Without a word of thanks.
He did his best to shrug off disappointment. He knew better than to look for praise for something so minor. It wasn’t the Amish way to tell someone thanks for expected tasks.
Caleb picked up one of the boxes. It was heavier than it looked, which would mean he’d either have to take two trips down the street or use a wagon of some sort.
There was no choice. No way was he going to pull a red wagon down the street in Sugarcreek. His English friends would never let him live that down.
After readjusting his grip, he strode toward the front door.
“You forgot one,” his father called out.
“I’ll be back for it,” Caleb threw over his shoulder as he raced out the door—before his daed told him to pull out the wagon.
It was just after lunchtime and the streets had emptied a bit. Wednesdays were like that. Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays brought tourists and traffic jams; Sundays were almost empty. Monday was filled with busy workers—the day for many to get their business done at the bank, the printers and such. On Tuesdays, people came out for lunch but otherwise stayed away, doing whatever their busy lives needed them to do.
Caleb knew the town’s routine almost as well as he knew the schedule at his own home. He’d grown up with both. But now he was so sick of the sameness, and of the constant worry about doing what was right—what was expected. He could hardly stand it.
He was so lost in thought, he almost ran into a lady and her little girl. “Excuse me!” she blurted. “Watch where you are going. Understand?”
“Sorry,” he mumbled, then, unable to help himself, he glared at her back. She hadn’t needed to yell at him. His hearing was perfectly good. He was sick of people thinking he wasn’t smart—or couldn’t hear too well—because he was Amish.
Finally, after another block, he turned right, then walked up the steps to Mrs. Miller’s house. Luckily, she opened the door as soon as he reached the stoop. “You made it!”
“I did.”
“Here, let me get this from you.”
“Nee, Mrs. Miller. It’s a heavy box. I’ll bring it in.” After depositing it on the counter, he wiped his brow.
“All right. I’ll go get your other one.”
“I feel bad, making you do all this work.”
“It’s no trouble. I like getting out of the store.”
“Could you spare a few moments when you get back for a soda? I just bought some root beer.”
“I can.” He grinned. She knew he loved root beer. “I’ll be back in a jiffy.”
“Great. We’ll sit and have a soda and you can tell me what your plans are.”
That made him pause. “Plans?”
“You, Caleb Graber, have a look about you that’s new. I sure would like to know what has put that glint in your eyes.”
“I’ll be back soon.” But as he turned, he wondered if he could trust her. Or better yet, if he could count on her. He needed someone from the outside world on his side. The Allens had become too close to his parents to go against them. But maybe Mrs. Miller would. The Mennonite lady had something of a mysterious past, at least to Caleb’s way of thinking.
Rumor had it that she’d been engaged once, but the man had jumped the fence and taken off with an English woman. After that, she married but it hadn’t lasted long. Her husband passed away after only a few years of marriage.
Now Mrs. Miller seemed content to straddle two worlds with ease. She was everything proper on the outside, but she also had a great understanding of how it felt to not fit in.
Caleb had even heard it whispered that she’d helped a pair of brothers leave their order, against their parents’ wishes.
As he walked back to the store, Caleb wondered just how much he dared to open up.
“You could have taken the wagon and been done in half the time,” his father said when he strode through the shop’s doors again.
Caleb said nothing, just picked up the box and left again. Only retorts and sarcasm were on his tongue. And if he’d said either, it would have been a foolhardy decision.
Luckily the second box was a little lighter and shorter, therefore easier to see around. He made it back to Mrs. Miller’s in no time at all.
After she put her eggs away, she brought two mugs of root beer to the kitchen table. “Have a seat, Caleb. Are you hungry?”
“I’m fine,” he murmured as soon as he took a long sip of root beer. “I need to get back to work soon.”
“And how are things at the store?”
“The same.” It took all the effort he had not to grimace. She searched his face. “Nothing new?”
He had a choice. He could either lie…or come clean.
“I’ve been thinking about leaving,” he blurted out.
Then he waited. Waited for her to ask why he wanted to leave. Tension filled him as he struggled for the words to describe the deep need he had to leave everything. The store. Sugarcreek.
Being Amish.
But instead of asking anything of the sort, she merely sipped her soda. “I see,” she said after staring at him for what felt like forever. “Well, if you’re thinking of leaving…I suppose we ought to talk about where you want to go.”
In a flash, all the anxious, dark thoughts that Caleb had been doing his best to keep under wraps came flooding out. “You don’t think I’m terrible, to be thinking such things?” he prodded.
“It’s not my place to judge you.”
Again, the rumors of her past swirled between them. Had she been judged before? Had she been found lacking? He was dying to ask her, but didn’t want to offend.
Or, perhaps, she was only pretending to be on his side? Suspicion rose inside him like bile. “Are you going to tell my folks now?”
“Tell them what, Caleb?” Reaching out, she squeezed his arm. “So far, all you’ve done is brought me my groceries and shared a cold drink with me.” She stood up then.
“One day soon, stop by again. When you trust me.”
Her statement made him flush. “It’s just…I’m not sure what I want to do.”
