Levi slowly finished unhitching and taking care of Trouble while George the chaperone stood guard; then he trudged toward the house. He’d write out the note, have Abigail sign it, and take his permission slip back out to his own barn to work in his own shop. There had to be some humor in that, but Levi couldn’t find it.
The house was alive with the sounds of laughing and talking, things that had been missing for close to two years. The acute pain hit him with a force that almost brought him to his knees. He stumbled to a stop at the bottom of the steps to the front porch, staring at the brightly lit and very alive-sounding building. How could he go in there? His eyes burned and his throat threatened to close up. Going out to the barn without a permission slip wasn’t an option, yet he couldn’t enter his own home.
He stood there in the freezing cold, staring at the building, then finally went around the side to the mudroom entrance. At least he could clean up in the bathroom and go through the other door to his bedroom, where he could change clothes if he wanted to. But he was just sawdusty, and since he didn’t plan to stay in the house, that didn’t matter. Abigail would just have to understand. He was doing this taffy pull for her, not for him. Everything he did was for her.
He didn’t need or desire socialization, nor did he deserve to have fun.
He quietly slipped into the mudroom, shut the outside door with a quiet click, then scurried across the expanse to the bathroom, which was thankfully empty. He scrubbed his arms and hands and face, then darted out the other door to his bedroom.
That room had already been invaded by a bunch of nameless, faceless strangers who’d left his bed piled full of black coats, bonnets, and hats.
For a few minutes, he silently chafed at the violation of his personal space, but then he forced himself to put it aside. It made sense, after all. They had to put that stuff somewhere. At least no one was lurking in the corners.
He looked on his dresser for a slip of paper and found a receipt, blank on one side. He grabbed a pen and wrote himself permission to be in his own barn, then carried that and the pen out of his room and into the crowded main living areas for Abigail’s signature. This was beyond ludicrous.
“Hi, Levi!” a bunch of people called out.
His stomach churned, his face heated, and his hands started to sweat as what seemed like all the attention swung to him. This was why he never bothered with youth events. Well, this, and other reasons.
He mumbled some sort of greeting, not exactly sure what he said, while searching for Abigail in the crowd. He couldn’t see her or her wheelchair. Maybe he could find Elsie. But she was petite, like a real elf, her head not even reaching his shoulder. Almost everyone towered over her. Girls approached, surrounding him, all talking, giggly, and flirty, batting their eyelashes. He was going to suffocate. He stopped in the center of the girls, afraid to move. He might accidentally touch one. He fought for air and stiffened as the girls edged closer. He had to escape. Lord, help.
He wished for a moment that super loud, stick-wielding George were inside the house so Levi could sneak out the back door.
The crowd parted as Elsie, the little dynamo, somehow found an opening and appeared at his side. “There you are. Abigail was looking for you. She saved you a seat next to Noah.” The crowd parted as she led the way out without touching him.
He didn’t need or want a seat next to Noah. “I have a note,” he said.
Elsie paused under a sprig of mistletoe. He glanced at it, then her, hating that he noticed. His gaze dipped to her lips. What was the point of hanging mistletoe inside, in plain sight, when touching was discouraged? Kissing was forbidden. Elsie appeared guileless, unaware of the parasite plant sprig above her head.
“Let’s see the note.” She held out her hand.
“No. I don’t trust you not to rip it up.”
She appeared hurt. “Really? You think I’m an immature child?”
No. Not even close. But still…“You can look but not touch.” That came out wrong. Her cheeks reddened. His heated. Burned. He shoved the note toward her. “Just read.” That might’ve been growled.
She made a show of clasping her hands behind her back, then scanned the words. “You wrote that.”
No kidding. He didn’t say it but thought it very loudly.
Elsie gave him a sympathetic look. “Abigail says you must stay in for some of it.”
