“Yah?” He touched her cheek with the back of his finger—a gesture that was growing familiar now. “You’ve never admitted to that before.”
“And I won’t again,” she said, but she felt her cheeks heat.
“I think you’re beautiful,” he whispered. “I really do . . .”
“Sol . . .”
“And you don’t call me that very often either,” he whispered. “You always call me Solomon. Or back when we were kinner, it was Solomon Lantz, like you were about to lecture me.” A smile tickled his lips again. “I like it when you call me Sol.”
So did she . . . She liked it when he held her, and when he kissed her. She liked it when she could feel his solid strength holding her up. She looked up and he met her gaze, his eyes burning with a low heat that made her breath catch.
“Sol . . .”
The room was growing dimmer still as the sun sank behind the hills outside, and Elizabeth knew exactly what she’d do if she was left alone with this man, even in his pained state. She’d let him kiss her, and she’d let him hold her, and she’d regret it later on up in her bedroom when she prayed for Gott to give her strength.
Elizabeth leaned over and reached for the mug of tea, then pressed it into his hand.
Taking the mug, he was forced to let go of her to get a better grip on it, and she took the opportunity to stand up.
“Solomon Lantz,” she said softly, and she couldn’t help the teasing smile. “Drink your tea.”
Solomon shot her a boyish grin—one that reminded her of years ago, before any of them had grown up or gone wrong.
“I’ll behave,” he said. “Maybe you should get that lamp after all.”
Yes—light. That would help to dispel whatever warmth and tenderness was lurking in the shadows. If she weren’t careful, she’d let go of the last remaining fragments of her heart that still seemed to be in her own possession.
* * *
That night Solomon slept better than he had in a long time. Not that he slept terribly much, because he was in a fair amount of pain, but he didn’t dream at least. When he did slip into unconsciousness upstairs, on the twin-sized bed he’d used since he was a boy, the slumber was deep and untroubled.
When he awoke the next morning, his body ached as he pulled himself out of bed, but he felt better than he had the day before. He was healing up already, and he sent up a prayer of thanks for that much.
Looking in the mirror, the blue bruises across his nose and down the side of his face looked terrible. Gott had been with him yesterday when those men attacked. It could have been much worse than it was, but Gott sped the police to their address, and the blows hadn’t been as strong as they might have been either. Gott had protected him—not from everything, but from the worst. And somehow, even in the midst of all this, he didn’t feel abandoned, or rejected. He felt . . . alive.
After he pulled on his clothes over his aching limbs, he went out into the hallway. It was early and the sky was still gray, but he paused there, listening. His grandmother’s door was shut, but he could hear the soft murmur of prayer from the other side, and it occurred to him that he might have Mammi’s prayers to thank for an awful lot right now.
Elizabeth’s door was shut, too, and he paused at it, placing his fingertips lightly against the wood. Let her sleep . . . Elizabeth deserved some rest, and he truly hoped that her dreams were as empty as his had been, because he’d seen how upset she was yesterday.
Outside, his morning chores took significantly longer than usual. His body was bruised and his muscles ached. His side was particularly tender, but the swelling had gone down from the night before and he was left with the purple streaks of a deep bruise but nothing more. He worked one-handed as much as he could—shoveling out stalls and filling the wheelbarrow with soiled hay.
Had Gott wanted him home again for this one threat, and to protect the women? Maybe. But that didn’t mean he belonged here any longer than necessary. Because when Seth learned of this, and the other men, they’d only grow more protective of their own families. And while they’d be determined to help Bridget and Elizabeth to stay safe, they’d be even more cautious of Solomon than they were already.
The Amish life was a safe and beautiful one for the people who were married with kinner, who had extended family who loved and supported them, and who hit those milestones the Amish appreciated. But for those who didn’t get married, who didn’t have children of their own, who might have made some mistakes, or whose talents lay outside the farming and handicraft structure that supported the community, it wasn’t so easy. And it wasn’t so blissful. You didn’t have a community that stayed so uniformly the same, so safe, so predictable and quiet because they embraced change or differences. Those who were too different left . . . like he had.
