Thursday's Bride

by Patricia Johns

  “Like that . . .” She tugged her hand back.

  “What?” he asked.

  “That’s . . . the kind of thing you did. It made all my logical thought drain from my head.” Rosmanda tugged her shawl a little closer around her shoulders. It was chilly here in the shade. He was tempted to move closer to her, but he didn’t.

  “Just touching your hand?” He felt a smile tug at his lips, and he reached for her hand again. “Just that?”

  Was such a simple touch really that electrifying for her? It was a rather exciting thought, actually. Levi had no idea he still had that effect on her. He ran his finger down her palm, and this time, she didn’t pull away. He’d always loved her hands . . . her beautiful, tapered fingers . . . and he liked to run his fingers over hers, feeling the softness of her skin, memorizing the shape of her palm and the faint lines that crisscrossed over it.

  Rosmanda tipped her head to the side, her dark gaze following his fingers. It felt like a challenge, almost. She’d just told him that he’d woken her up in a very physical way—and maybe that had scared her. But she was right that it had been something very powerful between them.

  “Contrary to what you seem to think about me,” Levi said quietly, “I didn’t feel like that with any other girls. It was only you.”

  “You’d had other girlfriends, though,” Rosmanda said.

  “Yah. But not like us . . . And not at the same time.” How could he even explain that? With a few other girls, there had been some fumbling, some kissing, some awkward physical expressions, but it had never been like him and Rosmanda. He’d been looking for that kind of passion, and not even sure what to do with it once he found it. He and Rosmanda had shared an attraction that scared him, too. Wanting a woman that badly set up a man for heartbreak. And he’d been right about that.

  “I don’t think I believe that,” she whispered.

  So she thought he was lying? He wasn’t quite sure how to prove himself to her.

  “You think I was some guy working his way through the available women?” he asked with a low laugh.

  “Maybe . . .”

  “I wasn’t.” She seemed to give him credit for a prowess he didn’t possess. It was she who woke it up inside of him.

  “You seemed to know what you were doing,” she countered.

  Yah, maybe he had. But it had just connected with them, made them both into experts. Turned out she hadn’t been quite so innocent either, but there was something about the way she fit in his arms, about the way she collapsed against him that made him feel like twice the man he was.

  “I’m telling you, Rosie,” he murmured. “We had something I’d never had before. That was new to me, too.”

  Levi moved closer on the buggy seat, and she looked up at him, her dark eyes filled with sadness. He hated that—the way life had changed her. She’d been through too much. They were both a little scarred now, and cracked. But whatever used to simmer between them hadn’t died out, either.

  Rosmanda didn’t answer him, but when he moved closer, she didn’t retreat, either. He ran a finger down her cheek. What was it about this woman that made him feel so much more alive, just by breathing her in?

  “You’re doing it again,” she whispered.

  “Doing what?” His voice was low and husky.

  “That thing you do . . .”

  Guilty. Maybe he was. He lowered his lips over hers, and she exhaled a sigh as she leaned into him. She was warm and soft, and he wanted to pull her closer than was even physically possible in a buggy seat. He wanted all of her, to feel the full length of her against him.

  It was probably better that he couldn’t, because with his heart hammering this hard, if she didn’t stop him, he wouldn’t rein himself in, either. It had been a very long time since he’d had a woman in his arms who made him feel like this—

  He broke off the kiss with a ragged sigh, and Rosmanda’s eyes slowly fluttered open.

  “What’s so wrong with feeling like that?” he whispered.

  “I don’t remember . . .” She laughed softly.

  Yah. Neither did he. Not right now with her so close.

  He’d missed her. After putting years of emotional energy into resenting his brother, he could finally admit the truth—he’d missed Rosmanda most of all. He missed her laughter, the sparkle in her eyes, the way she could make him chuckle with her dry humor . . . He’d missed the way her hair smelled, the way her fingers felt in his hands. She wasn’t quite so easy to forget.

  Knowing what he did about her past, he could see that it hadn’t been just about finding a husband for her . . . it had been about re-creating herself. Well, Levi didn’t have that luxury. He’d messed up in full sight of his community, and they’d never forget it. So she might have scraped up her new start, but he was still the same old Levi Lapp everyone had started to distrust.

  Levi pulled back, putting some physical distance between them.

  Rosmanda could never say he lied to her, because he hadn’t. But what he had to offer—an honest heart and a passion for her that couldn’t be stamped out—hadn’t been enough, even when she was most desperate.

  “You just remembered why we can’t do this, didn’t you?” she said softly.

  “Yah.”

  “It wasn’t Aunt Dina, you know,” she said, “who scared me off.”

  “Then who?” He looked over at her, catching her eye.

  “It was you.” She looked away, but her soft voice still tugged at him. “You told me all the things you questioned, like whether the community really knew best for people, like if having a bit more space from everyone might make life easier, or if we should do what the bishop and elders told us, or just take it as advice. . . .”

  Yah, he’d said all that, and more. And he’d meant it. He still did. He wasn’t so certain that the community knew better about his heart than he did.

  “Isn’t that the same thing Aaron is struggling with right now?” he asked.