He blinked. “But I’m on deadline.” He’d shared that with Abigail, right? But maybe not with Elsie, because she looked confused. “I have a large toy order that needs to be done by Christmas.” Toy order. That reminded him…“By the way—”
“You’re turning into a hermit. All work and no play,” she began, then blushed. “Well, you’re hardly a dull boy.” She looked away. “Abigail is at the table. The taffy is almost ready to pull. Give her the note and see what she says. But if she wants you to stay in, you will change your clothes, clean up, and stay for a little while. And you can pick whatever girl you want as a partner.” She motioned toward the cluster of still-giggling females.
He didn’t even glance at them. “I choose you.”
* * *
Elsie couldn’t look away from Levi’s piercing gray eyes. If only he were serious. But the only reason he’d pick her was because she was safe. No expectations. No commitment.
His gaze searched hers. “Unless you’ve made arrangements with someone else.”
She gulped. “There’s no one else.” No one but him. Ever.
His eyes darkened for a moment before he pressed his lips together, nodded, then tightened his fingers around the note and turned toward the table. “I’ll try to sweet-talk Abigail into signing.” He walked off.
There was no reason to stand there wishing and dreaming and hoping and scheming. Unless Abigail had considerable power over Levi, he would do what he wanted. And he didn’t want to be at the taffy pull. Elsie sighed and turned away, going to greet a girl, Leah Zook, who’d just come in. Thomas Zook’s daughter.
Judging by the way Leah’s eyes widened and she clutched her chest and gasped, “Levi Wyse. Oh my word, he’s actually here,” she was probably another one of Levi’s admirers. “He’s so hot! Like, literally, he’s hot stuff.”
“Jah, he’s here,” Elsie agreed, “tempor—”
“And he’s coming this way!” Leah squealed, grabbing Elsie’s arm. “He’s my destiny, you know. Both our names start with le and are four-letter words. Not only that but our last names are also four-letter words and at the end of the alphabet.”
Huh? That made Levi her destiny? Elsie blinked at Leah, then started to turn, but a hand landed on her shoulder and he leaned down, his warm breath tickling her ear as he whispered, “I’m staying for a short while. I need to clean up, but you’re my date.”
Abigail had more control over him than Elsie thought.
He released her shoulder and left; then Elsie met Leah’s glare. “I guess no one told him.”
“Seriously, once you break up, you need to have enough common courtesy to stay broken up,” Leah hissed, then shoved past.
It seemed pointless to mention that they were still broken up. He was just using Elsie for protection detail.
Especially since Leah chased after him. “Levi? Yoo-hoo, Levi! Where do I put my coat?”
He turned, stared at Leah, and then gave Elsie a panicked look.
She smirked and added a couple of eyelash flutters. Jah. Good luck with her, hot stuff.
* * *
Levi pointed Leah in the direction of his room. He didn’t say anything, but she’d figure out how to put her outerwear on the bed. He also didn’t mention it was his room, but she’d likely figure that out, too. He lingered in the living room, not wanting to be anywhere alone with her. Not even in the hallway. Why couldn’t Elsie have shown her to the bedroom? He slumped. It was another indication that she wasn’t interested in him. It shouldn’t matter, but it did.
After what seemed like forever, Leah finally exited his bedroom, gave him a
flirty look as she passed, and whispered, “I’ll save you a seat.”
Of course, she might not have heard him claim Elsie as his date. He shook his head. “Danki, but I’m with Elsie.” He was with Elsie, but it wasn’t a date. She was safe.
Safe. Jah. About as safe as lit dynamite.
What was that saying about how if you play with fire, you’ll eventually get burned?
Truth.
He grabbed a clean pair of clothes, went into the bathroom, and locked both doors, then took a quick shower. He tried to keep his irritation at being forced to attend the frolic for a while masked. It was sweet of Abigail to want to include him, but he couldn’t stay long. And she promised to sign his excuse when he had enough.
He had enough already, but he knew better than to ask. Not without giving the frolic a fair shake.
Everyone was seated when he returned to the main living area. He slid into the empty seat at the end of the table, next to Noah and across from Elsie. His safety zone, with his sister and his girl who wasn’t his girl. He didn’t look for Leah, but hopefully she found a partner.
One of the chaperones, Elsie’s married friend Gracie, placed some candy between him and Elsie. “Be sure to oil your hands. And be careful. The candy feels cool enough to touch, but it might still be hot underneath.”