He dumped one last load of soiled hay on the manure pile, then left the wheelbarrow by the door, leaning against the frame momentarily as he caught his breath. He heard the front door to the stable open and stepped back inside just as Elizabeth appeared.
“Hi,” she said. She held an envelope in one hand and she looked around the stable. “You shouldn’t be doing this, Solomon. You need rest.”
“I need distraction,” he replied. “Besides, it’s not as bad as it looks.”
“It looks terrible,” she said, her gaze sliding over his face and down to his shoulder. She knew his injuries.
He smiled, then shrugged—the movement painful. “Yah. I don’t know what to say to that.”
She held out the envelope. “It’s for you.”
Solomon looked at it in surprise, then crossed the stable to take it from her. He recognized his mamm’s handwriting right away—the loops that spelled his name—and his heart pattered hard and then felt like it stopped.
“When did this come?” he asked.
“I just got the mail now,” she replied.
He tore open the envelope and turned away to read it, his fingers fumbling with the single page.
Dear Solomon,
Your mammi wrote to me to say that you’ve returned home, repentant and ready to live a proper Amish life. I’m so glad that my prayers have been answered.
Waneta is doing well and the triplets are all thriving now, thanks to prayer and many hands holding them and loving them. Your sister doesn’t need me here any longer—I’ll only start getting in the way. She’s got a home of her own to run, and her own kinner to raise.
I will be coming home shortly, just as soon as I can arrange the travel. With prayer and affection,
Your mamm
He stood there motionless, rereading the letter, waiting for his emotions to catch up.
“Is it good news?” Elizabeth asked tentatively behind him.
Solomon turned back and found Elizabeth standing there, her gaze locked on him uncertainly.
“It’s good news—yah. She’s coming home. My sister is doing well, as are the new babies. Mamm is glad that I’m back . . .” He paused. “. . . repentant and ready to live a proper Amish life.”
Elizabeth frowned slightly. “Oh . . .”
“Mammi gave a different version of events, it seems,” he said dryly.
“Or she read into it what she wanted to see,” Elizabeth said. “She wants you home obviously.”
“Yah.” His mother had written to him at least, but her formal, emotionally distant way still shone through. Would it be so terrible to use the word “love,” or was “affection” as much as she could articulate? But these were old annoyances, and his mamm wasn’t about to change at this late date.
“When will she arrive?” Elizabeth asked.
“She doesn’t know. She’ll come as soon as she can arrange it.” He nodded a couple of times. “She hasn’t heard about the drama around here, apparently, or this letter would have had more lecture to it.”
“This wasn’t your fault,” Elizabeth said. She came closer and tipped up her head to look him in the face. “You know that, don’t you?”
“It’s hard no
t to feel somewhat responsible when chaos seems to follow me,” he said.
Elizabeth shook her head. “If you weren’t here, Sol, I don’t know what would have happened. You saved me—”
He caught her hand and tugged her against him. She leaned her cheek against his shoulder and they stood there for a moment, just breathing. She was warm against him and she smelled of soap and breakfast muffins. She was so untarnished, so pure . . . and there had been a time when she knew it, too. Maybe she still did. But she was like fresh sheets on a bed, like wash fresh from the line, like a cold glass of lemonade on a hot day . . . She made everything better, whether he was deserving of it or not. She was what was good and sweet in this world and she deserved someone equally wholesome. And here he was, standing with his heart beating against hers and feeling far more than he should.
He slid his hand around her waist and tipped his cheek on to the top of her head. His stubble rasped against her crisp, white kapp. Outside, the sound of hooves and buggy wheels broke through the stillness. For a moment neither of them moved, and then Elizabeth took a step back and ran her hands down her apron.
