A SECOND CHANCE ROMANCE BOXED SET

by Lewis, Laurie

  Noah liked her immediately.

  Sarah came around the car and proudly cupped Noah’s elbow in her hand. He flinched, and she quickly withdrew with an apologetic smile. “Agnes, this handsome young man is our nephew, Noah. He’s offered to fix that swollen door of yours.”

  “Noah, eh?” Agnes studied his face for several seconds. A smile broke across her own and she wrapped her arms tightly around him. “You have a good eye and a good spirit. You must call me Agnes.”

  Sarah’s mouth gaped open as she whispered, “I’m sorry, Noah. She’s a hugger.”

  Noah had never been received with such abrupt warmth. He blushed, but oddly, felt less uncomfortable under Agnes’s touch, soaking in every drop of her praise.

  The tension eased from Noah’s body as Agnes gave him a brief tour of the barnyard, introducing him to each of its burr-infested, tangle-tailed residents. They nudged and gently nibbled at Agnes, and when she spoke to them, they responded in their assorted voices. Noah caught himself laughing aloud, something he couldn’t remember doing for years.

  The tour capped off with an offer of lunch, commencing with a trip to the garden for parsnips and herbs. Sarah knelt down. “Oh no, Agnes. Something’s been eating your plants.”

  Agnes scowled at the ground as if leaving a curse there. “Rabbits.”

  Knowing nothing about gardens or rabbits, Noah said, “How about a fence?”

  The suggestion was answered with another of Agnes’s signature scowls and a prolonged “Hmmm . . .” She grabbed a hoe left leaning against a nearby tree, and without explanation, she began digging at random spots in the ground. Sarah stole a worried glance Noah’s way while smiling apologetically, her eyes wide, speaking volumes.

  Evasion was a tactic Noah had resorted to on occasions when his father or other bullies had cornered him. He understood Agnes, and he also felt he knew how to lead her from that frightened place.

  “Actually, a fence might not be the best idea.”

  The hoeing slowed. “I do not like change. I like things as they are.”

  “Well, you know what’s best. What if I built a snare to catch them?”

  “You would not hurt them?”

  “No. We wouldn’t hurt them.”

  “They mean no harm. They are very afraid, you know. We understand one another. I just plant extra, enough for me, and a little extra for them.”

  Noah noticed his aunt gazing at him through moist eyes. She tucked her arm through his, and this time he didn’t flinch, not even when she leaned close and whispered, “You’re wonderful with her.” Then louder she asked, “Noah, have you ever had a fresh garden radish?”

  Again, trust seemed to travel from her eyes to his heart. The phenomenon perforated his senses, imbuing him with an overpowering sense of protectiveness for these women. He was needed. He was valuable, and he would not let them down.

  He cleared his throat and winked at Sarah before turning his attention to Agnes. “I’ve never eaten a radish in my life.”

  “Never?” Wonder beamed from Agnes’s eyes, and her hands became animated. “Mine are always the biggest and best! Have you ever gardened?”

  He loved the way her eyes grew brighter the less he knew, and he knew almost nothing about gardening. “Nope,” he said with a shake of his head that spurred Agnes’s enthusiasm on.

  “Oh!” she squealed with delight. “I will teach you! We will turn a little plot over here,” she pointed to a patch of wild, ragged grass, “and we’ll plant some squash and beans!” She took his hand and led him through the garden plot, telling him where they’d plant each vegetable and how they’d care for it. She handed him a shovel and had him dig radishes, and then she took him to her herb frame and taught him how and what to pick. She held her shirt out like a basket to receive the cold weather harvest. Afterward, she proudly led her company into her house.

  Sarah’s brow furrowed as she stepped through the doorway and the first whiff of litter box hit their noses. She leaned close and whispered in Noah’s ear. “John hasn’t felt well enough for me to get over here to clean this week.”

  Noah scanned the room and shrugged the worry off.

  “You’re a kind man, Noah.” Sarah patted his hand. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

  He surprised himself when he felt his hand squeeze hers back.

