Thursday's Bride

by Patricia Johns

  STILL IN LOVE

  “Do you have a stamp for your letter?” Levi asked.

  “Not yet.”

  He pulled open a drawer. “We used to keep them here—Yah. Right here.” He pulled out a sheet of stamps and tore one off.

  Rosmanda stood up and crossed the kitchen. She took the stamp from his fingers, his warm fingertips brushing against hers, and she froze.

  He was so close, and with that shirt open at the neck, his bronzed skin almost glowing in that low kerosene light, she found her breath caught in her throat. Levi didn’t touch her, but when she looked up, she found those dark eyes locked on hers, holding her there. He smelled warm and musky, and she sucked in a wavering breath.

  Levi raised his hand and touched her chin, his work-roughened thumb moving over her skin and stopping at her bottom lip. That was a gesture from years past—something that felt uncomfortably natural between them even after all these years....

  Books by Patricia Johns

  THE BISHOP’S DAUGHTER

  THURSDAY’S BRIDE

  Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation

  Thursday’s Bride

  PATRICIA JOHNS

  ZEBRA BOOKS

  KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.

  www.kensingtonbooks.com

  All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

  Table of Contents

  STILL IN LOVE

  Also by

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Epilogue

  Teaser chapter

  ZEBRA BOOKS are published by

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  119 West 40th Street

  New York, NY 10018

  Copyright © 2020 by Patricia Johns

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales, or persons living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

  To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.

  If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the Publisher and neither the Author nor the Publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”

  Zebra and the Z logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

  BOUQUET Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

  ISBN: 978-1-4201-4912-8

  ISBN-13: 978-1-4201-4915-9 (eBook)

  ISBN-10: 1-4201-4915-6 (eBook)

  To my husband, my biggest supporter.

  I love you.

  Chapter One

  Rosmanda held the plastic bottle firmly between her palms as the brown calf drank hungrily. Milk dribbled from its chin, and it butted the bottle as it slurped back the frothy milk. The cow had delivered triplets—a bovine rarity—but one had died and the cow hadn’t allowed the smaller of the surviving calves to drink from her, so it had become a bottle baby, and extra work around the Lapp family farm.

  Extra work . . . there was always more to do now. But she liked the quiet out here in the barn, the smell of the hay, the bleat of the goats. It was soothing, and for just a few minutes she could let her mind wander. Afternoons like this, she half expected to hear her husband, Wayne, come into the barn and everything would be back to normal. He’d give her that serious nod of his—the one where she knew the tenderness underneath his reserve. And then she wouldn’t have to worry about calves and milking anymore, because the men would take care of the men’s work, and she’d head back to the house to help her mother-in-law with the cooking and cleaning, and tend to her twin baby girls. If she shut her eyes, it seemed possible . . .

  But Rosmanda didn’t have the time to daydream about impossibilities. Wayne was dead and with God now, and she was left here with children to raise and the obligation to help out on her father-in-law’s farm.

  The calf butted the bottle again as it drank, and Rosmanda was pushed backward a step.

  “Hungry, are you?” Rosmanda murmured. “Come on, don’t push over the one holding your milk.”

  The barn door opened behind her, and Rosmanda didn’t even bother to turn. It would be her father-in-law, coming to get another load of hay. The calf had emptied the bottle down to foam, and she popped the nipple from its mouth and scratched it behind the ears.

  “This one is almost ready for a bottle and a half every feed,” Rosmanda said, turning around, but it wasn’t Stephen Lapp. She froze, as her gaze landed on the tall, steely-eyed man who’d just walked into the barn, her heart hammering hard in her chest.

  “Levi . . .” Her voice sounded breathy in her own ears, not the snap it should have been. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m here to help out my daet,” Levi said, coming inside the barn, the door slamming behind him. He was tall, rugged, with broad shoulders and eyes that locked on to her with that intensity he gave to everything that interested him . . . It was like no time had passed, and she hated that—because too much had happened since he’d been here on his father’s land.

  Stephen had needed an extra man around this farm ever since Wayne died during the first snow. That hard, cold, grief-filled winter had passed with just the three of them working together to keep the farm running, and now her brother-in-law showed up?

  “Why now?” she asked.

  “Daet asked me to come.”

  “But you knew he was struggling before this,” she said.

  “You wanted to see me before now?” he countered. “Look, this is complicated. We all know that. I’d offered to come earlier, and Daet had refused. He wanted to give you more time—”

  “Me?” She felt that familiar wave of dread. Her father-in-law had struggled on his own because of her? Her position here was precarious enough.

  “And maybe he knew I needed a little more time, too.” Levi shrugged. “Regardless, he asked me to come now. I came.”

  Stephen couldn’t wait longer than this—with the spring thaw came calves soon enough. He’d need the extra help. And whatever their history together, Levi was their son.

