by Amy Clipston
Laura raised her eyebrows. “Just girl stuff. Why?”
“She seemed upset when her dat spoke to her, and I was wondering what happened. What did he say?”
Laura grinned as she leaned forward. “Why are you suddenly so interested in Priscilla?” She wagged a finger at him. “Do you like her?”
“Sure I do. She’s our freind, right?”
“Uh-huh.” Laura shook her head. “It’s more than that. You really like her.”
He swallowed a groan. “Please, sis. We’re not sixteen anymore.”
Laura studied him, and he could almost hear her thoughts clicking through her mind. She was drawing conclusions about his interest in Priscilla, and that sent annoyance hurling through him.
“If you’re so interested in what Priscilla’s dat said to her, you can ask her yourself.”
“Fine.” He gave her a curt nod. “I will.”
Priscilla yawned as she descended the stairs the following afternoon. Her eyes were tired from staring at her sewing machine all day. She’d finished two sewing projects for customers and had started a third when she decided she needed a break.
She’d skipped lunch, and her stomach felt hollow as it growled. A turkey sandwich and a couple of her mother’s peanut butter cookies would hit the spot.
When her shoe hit the bottom step, she turned toward the kitchen and stopped in her tracks. Mark came around the stairwell. She gripped the banister as she looked up at him. She’d hoped to avoid another awkward conversation with him today, but he always seemed to have a sixth sense about when she was on her way to the kitchen. How did he manage to anticipate her every move?
“Hi.” He smiled. “Wie geht’s?”
“I’m fine.” She did her best to sound chipper despite her rising anxiety. “How are you?”
“I can tell you’re not fine.” His gaze was penetrating, and she hugged her arms to her chest.
Was she so transparent to everyone? Or to only him?
“What’s bothering you?” he asked.
“I’m just busy. I had hoped to finish four sewing projects today. I’m only on the third one, and I’ll have to start supper in another couple of hours.” She started toward the kitchen doorway. “I’m on a quick break to eat some lunch.”
“Nope, that’s not it. You looked unhappy after church yesterday.”
“What do you mean?” She squinted her eyes as she tried to recall what he might be talking about.
“I saw your dat say something to you before you and Ethan left the barn. You looked upset. What happened?”
“It was nothing.” She went to step toward the kitchen, and as if predicting her attempt to flee, he slipped in front of her and leaned against the doorframe.
“Really, Mark?” She jammed her hands onto her hips. “You’re going to block me from walking into the kitchen, just like that day you blocked me from getting out of it?”
“I do what I have to, to make you talk to me.” He tilted his chin, and he somehow looked taller and more attractive than usual. It was as if his blue eyes were brighter and his jaw was more chiseled.
What was it about Mark that made him so desirable when he’d never shown any interest in her?
Then his mouth turned up in that electric smile, the one that reduced women like Franey, Sadie Liz, and Ruthann to giggling nitwits.
But it wouldn’t work on Priscilla. She’d already been fooled by one attractive man’s deception, and she would never fall for that again. Trent had seduced her, and then he’d betrayed her.
Lifting her chin, she stood taller and looked up at him. “Does that usually work for you?”
He blinked as if he was surprised. “Does what work for me?”
“The flirting.” She gestured at his face. “The cocky attitude and smile.”
He shrugged. “Ya, I guess it does.”
“Well, I’m immune to your charms, Mark, so you can knock it off.” She pointed toward the kitchen. “Please move out of my way.”
“Not until you tell me what happened yesterday.”
“Fine. I’ll tell you.” She gestured widely. “I was talking to Laura, and mei dat came over and reminded me I had to go. As if I would forget I’m not welcome at meals. He reminds me here every day when he points to my sad little table in the corner. But this time he had to embarrass me in front of mei freind and the entire congregation.” She pointed at him. “There. Are you froh now? You know how pathetic my life is.”
