Her Forbidden Amish Love

by Jocelyn McClay

  The snow drilled into the back of Gabe’s head. Air rushed past so fast that it was hard to get a breath, and when he did gasp one in, the cold bit all the way down his windpipe. After what seemed hours but was probably merely minutes, the wind, though still fierce, was hampered by the intermittent buildings. As they got farther into town, its power decreased. Soon they were walking upright. And faster. The road surface, while covered with snow, wasn’t as slick underneath.

  Under his gloved fingers, Gabe could feel Hannah shivering. He had to get her to shelter. Heat. Dry clothes. All of which he had in his apartment. Gabe’s hand tightened at the thought of wrapping his fingers around a hot cup of coffee. He wanted to cheer when they reached their block of Main Street.

  “Just about there,” he encouraged Hannah, thrilled that he could speak at a normal decibel instead of shouting against the wind.

  Before heading for the alley entrance, they stopped a breathless moment to look down Main Street. It was the first time Gabe had seen it empty of cars. Even in front of The Dew Drop, the parking spaces were deserted. Soft lights glowed from inside the windows, although the restaurant looked empty. The streetlamps shone down on the deepening snow, falling flakes looking like crystals as they drifted into their feeble light.

  The fabric shop was illuminated from inside, as well.

  “Oh dear, I forgot to turn them off when I left.”

  Gabe moved his hand from her elbow to wrap it around her shoulders. “That’s okay. It looks pretty good to me. It’s welcoming us home.”

  “First thing I want to do is call the phone hut near my folks and let them know I’m okay.”

  “Sounds like a plan. After you use it, I hope Barb won’t mind that I borrow it to check in.”

  “I’m sure that would be fine...” Hannah’s words died off as everything suddenly went dark about them. The street lights, the shop’s lights, the lights from The Dew Drop. The street was pitched into darkness, the only light the white of the snow.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “What happened?” Hannah’s voice was shaking as much as her slender shoulders were under his arm.

  “Power went out.” Gabe tucked her closer to his body.

  “Will it come back on? It’s not a factor at home, but so many things here depend upon it.”

  “It will, but I don’t know when. Come on, let’s get you inside.” Gabe urged Hannah around the corner to the alley entrance. Supporting the squirming pups inside his jacket with one arm, Gabe kicked snow away from the door in order to get it open enough for them to stumble through. The hall inside was pitch black and silent. A silence broken by Hannah’s surprising giggle.

  “I’m just so happy to be here.”

  “Probably not as happy as I am to have gotten you here. Still, we need to get you dry and warmed up. Thanks to the previous tenants, even without electricity, upstairs we’ll have light and heat of various sources. I might run every one of them, just to try to thaw out my feet.”

  Upon pulling off his gloves with his teeth, Gabe dug into a pocket to find his penlight. A moment later, he and Hannah sighed in relief at the circle of light.

  “How about yours?”

  Hannah stomped her feet to knock off the snow that covered her shoes. “Cold, but not frozen.” Slipping off her shoes, she headed for the store’s back door and unlocked it.

  “Where are you going? We need to get the pups and you upstairs next to some heat.”

  “I’m calling the phone hut to let someone know I’m all right.”

  With a grunt, Gabe quickly slipped off his own boots and followed her into the store. He swept the light ahead of Hannah as she headed for the counter and the cordless phone there.

  In the glow of the flashlight, Gabe could see her frown of confusion when she picked up the receiver and lifted it to her ear. “It’s dead.”

  With the beam, Gabe touched on the phone’s base and the flat gray cord protruding from it. “The phone may be cordless, but it still uses electricity.” As Hannah’s face fell into more distress than he’d seen her express all the treacherous evening, Gabe put his arm around her. “The storm is supposed to stop by morning. They might have the power on before that, and we can call then. From what I know of the Amish, once the blowing stops, a little snow on the ground won’t prevent them from getting around. In the meantime, let’s get you and my wiggling passengers upstairs and warmed up. It’s not bad down here right now, but without power and in this cold and wind, the temperature will drop fast. Come on.”

