“Seriously? Did you even look at him?” Grace flapped her own hand. “I know I shouldn’t notice, but well, he is nice looking.”
“I suppose he’s a great distraction, but who is he? Is he one of Timothy’s cousins here for the wedding?”
“His name’s Zeke, and he’s from Shipshewana. He came with a crew to help with the tornado cleanup.”
“So he’s cleaning up your broken heart?”
Grace huffed and turned away to hide her expression. Her heart wasn’t exactly broken. Not yet, anyway. Elsie knew Grace’s doubts and fears but was one of the members of the you-just-have-cold-feet club. She’d never understand. Grace gave the sheet a good tug on one of the twin beds and straightened the covers.
Elsie grabbed the pillow and fluffed it. “Don’t flirt with trouble, Gracie. He’s cute and he knows it. Besides, he’s not from here. Long-distance relationships never work, and I don’t want you moving to Shipshewana. Besides, Lord willing, Timothy will be found safe and sound, and you’ll be happily married in a week or two.”
“Jon and Aubrey will be getting married in two weeks.”
“Jah, and I’m sure they won’t mind sharing their special day and having a double wedding with you and Timothy, all things considered.” Elsie moved to the next bed, the bottom bunk, and straightened the sheets.
Grace climbed partially up the ladder to make the top bunk. “I’m sure you’re right.” Sometimes it was just easier to agree with Elsie. While Grace believed Aubrey would agree if she were asked, there would still be this awkwardness of sharing such a special day in an unplanned manner. Besides, even if Timothy was found alive, he might’ve sustained injuries that would make a wedding during this season unfeasible.
Lord, please let Timothy be alive. And help me to work through my fears and commitment issues.
“Do you think Zeke’s seeing anyone?” Elsie wiped her eyes with her apron, straightened, and peered up at Grace.
Grace giggled. “He’s still from Shipshewana and it’d still be a long-distance relationship.” She grinned at her friend. “But I don’t know. I never asked. But as you said, a guy like that…”
“We ought to ask. Pretend we want to set him up with a friend.” Elsie threw herself backward on the first bed they made. “But you’ll have to do it. Since you’re taken and all.”
“And since you’re not?”
“It’s the kind thing to do. And of course, I’ll be the girl you set him up with.”
“Of course,” Grace agreed. Sort of. Because kind or not, she didn’t want to set Zeke up with anyone. “He’s probably not allowed to date while he’s here, seeing how he’s on a service-oriented mission trip of sorts.”
Elsie sat up. “That’s probably true. There’s no use dreaming of what-ifs. Let’s finish up here and go down to see how we can help.”
“I’ll need to go soon, actually. I’m supposed to be looking for Timothy. But I don’t know where to look next. His buggy was found in the bishop’s living room. Toby was found in his father’s fields. I don’t know where they found Peter.”
“Well, I’m sure he’ll be found soon.” Elsie grabbed some fake flowers off the nightstand and clasped them in her hands as she hummed the Englisch wedding march.
Chapter 10
Zeke shifted uncomfortably in the roomful of unknown females setting the table for a late noon meal. He was underfoot in here, and they were staring at him. He glanced toward the doorway where Gracie had disappeared with her friend, willing them to return.
The youngest girl, maybe about twelve or thirteen, held up a plate piled full of Gracie’s wedding sandwiches. “You hungry, mister?”
He shook his head. “Danki, nein.” And he wasn’t. They’d just had the wedding dinner of fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, and all the extras less than two hours ago.
Should he go outside and trail the men who were assessing damages? That’d be just as awkward, but he’d be among his own gender instead of sticking out like a sore thumb in the roomful of women. At least the scene was complemented by the eye-opening, mouthwatering aroma of coffee. He could use a mugful of the strong brew, but water would be healthier, and Gracie had a couple of water bottles in her buggy.
He turned to go back outside. He could do more work on the tree. He actually should’ve thought of that instead of putting the tools away when the people—and the gray tabby—were released from their storm cellar.