His smile faded, and his face clouded. Bitterness, resentment, and hurt boiled in her belly at the tenderness and concern she saw in his eyes. How could it be real? Trusting him would be a mistake, and he’d already gotten her to reveal too much personal information.
“I’m hungry,” she muttered. “Would you please let me by?”
He took a step to the side, and she slipped past him. As she began to make her sandwich, she felt his eyes still watching her every move from the doorway. She tried to ignore him despite her flaming cheeks. She finished making her sandwich and put away the supplies before grabbing a few cookies from the jar on the counter.
“Why didn’t you eat lunch with your family and me today?” he finally asked after several moments.
“Because I don’t like having to eat at another table.” She immediately regretted revealing another truth to him. How did he always manage to pull her deepest feelings out of her? She kept her eyes focused on her lunch to avoid his gaze.
“I’ll eat with you.” He walked over to the table and dropped into a seat.
“I appreciate your concern, but I don’t need your pity. I’m just fine on my own.”
He flinched, and she tried to ignore the guilt chewing on her stomach.
“I just want to be your freind, Priscilla.”
“Danki, but I’m fine. Really.”
He opened his mouth to speak but then closed it as if he thought better of wasting more breath on her.
She bit back a grin. She’d reduced Mark Riehl to silence, something she’d been certain was impossible.
She gathered her lunch and headed up the stairs to her bedroom to eat alone.
Mark stowed his horse and buggy, and then he headed up the path to his father’s house. Confusion weighed heavily on his shoulders. For the past two days, he’d continued to try to encourage Priscilla to talk to him, but she either responded to his questions with one-word answers or ignored him. Nothing had changed.
Bewilderment was his constant companion, and he was at the end of his rope. It was apparent that no matter how supportive and kind he tried to be to Priscilla, she didn’t want to be his friend. A sane person would most likely have given up by now, but he couldn’t convince himself to give up on her. It was as if an invisible force pulled him to her, and he couldn’t rest until she gave him a chance to prove he could be a genuine and trusted friend to her.
As he stepped into the mudroom, voices echoed from the kitchen. He paused, ran his hand down his face, plastered a smile on his lips, and then marched into the kitchen where his entire family sat around the table, including Laura and her family. The aroma of pork chops filled his senses, causing his stomach to growl as he crossed to the sink and washed his hands.
“The prodigal sohn has returned,” Jamie announced.
“No, he’s the prodigal twin,” Allen quipped, and everyone laughed.
“How was your day, Mark?” Florence asked.
“Gut.” He faced the table as he dried his hands with a paper towel. “I didn’t realize everyone was going to be here for supper tonight.”
“I told you this morning, but you never listen to me,” Cindy responded.
“What?” He held his hand to his ear. “Did you say something, Cindy?”
“Ugh.” Cindy groaned, rolling her eyes.
“He’s incorrigible,” Laura chimed in. “I tell him that all the time.”
“No, he isn’t.” Mollie shook her head as she sat beside Laura. “He’s mei zwillingboppli onkel.”
“That’s right.”
Mark crossed the room as everyone laughed. He stopped by Mollie’s chair and kissed her head. “Did you save this seat for me?” He patted the back of the empty chair beside her.
“Ya, of course.” Mollie grinned up at him, and his heart seemed to swell. He adored her.
“She wouldn’t let anyone else sit there,” Sarah Jane said. “Jamie tried.”
“Ya, he did.” Roy laughed. “Mark is clearly the favorite onkel.”
“Well, I am the best-looking onkel,” Mark said, joking as he sank into the chair beside Mollie. Then he leaned over and rubbed his nose against hers as she giggled.
Everyone groaned, and Mark bowed his head in silent prayer before filling his plate high with food from the platters at the center of the table. Florence had made breaded pork chops, mashed potatoes, broccoli, and rolls. His stomach gurgled with delight as he buttered a roll. It was still warm. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until he breathed in the delicious aromas.
