“I hear my niece has invited you to eat with us.” Her blue eyes were guarded.
“That’s right,” he said as he settled down next to her. “I hope that’s okay.”
She gave a quick nod.
What was he thinking? That she would tell him no, that she really didn’t want him there?
Exactly. He had a feeling that Reba Schmucker said what was on her mind when it was on her mind. He couldn’t say that was the most desirable trait in a woman, but it seemed to fit her personality just fine. It wasn’t like he was in the market for a new love. He’d had enough problems with his heart as a child, and it had been broken as an adult. It needed more time to heal than it’d had up until this point.
“Would you like a tuna sandwich?” Constance asked. She held a baggie containing a sandwich toward him.
“Danki,” he said. “It’s my favorite.”
“It’s Reba’s recipe,” Hope chimed in.
“Ow!” Hope rubbed her arm. If he wasn’t mistaken, Constance pinched her, though he couldn’t figure out why.
“It’s good,” he said, around a large bite.
“Danki,” Reba murmured. But she didn’t meet his gaze. Now, why did he get the feeling that it wasn’t her tuna recipe at all?
“I like that color on you, Reba,” Constance said.
“Danki.” Reba brushed down the skirt of her lime-green dress.
He wasn’t one to criticize, but it did look a little . . . bright. But who was he to say? Every bishop was different, just like every Ordnung was different. And if the women in Paradise wanted to wear wild colors, then he wasn’t about to say otherwise.
“Would you like another?” Hope held out a plastic container full of carrot sticks.
He shook his head. She offered them to Reba.
“Danki,” Reba said.
Seriously? Was that the only word she was going to say the entire time they sat there?
Or maybe the question was, why did he care? So she didn’t like him. It wasn’t like it truly mattered. But somehow it did. Despite everything—knocking her in the puddle, making her lose her lunch, causing her to break her ankle—he still wanted her to like him. How was that for schoolboy dreams? Little boys always wanted to be the teacher’s favorite.
Reba managed not to look at him or speak to him for the rest the time while they ate lunch.
He had been sitting there the whole time trying to devise ways to get her to talk to him, look at him, like him. Even as he told himself it didn’t matter.
Lilly Ruth jumped to her feet and tugged on his hand. “Time to play softball. Come play with us.”
“I really should be—”
“Chicken?”
He whirled around, unsure if he’d really heard the word or not. Was Reba talking to him?
His gaze met hers, and he saw a sparkle in those blue eyes. She was talking to him, and she was issuing a challenge. Was he going to accept?
Absolutely.
“Are you coming?” Lilly Ruth asked, then her face fell. “You can’t play today, Reba.”
She gave a small shrug. “It’s okay. I’ll sit here and keep score.”
Hope and Constance got to their feet, and the three of them directed Abel toward the empty field just on the other side of the outhouses.
* * *
The starch went out of Reba’s demeanor the minute he turned his back. She wanted to have a long talk with Constance about inviting people to eat with them, but how would that look? It was okay to invite people to eat as long as they weren’t handsome men who ran her off the road and didn’t know how to properly repair a ceiling.
She really was going to have to talk to Jess about the shoddy repair job Abel had done yesterday. It had looked okay when she left to go to the hospital, but it wasn’t like she went over and inspected it. How did the man make a living as a handyman if he didn’t repair anything correctly? Or maybe that was why he had to move here. He had run out of marks in Punxsutawney or wherever it was he was from.
She sat in the shade of the apple tree as the kids divided up into teams. Not all played softball during their breaks, and others were swinging and playing on the monkey bars. She shifted her attention to them, checking to make sure they were okay before turning back to the game.
Softball was such a fun time. She hated that she was sitting under a tree with her foot in a boot instead of out there playing. Only two more weeks left of school, and she was sidelined for the rest of it. With any luck, by the time she got her foot healed, it wouldn’t be too hot to still play.
The kids all wanted Abel on their team, and finally someone flipped a coin to see which team got him. Constance cheered and Lilly Ruth pouted, which meant they were on opposite teams this time.
But if they thought having Abel on their side was going to be an advantage, it quickly became apparent that they were wrong. He struck out twice, then served as a pinch runner for Mary Ebersol, who stubbed her toe the day before. But he couldn’t run any faster or better than he could hit the ball.
After he was thrown out at second, he plopped down in the shade next to Reba and grabbed his water bottle from their lunch.
“Have you played softball much?” she asked.
Not bothering to meet her gaze, he simply flipped a hand toward the game. “Oh, I’m letting them win, you know.”
Now, why did she have the feeling he was telling her a lie? “That’s really great of you. But how about the truth?”
He shook his head. “The truth is not nearly as exciting as you might think.”
“Try me.”
“I was born with a heart condition. I had to have four surgeries by the time I was six. So I didn’t get to play outside much.” He scoffed. “I didn’t get to play anywhere much. By the time the doctors felt like they had my heart healthy enough to play, those times were gone.”
Tears pricked at the backs of her eyes. He might’ve been the man who tried to kill her yesterday, but no one deserved that sort of childhood. “Those times are gone only if you let them be.”