Before he reached the door, the grossmammi stepped in front of him and peered up. The top of her head barely reached his chest. “Danki for rescuing us, young man. You are a gift sent straight from the hands of Gott.” She stood on tiptoe, stretched to put her wrinkled hands on his upper arms, and leaned in to kiss his cheek. Not that she quite reached. It landed on his jaw, but it was the thought that counted. And the gesture. His eyes burned, and he bent to engulf the grossmammi in a hug. It was nice to be appreciated.
“Danki.” The word was rather hoarse. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Danki.”
The grossmammi released him from her surprisingly tight embrace and he straightened.
He was still in the way, though, so since Gracie hadn’t yet returned, he went to the barn, retrieved the saw and trimmer, and went back to work cutting up the tree. The Miller family would likely want to sell it for firewood, especially since whoever he chatted with in the shelter initially indicated it was destined for someone’s fireplace.
The handsaw was a lot slower going than a chain saw, but he’d still made progress when the grossmammi approached, carrying a mug of coffee. She was followed by Gracie and Elsie.
“Coffee?” The grossmammi stopped beside him, one hand resting on his sleeve. “We appreciate your hard work.”
“Sounds wonderful. Danki so much.” Zeke accepted the mug and drank the brew as she brought it, apparently with a spoonful of sugar and a spot of cream, since it tasted sweeter and was lighter than the plain black coffee he usually drank. He wouldn’t complain, though. He downed the coffee in a couple of gulps and handed the mug back to the grossmammi.
“Ready to go, Zeke? We probably should check on a few more people before heading home.” Gracie tilted her head toward the buggy.
The grossmammi turned her attention to Gracie. “This one is a keeper, Gracie. If you don’t want him, maybe Elsie does.”
Elsie giggled, her face flaming pink. “Mammi, Gracie is marrying Timothy.” But the glance she sent his way wasn’t dismissive.
Zeke squirmed. “Not here to date.” Actually, he wasn’t allowed to date. The Mennonite missionary Daniel Zook had rather sternly and very publicly made that clear after Zeke’s not-so-joking question about whether Seth Lantz had any unmarried daughters. And the missionary had added that the line was drawn in quicksand. Immediate punishment.
“You probably have a girl back in Shipshewana anyway.” Elsie turned away.
Did he need to bother acknowledging that dismissal with a reply?
He’d ignore her. None of her business anyway. “Nice to meet you all,” he said as he headed toward the barn with the tools. “I’m glad you are all safe and the damage is minimal.” As far as he knew.
Once back at the buggy, he untied the reins from a pole, though he was pretty sure he hadn’t thought to secure the horse, and climbed into the buggy.
Gracie settled in beside him.
Gracie, who had taken the horse out and returned with a bulldozer. She would’ve tied the horse to keep him from bolting with that noisy machine nearby.
“Where to?” He didn’t mean to sound so curt. He clicked his tongue and Charlie Horse pulled the buggy toward the road.
“Elsie wanted me to ask if you were seeing someone and maybe fix her up with you. I told her you probably weren’t allowed to date.”
He’d said something similar to that, too, to the matchmaking grossmammi. Though the other women likely overheard. But was it his imagination, or was there something in Gracie’s voice—a wistfulness—as if she wished things were differ
ent?
It was a rule he’d break in a heartbeat if he figured he could get away with it. But not with Elsie. She was pretty but not as intriguing as the woman sitting next to him. He stopped at the mailbox and waited for directions as well as several vehicles to pass.
“This is as close to dating as I’m going to get.” He flashed a quick grin in her direction. “Seriously, I was not-so-gently reminded that’s not what I’m here for.”
“So no girlfriend in Shipshewana?”
Charlie Horse stomped his foot and tossed his head.
“Fishing, Gracie?” he teased.
The last vehicle, a police cruiser, drove by. Probably headed to Toby’s haus.
And just like that the mood sobered.
Gracie crossed her arms and looked away, but what he could see of her profile was bright red.
