“We need to sell something special for Christmas. I want to make an impression, ya? I’ve been wondering what the English would like and I want to know what you think.”
“You want to know what I think, do you?” He leaned back in the chair and cracked his knuckles with mock self-importance.
“Joseph, I’m being serious.”
“Then why are you smiling?”
“Because you drive me crazy.”
“That’s a marked improvement from your initial opinion of me.”
“You’ve always driven me crazy.”
“Yes, but now you enjoy that I drive you crazy.” He winked. “Just a little bit. Admit it.”
Rachel laughed. “Joseph, be serious.”
“Ya. I’m always serious.”
“Right.” Rachel rolled her eyes, but she felt warm inside. She didn’t really want him to stop. “Okay, here’s what I’m thinking. Poinsettias are the most popular Christmas flower, so they’d probably sell well.”
“Ya. But I don’t see any here.”
“No. I’ve never grown them before.”
“Then it doesn’t make sense to start now. You should focus on something you know—something you’re good at and want to do.”
“Ya, but what if nobody wants an heirloom plant?”
“Don’t be afraid to be different. People can buy poinsettias anywhere. I think you should stand out from the crowd.” Rachel swept her eyes across the greenhouse as she considered Joseph’s words. “Okay. That sounds like pretty good advice.”
“Of course it does.”
“I’d think you were prideful if I didn’t know any better.”
“But you do know better, because you know I’m joking.”
“Always the troublemaker.”
Joseph smiled. “Yep.”
“You know I’m going to blame you if this doesn’t work. The first time someone comes to our booth and asks for a poinsettia I’m going to remind you that it was your brilliant, foolproof idea not to sell them.”
“Good thing I gave the right advice, then.”
Rachel laughed and shook her head. “I can’t win with you.”
“Nope. You really ought to just give up.”
“Never.” Rachel smiled shyly as her eyes met Joseph’s. Their gaze lingered for a moment, until he dropped his eyes. The connection that Rachel felt transformed to embarrassment. Had she really just gazed into his eyes like that? Was she flirting with him? Heaven help her, she was! He couldn’t possibly be interested in her—not seriously. She shouldn’t fool herself into thinking a catch like Joseph Webber would like her. He could have any woman in Lancaster County.
Rachel cleared her throat and hardened her expression. She needed to get back to business. “I’ve got an idea.”
“Ya?”
“I’ve got an heirloom variety of rosemary that I’ve been growing for years. What if we transplanted it all into little pots and trimmed the branches to look like miniature Christmas trees?”
Joseph slapped the potting table. “I think that’s a great idea, Rachel. Practical and decorative—sounds like a big seller to me.”
“I can’t wait to get started!”
Joseph stood up and pushed the chair aside. “Nothing’s stopping us.”
Rachel felt warm and steady inside. “No,” she said. “Nothing is.”
* * *
Joseph did not feel like himself after his date with Chrissy. Sure, it had been fun getting out, but he had enjoyed spending time with Abner and the other guys more than he had enjoyed his time with Chrissy that night. Had she always had that loud, attention-seeking laugh? Had she always worn such flashy jewelry? He supposed she had. It just hadn’t seemed so . . . shallow before.
He tried not to think about it too much. He was going out with a perfect ten English girl and he would be crazy to complain—that’s what all his friends kept saying, anyway.
Soon, Joseph forgot to worry about it; he had too much to do. The days ran together as he and Rachel worked side by side. Outside the greenhouse, December swept into Lancaster County to leave a trail of twinkling lights and decorated storefronts. Inside, some of the rosemary topiaries were already beginning to resemble tiny Christmas trees.
Late on a Saturday afternoon, Joseph returned a half-empty bag of potting soil to the corner and stretched his back. “I guess that’s it for the day.”
Rachel let out a happy sigh. “Ya. I can’t wait until Monday so we can get back to work.”
“Does your youth group meet tomorrow?”
“I’m not in a youth group.” Rachel shook her head as she brushed soil from her apron. “I’ll just stay here.” She looked down. Joseph thought she was about to say “as usual,” but her mouth clamped shut. He studied her pale face and large blue eyes. Those eyes, along with her dark lashes and open expression, reminded him of a lost doe. How many days did she spend alone in her greenhouse or sitting on the front porch, watching the world slip past?
