“What’s he doing here?” was not what she’d intended to ask the man across the table.
Jethro glanced over his shoulder to see Gabe closing the door. Raising his eyebrows, Jethro lifted his freshly filled coffee cup. “Eating?”
Hannah stirred her soup faster as heat flamed her ears, until she was tempted to tug her kapp down over what she knew would be their fiery red edges. It shouldn’t have been a surprise that Gabe was there. Miller’s Creek had few restaurants and The Dew Drop was the only one downtown. And she’d seen Gabe’s kitchen, what there was of it. If he hadn’t unpacked the boxes since yesterday, it would’ve been difficult for him to make even a sandwich in the apartment. No wonder he was eating all his meals here.
Still, Hannah almost groaned when Gabe sat in her line of sight. The restaurant was busy, but not so busy that he couldn’t have sat somewhere else. She made a face when the young Amish waitress hurried over to him. Rebecca hadn’t served their table that quickly.
“Your soup isn’t g-gut?”
“Nee. The soup’s fine.” Hannah struggled not to stutter herself, caught as she was with her eyes and attention on another man and an alien twinge of jealousy racing through her. “Everything’s fine.” Keeping her gaze on Jethro, she strangled her spoon as Gabe laughed at something the pretty waitress said. At Jethro’s furrowed brow, Hannah forced herself to take a bite of the baked potato soup in front of her. “Can’t beat hot soup on a cold day.”
Raising his sandy-blond eyebrows again at the congealing mixture in her cup, Jethro swiveled in his chair to take another look at the man seated behind him. Now heat infused Hannah’s cheeks until she was sure they were hotter than the soup had ever been as the two men nodded stiffly to each other. Jethro swung back to regard her quizzically. Under the intense regard of both men, the heat crept down her neck. Determinedly, she took another bite. As she chewed the lumpy mass, Hannah struggled to push up the corners of her mouth into what she hoped was a friendly smile. They felt heavier than the bales of hay that she helped her brieder load on wagons in the summer.
Scooping up another bite, she winced at the sound of the spoon scraping the crockery. She had no interest in food. But if eating while watching the flirtation across the room curbed her misplaced hunger for a life with the man sitting there, it was worth forcing it down.
* * *
The approaching waitress was a needed distraction as Gabe tried not to stare at Hannah.
“What can I get you today?” she asked cheerfully, the smile on her lips matching the one in her eyes.
You can get the man sitting by Hannah to move to another table. Gabe’s own smile was a trial to keep in place. “The daily special sounds good.” He’d eaten at the restaurant several times already. Usually he enjoyed his interactions with the pretty waitress. Not today.
Rebecca laughed. “I haven’t told you what it is yet.”
“Doesn’t matter. Anything The Dew Drop makes is good.” It was true. But Gabe knew anything he’d eat today would be tasteless with Hannah sitting across the room with another man. An Amish man and an unmarried Amish woman didn’t normally sit together unless something was going on. The only thing that gave Gabe a smidgen of peace was that the man had a beard. In the Plain world, that meant he was already married.
“Pretty good crowd today,” he observed, making a point to look around the room as Rebecca topped his water glass off for the second time. “I’m getting to know by face a number of folks in town, but have a ways to go yet. For example, the couple next to the window? I’ve seen the woman at the quilt shop below my apartment, but I’m not familiar with the man.”
The waitress swiveled to see where he was looking. “Oh, that’s Hannah Lapp. She’s worked for the shop’s Englisch owner for a number of years.” Her gaze sharpened at the sight of the man. “She’s sitting with Jethro Weaver, the bishop’s son. Poor man just lost his wife and unborn child about a month ago.”
Gabe nodded stiffly when the man turned to look at him. He remembered the case. Tragic indeed. The gossip was the woman had suffered a stroke, probably from eclampsia. So heartbreaking, as the condition was preventable. But sometimes Amish women didn’t always seek prenatal care, at least until later months of their pregnancy.
From what he’d understood, the awful incident had helped push the grant responsible for his job through. “Time is tissue” was a mantra in the EMS world. Prompt help increased positive outcomes. A factor that Gabe was all too familiar with.