Zeke turned the direction they’d been going. Opposite from the way the police cruiser went.
Or should he have followed it to see if someone had found Timothy?
She sighed. Heavily.
Not speaking was also communicating.
“I’m not courting anyone in Shipshe,” he said quietly.
* * *
Gracie pointed to a gravel-filled area just ahead. “Pull off there.”
“Do you want me to turn around?” Zeke directed Charlie Horse to the side of the road. “Maybe see if we can find where the police went?”
Startled, she glanced at him. “Nein. I just need to think. I’m not sure where to go next.”
“What are our options?” He shifted to face her.
“I thought I’d check on my other best friend, Hallie, but I’m pretty sure she was called into work at the diner with all the extra volunteers in town. But then again, she might be stuck in her storm shelter, too, and it’d hardly be feasible to stop at every haus between here and there to make sure everyone is safe. Besides, Mamm will be expecting me home to help with supper, and…” She peered up at the sky and squinted at the sun. She’d never been very good at telling time this way, but Daed could.
Her attention shifted from the sun to a large piece of metal siding hanging precariously from a tree. The sun reflected off of it, making it almost blinding. How would someone get that down?
A beat passed. Two. Zeke cleared his throat, pulling her focus away from the siding. “What’s for supper?”
Typical male. Always hungry. She snorted. “Sandwiches. Mamm kept enough back for our meal. A few of them, actually. That and raw vegetables, deviled eggs—stuff like that.” She shrugged.
“So, it won’t take long to get it ready. How about we head toward your friend’s home and we glance at the residences we pass on the way? If we see people, we’ll know they don’t need rescuing. If we don’t, we’ll double-check.”
“Except some of the people work and might not be home. Or they might be out and about like we are, trying to check on loved ones and trying to help.”
Zeke shrugged. “We could still check.”
“Don’t you have better things to do than hang around with me?” As soon as the words left her mouth, she cringed. They sounded rude.
Zeke shook his head. “Not really. Your daed said to help you find Timothy. He assigned Vernon to finding missing farm animals. I hope he’s having better luck. I don’t have a clue where to look for Timothy, other than what we’re doing.”
“Jon said Timothy probably took advantage of the tornado to get out of marrying me.”
“Ouch. Who’s Jon? I remember that name…” His brow furrowed. “Your brother?”
“Jah. My brother. The unmarried one. He’s getting married in two weeks.”
Zeke grunted. “Only a brother would say something like that. But if it’s any consolation, I don’t think any man in his right mind would want to escape marriage to you.”
“Says a man who doesn’t know me.” Grace rolled her eyes.
“I know enough, Gracie. I know enough,” he said softly.
Grace blinked and stared at him. “You actually sound like you mean it.”
His dimples flashed. “I do.”
Grace sighed a happy sort of sigh that left a smile on her face. “I could kiss you for that.”
His blue eyes collided with hers. Held.
Grace was afraid to breathe. Afraid to move.
His gaze lowered.
Her lips tingled in response.
Another long, breathless moment.
Then he looked away.
She lowered her gaze to her lap, face heating.
The moment passed.
Gone.
* * *
Zeke stared at the long gray stretch of road, broken yellow lines marking the center, and at the fields, houses, and trees lining this particular street. It wasn’t dirt, like some of the others; this one was much more main. Did it lead to town?
And if it did, did it even matter?
Assuming they even had an old-fashioned soda shop in Hidden Springs, he could hardly take Gracie in and buy her—them—a malted milk to share, as it had been depicted in the old picture he’d seen at a flea market in Shipshewana. A boy and a girl at a tiny round table, both of them leaning into a malted milk with two straws. Heads almost touching. He’d heard girls giggling about the romanticalness of the painting.
Didn’t matter anyway. It’d be construed as a date, and that was forbidden.
In more ways than one.
He shifted as the silence grew and lengthened, becoming stifling. The expanse of road remained void of traffic; only the distant clip-clop, clip-clop of a horse’s hoofs against the pavement broke the silence.
