But somehow she didn’t think that was entirely true. Whatever brought him to Paradise, it wasn’t something he wanted to share.
* * *
Side by side, Reba and Abel walked by the pen holding the horses.
“What are you looking for?” she asked.
“I don’t know.”
“How am I supposed to know what you want if you don’t even know what you want?”
“I don’t think you can do any worse than I did with the last horse.” He shot her a sheepish grin.
Dimples.
She shook her head. “Where did you get that beast?”
Abel stopped and propped one foot on the bottom rung of the fence. He looked out over the pen of horses milling around. “A friend of my cousin. He was supposed to be a good horse.”
“I guess good is relative.”
He chuckled. “I guess. I think he was an old racehorse. But I’m not sure how, since he was so jumpy.”
She nodded. “What spooked him, anyway?”
“A grocery sack.”
Reba couldn’t stop her bark of laughter. “A grocery sack?”
“Trust me, I know. The grocery sack got caught in the wind and blew between his legs. He completely lost his composure.” He paused for a second, looking out over the horses. “I really am sorry about your ankle.”
She smiled and shook her head. “I’m sorry I was so . . . grumpy about it.”
“Who told you that you were grumpy?”
She gave a one-armed shrug. “Oh, everybody. My nieces, my mother, my brothers, my dat.”
“Ouch.”
“Sometimes the truth hurts.”
“And sometimes people expect too much of others. I think I would be grumpy if I were knocked into a puddle and broke my ankle when I was simply trying to walk to work.”
Her grin widened. “If some big oaf couldn’t control his horse?”
“You got it.”
He pointed to a rusty mare toward the center of the pen. She had a white blaze on her forehead and a silky white nose. Even from this distance Reba could see a gentleness in her eyes. She was calm and collected while the other horses milled around her. “What about her?”
“I’m no expert,” Reba said. “But I would buy her in a minute.”
Abel gave her another one of those heart-stopping grins. “Done deal.”
* * *
“How about some lunch?” Abel asked, just after twelve. He had won the bid on the horse and even managed to get her under his budget. Now if he could just get rid of the other beast, he would be set. Even better if he could talk the pretty woman at his side into sharing a meal with him.
“I really should get back to the house,” Reba said. She didn’t look at him when she said the words, and he wondered if there was a little more to that statement.
“I still owe you a meal, remember?”
“You bought pizza,” she said.
He shook his head. “And you didn’t get to eat any of it.”
“So I didn’t.” She had eaten two bites of one slice before she left for the hospital, but her ankle was hurting her so badly she couldn’t eat any more. “You don’t have to buy me lunch.”
“But I want to.” He gave her his best smile. “Please.”
Something he couldn’t identify flashed in her eyes, but it was gone in a heartbeat. “Okay,” she said.
“Don’t sound so excited about it.”
She crossed her arms and gave him a look. “It’s just a lunch between friends, right? Nothing to get excited about at all.”
He gave a nod. “That’s right.” But he wanted her to get excited about it, even enjoy herself a little bit. And he had the perfect plan.
He might not have grown up around these parts, but he had heard people talking about the cute little petting zoo across the street from the Hayloft Candles. How fun it would be to grab something to eat and go sit at one of the benches he had heard others talk about? Maybe they could even feed the animals. Just get away for a little while.
He dashed into Amos’ Place next to Stoltzfus Meats and grabbed them a couple of wraps, then back out and down the road.
A small frown puckered her brow as he pulled into the parking lot. “What are we doing here?”
“It’s a beautiful day. Maybe we should have a picnic.”
“Picnic?” She said the word as if she’d never heard it before.
“Jah. That’s when you sit at a table outside and eat.”
“And friends go on picnics?”
He gave a quick nod. “Now they do.”
* * *
They took their food around the pond to the wooden bench on the far side.
“So, what do you think?” Abel asked as he settled down next to her. They faced the pond so they could watch the fountain as well as the ducks, geese, and swans that floated in the water.
“I love it here.” Reba smiled. “I like to bring the girls here so they can feed the animals. Susie, the red Highland, is their favorite by far.”
“Oh.” He looked somewhat crestfallen. “Of course you’ve been here.”
She set down her turkey wrap and turned to face him. “Did you think I had never been here?” she asked. “I did grow up in the area.”
“I know. It was dumb of me. But I wanted to take you someplace special. Someplace you had never been before.”
She shook her head with a small laugh. “This place is special. And I love it here. Thanks for bringing me.”
“Thanks for coming with me.”
The moment snagged as if caught in the branches of a tree. All of a sudden, everything just . . . stopped.
She stared into his eyes. He stared back into hers.
Something was happening here, and she wasn’t sure what. But if she had to guess, Abel Weaver wanted to kiss her.
Yet they were in public, surrounded by Englischers and Amish alike. Children ran past, and the moment was gone.
Abel cleared his throat. “So, after we finish eating, do you want to go feed Susie the Highlander?”
Reba gave an awkward nod. “Scottish Highlander,” she corrected. “And I don’t like to feed her.”
