”
“Well, jah.”
He smiled softly. “I’d never think that.” When she must have still looked skeptical, he leaned down a little closer. “See, my Melissa? She’s in a wheelchair, too.”
Before Molly could respond, he winked and walked toward the checkout desk. Seconds later, he was out the door, a spring in his step that might just be from his plans to make that Betty Crocker supper.
Realizing she was still holding the cookbook he’d decided against, she turned her chair to the right and headed over to the cookbook aisle.
She put it neatly away, thinking all the while that the conversation she’d had with that man had been rather eye-opening. He had been waiting for her to question his goals, and she had been expecting him to think that she couldn’t help him plan his menu because either he hadn’t thought she was knowledgeable enough in the library or probably didn’t cook.
But none of those things had happened. Instead, they’d proved each other wrong.
“What was going on with that man?”
She turned her head and was surprised to see Danny standing at the end of the aisle. “I didn’t hear you approach. Hiya, Danny.”
“Hi back.” Still looking at her intently, he said, “Do you know that man well?”
“Um, nee. I don’t know Craig well at all.”
“But you know his name?”
“We were planning supper for his girlfriend. It took a while, so we introduced ourselves.” What was going on? He was sure acting odd.
“Oh.”
Searching his face, she tried to guess what he was thinking then gave up. She shrugged. “What are you doing here?”
“Obviously, I came here to talk to you.”
“That don’t seem all that obvious to me, Danny. You made your point about how you felt about me pretty clear the other afternoon.”
He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Yeah. Well, about that. I have started to think that maybe I was a bit harsh with you.”
“You were more than that. You made me feel pretty bad, Danny.”
“You’re so sweet. I didn’t expect you to argue with me.”
“Discovering that I have a mind of my own is what upset you?”
He nodded. “Jah.” He stopped. “Nee! I mean, no.” Looking pained, he finished. “I mean, I don’t know.” Danny sighed. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me, Molly. I thought I knew everything I believed in. But after getting to know you better? I’m starting to realize that I didn’t actually know anything at all.”
Hearing him flustered did more to repair the damage that their argument had done than a sweetly worded apology would have. To her, his unease meant this relationship was just as new and foreign to him as it was to her. And that, of course, made her feel like in this area, at least, they were on the same footing.
“I know you’re close with your brother. Surely with your parents, too?” She searched his face. “Aren’t you used to not agreeing with people you care about all the time?”
Instead of answering, he smiled. “Are you saying that you care about me, Molly?”
Oh, boy. She sure walked into that one! She figured she could either fib and say she didn’t mean anything or tell him the truth. “Of course I do.”
He smiled at her. “I care about you, too.”
Even though she was sure she was bright red, she didn’t dare look away. She wanted to remember everything about this moment.
“Molly, I stopped by your house earlier and talked to your mother.”
“You talked to my mamm?” Dread and embarrassment started circling in her head. “What about?”
“You. I mean about courting you.”
“You did?” She was pretty sure her voice was squeaking.
“Jah. I told her that though I like coming to your house, I want to take you out to do other things, too.”
“What did she say?”
He smiled at her. “Your mamm told me that it wasn’t up to her, it was up to you.”
Molly didn’t know whether to laugh or cover her face in embarrassment. “Wow,” she murmured. Because, well, what else could she say?
Looking pleased, Danny stuffed his hands in his pockets. “So, um I was thinking . . . could you ever ride in a courting buggy?”
He wanted to take her for a ride in a courting buggy! “Sure,” she said quickly, just as she realized what he was asking. He was asking if she could ride in one. Not if she wanted to.
Luckily, though Molly didn’t have much romantic experience, she had quite a bit of practice discussing her physical needs. “Danny, are you asking how to go about moving me?”
He nodded. “I don’t know how much of you is paralyzed. I don’t want to hurt you.” He lowered his voice. “Should I not be mentioning anything like that? Is it too personal?”
“Not at all.” She shrugged, hoping to make their awkward conversation a little easier. “I’ve had to deal with my disability since I was nine, Danny. You wouldn’t believe the conversations I’ve had to have about my body.” Realizing that he was looking even more embarrassed, she laughed softly. “I’m sorry. I guess I should also say that the majority of these conversations have been with my siblings.”
“No. No, I want to be able to talk to you about this. If, you know, you don’t mind.”
She realized then that Mrs. Laramie was looking over at them. No doubt she was wondering when Molly was going to get back to work! “Would you mind if we talked about this later? It’s kind of personal and I am supposed to be working.”
N
ow he was the one with bright red cheeks. “Oh. Jah, sure.”
“Danke.”
Leaning down so they were eye to eye, he said, “How about I come to your house tonight and we talk?”
“If you come at five, you could join us for supper.”
Danny’s dark eyes looked panicked. “I’m not ready to share a meal with your whole family yet. I’ll be there at six.”
She chuckled. “I don’t blame you for wanting to dodge a meal with them. Come over at six and I’ll save you some dessert.”
He smiled at her before turning away. She watched him leave before turning her chair toward the main circulation desk.
When she stopped at the front of it, she saw that Mrs. Laramie was watching her with a smile. “Looks like you’ve got an admirer, Molly.”
Everything about him felt too new to share, especially with her boss. “Danny is nice. We’re friends.”
“Friends? Well, that’s nice.”
It was actually more than nice. In a way, it was kind of remarkable. It was remarkable that someone she’d always had feelings for suddenly liked her back. Almost like the Lord was gifting her for being so patient.
Mrs. Laramie was still smiling at her. “I also noticed that you helped one very appreciative patron. He couldn’t sing your praises high enough when he checked out his cookbook.”
That, Molly could talk about. “He was funny. He wanted to make a fancy dinner for his girlfriend but couldn’t really cook. We planned out a menu from the Betty Crocker cookbook.”
“I’m glad you were there to help him. Not every employee here likes doing things like that.”
“I do. It was fun. He was mighty eager. Like a puppy.”
Mrs. Laramie chuckled. “He told everyone around the desk about his menu. Good job.”
Molly smiled. It was tempting to share his compliment, or maybe even that his girlfriend was also wheelchair bound, but that all sounded too prideful. “What would you like me to work on now?”
Her boss pointed to the clock. “Go pick out a children’s book. It’s almost story time.”
The Patient One Page 20