A cold burst of air swept over the table. Needing to distract himself from the pair at the window, Gabe glanced toward the door to see the bishop and his wife, whom he’d already had pointed out to him, come through it. The older couple scanned the room before pausing in their apparent search, a smug look settling over both their thin faces. Gabe followed their gazes to where Hannah and the bishop’s son sat. From the Weavers’ faces, the sight of the two together was met with a great deal of satisfaction. The younger couple’s relationship was obviously an arranged match.
Gabe’s mouth went dry. Leaning back in the booth, he pushed the plate Rebecca had set in from of him off to the side, his appetite suddenly gone.
Rebecca stopped by his booth again, water pitcher in hand. Her smile drooped a little when she saw the rejected plate. “Is everything all right?”
“Everything’s just fine,” he murmured, looking at the couple across the restaurant. Gabe knew, in order to convince Hannah to marry him, he already needed to overcome whatever had spooked her from their deepening relationship years earlier. Now he’d be confronting the will of the community’s leader. The community he knew was important to the woman he loved.
Persuading Hannah that they belonged together seemed impossible.
Chapter Four
The truck rocked to a stop in front of a team of draft horses. The Belgians jerked up their heads when Gabe flung open the door. A quick glance behind the team revealed a wagon of cut lumber. One end of the load was unsecured, with boards sliding from the wagon to rest on the ground. Snagging his jump bag from the passenger seat, Gabe was a step away from the cab before the last rumble of the truck’s engine faded on the crisp winter morning.
Bounding through the foot-deep snow in the ditch, he climbed over the barbed wire fence. His eyes stayed focused on the figures gathered at the edge of a small pond in the cow pasture beyond.
“Is he out?” he called as he ran, crunching across the snow-crusted grass loosely braided with cattle paths.
“Ben’s got him!”
Dodging through the handful of youngsters clustered anxiously along the pond’s bank, he saw an Amish man, garbed in a dark coat and watch cap, holding on to a rope. Gabe’s sharp gaze followed the line across the frozen pond, its surface splintered with cracks like a broken windshield, to another man sprawled on the ice. This man’s dark hair was plastered to his head, his arm hooked over a boy’s chest. The youth sagged against the man’s blue coat. His head bounced gently with each jerk of the rope as the Amish man pulled it in. An ominous crackle and pop drew gasps from the boys as another long splinter appeared on the pond’s surface next to the prone pair. Gabe grabbed the icy rope and heaved in sync with the man.
“Did he go under?”
“Ja.”
“How long?”
“About five minutes before Ben pulled him out.”
“You know the kid?”
“Nee. He’s Englisch.”
The pair was sliding closer to the ragged brown weeds that fringed the pond. “Hey, kids!” Gabe called to the hovering crowd of boys. “What’s your friend’s name?”
“Alex,” one of the older boys responded shakily. “Is he going to be okay?”
“We’ll do everything we can,” Gabe assured him, although his stomach clenched at the sight of the boy’s limp figure. Keep calm, Bartel. Maybe you can save this one. His muscles strained with another coordin
ated pull on the line. “What happened?”
“It looked like a good place to play hockey. Then we heard a crash, and Alex went down. We tried to get to him, but the ice was popping and we thought we all might go under, so we got off. Derek called 911 and when we saw these guys coming... We should have gone out there to help him.” The boy’s voice started to crack.
“Nah. You did good. Otherwise we’d be pulling more of you out.” Gabe’s attention was on the pair, close enough now to reach from the frozen ground of the bank. Both man and boy were white-faced, the boy’s lips growing bluer as Gabe watched. Reaching out a hand, the Amish rescuer assisted his friend off the ice. Rivulets of water ran from the other man’s dark hair, streaming down over his face as he tried to lift the boy toward Gabe.