“Why not?” He picked up his wrap and started to eat once more.
Reba pulled a face. “She has a sticky tongue.”
“A sticky tongue?”
“You’ll see.”
* * *
Sticky was not the word. Or maybe it was just one word. He held his cupped hands in front of him, offering Susie the feed he’d purchased from the machine closest to them.
“It’s not so bad,” he said, while inwardly he cringed. Susie had a tendency to lick whatever was close as she scooped up the food with her tongue.
“If you say so.” Reba did not look convinced.
“I say so,” he said. After all, he really couldn’t tell her how gross it was. He surely didn’t want her to think that he couldn’t handle something like a sticky tongue of a Scottish Highland cow. What kind of man would that make him?
And of course, concentrating on not shuddering at the feel of Susie’s sticky tongue against the palm of his hand gave him something to think about other than almost kissing Reba Schmucker in front of all these good people.
He could only thank heaven above for the strength to keep his wits about him as he stared into her sky-blue eyes.
“Can we feed the ducks now?” Reba pointed toward the pond.
“I thought you’d never ask.” He dug a quarter out of his pocket and passed it to her.
She laughed and plugged the coin into the machine.
By the time they were done, Abel was certain they had fed every animal in the place, including the goats, the peacock, and the potbellied pig.
He snatched some hand sanitizer from the dispenser on the way out, wondering how long it would be before his hands felt clean again.
But the worst part was he had no reason to delay Reba any longer. He should have come up with another activity, but he hadn’t quite expected
to enjoy himself this much. And that was because the Reba Schmucker he had today was so different than the Reba Schmucker from a few days ago, the woman who was mad as a wet hen and bound and determined to blame him for all the problems in the world. This Reba was fun to be with. She smiled a lot. She laughed a lot. And it was just what his heart needed.
It was better this way, he told himself. He wasn’t in the market for anything more serious than casual friends.
“I guess I should be getting you back home,” he said, steering her toward his buggy.
“Do you mind if we make one little stop?” she asked as he helped her into the buggy.
He hoisted himself up beside her. “Not at all.” That would only prolong his time with her, even if for just a little bit.
He started the horse toward the main road. “Where to?”
“I need to go by Leon King’s place.”
“Doesn’t he farm goats?”
“That’s him.”
“Left? Right?”
“Right,” she said.
At the road he started to turn the buggy to the right.
“No, left,” she said. “Right as in left is right.”
“What?” he asked, with a chuckle.
She laughed. “Turn left.”
“Got it.” He pulled out onto the road, and they were on their way once again. “What are you going to Leon King for?”
“I need to get some more goat’s milk.”
“More?” he asked. “You’ve bought it before?”
“I’ve been making soaps for Bernice and Jess’s wedding. You know, for the favors.”
“Of course.” He nodded. “But you don’t have time to make that many soaps.” He had no idea how long it would take, but he was fairly certain that if she worked every day between now and the wedding, she still wouldn’t be able to make four hundred bars of soap to include in the wedding favors.
“I’ve got most of them done already,” she assured him. “We just need a few more, so I’m making another batch.”
Abel shook his head as they pulled into Leon King’s drive. Was there anything Reba Schmucker couldn’t do?
“What about you?” he asked as they walked next to the pen containing the goats.
“What about me?”
“Do you have any plans to get married?” She had said she wasn’t in the market for a husband. But somehow he needed to hear her say it again.
“No.” She shook her head, her expression unreadable. “What about you?”
He should’ve stopped this conversation when he had the chance. “No. But there was a time . . .”
She turned as Leon King marched out of the barn. He seemed to know exactly what Reba was after, and they were on the road back home in minutes.
“You were engaged?”
And he had thought the conversation was over. He gave a small cough, then cleared his throat. “Jah. I was engaged.”
“What happened?” She shook her head. “If you don’t mind me asking. You don’t have to answer. That’s too personal.”
It was too personal, but he’d started this conversation and he needed to see it through. “She chose another.” There. He said it. And it didn’t tear his heart in two. In fact, for the first time in months his heart managed to keep its normal rhythm when Abigail was brought up.
“And they got married last season?”
“This October. She’s supposed to get married at the end of October.”
He could almost see the wheels turning in Reba’s mind. No, Abigail wasn’t married yet. But he wasn’t about to fight for the woman’s affections. Love shouldn’t be a competition. Abigail chose another, and it was as simple as that. She went with Luther, and Abel moved to Paradise.
“Do you want me to take you to your parents’ house? Or Jess’s?”
“My parents’, please.” She folded her hands in her lap, and he felt as if he had made a mistake. Though he wasn’t sure how. He chanced one last look in her direction, then trained his gaze to the road ahead. What did it matter, after all? They were just friends.
* * *
Of course he had been engaged. He was strong and handsome, and aside from knocking women into puddles and playing a small part in broken ankles, he was a great guy to be around. But that love for another, that was what she saw in his eyes when she looked closely.