  Within a few minutes Agnes served up a pan of what appeared to be day-old corn bread slathered in butter, warmed in the oven, and bathed in honey. Noah watched his aunt bite her lip at the offering, but when he was able to disregard the food residue on the plate and glass Agnes pulled from the cupboard, Sarah became emboldened and joined in the feast. Agnes’s smile grew wider with each bite.

  Noah leaned back and patted his stomach. “You ladies will make me as fat as Tundra.”

  Confusion washed over Agnes’s face. “Tundra?”

  Noah knew his joke hit a blank spot in Agnes’s fragile mind. He rushed in to help guide her memory back. “What was the name of your pot-bellied pig?”

  Agnes’s eyes widened in concern as she glanced from Noah to Sarah. Her attention finally fixed to an unknown spot as she pondered the name. “Tundra? Tundra . . . yes, that is her name.” She looked at Sarah for confirmation. “Is that right?”

  Sarah leaned forward and smiled. In turn, the lines of concern softened around Agnes’s eyes. “Yes. You choose the dearest names for all your animals. Doesn’t she, Noah?”

  “Yes, she does.” He smiled broadly at Agnes. Like kindling on a fire, that gesture of approbation caused her eyes to brighten once more. Another lesson about this fascinating woman was tucked into his mental file. “Now show me that door of yours.”

  Agnes patted his arm and led him to the rain-soaked wooden back door that led to a porch. It was sorely in need of paint, exposed as it was by the punctured roof overhead.

  “I can fix the door so it closes, but it needs several coats of paint to protect it from the weather. And that roof needs to be repaired as well, or the door will just keep rotting.”

  Trust beamed in her eyes as she looked at him. “Can you do all those things?”

  Noah looked at Sarah. “If Uncle John can spare me.”

  His aunt shot him a knowing smile. “I think we can work something out.”

  Four hours passed like a blink, and as Noah and Sarah were driving home, Noah felt a sweet contentment at the prospect of returning to Alsace Farm.

  They found Uncle John sitting on the porch, smiling like the Cheshire cat. His happiness brightened Sarah’s mood until the glow of her face rivaled the earlier beam of Agnes’s.

  “I haven’t seen him smile like that in weeks,” Sarah whispered as she parked. She opened the car and got out, speaking to Noah in a voice loud enough for John to hear.

  “Watch out. When your uncle turns on that charm, he’s up to something.”

  “Indeed I am, Mrs. Anderson. You’ll find a little bribe on the kitchen counter.”

  Sarah quickly scaled the steps and embraced her husband, pressing his head to the crook of her neck. Even at a distance, Noah could see her eyes shining.

  Standing, she asked, “And why would I need to accept a bribe, Mr. Anderson?”

  “To keep you occupied while Noah and I pursue some man business.”

  “Is that so?” A bolt of gratitude shot from her eyes and straight into Noah’s heart. “Then it’d better be a worthy bribe.”

  “How about truffles from that Leesburg chocolatier? They’re your favorite, as I recall.”

  Sarah straightened and raised an eyebrow at her husband. “Leesburg, eh?” She winked in Noah’s direction. “Then I’d better claim my bribe and leave you men to your business.”

  Noah started John’s way as Sarah entered the house, but his uncle held his hand up, insisting on rising unassisted. Taking a moment to steady himself, John descended the porch stairs, heading for the red truck with Noah protectively near. “So, what did you think of Agnes?”

  A dozen questions and comments had alr
eady been posed to Sarah. Right now, Noah wanted to defer the topic of Agnes and enjoy this playful moment with his uncle. “I like her. This might sound odd, but I kind of understand her.”

  John paused and nodded at Noah. “Is that so?” He smiled knowingly. “I knew you two would hit it off. I had a productive day myself. I dropped by the Delacourte Art Gallery this morning.” John winked back at Noah and continued his careful descent.

  “I didn’t figure you for an art buff.”

  “I’m not, but I wanted to show off that frame you made. I met the owner when he and I sat on the local business board together. Mr. Delacourte was very impressed with your work, Noah. In fact, he wants you to bring him more samples and a price list.”