It was just as well they were interrupted. He wanted more than he had a right to ask for from Elizabeth, and quiet moments in the stable didn’t help that....
Solomon went to the door and pushed it open to see Johannes reining in his horses. Solomon stepped outside in the morning sunlight. Johannes looked in Solomon’s direction and gave him a nod and then froze.
“Sol,” Johannes called, and he hopped down from the buggy. “What happened to you?”
Right, he looked as bad as he felt. Solomon rotated his shoulder slowly, trying to limber it up a little.
“Long story,” he said.
“I’ve got time. Seriously, what happened?” Johannes came around the horses, patting the sleek side of one of the animals as he came around. “You look like someone beat you up.”
“Maybe it’s not so long, then,” Solomon said with an uncomfortable laugh. “The Englishers who were hassling us before came back, and I didn’t get away this time.”
“What?” Johannes reached out and pulled off Solomon’s hat to get a better look at his face. Then he tossed it back to him. “Are these . . . people you know?”
“No,” he said tightly. “Just . . . troublemakers. We called the police. It’s taken care of.”
“How is Aunt Bridget and Lizzie?” Johannes demanded.
Johannes’s gaze moved over his shoulder, and Solomon turned to see Elizabeth in the stable doorway behind him. He gave her a small smile, but she didn’t return it. She stood there with her arms wrapped around her middle.
“We’re fine,” Elizabeth replied. “We called the police and they got here in time.”
“Thank Gott . . .” Johannes scrubbed a hand across his jaw. “I . . . uh . . . I came because there’s an Englisher farmer hiring day laborers to replace a fence. It’s just for a day, but it’s work.” Johannes winced, looking at Solomon’s face. “I don’t imagine you’re in shape for that, though.”
Solomon looked back at Elizabeth. “If I went, would you feel safe here?”
Elizabeth’s face pinked and she pulled the door shut as she came up beside him.
“Go,” she said. “Today is washing day. Bridget and I will be busy with that. I’m not going near that produce stand, and your grandmother won’t either.”
“I can use some extra money right now, too,” Johannes said, but his gaze flickered between Solomon and Elizabeth as if something was suddenly making sense to him.
Solomon nodded toward the house. “Let me wash up and grab a lunch. And thanks for thinking of me.”
Work—the Amish man’s solace. Solomon needed some money until school and work started with the Catholic mission, and Gott was providing just that. Solomon would never turn down an honest day’s work.
But when he looked back at Elizabeth, his heart gave a squeeze. Her dark gaze was locked on him, the sadness in her eyes mirroring the grief deep inside him.
If only he’d been a better man soon enough . . .
Chapter Sixteen
A few minutes later, with a lunch packed in a cloth bag, Solomon and Johannes were driving down the road in the direction of the Englisher farm in need of workers. Solomon looked over his shoulder, out the back window of the buggy. He didn’t know what he was looking for, but his heart kept tugging him back toward the house where he’d left Elizabeth carrying loads of bedding down into the basement for washing.
He didn’t know why he was even letting himself do this.... They both had lives ahead of them that didn’t include each other, and whatever was building between them wasn’t going to last. And she had no idea how powerfully he felt drawn to her . . . She had no idea what it did to him when she rested her head against his shoulder. It was that thundering attraction between them that made him need to pull back. This was beyond anything he’d ever felt before.
Was Elizabeth going to leave her Amish life and join him in some apartment in town? Would she trade her Amish clothes for jeans and a T-shirt and get accustomed to internet and cable TV? Would she attend Catholic mass with him so that he could show his appreciation for the people who were helping him get his feet under him again? Of course not.
“So, what’s going on with you and Elizabeth?” Johannes asked, jerking him out of his reverie.
“What?” Solomon cleared his throat. “Nothing.”
A car passed them, slowing down as the occupants peered through their windows at them. Solomon looked away.
“That’s a lie.” Johannes fixed him with a pointed look.