“Is that an invitation to come back and play softball again?”
Reba smiled. “Anytime.”
* * *
What had gotten into her? Why was she inviting Abel Weaver to come play softball at the schoolhouse whenever he wanted? He was the last person she wanted underfoot. And she would not allow herself to be moved by his story of heart problems and lost childhoods.
She sent Chris Lapp over to ring the school bell and get everyone back in from lunch.
Abel might have been a terrible softball player, but the children loved him. He helped them gather up their equipment and store it in the shed, then they danced around him, begging him to stay for the rest of the afternoon. And the worst part? She couldn’t tell him no. Amish schoolhouses were open to visitors, though most times it was a parent or a curious teacher from another district.
“Please, Abel!” the children chanted.
He looked at Reba and gave a helpless shrug.
There were worse things, she told herself. But she couldn’t think of one.
* * *
Reba did her best not to watch Abel for the rest of the afternoon. But her eyes seemed determined to follow him wherever he went. She tried to tell herself it was because she was stationary, sitting to one side of her desk and having the students come up to her for their lessons, while Abel moved around helping this child and that with different questions they might have. Reba had been concerned at first that it would be distracting, but it actually turned out to be a good thing. The kids worked very hard to get the work done so that he could double check it for them, and she could find no fault in that. But it was when he got to Libby King’s desk that his true nature came out.
“I can’t do it,” Libby said. The poor girl struggled daily in class, and Reba was at a loss for what to do with her. Bernice had done everything she could to help her along, but it seemed the more they tried, the more frustrated Libby became.
Abel nod
ded sagely. “I understand. Reading was hard for me, too. But I learned a trick.” He leaned down closer to her, and Reba only heard the rest of his words because she was so near Libby’s row of seats. “Would you like for me to tell you that trick?”
Libby nodded. “Yes, please.”
Abel squatted down next to her chair and picked up her book so they both could see it. “When you’re reading, close one eye.”
“Which eye?” Libby asked.
“It doesn’t matter. But when you pick one, that’s the one that has to stay closed while you read. Even if you have to put your hand up to cover it, okay?”
Libby nodded, then closed her left eye. She began to read, then switched eyes, opening her left one and closing the right.
“Stay with the same eye the whole time you’re reading,” Abel coached. “Otherwise you’ll get mixed up again, okay?”
Libby nodded.
“It’s very important that you do it that way or it might not work, jah?”
“Jah.” Libby picked up her book, closed her left eye and began again. She read a small passage from Little House on the Prairie, not missing even one word.
When she finally stopped, she was bursting with pride and accomplishment. “I did it!”
Abel nodded. “Jah, you did.”
He moved away as Libby continued to smile.
“How did you manage that?” Reba asked. It was nothing short of a miracle.
Abel gave a casual shrug. “I had trouble when I was about her age. My tutor told me the same trick.”
Reba shook her head. “I’ve never heard of such a thing.”
“I’m not even sure if it is a thing,” Abel said. “But I think with one eye closed, you must concentrate on keeping the eye closed and reading the words so there’s no room for anything else.”
Reba shook her head. “If you say so. All I know is it worked. She has never been able to read that much at one time.”
“Glad I could help.”
At three o’clock, Abel went out to ring the bell. Reba was exhausted. Lugging around a broken ankle all day was no small chore. And as much as she loved the children, she would be more than ready to give up her teaching post, and bow out to whatever new teacher the board chose.
“You want me to erase the blackboard?” Abel asked.
Reba shook her head. “One of the boys will do it in the morning. It gives them something to help release the energy that boys seem to have so much of.”
Abel grinned. “I understand.”
And that was when she knew what she didn’t like about the man. It was his grin. He flashed that grin like it was solid gold, winking dimples at everyone around. It was disarming. Unnerving. And downright vain to go around grinning like that at everybody.
Jah, that was what it was.
Abel Weaver’s dastardly dimples.
Chapter 4
“Where are we going?” Reba asked her dat that afternoon when he picked her up. Definitely tomorrow she was giving the scooter a try. As long as Abel Weaver was off the roads, she should be safe.
But her father had passed the turnoff that led home. “It’s your night to go help Jess.”
Reba groaned.
“What’s the matter? Are you not up to it?” he asked.
How she would like to say no, she wasn’t up to it. That she needed to go home and rest. But that would only delay the inevitable. If she didn’t go tonight, she would have to go tomorrow. Or the next day. She heaved a great sigh.
“Why do I get the feeling something else is wrong?” Dat asked.
“Nothing’s wrong.”
He shook his head. “Do I need to remind you that lying is a sin?”
“Abel Weaver.” They were only two words and yet they held so much weight.
“Are you saying that you don’t want to go to Jess’s because Abel will be there? What’s wrong with Abel?”
“What’s not wrong with Abel?” Reba asked. Aside from those dimples . . . “He ran me off the road yesterday. Now my ankle’s broken. I spent all day yesterday in Mammi’s dress, and I’m supposed to like the man?”