  I wanted to show off that frame you made . . . The savor of those words, and the unfamiliar emotions they dredged up left Noah unprepared to offer an adequate response.

  When they reached the truck, John leaned against it for support. “He assumes your custom frames are pricey, and he already has a special project in mind for you.” John drew a card from his pocket and handed it to Noah. “Here’s his contact information. He wants you to call and set up an appointment as soon as your samples are ready.”

  Noah’s gaze moved back and forth between the card and the giver. “Thank you. Thank you very much. I’ll . . . get . . . working on a few things.”

  “Great.” John moved to the gate of the truck and waved Noah over. “Now that the business is out of the way, let’s see about a little pleasure, shall we?” He fiddled with the lock on the rolling cover that extended over the truck bed. When it finally released, John lowered the gate, revealing a large box. John’s fingers wriggled with childlike excitement. “Open it. Open it!”

  Pulling the knife from his back pocket, Noah cut the tape on the box. The hair rose on his arms a moment later when he spread the flaps and peered inside. “Fireworks? Did you drive to Leesburg just to get these?”

  John’s smile mirrored Noah’s. “Pretty good assortment, right?” His eyes widened as he dug through the box for one particular item, a wide tube nearly two feet long. “Look at this beauty for the grand finale. She’s got mortar shell construction and she’ll shoot two hundred and fifty feet into the air with a seven-color burst, and a report that’ll echo clear into the city.” He chuckled and held her out for Noah to heft.

  “The Juggernaut,” read Noah. “Is this thing even legal for private use?”

  An ornery chuckle broke from John. “Just barely.”

  The two men laughed as they handled every piece before replacing them in the box.

  “You know, the weather should be perfect this weekend. Just enough breeze to clear the smoke, and low humidity so the colors pop. We could barbecue some burgers and get Sarah to make some of her world-class potato salad.”

  “Shouldn’t we wait for the Fourth?”

  John stalled. “That’s two months away. Do you really want to wait that long?”

  Noah’s eyes closed in pleasure as he lifted a three-stage rocket from the bundle and sniffed the pungent chemicals filling its belly. “I love that smell.” He glanced at his uncle and saw the pleasure the gift brought the giver. “Not really, but you’ll be finished with your treatments and feeling better by then. They’ll make a great celebration.”

  John became quiet and thoughtful. The pensive line of his mouth slowly curved upward. “Okay. Let’s aim for the Fourth.”

  “Uncle John? Thank you. This means . . . well . . . it was very nice of you.”

  John put the rockets back in their box and closed it. “Good memories are precious things. I’m glad we shared a few, Noah. I regret that I’ve also been the cause of some of your worst ones.” John gingerly sat on the edge of the truck gate. “I’d really like to understand what my failures cost you the night of the accident. Do you feel like talking about it now?”

  The topic would only hold pain for each of them. “Rehashing it won’t do either of us any good.”

  “It will help me let go of it.” The tenor of his voice spoke volumes about how much this discussion mattered. “Tell me about Esther. She wasn’t just a random date, was she?”

  Noah felt his heart stop for a moment at the mention of the name he had tried so hard to bury along with his youthful past. His eyes dropped to the driveway, and he shook his head.

  “You loved her.”

  He reached deep into the corner of his pocket and withdrew his other charm—a simple silver band—and set it in his uncle’s palm. “I married her. We eloped that night.”

  Uncle John’s head shook with tiny, almost imperceptible motions that testified to his grief and guilt. “You married her? Oh, Noah, I didn’t know. I swear I didn’t know.”

  Noah fell back against the truck, feeling drained by the emotions the memories stirred. His eyes lifted to measure the impact the announcement was having on his uncle, and he found Uncle John bent over as he stared at the ring.

  Like a fissure in a dam, the image weakened Noah’s resolve, releasing a flood of pent-up emotions. The old, soul-wearying fatigue of failure slammed him again. He had tried so hard to be a man, to handle a man’s responsibilities. He knew he would have done anything, sacrificed anything, to make Esther happy, and would have called it a privilege. Being loved by Esther had caused him to love himself for a time, but in the end, his efforts hadn’t been enough. He hadn’t been enough.