“If I were courting her, you’d know,” Solomon said. Johannes was family, after all. Word would get to him faster than to anyone else. But Solomon wasn’t going to tarnish her reputation while he was here. Did he have feelings for her? Yah. He’d taken a beating for that woman, but he wasn’t going to ruin her future, too.
“I know you aren’t courting her,” Johannes replied. “But I know there’s something happening. I’m not blind.”
“Look, I’ve noticed her, okay? Maybe the men in our family have a weakness for these Yoder girls. She’s beautiful and kind and . . . special. But I also know that I’m not on a level to get a woman like that. I have nothing to offer her. So you don’t have to remind me.”
They came to a four-way stop, and Johannes reined the horses in. Two cars went ahead of them, and then Johannes flicked the reins and they plodded forward again. A pickup truck swerved past them, and Solomon’s stomach leaped as the horses shied left.
Johannes’s gaze snapped fire, but he didn’t react to the truck as it whipped past.
“Idiots,” Solomon muttered.
“It’s fine,” Johannes said. “The horses are getting better at not spooking.”
Johannes had the proper Amish response—let it go. Be thankful for an ability to cope. Solomon’s reactions weren’t quite that honed.
“Look, Elizabeth is like a sister to me,” Johannes said after a moment. “And she’s more vulnerable right now than she lets on.”
“You don’t have to give me this talk,” Solomon said with a sigh.
“I think I do,” Johannes replied. “You can’t just fool around with her. She’s a good Amish girl, despite what her father did. And she deserves the respect of a good Amish girl.”
“Is this why you came by, to give me a lecture?” Solomon retorted.
“Maybe. Plus, we both need work.”
“You’ve got a job. You work your daet’s farm,” Solomon said.
“I’m getting married.”
Solomon looked at him in shock. “What? The widow from Edson?”
“Yah. I’m going to marry Sovilla,” Johannes said, his voice low.
“Why?” Solomon demanded.
Johannes shot him an irritated look.
“Because, unlike some, I respect the women who dedicate themselves to a good Amish life,” Johannes snapped. “And Sovilla is Amish. She’s kind, hardworking, sweet, an
d I can see what a quality woman she is. And I’m not the kind of man who dates around and fools around and then wanders off. She needs a husband to help her raise her little girls, and I’m willing to be that husband.”
“And I’m the man who fools around and leaves women in my wake,” Solomon said. “That’s what you think?”
“It looks that way,” Johannes said.
This was the opinion of his own kin . . . what did the rest of the community think of him?
“Hopefully you’ll get to know me again better than that,” Solomon retorted. “I might have been a flirt before I jumped the fence, and I’ll admit to that, but I experienced a lot with the Englishers, and I grew up. I don’t just toy with women, Johannes.”
Johannes turned toward him, his cool gaze meeting Solomon’s evenly. “Do you still want this ride or should I take you back?”
Solomon had never seen his cousin so direct before, and he settled back in the seat.
“I need work,” Solomon said curtly. “I’ll take the ride.”
They were silent for a couple of minutes, the horses’ hooves plodding along. They were moving past the Amish farms and onto English property. In the distance a tractor growled and a pickup truck wound over a dusty road. The Englisher farms weren’t quite so small and peaceful as the Amish ones. They were larger, with more land to work, with a lot of streamlined machinery that appealed to Solomon. It was efficient.
“So what about Lovina?” Solomon asked.
“What about her?” Johannes asked.
“You can marry a woman you barely know?” Solomon said. “Elizabeth thinks you love her sister still.”
“I do,” Johannes said.
“That’s not a problem?” Solomon let out a short laugh. “Really.”
“She left me,” Johannes replied, turning forward again. “She chose an Englisher life. She wrote me one letter saying that she loved me, but she couldn’t live under the burden of her father’s reputation, and that she was calling off our wedding. After that, nothing. No letter. No news. No reassurance that she’s okay . . .”
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