“That’s okay. I got him.” Snagging his jump bag, Gabe swept the limp boy into his arms, the sopping blond head lolling over his elbow. Working his way over the jagged terrain to the first flat ground he could find, Gabe gently laid the boy on his back. The kid wasn’t breathing. He pressed fingers to the cold skin of the boy’s neck. Nothing. No chest movement. No faint throbbing under his fingertips to indicate the kid was still alive. Gabe’s own heart was pounding like he’d been thrashing in icy waters. Quickly snagging a CPR mask, he adjusted it over the boy’s face.
“Stay with me, Alex,” he muttered as he positioned himself over the motionless form. Without conscious thought, he began chest compressions to the rhythmic beat of an old disco tune. Thirty compressions, two quick breaths, back to the compressions, the process was automatic. Two minutes into the sequence, Gabe checked again for a pulse. Still nothing. “Come on, Alex,” he begged, resuming compressions.
For a moment, the scenery surrounding Gabe shifted from frozen water and snow-skiffed earth to one lush and green. The slack face below him was not an unknown boy, but his well-loved little brother. Only muscle memory kept Gabe’s rhythm from breaking. But he had to draw in a shuddering gasp before he could breathe for himself, much less for the boy.
One of the two men hovering tensely nearby shifted. Gabe welcomed the distraction. “How’d you get here so fast?”
The dry one, blond hair curling up from under his dark blue watch cap, responded. “We were taking a load of lumber to the furniture shop in town. Heard the boys calling. Ben cut the rope on the load and we used it as a line in case he went down with the boy. Which he did. I think intentionally.”
Gabe glanced up while he continued pressing the heels of his hands against the boy’s chest. The Amish man’s words might’ve been flippant, but his face was strained. Gabe followed the man’s concerned gaze when it shifted to his companion.
The dark-haired man was shaking under his wet coat. “He went under.” The words were barely audible due to his chattering teeth. Gabe’s brow lowered at the sight of the man’s pinched, white face.
“Ben, right?” After Gabe gave the boy two more breaths and resumed compressions, he shot another look at the man crouched beside him.
“Ja.”
Gabe couldn’t tell if the man responded with a nod or was just shaking. “I can’t take care of both of you. Get in my truck. Can you turn it on? Good. Start it up and get the heater going. Behind the seat I have an extra jacket. Take off your wet clothes and put it on. Hopefully by then the ambulance will have arrived and you can fill them in when you bring them over here. Got it? Good.”
“Nothing yet?” the blond man asked, watching his friend stumble across the field toward the truck.
“Nobody is dead until they’re warm and dead,” Gabe panted in time with the compressions. “You know CPR?” He grunted in relief at the man’s hesitant nod. After giving the boy two more quick breaths, he checked again for a pulse. Nothing. Resuming compressions, Gabe hoped the sound in his ears was the faint wail of the ambulance and not encroaching fatigue. Or the memory of a brother he couldn’t save. Please, God, no. Don’t let me lose another one.
* * *
Hannah hesitantly tapped on the apartment’s door. Holding her breath, she listened for the sound of someone crossing the floor to respond to her knock. At the continued silence, she rapped again, slightly louder. With no ensuing footfalls as the seconds passed, her shoulders sagged. Hannah told herself it was with relief, not disappointment. Gabe was still out.
She’d thought she’d heard him leave earlier in the day. Who are you trying to fool, Hannah Lapp? You’re aware of every single sound that comes from this apartment. I’m surprised you don’t hear the dust settling. You know he left thirty minutes after you arrived this morning and hasn’t come back yet.
Hannah winced at the guilt that bounced through her head like popcorn on a hot stove. She hadn’t seen Gabe since her uncomfortable meal at The Dew Drop earlier that week. She’d finished his curtains at home last night. Her mamm had regarded her curiously when Hannah awkwardly explained what she was making, but hadn’t said anything further. Hannah had wanted to get the curtains done quickly and to not have a reason to think about him...them anymore.
Which didn’t explain the extra care she’d taken to ensure they were some of her best work. Or the fact that when she’d heard his tread on the stairs and the thud of the back door this morning, she’d battled briefly with dismay that he’d left before she could get upstairs to hang them. She was glad he’d be gone when she went upstairs with the curtains and the rods Barb had provided. Wasn’t she? It was only because she’d been busy with customers and other duties that she hadn’t been able to get upstairs to take care of it while he was out. Not because she’d been hoping he’d return before she went up.