  “I know you blame me for what happened to Wayne,” Levi said, his voice low. “But it wasn’t my fault—”

  “No?” she interrupted. “He’d never have been on the side of that highway if it weren’t for your antics.”

  “You can’t blame a speeding driver on me,” Levi replied. “Yah, he came out to fetch me, but I never asked him to. I was happy leaving the two of you alone. So, stop blaming me for something neither of us could control. If we have to be here together, we might as well get that out of the way.”

  Rosmanda bit back the words that sprung to her mind—none of them kind. Levi could claim to be innocent when it came to his brother’s death, but his public drunkenness had been the rea
son that Wayne had been called to go collect him, and Wayne would go. He was that kind of man—stable, reliable, compassionate. And now, dead because of those very virtues he lived by.

  Rosmanda wasn’t this snappish person she seemed to be in the moment, and she hated the sound of that spite in her own voice.

  God, grant me courage . . . To do what? To face Levi? To forgive him? She’d grieved her husband deeply these last months, and she knew that if Levi had just acted the part of a proper Amish man, she’d still have her husband by her side. But that had been Levi’s problem from the start—he was never quite proper enough. Amish men buried their hearts deep and they didn’t flash it around when those hearts were broken. Levi should have done the sensible thing and married when Rosmanda chose his brother over him. But he hadn’t . . . he’d turned to drinking with the Englishers instead.

  As much as her husband’s death was on Levi’s hands, Levi’s downfall just might be on hers....

  “So how long are you staying for?” Rosmanda asked. She silently hoped there were some obligation pulling Levi away again. A hired hand around the farm would be easier to bear.

  “I’m here for good.”

  Rosmanda rubbed her hand down her apron and tried to control the emotion that welled up inside of her. And while she might sound angry and hardened, under that protective shell, she was broken, grieving and frightened about her future. She was living with her in-laws for the time being, raising her baby girls and trying not to think too much about what she’d do with herself a few months from now, a year from now . . . Because this arrangement couldn’t last. At twenty-five, Rosmanda was young enough to remarry, and her in-laws weren’t wealthy enough to allow her to put that off for long. A man would have to take Rosmanda off their hands and provide for her daughters, whether Rosmanda was ready for a new marriage or not. It was simply how things worked.

  “You’re here for good—” Rosmanda licked her lips and glanced up into Levi’s rugged face. If he was staying, did that mean that her in-laws had other plans for her, marriage-wise?

  “If I could have just given you some space, I would have,” Levi said. “But you’ve done enough to help out. Your kinner need you, Rosie.”

  At the mention of her babies, unbidden tears rose up in her eyes. Rosmanda blinked them back.

  “Don’t call me Rosie,” she said, her voice catching. It had been four years since they’d been close enough for nicknames and endearments.

  “Sorry. An old habit.” Levi scuffed his boot against the cement floor of the barn. “You have nothing to worry about from me. I’m here to help my daet, and that’s it.”

  “Fine. That’s clear enough.” Rosmanda looked toward the outside door. “If you’re taking over here, then I should get back to the house.”

  “Rosie—” He stopped, pressed his lips together. “Rosmanda,” he corrected himself. “I didn’t ask anyone to call Wayne that night. I promise you that.”

  “That’s the thing, though,” Rosmanda said, suddenly feeling very tired. “You didn’t have to. Everyone knew who you belonged to, and Wayne wouldn’t have left you outside some bar to sober up. Of course he’d come. You should have known he would.”

  “So you still blame me,” he said woodenly.

  “Who else?” Rosmanda shook her head. “We were woken up by the Englisher neighbor at midnight when someone called to fetch you. What was he supposed to do, tell the neighbor thanks for dragging himself out of bed, but Wayne would rather sleep? You were his brother, and of course he’d come for you. All of that ruckus was your fault.”

  “I didn’t ask them to call him!” Levi said, but his voice sounded choked, his earlier calm cracking. “I told them to let me be.”

  “Abundance has laws against people sleeping in the streets, and you know it,” she said. “And why are we even arguing about this? What’s done is done.”

  Levi’s face was ashen in the low light of the barn. He pulled his hat off and raked a hand through his sandy blond hair.

  “So that’s it, then?” Levi said. “I’m supposed to take responsibility for Wayne’s death, and we don’t get to talk about where Wayne went wrong?”

  “Wayne was a good man—” she started.

  “He wasn’t perfect!” Levi interrupted. “I was his brother, and he moved in and married the girl I’d loved! Everyone talks about how good Wayne was, what a hard worker, how devoted to the faith. But he had no problem betraying me, did he? Isn’t there a Bible verse saying you know what kind of person someone is by the fruit they produce? He kept up appearances. That’s all I can say about my brother.”