As Elsie oiled her hands, Levi lifted the green, possibly spearmint-flavored taffy from the pan with an oiled spatula and formed it into a cylindrical shape like he’d done in years past. She reached across the table and took one end, pulling it toward her. It sagged in the middle. He was surprised he and Elsie weren’t given peppermint-flavored taffy.
Others laughed and talked around them. She grinned at him as they began working together, pulling and twisting, mixing in the syrup, until the taffy finally began to hold its shape. He didn’t smile at her, but he never smiled anymore. Hadn’t since…since the accident. He tried to force his lips in that upward direction, but it felt strange. Probably looked strange, too, since her grin faded, and she peered at him, studying his expression. What did she think? Abigail worried he’d be prematurely wrinkled since he carried so much emotional and mental weight. Did Elsie agree? Or did she still think he was handsome? He knew Abigail was concerned about him—thus the forced attendance at the frolic—and she probably shared her fears with Elsie.
It probably was wrong to use her this way, keeping her from whoever her current admirer was, but honestly this terrified him. He tried to think of something to say—something nonconfrontational, which meant the website issue was out—but his brain cells were stalled, due to fear, maybe, or possibly due to being so close to Elsie, pretending they were a couple.
He squirmed in his seat, eyeing the note he’d written, that Abigail now kept beside her, receipt side up so no one would know what a coward he was. Had she signed it yet? Could he grab it and go, lose the contents of his fear-induced roiling stomach, then hide in the barn with George? He could put George to work sanding train cars. Except he couldn’t imagine trying to explain what he needed to have done…unless there was lots of paper out there for notes.
He was pretty sure there wasn’t.
Noah elbowed Levi in the ribs. “Great turnout, jah? I even found chaperones.”
Levi nodded, swallowed the knot in his throat. His gaze went to Elsie’s friend Gracie, cooking another batch of taffy on the stove, and her new husband, Zeke. They’d met a year ago during some awful tornadoes and married this past spring. Zeke was on the other side of the room, showing someone what to do. One of the special-needs teens. It appeared to be Gracie’s sister, Patience.
“I saw George in the barn,” Levi said, scanning the room. “I don’t see his wife, though.”
“Mildred had to stay home to feed their cats and start a new pot of bean soup.” Noah’s voice held humor.
Levi’s lips twitched. George had his idiosyncrasies, including dozens of felines and an insane fondness of bean soup.
“George might be more than a little concerned about the cats going without food if the storm comes in that they’re predicting,” Noah continued.
Levi shrugged. There had been some freezing drizzle earlier but no accumulation yet. However, rumor still continued to speculate…
Gracie appeared between Elsie and Abigail, her face holding a greenish tint as she clutched her stomach. She whispered something to the air between them; then, while a horrified expression crossed Elsie’s face, Gracie spun and headed for Zeke, gagged, and ran outside. Without her coat.
Abigail’s eyes filled with tears.
Noah dropped his end of the blue taffy they held and reached for Abigail’s hands. “What’s wrong, Abby?”
Zeke followed Gracie outside.
Levi looked at Elsie. She stared down at her hands. A tear rolled down her cheek, followed closely by a second. Levi gulped, then followed Noah’s lead and reached for Elsie’s hands. Except, she jerked them away, bolted to her feet, and dashed for the mudroom. Another minute passed before Levi pushed past his hesitation and followed her. What was wrong with Gracie and why would Elsie and Abigail cry about it?
He found Elsie sitting on her backside, wedged between the washer and the bookcase used as a cupboard for laundry supplies. Her knees were hugged up to her chest, her hem tugged enough to cover her ankles, her body hunched enough so her head rested on her knees. Face down.
She looked up.
He wanted to fix whatever was wrong so Elsie—and Abigail—would stop crying and smile again.