Dat tsked. “I think you’re being a little hard on him. He did apologize. And he offered to pay the medical bills.”
Reba growled. “I don’t want anything from him. Except to be left alone.”
“I see,” Dat said. But from the tone of his voice she had a feeling he could see nothing. “I still think you’re being too hard on him. He’s a good guy, a nice Amish man. He’s just trying to make a living like everybody else.”
“With a crazy horse and stupid dimples.”
Wait . . . what? Who said that?
“Now I really see.” Dat grinned.
Reba sat for a moment weighing her options. She could deny everything, which would just lead her dat to believe even more that she had a thing for Abel Weaver. Or she could remain quiet and her dat would still believe that she had a thing for Abel Weaver. Although it was never her strong suit, she decided keeping her mouth shut was probably the best course of action.
She folded her hands in her lap and stared straight ahead, lips pressed firmly together. That was all she had to do: remain still and quiet the rest of the way to her brother’s house. Piece of cake. She could totally do this. After all, anything she said would only worsen the situation with her father. That was the last thing she needed, somebody recounting the virtues of Abel Weaver. No, it was better this way. Much better this way.
“There’s just something about him I don’t like,” Reba said. Whew. It felt good to get that off her chest.
“You know what they say, don’t you?”
She sniffed. “No. I don’t believe I do.”
“When a woman starts protesting a lot about a man—”
She shut her eyes and held up both hands. “Don’t even go there.”
Her father chuckled.
Well, that didn’t go exactly as planned. That was all she needed, her father thinking she was interested in Abel Weaver. The only thing she was interested in was him staying as far away from her as possible. But helping her brother tonight was not going to make that a reality.
Her dat turned down the lane that led to Jess’s house.
As expected, Abel Weaver’s buggy sat off to one side.
The horse was unhitched, which meant he was in for a long stay. Great. She would probably have to cook supper for him tonight, too.
“Whoa.” Her dat pulled back on the reins, stopping the buggy in Jess’s drive. “Jess said that he would take you to school in the morning.” His eyes twinkled. “Or maybe Abel will give you a ride.”
Reba groaned. She grabbed her purse and her school bag. She was about to get out of the buggy when she realized she was stuck until someone helped her down.
Her dat laid one hand on her arm, stopping her midflight. “Calm down, Reba. I’ve never seen you this upset over . . . not much.”
For a moment there, she was afraid he was going to say nothing. And her broken ankle was a lot more than nothing. But the more her dat talked to her, the more she realized she was overreacting to Abel’s part in yesterday’s accident. And the more she realized that was exactly what it was. An accident. So what had her so upset?
She shook her head.
Must be those dastardly dimples.
“Thanks for the ride, Dat.”
“Hang on,” he said. “I’ll come around and help you down.”
Just as he had that very morning, her father helped her to the ground.
Reba waved good-bye and bobbed her way toward the porch. Maybe that was another cause for her surly attitude. She hated asking for help. Pride might be a sin, but she appreciated the fact that she could do things on her own. She could stand on her own two feet, do practically anything, and hadn’t needed anyone. Until now.
“Jess,” she called as she let herself into the house.
“Reba!” All three of her nieces ran toward her at the same time.
She held up her hands to stay them off.
“You can’t jump on me now or you’ll knock me down.”
They grabbed her hands and led her into the kitchen.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” Lilly Ruth said.
“Where’s your dat?”
Constance made a face. “He’s in the barn with Abel.”
“He smells good,” Lilly Ruth said. “Ow.”
“Hope, did you just pinch your sister?” Reba asked.
Hope turned wide, innocent gray eyes on her. “No.”
But Lilly Ruth rubbed her arm.
“Apologize now.”
“But I didn’t pinch her.”
“Hope.” Reba turned her voice into a low warning.
“Sorry,” Hope mumbled.
But one look at Constance’s face, and Reba wondered if she had chosen the wrong sister. “Constance?”
“Sorry, Lilly Ruth.”
Reba turned away, but not before she caught Lilly Ruth sticking her tongue out at her sisters. That one she let slide. She knew Lilly Ruth took a lot of bossing from the two older girls. Sometimes it was good to let her get one in of her own.
“What are you cooking for dinner?” Constance asked.
“You mean what are you helping me cook.” Reba stumped over to the refrigerator to see what her mother had laid out the day before.
“Mammi put half a chicken out to thaw,” Hope said.
“She said Abel’s favorite was chicken and noodles,” Lilly Ruth added.
“And I’m supposed to make his favorite?”
“It was Mammi’s idea,” Constance said.
Somehow Reba doubted that.
“How will he ever start to like you if you don’t do nice things for him?” Lilly Ruth took one look at her sisters’ glowering faces and slapped one hand over her mouth.
“I see.” Reba looked at each girl in turn. “You three aren’t trying to match-make, are you?”
The three had been instrumental in getting their dat and their teacher to fall in love last year. But she didn’t want to be a part of any love scheme.
“No.”
“Of course not.”
“No, no, no.”
Amish Brides Page 22