  “I chose!” Rosmanda snapped, her voice echoing in the barn around her. “You didn’t quibble over me like some last piece of corn bread! I had a choice between the two of you, and I made it. Don’t make this into some brotherly honor system—like you could call dibs on a woman the way you could on a horse. I knew what I needed in life, Levi, and I made my choice!”

  Levi fell silent, then nodded. “You did.”

  And she’d made the right choice. A marriage wasn’t about sweet words or a hammering heart. It wasn’t about those delicate feelings that couldn’t last for the decade upon decade that piled up in a long marriage. It was about an agreement between two people to stand together no matter what, to work side by side and to raise a family. If a woman married a man she could respect, she’d done well. If a man married a woman who was hardworking, he’d be successful.

  A fragile emotional connection couldn’t last. She’d learned that the hardest way possible back in Morinville when she was at the heart of the biggest scandal to rock that town. Rosmanda wasn’t the kind of fool who needed to learn a painful lesson twice.

  Levi was back, and Rosmanda would have to deal with him whether she liked it or not. But working together on the Lapp farm didn’t change the fact that she was widowed because of Levi’s rebellious incompetence. And while she might shut her mouth for the sake of family harmony, she wouldn’t forget.

  Wayne deserved better than that.

  * * *

  Levi stood back as Rosmanda brushed past him and headed for the barn door. Her long dark hair was rolled up behind her white prayer kapp, a single tendril loose down her neck. She was even thinner than when he last saw her across the barn at one of the rare Sunday services he’d attended before Wayne’s death. Amish women tended to stay slim because of their active lifestyle, but after giving birth to the twins, Rosmanda had been pleasantly plump. Levi had liked it—it softened her a little more. But the last few months had taken a toll on her. She was obviously grieving for Wayne deeply, and he wondered how much she was eating.

  As if that was even his business. His problem had always been that he’d kept caring, even after he was supposed to step back, but Rosmanda wasn’t a woman so easily put aside.

  “Rosmanda,” he said, his raised voice echoing. She turned back as she reached the door, dark eyes locking on him. Her apron was streaked with dust, and a piece of straw clung to the skirt of her dress.

  “What?” She tugged her shawl a little closer around her shoulders.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “You ask that now?” she demanded. “The last I saw you was at the funeral.”

  “You had my parents,” he countered, but that was a weak argument. “And you blamed me for the accident.”

  Rosmanda sighed. “I thought I’d be married to Wayne for the rest of my life. And now he’s gone. Even the babies miss him—”

  “I miss him, too,” Levi said, his throat tightening.

  “If you missed him you should have done more to keep a relationship with him after our wedding,” she said.

  “I don’t know what he told you—”

  “He told me he missed his little brother! He told me that you two used to be close, and he wished you’d just put this silly mess behind you.”

  “And you wanted to see more of me?” he asked with a low laugh. “Really?”

  Pink colored her cheeks, and he knew h
e’d hit on something there. “Whatever was between us was over, Levi. We were a family, and we should have been able to act like one.”

  “Like we are now—” Levi spread his hands. “This wonderfully functional family relationship we have going at the moment—”

  Rosmanda turned toward the door again, refusing to be goaded. “I’ll see you inside for supper.”

  She pushed outside and the door banged shut behind her, leaving Levi in relative silence. Conversation over, apparently. She’d been his brother’s wife, and he’d struggled to see her as only a sister-in-law after that wedding. He knew what it felt like to hold her in his arms, to kiss her, to brush her hair away from her forehead when it came loose from her kapp. . . . He knew how her eyes could sparkle when his lips hovered over hers. And then he had to watch his overly serious brother sit next to her on that buggy seat, reserved and distant. Wayne hadn’t loved her like Levi had, but he’d won her anyway.

  Levi grabbed a pitchfork and headed for one of the calves’ stalls. He’d agreed to come home and help out his daet because they needed him, but this hadn’t been his idea. This farm didn’t feel like his home anymore—especially after Wayne married Rosmanda and they moved into Levi and Wayne’s old bedroom. Amish newlyweds normally moved in with the bride’s family, but hers was in another state. He’d done the gracious thing and found a job on another farm. He’d paid for room and board there and stayed clear of his parents’ house.

  While he had accepted that Wayne had married Rosmanda, he couldn’t bring himself to sit around a table with them and wish them any happiness. That would have been the Amish ideal, of course, that brothers could set aside some courting differences and pull together to make a lively, loving extended family that would support the couple as they started their marriage. The Amish life was about community, and in order to maintain a close and effective community, small irritations had to be set aside for the greater good. His daet had expected that of him. Wayne had, too. But Levi wasn’t a man who faked the ideals. His brother had betrayed him on a deeper level than anyone else seemed to realize, and Levi hadn’t been inclined to forgive him, especially since Wayne didn’t seem to think he needed it. Wayne had won—he’d married Rosmanda. Wayne could enjoy his victory, but he couldn’t make Levi stand there and watch it, either.