“Perhaps you don’t have to know yet,” she said gently. As the silence between them lengthened, she gestured to his half-drunk bottle. “Why don’t you finish up your drink? That’s enough for now, yes?”
Without a word, he slurped the rest of his drink, then left with only a terse goodbye. As he walked back to the store, with his head down, his thoughts jumbled together.
So jumbled, he almost missed sight of two of his English friends standing on the corner. Watching him.
Jeremy raised a hand. “Caleb. You busy tonight?” They meant later. When it was dark. When they’d go out drinking and driving. When they were free from too many watchful eyes. “No,” he called back.
The boys grinned. “Good. We’ll see you later.”
Caleb grinned, too. No, he didn’t know what he was going to do in the future. But maybe he didn’t have to. All that mattered was that he had plans for later.
That was enough to get him through the rest of the day.
Miriam peeked into the back workroom, where Lilly liked to sometimes take her break. “He’s back,” she chirped.
Lilly put her novel down. “Who?”
“Robert Miller, that’s who. I just seated him near the windows.” She winked. “He asked if you were here.”
Lilly folded a page down to mark her spot and stood up. “Do I look okay?”
Never one to shy away, Miriam looked her over with a critical eye. “Perhaps you need to tame your hair a bit?”
“I’ll do that.”
She grinned. “Then I’ll deliver Robert his coffee…and the news that you will be right there.”
After stuffing the book in her backpack, Lilly ran to the bathroom and turned on the light. Looking at her reflection, she winced. As usual, her blond curls looked like she’d stuck her finger in a light socket. She pushed the worst of the wayward curls from her face, washed her hands, then ran out t
he door.
Afraid to question why she was so excited to see him, she walked quickly through the kitchen and right out to the dining room. She paused when she caught Robert’s eye. He’d been watching the kitchen door. Watching for her. “Hey,” she said as she pulled out the chair across from him and sat. “You taking a coffee break?”
“Actually, I wanted to see you. I was worried…are you still upset?”
Lilly wondered if she’d ever get used to Robert’s forthright ways. Though sometimes it felt like he was shy around her, when he did say something, it was exactly what was on his mind. “No.” She shook her head. “I was being silly.”
“Are you sure?”
She didn’t blame him for being skeptical. After all, she’d had to pull over into his parking lot to cry! “Really. You know how it goes…sometimes things seem worse than they are. Once I settled down, I realized I shouldn’t have been so upset.”
Blue eyes examined her again. She felt his gaze as clearly as if he’d been running his fingers along her skin. “Well. I’m glad of it, then.”
An awkward silence percolated between them. Yes, they’d talked…but rarely had she ever sat with him for any length of time. “Well…I guess I better get back to work.”
“Is that what you were doing when I came here? Working?”
“Actually, no. I was taking my break. I was in a back-room, reading.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m a fan of western romances.”
But instead of looking horrified, the corners of his lips lifted. “Do you have time to tell me about your book? Are you still on break?”
She looked at her watch. “I have time.” She wrinkled her nose. “Are you sure you want to hear about it?”
“Mighty sure,” he murmured.
A flash of warmth settled in her as she began to talk all about the book. And as Robert Miller gazed at her like she was the most interesting person in the whole world.
The following Tuesday, her work shift ended much too soon. With leaden feet, Lilly walked to her car. She wished she had somewhere else to go, but at the moment, the only place she really knew to drive to was home.
What a day it had been. First her mom had been chirping all about her pregnancy. Again. Then the restaurant had gotten incredibly busy and she’d hardly had time to clear tables before more customers were seated.
Now she was running on fumes. Barely holding on. When would her life ever settle down and get back to normal? Of course, what was normal?
After pulling out onto Main Street, Lilly noticed the slow changes that were taking place around Sugarcreek. Some gift shops had fall flags out and other festive displays. Around them, mums were in bloom. A beautiful display of black-eyed Susans waved in the distance. And one or two elm trees had already begun to switch colors. The air was cooler…soon corn mazes would be advertised and pumpkin patches would be filled with children searching for their perfect jack-o’-lantern.
No matter what happened, it seemed as if the seasons really did move on. She was just thinking about that when she noticed Miller’s Carpentry and Robert’s buggy parked to the side.
Whether it was because she was willing to do anything to delay going home…or because she’d felt drawn toward Robert since the day she’d met him, or because she’d enjoyed their last conversation so much…Lilly made a sudden decision and pulled into his lot.
Maybe it wouldn’t be too awkward if she simply went in and thanked him for his concern the week before? After all, it had been really nice of him to visit the restaurant just to see how she was doing.
That would be the Christian thing to do. Right?
The light was dim and the air smelled like oil and sawdust when she opened the door. She found him easily enough. He was sitting hunched over a desk, glaring at a stack of papers.
His head popped up when she opened the door. The stunned look on his face when their eyes met was almost comical.
“Hi,” she said. “I hope I’m not bothering you?”
“Nee. I mean…no.” His chair scraped the floor when he stood up. “Did you need something?”
Since he looked glued to the ground, she walked forward. “Maybe.”