“My youth group is having a singing tomorrow night. You should come. I’ll pick you up.” Joseph had a habit of speaking before he thought. Sometimes it led to unexpected joy. Other times it landed him in a heap of trouble.
Rachel’s attention shot to him. He couldn’t read her expression. She swallowed and stared at his face. Joseph took off his straw hat and ran his fingers through his dark brown hair. He knew that she wanted to go. He also knew she might need a little convincing. Good thing he was a pro at that.
Rachel looked down again and studied the smudge of dirt on her work apron. “No, that’s okay.”
“I think you want to go.”
“What? No.”
“Ach, come on. You always say you need to do more.”
“Ya, but I meant with my greenhouse.” Her freckled cheeks began to flush red. Joseph felt a thrill of excitement—she wanted to go with him. That’s why she was blushing. He clamped down on the excitement as soon as he recognized the feeling. He shouldn’t get her hopes up. Sure, he wanted to spend time with her—she was intriguing and intelligent and fun. But he couldn’t promise her a future. Not when he was so uncertain about the path his life would take. Plus, there was Chrissy to consider. They had never agreed to be exclusive, so he wasn’t doing anything wrong. Besides, he wasn’t asking Rachel on a date. Not exactly, anyway. Still, he should have thought before he spoke. But it was too late to go back on the invitation now. “I think you meant more than your greenhouse.”
Rachel frowned and scratched at the stain on her apron. The red on her cheeks turned even brighter. “Okay. But only because you won’t take no for an answer.”
“Okay. Good. Because you’re right. I won’t. And I don’t know about you, but I’m getting hungry.” He stretched his arms and stifled a yawn. “No point in delaying supper. You may as well admit defeat and let us get on with it.”
“Joseph, you’re incorrigible.”
“Pick you up at seven tomorrow.”
Rachel glanced up, smiled, and looked down again. “Okay.”
Joseph whistled the entire way home. Why did he feel so good when he had just thrown himself into a complicated situation?
* * *
Rachel’s heart beat like a hammer. Everything in her wanted to shout and laugh and sing. Maybe she could have what the other girls had! Her business was back on track—and Joseph had asked her out! It almost felt too good to be true.
Reality hit as she thought about that. Her joy popped like a bubble of dish soap. Of course it was too good to be true. She shouldn’t get so carried away. Joseph had only asked her to a singing and here she was, acting as if it were a marriage proposal! Ach, she could be so foolish!
At dinner that night, Rachel worried what her parents would say. Would they try to stop her from going out with Joseph? If they said no, would she be relieved or devastated?
Ada and Samuel looked concerned as Rachel pushed her food around her plate. “What’s the matter?” Ada asked as she passed her daughter the chipped blue bowl of
brown buttered cabbage. Rachel sighed, scooped out a serving, and stuffed a smoky, earthy bite into her mouth. Ada raised her eyebrows as she waited for an answer. Rachel took a big swig of iced tea and reached for more brown buttered cabbage.
“Rachel, I asked you a question.”
“Nothing’s the matter.”
Ada shook her head and glanced at Samuel as he cut into the chicken potpie. Steam rose from the broken pastry crust and filled the kitchen with the warm, rich scent of chicken gravy. “She’s overdone it,” Ada said. “I knew all that work would be too much for her.” Ada’s eyes darted back to Rachel. “You have to take it easy.”
Samuel tucked his napkin into his shirt collar. “Let’s hear what she has to say.”
“She isn’t saying anything!”
“Ach, Mamm. It’s okay. I can explain.”
“Ya?” Ada leaned forward. Her face looked pinched.
“Joseph asked me to go to a singing tomorrow night.”
Ada looked startled. Her gaze shifted to Samuel, then back to Rachel. “I don’t know what to say.”
Rachel laughed, but it sounded dry and humorless. “I don’t either.” She wanted to ask her parents if they thought Joseph might be interested in her as more than a friend, but she didn’t. She felt too embarrassed.
