by Marta Perry
Aaron held out his hand to help her up, but Sally grabbed the edge of the seat and swung herself up easily. So they were going to pretend nothing had happened, were they? In that case, it might be best if they didn’t touch.
He handed her the lines. “Just take him up by the barn and circle round. Let’s see how he does.”
Nodding, Sally clucked to Star and they started smoothly off toward the barn. Star was responding beautifully, but it was hard to concentrate when her mind was filled with so many more important things.
They made a couple of circles before going out the lane, turning and coming back in again. And the whole time Aaron didn’t say a word.
Finally he spoke. “Star’s turned out to be a quick learner once we got over a few bumps.” Aaron was staring straight ahead, over the horse’s ears. “Go back out the lane again, and we’ll see how he does on the road.”
She nodded, circling smoothly before going out the lane. She sent a quick sideways glance toward Aaron. “You don’t have to be so careful around me. Ben told me what he said to you. He’s downright embarrassed, and it serves him right. I’m so sorry.”
“No reason for you to be sorry. Ben’s your big brother. He’s never going to stop thinking of you as his little sister who needs protecting.” The words were spoken casually, but he didn’t look at her.
Anger flared, but she controlled it. She was getting tired of everyone referring to her as little. It was bad enough for Ben. Or did Aaron mean that he could never see her as anything but Ben’s little sister?
Aaron didn’t seem to think anything else needed to be said, but she couldn’t quite let it go.
“You may be right about Ben, but I’m not Elizabeth’s little sister, and I know perfectly well this came from her.”
“Turn down toward the school,” he said, nodding when Star moved obediently past the spot where he’d thrown a fit that day Aaron arrived.
He waited until they covered a few yards along the road before he spoke again. “Ben says Elizabeth feels responsible because your parents are away.”
“In that case, I wish they’d hurry up and come back.” Hurt made her voice sharp. Aaron really was acting as if those moments between them had never been.
He chuckled, a low bass note that seemed to set up an answering echo in her.
“All right. I know that sounds childish,” she admitted. “I do try when it comes to Elizabeth.”
“From what I’ve seen, it would take a lifetime of patience.”
“Something I don’t have, I guess. She means well, and she does care about me.” She could actually smile with him over Elizabeth’s quirks. “Shall I pull in to the school?”
“Yah, let’s see what Star thinks of the school grounds.”
By the time they’d reached the school, she was congratulating herself on her control. Aaron was behaving normally with her, as if those moments between them had never happened.
So that meant she had to do the same. No one needed to know what she felt about a dream that wasn’t going to come true.
And then Aaron’s hand brushed hers as he gestured for her to turn, and the warmth of that touch swept along her skin and straight to her heart, and she wanted to cry.
Chapter Ten
Afraid her emotions were going to overwhelm her, Sally pulled up in front of the small porch of the school. “Since we’re here, I need to pick up something.” She muttered the words, shoved the lines into Aaron’s hands and jumped down.
Thank the gut Lord, Aaron didn’t question her about the sudden decision. As she hurried inside, she heard him click to Star, and then came the sound of the horse and buggy moving around the schoolhouse.
Sally didn’t stop until she reached her desk. Then she stood there, hands planted on the flat surface for support, and fought back the tears that threatened to overflow. A few tears trickled onto her cheeks, and she wiped them away with the back of her hand.
This was so foolish. She’d run out on a reasonable chance of marriage only to fall hard for the one man who wasn’t interested. She’d been wrong to think he felt anything. He couldn’t possibly be so casual if he did.
Some would say that it served her right to be hurt in the same way she’d hurt Fred. And if she went around moping and showing her feelings this way, soon half the church would guess what had happened between them.
That realization brought her upright in a hurry. Whatever happened, she would not give away her feelings—not to Aaron or anyone else.
Alerted by the thud of footsteps on the wooden porch, Sally managed to be rummaging through a file drawer by the time Aaron came in. He wandered up through the rows of desks, touching one here and there, as if remembering the past.
“Find what you wanted?”
She pulled out a file folder at random. “Yah, this is it. I’m glad we came back this way, or I’d have missed it too late to come back for it.”
“Good. Just tell me one thing. Why are there two harrows and a baby crib behind the shed?”
“Oh, no.” Annoyance chased away the last of her mood. “I’ve told people so many times not to leave things here for the auction until the day before. It’s just plain dangerous having such things out where the scholars play during recess.”
“I don’t suppose you want them to play out by the shed, but I get your meaning. Anything like that would have been an irresistible lure when I was a kid.”
“Of course. They’d be trying to hitch each other up to the harrow before I knew it.” She shoved the drawer closed with a bang. “The auction’s not until Saturday. I appreciate having folks bring things for the school auction, but—”
“But you wish they’d follow directions.” He smiled. “Shall I go out and drag them into the shed?”
“That’s all right. Don’t bother. I’ll have some of the older boys do it first thing in the morning. What were you doing out back?”