That seemed to set him in motion. Clumsily, he walked around the desk. Cleared his throat. “Very well. Um, what may I show you?” He pointed behind him to a beautiful chest of drawers made out of oak and stained a rich walnut. “A bureau? Or maybe a rocking chair.”
“It’s all beautiful, but I didn’t come here for furniture.” A line appeared between his brows. “No?”
He looked so flustered, she almost smiled. Almost. “I just wanted to stop by to thank you.”
“For what?”
“For what you did last week, of course. Not only did you not mind that I pulled in here and cried, but you even came by the restaurant.” Because he was still looking at her so intently, she stumbled over her next words. Panic was setting in. Maybe stopping by had been the completely wrong thing to do? “I mean, I’m glad you stopped by and we talked.”
Only one kerosene lamp aided the waning natural sunlight illuminating the room. But even in such conditions, Lilly spied a faint blush stain his cheeks.
He swallowed again. “No thanks is necessary.”
“I think otherwise.” Anxious to not belabor her mini crises to death, she gestured toward his desk. Papers and account books littered the surface. “Looks like you’ve got your share of paperwork.”
“I do. One of my supplier’s statements didn’t add up. I’ve been sitting here for the last thirty minutes trying to figure out if it was their mistake or mine.”
“Any luck?”
“No. All I’m discovering is that I still don’t have the head for numbers that I wish I did.”
“Math isn’t my strong point, either. But if it was, I’d try and help you,” she said with a smile.
“Well, then,” he mumbled. Still looking uneasy, Robert stepped a little closer.
With some dismay, she realized he was probably about to show her to the door.
He probably couldn’t wait for her to get out of there. To leave.
He looked ill at ease. Tense. Was she making him feel that way? Wow. Maybe she’d completely misread things at the restaurant. Maybe when he’d asked her about her book he was just being nice?
But, she could have sworn when their eyes first met that he hadn’t looked upset to see her…merely surprised.
“Hey, how about a tour?”
“Sure.” Half smiling, he pointed to his desk. “This is my least favorite part of the operation. My desk.”
She laughed. “Show me your favorite part.”
“Gladly.” He walked her through a doorway and down a small hall. When they turned left, it was into a back-room, one that was far more brightly lit and large. “This is my workshop.”
Lilly inhaled. “It smells like heaven in here.”
“I’m not quite sure what heaven smells like, but I doubt it smells like this.” Meeting her gaze, his expression warmed. “I wouldn’t mind if it did, though.”
As he guided her through a maze of wood, saws, benches, and toolboxes, Lilly looked in amazement at the wide assortment of furniture that was displayed everywhere. “Robert, it’s all beautiful.”
“Danke.”
“What’s it all made out of?”
“Oak, mostly. But there are a few things built from cherry. One customer just asked me for a dresser out of pine.”
Unable to help herself, she ran a hand over a cherry dining room table. “I like this.”
“You have good taste. That piece took me a whole month to build.”
“Is it sold?”
“I thought it was. But the people who ordered it backed out.”
“That’s rude!”
He shrugged. “I don’t think so. The man lost his job. I feel bad. I had to keep his deposit because I bought the wood special for him. But I don’t blame him.”
“I’m sorry. I guess I’m the one who’s being rude.” As she heard her
words echo in the vacuous space, she groaned. What in the world was she doing? Flirting? Just being friendly?
Sometimes she didn’t even know herself anymore.
To her relief, he only shook his head slowly. “No, Lilly. I don’t think so.”
The way he said her name, almost reverently, made her skittish. She turned away before he saw how it affected her. “I like this rocking chair.”
“It’s a gut one. Sit down.”
She sat, and let her hands slide over the smooth wood planes. “It’s lovely. It really is.”
He looked fondly at it. “This one here is for a mother in Berlin. She’s expecting a boppli.”
Whether it was his kindness or the reminder, she blurted, “My mom just told us that she’s pregnant. That’s why I was crying last Monday.”
“Ah.”
Catching his eye—still not very sure why she was even telling him so much—she added, “I was really upset. Devastated, really.”
“Because you lost a baby of your own?”
She started. Over the past few months, she’d done her best never to talk about the miscarriage. Most everyone else she knew never mentioned it, either. But now, here was Robert, bringing it up in conversation. Like it was something that they should talk about.
Something that she should share. “Yes,” she said slowly. “Because of that.”
Robert regarded her a long moment before walking to stand next to another chair. The additional space between them gave her breathing room. She watched his brows furrow as he gave the rocking chair a little push. And then he looked directly her way. “Life isn’t fair at all, is it?”
“No. I guess I shouldn’t expect it to be, huh?”
“I wouldn’t say that. All of us want happiness. Don’tcha think?”
Before she could come up with a reply, he turned and walked toward the door. Lilly scrambled to follow as they meandered their way out of his workshop, and then back into the open front room of his shop.
Suddenly, she was incredibly aware that only the pair of them were in the room. Alone. Together. And she’d just told him about her mother, and about her feelings about losing her own baby.
All without him asking. All without even being invited over! For sure, it was too much information, too quickly, and too soon.
Seasons of Sugarcreek 03. Autumn's Promise Page 3