  “I met her when I delivered flowers to the Amish market. Her parents abandoned the Amish lifestyle when she was young, but their philosophies remained very Amish. They sent her back to live with the Yoder family, her mother’s relatives in the Amish community, to cloister her during her teen years. We both felt like castoffs. She said we were the same, but it wasn’t true. She was so kind. So innocent. The most perfect person I’d ever met. I couldn’t believe she actually loved me. For the first time in my life I knew how it felt to care for someone else more than I cared for myself.”

  He walked a few steps away and turned. “Did you know the Amish have no words to say I love you? Love is a noun to them. Never a verb. I got so confused when Esther would act as though she loved me but would never say anything more confirming than that she thought a lot of me. I assumed she had drawn the ‘friendship line,’ so I told her I loved her, and I couldn’t just be her friend. She looked at me as if I were an idiot.” He laughed sadly at the memory.

  “She explained that the term, ‘a lot’ wasn’t a quantity, but a frequency. Thinking of me a lot meant I was always on her mind because she had great love for me. We were only eighteen, but I asked her to marry me on the spot.

  “I spent weeks devising the perfect plan. I applied for copies of our birth certificates so we could slip into West Virginia and marry legally. I saved every penny and bought her a ring at Walmart. I even bought her a white dress.” He gave a hollow laugh. “I loaded the truck before dawn and made the deliveries early, and then I picked Esther up and drove to the courthouse in Berkley Springs. The plan was to get married, celebrate for a few hours, and be back before dark so we could keep our marriage a secret until I saved enough for us to get a place of our own.

  “Three other couples were in line that day. When we came out, one of them took our picture and handed us a bottle of cheap champagne. We took it with us to our hotel.”

  Noah noticed how his knees were banging into one another. Dredging up the past made his entire body feel restless and he needed to pace as he finished the story.

  “I tried to do everything right, to make it perfect like those old movies Mom watched. I reserved a nice room and ordered chocolates and flowers. When I scooped Esther up to carry her over the threshold, she finally told me she loved me.” His arms reenacted the memory, rising before him as if Esther were there. “She said it like that, straight up for the first time. I just held her, knowing everything I ever wanted was right there in my arms.” The next breath caught in his throat. “I believed life would be different from that moment on.” He felt his eyes burn and his fists cl
ench.

  “Well, I was lying there, holding her, happier than I’d ever been, but she was crying. She said if people had to sneak away to marry, then maybe God wouldn’t bless their marriage. She wanted to go home and tell her family everything. I tried to convince her that we didn’t need anyone’s permission, but she grew more upset, and we argued. I threw everything in the truck and we drove back to Maryland.

  “I’d been drinking that champagne, but I wasn’t drunk. Alcohol wasn’t the cause of that accident. When we neared the road to her uncle’s farm, I changed my mind about letting her tell anyone. I told Esther I didn’t want to risk being torn apart, so I wasn’t going to take her home. She grabbed the wheel, and I lost control of the truck. When we crashed into the old church, I must have blacked out because the next thing I remember was being hauled out of the truck by the police. I couldn’t find Esther, and no one would even tell me what happened to her. I thought I’d . . . killed her.” His voice hitched and released with a sigh. “You know the rest of the story.”

  Noah heard his uncle’s breathing stagger. “What about your marriage?” he asked.

  “Mr. Yoder came to see me at the jail. He had an annulment form in his hand. He said Esther regretted her impulsiveness and wanted me to release her. When I refused, he told me Esther’s parents were coming for her, and if I didn’t sign the papers before they arrived, not only would I never see her again, but Esther would be shunned by her family and the community. She might never find anyone else to marry. What could I do? I signed.”

  “Did you ever see her again?”

  “She was gone by the time I finally got out of jail. No one at the Amish market would even talk to me after that. One minute I had everything, and the next . . . .” He shook his head, smiling sadly at Uncle John. “So I packed my bags and headed south. I sent her letters through the market in the hopes that someone would forward one to her. I finally heard from her but . . . at that point there was no chance for us.”