  He guided her to the back door. “Besides, I need your help in figuring out how to get all this nonelectric stuff upstairs going.”

  Gabe had never been so thrilled to enter his apartment. With the help of Hannah and the penlight, kerosene lanterns left by the previous tenants were located and lit, along with the gas heater. By this time, the pups were ready to explore. Or something.

  “Help,” he murmured to Hannah when two cold noses poked under his chin and little tongues began licking his neck.

  She came to his rescue, unzipping his coat and vest to collect the puppies. “They’re hungry. I dropped the supplies just inside the door downstairs.”

  “I’ll get it.” Resurrecting his penlight from his pocket, Gabe slipped off his jump bag, set it next to the door and went on his errand. When he returned to the apartment, Hannah had her outer gear off and was on the floor by the heater with the pups in her lap.

  He carried the supplies into the kitchen. “I’ve got a box in here from when I moved that will help keep them contained.” He raised his voice so she could hear him in the other room. “I’m sure I could find a blanket to cushion it to sacrifice for the cause, as well.”

  “Sounds gut. How about a pan or bowl they can use for feeding?”

  “I think I can dig something up.”

  Ten minutes later, he set a bowl of puppy food soaked in milk supplement on the floor. The pups scrambled over from their explorations of the room to eat. He and Hannah chuckled as one climbed into the bowl.

  “Hey there, bud. You need to share with your sibling.” Picking up the pup, Gabe set him outside the dish. While the puppies ate, their white-tipped tails wagging over their black backs, Hannah rose to her knees and inched her way closer to the heater.

  “As the temperature drops, that’ll feel even better.”

  “I don’t think it could feel any better than it does right now,” Hannah disagreed, holding her hands as close as possible to the emanating heat. She looked over when he knelt beside her. “You know I can’t stay up here with you.”

  Gabe extended his fingers toward the heater. “I didn’t risk our life and limb, or at least fingers and toes, to get you safely into town just to let you freeze downstairs. With the power off, there’s no heat in the store.” He stared at the red glow inside the heater. “If you’re going to be stubborn about it, it would be better if you stayed up here and I went downstairs.”

  Hannah leaned over to poke him with her elbow. “Ach, were you always this contrary?”

  “Me, contrary?” Gabe snorted. “I doubted my judgment and good sense in getting us out of the blizzard. And you’re telling me you can’t stay where it’s safe and warm? If that’s not the definition of contrary, I don’t know what is.”

  They huddled in companionable silence, hands outstretched to the heater. Gabe swallowed audibly. “Another definition might be a woman who knows how much a man loves her, and knows she loves him, but won’t agree to marry him.”

  For a moment, he didn’t think she would respond. Was he wrong? Had he pushed too far? Memories of when he’d thought the same thing years before, only to have Hannah disappear, made Gabe feel colder than he had during their snowy walk into town.

  “How about a man who pursues a woman when he knows the decision to marry him is...complicated?”

  “I’m beginning to think he’s just d
ense,” Gabe muttered.

  Hannah turned to smile at him. “I’ve wondered that a time or two myself.”

  Gabe tipped his little finger to tap against hers. “Should he give up hope?”

  She hooked her pinkie around his. “If he can be patient just a little bit longer, there might be a chance.”

  Gabe shifted until they were touching shoulders. “He’s a pretty patient guy.”

  For several heartbeats, there was only the sound of the flame inside the oil heater beside them and the occasional squeak of the puppies eating. When Hannah spoke again, it was barely above a whisper. “I’ll... I’ll talk to my parents when I see them again. And...tell Jethro that I can’t marry him when I...love someone else.”

  Gabe’s heart pounded enough he didn’t need the heater to warm him. Drawing in a breath to respond, he grunted at the needle-sharp teeth that nipped his stockinged foot. Looking over his shoulder, he saw one of the pups had wandered from the bowl to find something else to nibble on. Scooping up the pup, he handed it to Hannah. “Since they’re done, I’m going to fix some tea and something hot to eat on my gas stove so—” he looked intently at Hannah “—whoever goes downstairs is further fortified.” Rising to his feet, Gabe headed for the kitchen.