Which he hadn’t. With a sigh, Hannah tentatively twisted the door knob and entered the apartment.
Gabe had been right. He hadn’t collected much in the way of household goods. The apartment was Spartan beyond a tired couch, bordered by a scuffed wooden coffee table and worn end tables. The simple mismatched collection faced an oil-burning stove. Hannah glanced at the blue material in her hands and smiled wryly. He’d also been right that the apartment needed some cheering up.
Closing the door behind her, Hannah headed for the window, making note of every detail of the room. It wasn’t because it was his. She was just curious. That was all. She wrinkled her nose as her feet echoed on the wooden floor. A rug would warm up the room both in appearance and functionality. Pursing her lips, Hannah recalled some old wool her mamm had been keeping for years. Perhaps she’d let Hannah have it to braid a rug, just a little one, to lie between the couch and coffee table. Just something warm he could put his feet on over the winter—
Shrieking, Hannah clutched the curtains to her chest at the sight of the body lying on the floor beyond the couch. Staring at the motionless figure, she froze. It took a few frantic heartbeats for her to realize it wasn’t a body...exactly. Although the yellow hair was almost lifelike, the rigid face beneath it obviously was not. The blue sweatshirt on the—Man? Woman? Doll?—was zipped up to just under a plastic chin.
Still, she backed away from the lifeless form. When she reached the window, following one last look to ensure the figure didn’t move, she pivoted. Setting the rods and curtains at the base, Hannah looked up at the tall window. Realizing she didn’t have any nails to attach the rod’s brackets to the wall or a hammer to secure them, Hannah wrinkled her nose in dismay. It’s no wonder, you dummkopf. You were more concerned with the missing man than the job at hand.
Keeping a wary eye on the body at the end of the couch, Hannah headed for the door. And shrieked again when it swung open toward her. The heavy beat of her heart thrummed under her fingertips as she clutched her chest. Gabe swept through the door and jerked it closed, his alarmed green eyes touching on her before they scrutinized the rest of the small apartment. Ascertaining no threat, he frowned and set down the black backpack in his hand. Closing the distance between them, he gently curled his hands around her upper arms. “Are you all right?”
“Ja. I just wasn’t expecting you to come through the door.”
As Gabe searched her face, his gaze gradually softened its intensity. His fingers twitched on her arms and, for a moment, it seemed he would draw her to him. Hannah held her breath. When Gabe relaxed his hold and stepped away, she let it out in a quiet sigh. Surely not of disappointment?
With a furrowed brow, Gabe glanced around the apartment again before returning his attention to Hannah, his cheek creasing at the slight lift in the corner of his mouth. “What are you doing up here?”
Her own cheeks heating, Hannah closed her eyes in frustration. I was going to be calm when I saw him again. In control. Distantly pleasant, as should a woman be who is going to marry another man. Not screeching throughout his apartment like a startled owl. Or trembling like a leaf in a breeze when he touches me. Opening her eyes, she gestured uncomfortably toward the window before crossing her arms in front of her. “I finished your curtains. I was going to hang them, but I didn’t have all the tools I needed.”
Shrugging off his coat, Gabe hung it on a peg on the wall before he looked toward the stack of blue fabric lying under the window. “Oh,” he said distractedly. He smiled at her. But it wasn’t the teasing, personal smile that’d originally drawn her to him at the party years ago. It didn’t involve his eyes that Hannah knew could dance like a flame in a fireplace. If her behavior was different than she’d envisioned, his was dramatically so. What was going on?
Crossing to the window with a heavy tread, Gabe picked up the curtains. Staring down at the blue fabric, he absently stroked his hand over the top of the stack. “They’re beautiful. They’ll really brighten up the place. Thank you.” His normally rich baritone barely deviated from a monotone.
Her Forbidden Amish Love Page 4