He perched on the corner of her desk. “Showing Star his accommodations for when you drive him to school. He seems to approve of the stall and the paddock. Acts like he’s right at home.”
“That’s wonderful good news. I was afraid I’d never be able to drive him to school.” See? she told herself. You can carry on a perfectly normal conversation with him and not feel so much as a twinge.
“He’s a perfect gentleman. Good, since this is his final lesson.”
The words fell on Sally like a blow. “F-final?” She stammered the word. “You’re leaving? Going back to your job?”
“No.” His face tightened for an instant. “I just meant Star has learned enough to go on with. I don’t expect you to have any trouble with him. He deserves a gold star. Or at least a happy face sticker.”
Sally managed a smile. How could she be so stupid? She’d best not congratulate herself on her control too soon.
“I think I have some. But he’d probably prefer a bite of apple.”
“Most likely.” Aaron rose, moving to the chalkboard and back seemingly at random. “Onkel Zeb thinks I can pick up a few more horses to train once word gets around. I’d like that.”
He seemed distracted, frowning and tense. Had she said something, done something to bring this on?
Then he swung around to look at her with an air of decision. “You mentioned my job. But I can’t go back to it. If I did, I’d probably end up in jail.”
Sally, wordless, stared at him, her thoughts tumbling wildly out of control.
“Well?” His face gave a wry twist, maybe to cover pain. “Aren’t you going to run away from me?”
She found her voice. “I don’t run away from my friends.”
“Why not? It’s what any respectable Amish maidal would do, isn’t it?”
He couldn’t hide the pain, not from her. She read it in the darkness of his eyes, the set of his mouth and the tension that radiated from him so strongly it nearly
knocked her back a step.
“I’ve never worried too much about whether folks thought I was respectable or not.” She hesitated, knowing she had to say more. Afraid of giving away too much. But Aaron’s obvious pain was more important than her feelings.
“Whatever happened, I know one thing for sure. I know that you didn’t do anything wrong.”
* * *
Aaron was stunned into silence. Whatever response he’d expected, it certainly hadn’t been that simple, honest statement of faith in him.
“Denke,” he murmured.
She nodded. And just stood there, waiting. Not asking anything, not offering advice. Just waiting in case he wanted to tell her more.
To his amazement, for the first time since it had happened, he wanted to speak. He wanted to tell Sally all of it.
He ran a hand through his hair. Where to begin? How could Sally, with no experience of that world, possibly understand?
“Out in Indiana I got a job with a man who ran a racing stable. Harness racing, you know?”
She nodded.
“Albert Winfield, his name is. I was fortunate. I went looking for work without knowing anything about the people, and I ended up with one of the best owners in the business.” He paused, thinking of the impression Mr. Winfield had made on him. “A good horseman, but more than that. A good man. Honest, respected.”
“The right person for you to work for,” she said softly, encouraging him to go on.
“He was in the stables and the training grounds every day. I guess he watched me, and he decided I could do more than shovel stalls.” He remembered so clearly the day Winfield had found him working a horse for one of the trainers who was hungover. “Pretty soon I was working as a trainer.”
“That made you happy, ain’t so?” Again that soft voice, and he realized she was talking to him the way he talked to the horses. And it was having a similar effect. He felt his tension easing and his breath slowing.
“Yah. He had faith in me. After a season he promoted me to head trainer. His horses did well, and he gave me the credit.” He shrugged, thinking of the man’s generosity. “A lot of the success was in the good, honest stock he brought in. Anyway, we worked together, and I was...” He hesitated, not sure what was the right word.
“Happy?” she suggested.
“Yah, that, but I started to feel like maybe one day I could belong.” He let his eyes meet hers. “You don’t understand how lost you can be out in the Englisch world. It feels like there’s no place you really fit in. Anyway, Winfield did that for me.”
He sucked in a breath, feeling the tension returning. How could he say the rest of it to Sally, of all people?
“And then things started to go wrong.” Again she didn’t ask. She just said the words that made it easier to speak.
“I met a woman—she was involved in the racing circuit. She started showing up to watch me working the young horses. Pretty soon we were seeing each other.” He carefully didn’t look at Sally. “One night we’d gone out to supper and ran into someone she knew. She introduced me, and next thing I knew we were sitting with him. He was another owner.”
“Quite a coincidence,” she murmured.
“Yah.” He managed a rueful smile. “I was stupid. Flattered that she wanted to see me, that I was sitting there talking to one of the big men in the business. And he made me an offer. Seemed like he knew just what I made, and he topped it. Said we could do great things together—I could help him pick out the best new stock, train them, have things all my way.”
He shot a glance at Sally, but she didn’t speak.
“So I thought about it. But I liked where I was—liked working with a man I respected. Winfield—he thought more about the horses than the glory of winning. So I said no, I wanted to stay where I was. I figured that was the end of it.”
His jaw tightened so much that he could hardly speak. But he had to tell the rest of it. The pressure rose in him to get it out. Sally was safe. He could say anything to her.