Not even a bird dared to tweet.
It was as if nature held its breath, waiting to see what he would do.
What could he do?
Simply nothing, as far as he knew. He could hardly sweep her into his arms, kiss her full lips, and declare he’d been waiting for her his entire life. Which might sort of be true. He’d been waiting for someone who piqued his interest like she did. But not her, particularly. She was engaged, and her groom was out there somewhere.
Because wouldn’t she know, internally or something, if Timothy was dead?
A dog barked, breaking the unnatural stillness.
Charlie Horse tossed his head and snorted.
The buggy creaked and swayed as Gracie shifted. “I suppose we should go.”
“Jah,” he agreed, but he didn’t click at the horse.
He just sat there. Staring. Lost in a world of confusion.
Maybe it would’ve been better if she had kissed him, because then they would have the shocked awkwardness and tension to work through. That would’ve beaten this uncertainty that left him breathless and wondering.
“Go west, young man, go west,” she quoted, with a slight touch of humor in her voice.
He swallowed hard. Looked at her. “Which way is west?”
His voice was husky, as if he had a cold. Or as if he’d been thinking of actually being kissed by her.
Which he was.
Most definitely.
Chapter 11
Grace silently cursed her runaway tongue as she replayed her words. I could kiss you for that. How could she say something like that to Zeke? She couldn’t imagine what he must think. Probably that she was a very forward girl. She wasn’t, really, but something about Zeke brought out the flirt in her.
Without looking at her, Zeke clicked at Charlie Horse and started driving down the pavement. He kept the buggy much closer to the side of the road than she did. She figured the SHARE THE ROAD signs were posted for a reason, and it wasn’t so the buggies would drive half off the road, but so the Englisch drivers would watch for them. That was how her brothers taught her when they took her out driving the horse and buggy.
Should she mention that he drove too close to the edge of the road? Or would he take offense at it? Maybe driving in Shipshewana was different. He did say they had a lot more traffic there. She couldn’t imagine more traffic. Especially when some of the vehi
cles were driven at top speeds.
She dragged her focus from the grassy embankment and looked at him, taking a moment to enjoy the view. But then the buggy wheel bumped over something, jarring her attention back to the roadside. He was definitely “off-roading” with the right-side buggy wheels. She glanced at him again. “You don’t need to hug the edge of the road quite so close.”
His shoulders jerked. “Hug? What?” He glanced at her, eyes wide. “I didn’t hug anyone. Except for your friend’s mammi.” His kissable lips quirked.
She stared a moment. Was he being deliberately obtuse? But if he was, he hid the deception well. She’d give him the benefit of the doubt. “I think you missed a few words.”
His cheeks reddened. “Sorry, Gracie. I was thinking about…” His eyes dipped to her lips before they shot up, then jerked back to the road. “Uh. Um. Well, other stuff.”
Like her I could kiss you words? Was he thinking about that? Oh, she hoped so. Her face heated.
“That might’ve involved close encounters of the hugging kind?” She deliberately widened her eyes, hopefully appearing innocent while quoting Englisch friends.
“Were you this flirty with Timothy?” He didn’t look at her. His hands tightened around the reins.
Apparently the feigned innocence failed. Her breath lodged. “What do you mean?” she whispered.
His Adam’s apple bobbed. But other than an assessing glance her way, he didn’t answer.
She slumped. Zeke had sent her a deliberate message telling her in no uncertain terms that she was wrong, wrong, wrong to flirt with him on her no-longer-wedding-day. She should…she should…
She didn’t know what she should do.
She definitely shouldn’t tell him about her unanticipated strong physical attraction to him. A stranger. Of course he knew, thanks to her flirting, and that was the point of his assessing look.
And maybe the stranger part was what made him safe: He wasn’t from here. She could be real with him and never see him again.
“Sorry,” she muttered. She slid down farther in the seat. If she were lucky, a hole would open up in the buggy floor, and she’d tumble right through it.
The Amish Wedding Promise Page 9