Samuel held up a large, work-hardened hand. “Say yes. This doesn’t have to be so complicated.”
“I did.”
Samuel nodded. “Gut. You’ll go to the singing, have a nice time, and that will be that. No need to get worked up about it.”
“But, Samuel—”
“Ada, she’ll be fine.”
Ada clamped her mouth into a tight line and nodded. “Ya. You’re right, of course. She hasn’t been to a singing in ages.” Ada put a hand on Rachel’s arm. “Just don’t stay out too late. Don’t overdo it.” Her grip tightened before she dropped her hand. “I’m sorry. I just can’t help worrying about you.”
“I know, Mamm. But I’m not sick anymore, remember? And my legs are getting stronger every day. I can take my crutches instead of the wheelchair. That’ll be easier, ya? I promise I’ll be okay.”
Ada nodded. “You can do anything you set your mind to, Rachel.”
Rachel gave her mamm a strange look. “Then why do you keep telling me that I can’t?”
Ada’s expression changed to confusion and she pushed back from the table in a fast, sudden motion. “I baked shoofly pie for dessert. Who’s ready for a slice?”
Rachel sighed. “Sure, Mamm.” Her voice sounded tired. “Shoofly pie sounds great.” Would her mother ever be ready to let go of the past and move forward with life?
* * *
Rachel was ready thirty minutes early. She wore a crisp, freshly starched prayer kapp and a plain purple dress that smelled of sunshine and grass from the outdoor clothesline. She had spent extra time parting her auburn hair, twisting the sides, and pulling it all back into a low, tight bun. She moved her head from side to side in front of the mirror. Her hair looked neat and smooth beneath the translucent heart-shaped kapp. The part was straight and even as an arrow.
Rachel sighed and dropped her gaze from the mirror. There was nothing to do but wait. She checked her white apron for wrinkles, then reminded herself that this was not a big deal. Joseph had asked her as a friend. He didn’t care how straight her part looked or whether her prayer kapp was well starched. He didn’t care about her looks at all. She had never been the center of attention. Why on earth would she think she would be now? Joseph was nice to include her—but only out of consideration as a friend.
“Have a snack before you go,” Ada called from the kitchen. “I made apple cinnamon doughnuts. You don’t want to go hungry.”
Rachel couldn’t possibly eat. “No thanks, Mamm. They’ll have food there, ain’t so?”
“Ya.”
There was a long silence. “Well, they’ll be here if you want them.”
“Okay, Mamm.” Rachel’s stomach churned. She felt as if she had swallowed a stone. An apple cinnamon doughnut was the last thing she wanted to think about. She tried to read a Christian romance novel, but she kept looking at the same line over and over again without ever noticing what it said. Rachel frowned and tossed the book onto the coffee table. This was getting ridiculous.
Rachel heard a faint clip-clop against pavement and sucked in her breath. The pulse of her heart matched the fast, hard beat of the horse’s hooves. As the hoofbeats pounded louder, so did her chest. She heard the crunch of buggy wheels on gravel and a high-pitched whinny. Joseph had turned off the road and onto the driveway. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Relax. Just relax and act normal. Everything is normal, remember?
Rachel felt a thrill of excitement when she saw that Joseph had borrowed an open buggy—the kind that boys used to court girls, for propriety’s sake. Closed buggies gave a couple too much privacy. She reminded herself that Joseph was merely being a respectful friend.
But it was hard to feel like friends when the stars twinkled above them and Joseph looked even more handsome than she remembered. As Rachel rode beside him she hoped that he couldn’t see her heart pound beneath the fabric of her dress or hear how loud it beat. She tried to make conversation but could not think of anything to say. Not one thing! Ach, this was going from bad to worse. When Joseph stopped at a four-way stop sign and smiled at her, Rachel thought she would melt. When he tucked the quilt tighter around her and asked if she was warm enough, Rachel thought she might pass out from happiness. Only a woman with a suitor should feel that way. And Joseph definitely wasn’t a suitor . . . was he?