Not that it mattered. They had agreed to just be friends.
But she had allowed herself to daydream just a bit. She knew she was loud. She knew she wore her dresses in too-bright colors and that she was what some men considered a “handful.” Anyone who had ever shown any interest in her during her rumspringa days had either been scared off by her strong personality or unwilling to try to change her. Not that she would’ve changed. She was the way God made her, and that was all there was to it.
So even despite her nieces’ admirable intentions of helping her find a husband, Reba knew she was destined to be an old maid. After all, who wanted a sassy-mouth wife?
But there had been a small time when she felt that maybe, despite their agreement to only be friends, she and Abel could possibly have a chance at having something more. But now that hope was dashed away like the seeds of a dandelion.
They remained silent for the rest of the way to her parents’ house. Reba wasn’t sure what was on his mind, but she used the time to rearrange her thoughts, get everything back in order, and put Abel firmly back into the friend category. Despite everything, he would make a wonderful friend. And if that was to be their relationship, so be it.
He stopped his carriage in front of the house, and like the gentleman he was, he hopped down and came around to help her from the buggy.
The last thing she wanted was Abel’s strong hands on her waist, lifting her safely to the ground. But what else could she do?
His touch sent tingles through her. Even the thought of his touch made her tingly. But she shoved him firmly back into the friend box and gave him a quick smile as her feet touched the ground. She stepped away, needing to put some distance between her and all that tingling.
“Thanks for going with me today,” he said.
Reba nodded, her prayer kapp strings brushing against her neck with the motion. She shivered, despite the warm sun surrounding them.
It seemed like forever since they had been looking at horses and picking one out for Abel’s buggy. But all in all, it had been a beautiful day. And even if things had changed—or rather they had shifted back to their original agreement—she’d had fun.
“My pleasure,” she said.
She should go back to the house now, up the back porch steps, through the door. Shut it behind her and not think about Abel Weaver again for a long, long time.
He nodded, then took one step backward as if headed to the other side of the buggy. “I really did have a good time.”
She nodded dumbly.
“Oh,” he said. “Don’t forget your goat’s milk.” He reached into the buggy and brought out the container she’d gotten from Leon King. He handed it to her, and their fingers brushed. There went those tingles again.
He smiled.
Dastardly dimples.
What was wrong with her? Never before had any man affected her so. Why now? And why this man, who had no interest in weddings or marriage, other than getting her brother’s house ready for his upcoming nuptials?
“Well, I guess I better go make the soap. You know . . . for the wedding.” She nodded again, feeling like one of those bobblehead statues she’d seen in the souvenir shops.
“Right,” he said. “Making soap. Right.”
“Would you like to go to church with us tomorrow?”
He took another step backward and bumped into the carriage wheel. One hand reached out to steady himself. “Church?”
“Jah. Church. Unless you have church in your district tomorrow. Then you should go to church with your church.” Why was she rambling?
“I would love to,” he said. “We don’t have church tomorrow, and I
would like that very much.”
“Just as friends,” she hastily clarified.
Abel nodded. “As friends. Jah. Of course.”
He straightened and hustled around to the driver’s side of the buggy. He got in and shut the door in record time.
“Do you want us to come by and get you?” Reba asked.
“How about I come get you?” he said. “They’re supposed to bring my horse by this afternoon. I sure would like to try her out.”
Reba narrowed her gaze. “What if she ends up not being a very good horse?” Images of the two of them careening down the road being pulled by a wild, rusty-colored mare flashed through her mind.
“Don’t you trust your horse-picking-out skills?” he asked.
“I suppose.”
He grinned. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow at seven.”
* * *
“Is that what you’re wearing?” Mamm’s eyes were wide and her mouth hung open.
Reba looked down at her dress. “What’s wrong with it?”
“Isn’t that the dress from Jess and Linda Grace’s wedding?” She turned back to the frying pan on the stove.
Reba offered a quick, one-shoulder shrug. “Maybe.”
They both knew full well that it was. There was nothing else like it in Reba’s closet. She ran her hands over her apron, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles. The dress underneath was a very conservative, very somber gray. The color had looked beautiful on Linda Grace, with her gray eyes and blond hair. And as her attendant, Reba was required to wear the same thing. It was a miracle it still fit. It had been almost ten years ago. But that was the beauty of pinning dresses. One could let them out when they needed it. Like today.
“Maybe nothing,” Abner said, with a laugh. “Why are you wearing that?”
As the youngest of the Schmucker children, Abner had taken it upon himself to be the orneriest. Or maybe it was that the rest of them made him feel like he needed to tease and cajole his way through life.
“There’s nothing wrong with this dress,” Reba said, with a sniff.
Mamm slipped the eggs onto a plate and handed it to Reba. “Not a thing. Except it just doesn’t . . .” She frowned, as if unable to find the words.
“It’s boring.” Abner laughed.
“It’s a fine color.” She almost choked when she said the words. Abner was right. It was a boring color, but today she felt the need to be a little . . . less.
Amish Brides Page 24