  “That will be gut,” Hannah called to his back. “I’ll appreciate that when I go downstairs.”

  Lighting the stove, Gabe snorted.

  After the pups were settled and Hannah and Gabe had a meal of soup, tea and whatever else he could scrounge up, it was Hannah who went downstairs for the night. The debate continued as they descended the stairs by way of Gabe’s penlight and another flashlight he’d unearthed. He refused to allow an oil or kerosene lamp down among the fabric.

  “How do the Englisch manage to stay warm in the winter without electricity?” Hannah countered. “Surely they don’t all freeze overnight?”

  As he feared, the shop was already much cooler, even in the short time they’d been upstairs. “They probably have extra clothes to put on.” Gabe considered it a victory that he’d finally persuaded Hannah to put on a pair of his socks. Her stockings were currently hanging on the back of a chair next to the heater to dry overnight. “Or extra blankets for the bed. You don’t even have a bed. You’ll be on the cold floor. Unless you think you’re going to sleep on the countertop.” He raised an eyebrow when a smile blossomed on Hannah’s face.

  “But I have blankets. Probably more than you do upstairs. I just need to get them down. And—” enthusiasm sparked her tone “—bags of batting would make a wunderbar mattress. I’ll be more comfortable than you will.”

  When Gabe narrowed his eyes at her logic, Hannah lifted her light to expose all the quilts that lined the upper walls of the shop. He shook his head in reluctant admiration.

  “Are you sure?” Gabe called as he fetched the chair by the counter. Sliding it next to the wall, he climbed upon it and started unclipping clothes pins that secured the quilts Hannah pointed out to him.

  Hannah took the quilts as he handed them down. “Barb won’t care. These are ones I made. In fact, she’d be helping me take them down if she was here.”

  “What would you have done if you’d worked in a grocery store? Used a bunch of soup cans for a mattress?”

  Hannah carried her stack of quilts to the counter. “I’d have figured out something.” They quickly made a bed on the floor beside the counter. Gabe had to admit when they were finished that it looked pretty comfy.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to stay upstairs where it might be warmer? I mean, I could stay here.”

  “Nee, I’ll be fine.”

  “They’ll probably have the electricity on by morning,” Gabe said. “When you wake up, come upstairs for coffee, if not a little breakfast.”

  “Little being the key word.”

  He smiled at her teasing of his near-empty pantry. “I need to get back to the Bent ’N Dent and pick up some more expired breakfast bars.” Gabe glanced at her face—this woman who’d endured so much with him tonight—shadowed in the indirect glow of their flashlights. “Well, good night. Call if you need anything. I mean call—” he cupped his hands about his mouth “—not call,” he continued, nodding toward the inoperative phone.

  “Ja.” Hannah held his gaze.

  Even in the shadows, Gabe was pulled into the sweet warmth in her eyes. He felt himself lean in—an inch, two, three—before he froze.

  With a long exhale, he shifted back. “Well, I probably better go. When did you say those two need to eat again?”

  Hannah smiled, but was that disappointment he saw in the shadowy light? “In six hours.”

  With a brief nod, Gabe reluctantly backed toward the door. He didn’t break eye contact until he bumped into the wall. “See you in the morning,” he murmured. Her soft “good night” followed him out the door. Jubilant at having her close and at her earlier shy admission, the beam of his flashlight barely kept ahead of him as he took the stairs three at a time.

  * * *

  Hannah tucked the quilts about her. Snuggling more deeply into her nest, she grinned as she listened to the wind whine against the storefront glass and the corresponding creaks of the old building. The room temperature might be dropping, but she was cozy in her pallet. Directing the flashlight’s beam to the ceiling overhead, she saw not the shadows it made on the painted surface, but the man in the apartment above it.