“I didn’t say anything to Winfield about the offer. I didn’t want him to think I was angling for a raise. But I should have. In the next day’s race, one of our horses turned out to be drugged.”
Sally didn’t say anything, but he heard her sharp indrawn breath.
“Someone had told Winfield about seeing me with the other owner. Winfield...he had a quick temper. He blew up, accused me, didn’t give me a chance to defend myself.”
He was back in that office again, with Winfield standing behind the big desk. The walls were covered with photographs...some of them horses he’d trained, and there was a shelf full of trophies. The whole place was a tribute to Winfield Stables...to the sterling reputation Winfield had always had in the business. A reputation he thought Aaron had ruined.
He forced himself to go on. “Winfield said he’d bring the police in. I guess I lost it then. I wouldn’t even try to explain to someone who judged me like that. I stamped out, packed my gear and left. Everything was gone, and all I wanted was to get lost.”
The bitterness was still an acrid taste in his mouth, wounding his soul.
“So you came home.”
“Yah. I came home.”
He’d spilled it all. It had made him angry and hurt and ashamed all over again, but oddly enough it was a relief...like lancing a boil and letting all the poison out.
Gratitude swept over him. Sally wasn’t the little tagalong of his youth or the desirable woman she’d become. She was a source of the belief and comfort he needed more than anything else in the world right now.
He didn’t begin to know what to say to her. How to thank her. He looked at her, to find her frowning a little, a question in her eyes after all that time of listening.
“But, Aaron, didn’t you ever tell Mr. Winfield the truth about what happened?”
“He didn’t want to hear it.” Remembered anger moved in him. “I wasn’t going to beg for a chance to explain. He should have known me better than to think I’d do such a thing. Why should I try to explain?”
“I see.” She studied his face and then glanced away, as if not liking what she saw there. “You know, your Mr. Winfield sort of reminds me of someone I know. Someone who has a quick temper and flares up and says things he doesn’t mean...things he’s sorry for later but can’t swallow his pride and say so.”
Sally knew him too well. She was talking about him, and much as he’d like to deny it, what she said was true.
Well, true or not, the thing was over and done with. “I can’t do anything about it now.”
She shrugged. “Maybe not. But maybe he’s had second thoughts. Maybe after he cooled off, he wanted to hear what you had to say but couldn’t, because you’d gone. And he doesn’t know how to find you.”
“Forget it. I don’t need that job any longer.” He tried to sound convincing. But somehow he knew that Sally’s words had planted a seed. What he did about it was up to him.
* * *
Sally studied his face, her heart breaking for him. She longed to reach out, to touch him in comfort, but somehow she knew she had to let him make the first move toward her.
He shook his head as if he tried to shake off the feelings. “Anyway, all that doesn’t matter now. But my family...the church...what would they think if they heard about it?”
“They would respond just the way I did.” At least, she hoped they would. “They’d know you couldn’t possibly have done something like that—you would never harm a horse. It’s impossible.”
“You might be the exception. Other people aren’t so generous.” His face darkened. “I shouldn’t have told you. Forget it.”
The words sounded so familiar. That was what Elizabeth had said when she’d revealed her secret pain to Sally. Now Aaron was embarrassed, wondering why he’d told her something he didn’t want anyone to know.
Sally cou
ldn’t help it. She had to touch him—just a gentle hand on his sleeve, but she could feel the warmth of his skin through the thin cotton. “I won’t say anything. You can trust me.”
Aaron swung toward her with an abrupt movement. Before she could identify the expression on his face, he pulled her into his arms. His lips found hers, and he held her as if he were a drowning man and she his only hope of saving.
No, she was the one who was drowning...in overwhelming love and tenderness. Her palms pressed against the strong, flat muscles of his back as she responded to his kiss, feeling the deep need he had for caring.
How foolish she’d been, she thought through the haze that surrounded her, to ever say that what she’d felt before had been love. She’d never known anything like this, never even dreamed that she could feel this way.
Aaron’s hand cupped her face so gently, so tenderly. He brushed a line of light kisses across her cheek and then put his cheek against hers.
“Aaron.” She whispered his name. She wanted to stay here, in the warm circle of his arms, forever.
But as if the word had wakened him, Aaron let go of her so suddenly she nearly lost her balance. Groping, her hand found the edge of her desk and gripped it.
“I shouldn’t have done it.” He seemed to force the words out against his will. “This is wrong.”
Sally looked at him steadily, willing him to see what she did. “It’s only wrong if you don’t feel what I do.”
A spasm of pain reflected in his eyes. “I do. You have to know that. What I feel now—I’ve never felt this way about anyone else. Ever.”
Her heart began to beat again. “Well, then...”
“Don’t, Sally.” He made a sharp, cutting gesture with his right hand. “Don’t you see? You’re as real and solid as the rich earth and clean air of this place. I love you, but it’s no good.”
“Why?” Her desperation sounded in the word. She’d been given a taste of everything she could ever want, and now he was snatching it away.