Rachel tried to focus on the red barns and white clapboard farmhouses that dotted the roadside. But all she could think about was Joseph’s smile and the fact that, no matter how much she denied it, he had become more than a friend to her.
Chapter 7
Rachel seemed quiet as everyone filed into the Lapps’ barn. Gas lanterns cast a warm glow on the crowd. Dust motes drifted down from the hayloft and gleamed in the yellow light. Horses snorted and stomped inside their stalls as the boys joked and the girls laughed. But Rachel did not speak or smile as the handful of adults took seats against the wall and the youth group crowded onto benches in the middle of the barn. Joseph handed her a songbook and frowned. He wondered if he had made a mistake to invite her. She looked like she wanted to go home. He knew that she had always been shy. Maybe he should have suggested a quieter evening together. But that would have been so much more intimate. And he wasn’t supposed to be interested in her. He reminded himself that his interest lay with a pretty English girl.
Joseph cleared his throat and opened his songbook. He really ought to straighten out his thoughts. A quiet evening alone with Rachel! Ha! That would be crossing a line. Joseph’s frown deepened. If he did cross that line, it could keep him Amish forever. Because something told him that if he let himself fall for Rachel Miller he would never let her go.
Rachel glanced at Joseph and began to open her songbook, but her fingers fumbled across the cover and she dropped it to the floor. Joseph smiled, picked it up, dusted off a piece of straw, and handed it back to her. Their eyes locked and she shyly returned his smile. She looked angelic in the soft yellow lantern light. No one had ever looked so beautiful, Joseph thought, then looked away. He reminded himself that life was complicated enough right now without falling in love.
Love? Had he just thought the word “love”? Now that was going too far.
Joseph glanced back at Rachel. Her cheeks had flushed pink. She seemed so nervous and unsure of herself. He had assumed it was because she felt shy and out of place in a crowd of strangers. But what if—
A rich baritone voice broke the silence as a man sang the first few notes of a song. The rest of the group joined in, until the entire barn filled with the happy, carefree sound. Joseph tried to keep his attention on the words in the songbook, but his eyes kept moving to the side. Rachel caught him watching her and her face turned an even deeper shade o
f red. She swallowed, forced her eyes back to the songbook, and put her index finger on the page to mark her place as she read. Joseph noticed that her breath rose and fell too quickly.
Maybe she was out of breath from the singing. But Joseph didn’t think so. She had seemed fine until she caught him watching her. The thought made Joseph feel an unexpected warmth inside. He shifted on the bench so that he could move a fraction closer to her without seeming too obvious. Her shoulder brushed his arm and she glanced back up at him with a quick, happy look. He pretended not to notice. She kept her shoulder pressed against his arm for the rest of the singing. Joseph couldn’t remember a time that he felt happier.
The singing wound down after a couple hours and everyone drifted to the refreshment table. A few people recognized Rachel and stopped to chat. She looked surprised, and a little overwhelmed that so many people wanted to catch up. But her eyes glowed and Joseph knew that she felt excited. He remembered the timid wallflower who sat in the back of the classroom all those years ago and refused to join in the fun. It was time that she came out of her shell. After all, she had so much to offer the world.
“I’ll get us something to eat, ya?”
Rachel glanced at him and nodded, then turned her attention back to Abby Lapp, who was in the middle of a story about a lost goat that wandered into the public library last Wednesday.
Joseph piled two plates with sweet gherkin pickles, homemade soft pretzels, and pumpkin whoopie pies. He nibbled on the rich nutmeg- and cinnamon-flavored icing as he walked back to Rachel. Abner saw him and cut across the room. He caught up as Joseph reached Rachel and handed her a plate. Rachel looked up at Joseph and beamed. “Pumpkin whoopie pie! My favorite!”
Joseph nodded. His mouth was too full of icing to respond.
“Hey there!” Abner cut between Rachel and Joseph and slapped his friend on the back. “Since when did you start coming back to singings? You’re never around anymore.”
Joseph could sense the disaster coming but could not stop it. He wanted to shout at Abner not to say another word. He tried to force down the bite of whoopie pie without chewing. His mouth opened, but it was too late.
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