He crouched in front of her. Reached out his hand. It trembled as it brushed against the dampness of her cheek. He wiped the tears away with his thumb. Her lips quivered and more tears took the others’ places. He slid his hand down, brushing the corner of her lip, over her jaw, and around. His hand shook more as he fingered the loose strands of hair on the base of her neck. “Elle, honey—”
The endearment slipped out unintentionally, shocking him as much as she did when she raised her head the rest of the way, lurched forward, and buried her damp face against his neck. Her breath feathered against his skin, her arms wrapped around him, and she cried, the tears soaking his shirt.
He awkwardly patted her back, then rubbed it, trying to comfort her as he struggled to think who the third couple chaperoning might be. Would whoever they were be lenient? Failing to come up with who the chaperones were, he tried to think up a good reason for him and Elsie to be violating the unwritten public-display-of-affection rules when they were caught, but without knowing why she cried, he wrestled with that, too.
Finally, she sniffled and pulled away, enough to dry her eyes with her apron. He scooted back far enough that if a chaperone appeared, they’d be “okay,” but remained on the floor. “What was that about?”
“Ice cream,” she whimpered.
Of all things! “Ice cream?” He almost hated to ask. “You’re crying about ice cream?”
She nodded. “Abigail wanted ice cream for her fruit punch and she asked for vanilla, but the closest they had was eggnog, and Noah thought it would work so we got it, but Gracie is, well, you know, and the smell and taste made her sick and now Abigail’s punch won’t have ice cream and it’s all my fault because he fired me! Besides, I should’ve brought the dill pickle kind,” she wailed.
Levi blinked. And that was supposed to make sense? “I don’t think dill pickles would go very well with fruit punch,” he said slowly. “And if Gracie is sick, why is she here?”
“She’s…she’s…you know.” Elsie struggled for breath.
No, he didn’t know, but as long as she wasn’t contagious, it didn’t matter. Wait. “Is she contagious?”
“Seriously?” Elsie barked a “ha” while still fighting for air. “I…hope…not.” Each word was punctuated with a gasp. “Maybe. If I drink the water.”
Okay, then. “Don’t drink the water.” Was she hyperventilating? Maybe. He swallowed. “Breathe, Elle. Just breathe. There are worse things to go wrong than ice cream.” Far worse. He should know.
A shadow appeared in his peripheral vision and he glanced that way. Jon Lantz peeked in. Ah, the other chaperones. Jon and his new bride. Their wedding was postponed due to his injuries after falling from a barn rafter, and they married around the same time as Gracie and Zeke.
Jon lifted a hand in greeting and moved on. Good.
Elsie still struggled to breathe.
Levi scooted closer and opened his arms wide, wrapping them around her, pressing her against his chest. “Breathe, sweetheart. Slow and easy, now. Shh.” And he started humming the only song he could think of while holding her in his arms. The doxology. Praise God from whom all blessings flow…
Praise Gott for a wise sister who insisted on his presence at the taffy pull so he could be here for the ice cream disaster, even if he didn’t understand it.
Praise Gott for Elsie’s caring spirit, wanting this frolic to be perfect for Abigail.
Elsie’s breathing slowed, evened out.
Praise Gott he was able to comfort her, even though he’d probably regret it in the morning.
She shifted in his arms and he caught a whiff of…
Praise Gott for peppermint…
Wait. Elsie didn’t smell like peppermint. She smelled like green apples. How was that even possible?
And he still wanted to kiss her.
Chapter 15
Elsie would always cherish the memory of these moments, even if she couldn’t take them seriously. Levi was reverting back to his old ways, calling her Elle, honey, and sweetheart, and he didn’t mean the endearments. Too bad, really, but it was unrealistic to believe his old feelings would flare to life with only two days—not even forty-eight full hours—in each other’s presence. She wasn’t counting Thursday since he was gone or avoided her all day.
He’d succeeded in calming her, though, so she needed to gather her frayed emotions together and find out if the eggnog ice cream truly was gag worthy with fruit punch or whether Gracie’s overactive first-trimester pregnancy hormones had kicked in. Teen boys ate pretty much anything, and as a whole, the Amish were raised to eat what was put in front of them. But she didn’t want Abigail to get a bad reputation as a hostess, especially since it was Elsie’s fault.
The Amish Christmas Gift Page 13