While he ate, he tried to concentrate on the conversations swirling around him, but his thoughts kept turning to Priscilla. Why was it that most of the single young women in the community enjoyed his company but Priscilla repeatedly pushed him away? What was he doing wrong?
“Are you done?”
“What?” Mark looked up as Cindy stared down at him.
She raised her eyebrow before gesturing around the table. “Everyone else is done, and the men have already gone outside to talk. You’ve been sitting here moving around the mashed potatoes on your plate for almost five minutes. Was iss letz?”
“Nothing, nothing.” He took a drink from his glass of water.
Cindy didn’t look convinced. “You’re never quiet during supper, Mark.”
“That’s for sure,” Laura chimed in from the sink, where she was scrubbing a pot.
“You normally guide the conversation,” Kayla added as she dried a dish.
Mark tried to think of something witty to say in response, but he came up empty. Maybe there was something wrong with him!
“I’m done. Danki.” He pushed back his chair and turned to Mollie as she struggled to sweep the floor. “That broom is twice your size. Do you need help?”
“No, danki. I’ve got it.” She pushed the ties of her prayer covering over her shoulders and then stuck out her tongue as if concentrating on her task.
He grinned as he stood. “Danki for supper, Florence. It was appeditlich.”
“I’m glad you liked it.” Florence gathered up his utensils and Cindy took his plate.
He looked at Laura as he started toward the mudroom. She was studying him. By the expression on her face, he was certain she was going to try to get him alone to ask him what was wrong. How was he going to explain that for the first time in his life, he had no idea how to get a woman to pay attention to him?
Leaning against the back porch railing in front of Jamie, he tried to join the men’s discussion about how quickly the harvest season would arrive. But he was lost in thought when Laura stepped onto the porch holding Mollie’s hand.
“We should get going,” she told Allen. “It’s almost Mollie’s bedtime.”
“Time flies when you’re having fun.” Allen stood and scooped Mollie into his arms. “Say gut nacht, Mollie.”
Mollie reached for Mark, and he pulled her into his own arms for a hug.
“Gut nacht, Onkel Mark,” she said before kissing his cheek. “Ich liebe dich.”
Mark melted at the sound of her little voice. “Ich liebe dich, mei liewe.” After another quick hug he handed Mollie back to her father.
As Mollie addressed each of her uncles and grandfather, Laura rested her hand on his forearm. “I want to talk to you.” She nodded toward the steps. “Walk with me.”
Mark complied, following her toward the barn.
“Was iss letz?” she asked.
“Nothing.” He shrugged as he glanced out toward Jamie’s house.
She stopped and spun toward him. “You know I can feel your worries, right?” She touched her collarbone.
“Ya, I know.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets and looked at the sunset. The sky was streaked with such intense reds and oranges, it looked like fire.
“You were so quiet at supper that I wondered if someone else had taken your place.”
When he laughed she grinned.
“There’s my twin.” She tilted her head. “So what is it? A re you tired of Yonnie’s moods and ready to quit the horse business?”
“No, that’s not it.” He glanced out toward the pasture. “I’m just worried about Priscilla.”
“Did something happen to her?”
“No, no. She’s fine. It’s just that I’ve tried to be her freind, and she won’t talk to me. I can see the sadness in her eyes, and I want to help her. But every time I try to get her to talk, she rebuffs me.” He looked down and kicked a stone with his toe. “I’ve tried really hard to show her that my friendship is genuine.”
Keeping his gaze focused on the ground, he shared how he’d convinced Franey to sell him the material Priscilla needed and then how Priscilla had avoided him ever since.
“I just don’t get it, sis. It’s like she has no interest in talking to me. I feel like I bore her, and I’ve never had anyone react to me that way. I have no idea what to do.” When he looked up, Laura grinned at him. “Why is this so funny?”
“You don’t just like Priscilla. You care about her.” She jammed a finger into his chest.
He shook his head. “Not in the way you’re implying.”
“Ya, you do.” She clapped her hands. “It finally happened!”
“What finally happened?”