  They’d been through so much tonight. It was hard to believe it was only a few hours since Gabe had offered to take her home. He’d trusted her to help with his emergency call and, later, she’d trusted him to keep them safe. They made a good team. If they could handle the challenges of the past few hours, surely together they could face any circumstances that would come their way?

  She’d admitted she loved him. Hannah hugged the thought to herself. It felt good. The memory of what else she’d said—that she’d talk to her folks and Jethro—not so much. She flexed her fingers in their grip on the blankets. She needed to talk with the bishop, who was still recovering. Hannah’s chest tightened with remorse.

  She’d always done as she should. Surely just this once she could ignore the bishop’s directive? Her parents had married for love, wouldn’t they understand? And Jethro, the man had recently lost his wife. Surely any feelings he might have for Hannah were just simple respect at this point? Gott had created love and marriage, had he not? Surely he would understand a hope for love in the relationship? Hannah rearranged the batting she was using as a pillow. Her hope was for courage to face the upcoming confrontations.

  Shifting to lie on her back, she winced at a poke into her hair. Touching her head, she rolled her eyes when she realized she still wore her prayer kapp. Sitting up, she unpinned it and set it on the counter. As she settled back down, her flashlight beam swept across the row of beige fabric that lined part of the aisle.

  Redirecting the light onto the light brown material, Hannah recalled the events that’d occurred since Gabe had reentered her life. Saving the bishop, initiating a community project, confronting the man she now knew was Mr. Weathers, helping and forgiving him tonight, rescuing puppies and trudging through a snowstorm to name a few. Maybe she wasn’t a drab beige after all. While she might not be the rich blue Gabe saw her as, Hannah mused, drifting off to sleep, perhaps she was at least a green hue.

  * * *

  Blinking open her eyes in the feeble morning light, Hannah found herself in a canyon. It took a moment to recognize its fabric walls. Snuggling into her blanket cocoon, the events of the previous evening came back to her. The accident. The storm. The treacherous walk into town. Gabe. Upstairs. The lack of electricity to call her folks.

  Even as Hannah acknowledged her cold nose, compliments of the room’s low temperature, a low hum rumbled throughout it. The shop’s furnace was kicking on. Ceiling lights she’d forgotten to turn off when she’d abruptly left last night flickered b
efore fully illuminating the area. Hannah smiled. Lights, heat, the phone.

  The phone! Scrambling out of her nest, she snatched the receiver off its cradle on the counter. Sighing in relief at the dial tone, she tapped out the number to the phone hut nearest to her farm and left a breathless message for her folks.

  Mission accomplished, she pulled a quilt off her makeshift bed to wrap about her. Hannah searched for her shoes before remembering she’d taken them upstairs to dry out next to Gabe’s heater. Gabe’s heater, which would have kept the apartment reasonably warm. At least warmer than this.

  Would Gabe be awake yet? Never having been at the shop this time of day, she didn’t know when he got around. Hannah smiled. The pups would probably change his schedule this morning. Tipping her head, Hannah listened for any sounds from the apartment upstairs, but the growl of the furnace drowned out anything else.

  He’d mentioned coffee. And she needed her shoes. Surely if she was quiet, it might be possible to obtain both without bothering him? Besides, she wanted to check on the pups. But if Gabe was already up, it would be the first breakfast she’d have with him. That their first of many shared breakfasts might start with expired breakfast bars expanded Hannah’s smile.

  The need for warmth, coffee and Gabe was superseded by the habit of setting the shop to rights first. Hannah bustled about, gathering and carefully folding the quilts to rehang later. When all looked as it should be, she headed for the back door. Her first steps on the stairs were hesitant, until she heard the tread of someone moving about above her; then she fairly skipped up the stairway.

  “Morning.” Gabe gestured her into the apartment with the coffee cup he held.

  “Good morning.” Hannah couldn’t stop the flush that bloomed on her cheeks as she entered. Although Gabe was dressed, his light brown hair was tousled. She’d never seen him before with as much stubble on his cheeks.

  “Can I get you some?” He lifted his cup again.