“You’re falling in love.”
“No, no, no.” He held up his hands. “I’m not—”
“My prayers have been answered! You’re finally going to get married.”
“Whoa. Sis, you’ve got it all wrong.”
“No, I’m exactly right.” She rubbed her middle as she spoke. “You can’t stop thinking about her, and you can’t stand that she won’t give you the time of day. That’s love, Mark.”
He groaned and looked at the emerging moon. Why had he confided in her? He wanted advice, not an incorrect analysis of his feelings. “I don’t like her like that. I’m just worried about her. Can you help her?”
Laura tapped her chin with her finger and then snapped her fingers. “I think she still feels she won’t be included and loved by the community, and that’s what’s weighing on her. Why don’t I invite her over for supper one night? I know we’re just one family, but that should help.”
“But the shunning isn’t over for another two weeks.”
She waved off his words. “I’m not worried about that. She’s welcome at my table.”
He nodded slowly. “But you know you’re breaking the rules, right? You’re not supposed to eat at the table with her until the shunning is over.”
Laura raised her eyebrows. “Are you going to tell the bishop?”
He shook his head. “No.”
“Then I think we’ll be fine. Ya, I’m breaking the rules, but I’m doing it for my best freind. I think most people in the community would understand.”
“Okay.” He nodded as the idea took root. “That just might work.”
“Ya, it will work.” She clapped her hands. “I’m so froh. You’ve finally met your match.” When he frowned she touched his arm. “Your secret is safe with me.”
“Laura,” Allen called from the driveway. “We need to get going.”
“I’ll be right there,” she called back. “I’ll see you soon, Mark.”
“Danki,” he said before she hurried down the path to her family.
As Laura climbed into their buggy, hope lit in Mark’s chest. His twin would fix this.
TEN
“I HAD SO MUCH FUN TODAY,” ETHAN SAID AS HE SWEPT the kitchen floor. “Mark and I mucked the stalls, and then he let me help him fix the henhouse.”
“You’re a gut helper.” Prisci
lla looked over her shoulder at him as she stacked clean dishes in a cabinet.
“That’s nice,” Mamm said as she wiped off the table. “You like Mark, don’t you?”
“Oh ya.” Ethan bent and swept the crumbs into the dustpan. “He’s really nice to me.”
Priscilla bit back the bitter taste of guilt as she remembered how she’d avoided Mark earlier in the week. It had been two days since she’d rejected his invitation to eat lunch with him. He’d seemed to still want to talk to her when he approached her in the kitchen on Tuesday and then again out on the porch on Wednesday. But she’d dismissed him both times.
Why did he continue to try to win her over with friendship? Most men would have given up by now. What did he hope to accomplish by befriending her? She wasn’t worthy of his constant attempts, but he didn’t seem to be planning on giving up anytime soon.
“There! All done.” Ethan dumped the crumbs into the trash can and then set the dustpan and broom in the utility room.
“Are you ready for your bath?” Mamm asked.
“Ya.” Ethan started toward the stairs.
“I’ll get him ready if you want to finish the kitchen,” Mamm said, offering her help.
“Ya, that would be fine. Danki.”
Priscilla finished stowing the utensils and wiping down the counters.
Once the kitchen was clean, she went into the family room. Her father was sitting in his favorite chair reading The Budget. She wiped her palms down her apron as her stomach seemed to flip.
How she longed for her father’s approval, for his love. She still felt like a stranger in the home where she’d been born.
Her thoughts turned to the small swing set Dat and Mark set up for Ethan last week. She’d watched Ethan play on the swings and slide more than once since then, and the smile on his face had made her happy. It was clear Dat loved his grandson, which was a step in the right direction. Perhaps she could use the swing set as a bridge to a truce.
Taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders. “Dat.” Her voice trembled as she took a step toward him.
He peered at her over his reading glasses, his lips making a flat line.
She stared at him, her words caught in her throat and her thoughts a jumbled mess.