  She looked back. “I suppose. But this community—it’s what protects us. It keeps us separate from the world, it provides for us when life gets hard.”

  “Like when your husband dies,” he said.

  “Yah,” she agreed. “And when I need work to make some extra money, and when I need help with my daughters. The community will protect them. The Amish will wrap them close when they grow up and marry and have children of their own. What are we without our community?”

  But Abundance hadn’t done so well for him when he’d been heartbroken and trying to find some comfort when his brother stole his girl. Where had the community been then? They’d told him to get over it. A couple of married men from the community had tried to talk to him.

  These things happen, they said. There will be other women. A good girl from a good mother—she’ll make you happy. Just move on. Get married, too. Have some kinner. You’ll see.

  It hadn’t been half enough, and the liquor had been a far sight more comforting. Levi flicked the reins and the horses started forward again. He was frustrated with himself because he kept doing this—messing with his own emotions, and hers. She’d known what she wanted back then—and it wasn’t him. Well, now he knew what he wanted, and it wasn’t a woman so easily scared off by his honest self.

  “Maybe it’s best to listen to the community,” he said. Get married. Find someone else. Have some kinner of his own to help him forget . . .

  “Yah. It tends to be best,” she agreed earnestly.

  Aaron and Ketura were in the midst of their own hopes and heartbreak, but Levi could see the wisdom of listening to the community in their situation. The couple couldn’t see past their noses right now, but others could see a good ways in the future. The life Aaron wanted wouldn’t be an easy one for either him or Ketura.

  Rosmanda was right, it seemed—their attraction, no matter how passionate and strong, couldn’t make for a future together. And he had a heart worth protecting, too.

  Chapter Twelve

  That night, Levi d
reamed of his brother again. In his dream, they’d been young enough to be climbing the hay bales in the barn, and Levi was climbing ahead of Wayne. It was exhilarating—speeding up to the top, the energy of youth. The smell of hay had been so pungent and real, the tickle of straw poking through his pants against his knees as he scrambled upward. He could hear his brother’s puffing breath behind him, but when he looked back, Wayne was slipping farther and farther down the pile of bales.

  “Wayne? Hurry up!” He’d been annoyed. What was taking Wayne so long? His brother was trying, but he couldn’t seem to get a hold, and he looked up at Levi with panic on his face.

  “Levi, don’t leave me!”

  “Hurry up!”

  The pile of bales seemed to go down forever, and Wayne struggled forward again, only to slip farther down. Levi’s heart had been hammering in his chest, as he was unsure of what to do. He wanted to help his brother, but he didn’t know how.

  “Wayne! Climb!” He’d woken up in a sweat, the words on his lips. Had he said it aloud, or had it just been a mumble? He didn’t know, but he’d pushed back the covers and sat in the predawn chill, his legs over the edge of the bed while he sucked in deep lungsful of air and tried to get himself centered again.

  He wasn’t a kid. And Wayne was gone. He wasn’t sure that stark reality helped.

  Levi and his brother had had a strangely competitive, yet protective relationship. Levi had been the louder, rougher brother, and Wayne had been quiet. It took a few years for Wayne to hit his growth spurt, and for a long while Levi was the same size as his older brother. When some of the other boys picked on him, Levi would stand up for him. He’d never been afraid of a fight, and Levi had been the kind of kid who fought dirty. Wayne was more noble—wanting to do the right thing. Levi had just wanted to pound the other kid and get him to shut his mouth.

  When they became teenagers, Wayne finally started to grow, and he turned into a big, beefy teen. He didn’t need Levi’s fists anymore, and Wayne seemed to resent his little brother’s protection then. Embarrassment, maybe? Or just frustration? Regardless, he started competing more with Levi, trying to prove himself. That competition never really stopped after that, but stepping in with Rosmanda—that level of betrayal had been a first.

  Except now, Wayne was dead, and Levi couldn’t fight with him anymore. He couldn’t tell him off—Levi always was the more eloquent of the two of them. He couldn’t make up with him, either. And now that Wayne was gone, Levi couldn’t even stand up for him and go fight dirty with whatever was threatening his big brother, because in spite of it all, there was still that protective streak inside of him deep down....

  Levi finished up his chores with his daet earlier than usual. After the chores were finished, Stephen and Miriam got into the buggy and drove off to see Ketura and hear her out. Whether Ketura was serious about marrying the young man or not, this was no longer a private matter that had hope of fizzling out on its own. It was about to be very, very public.

  The morning was a chilly one—frost sugaring the grass and the fence posts. Levi headed into the horse barn with some carrots from the cellar. The barn was warm and the hay-scented air tickled his nose. He’d already mucked out the stalls that morning, so it was clean and fresh inside. The other horses were outside already, but he’d left Donkey in his stall so that he could work with him alone. Levi laid a folded saddle blanket over the top rail, then leaned against the rails and looked at the massive stallion with appreciation.

  “How are you doing, Donkey?” he asked in a low voice. “I want to get you in some plow tack today.”

  He wasn’t sure if he’d manage it, but he’d try at least. He was glad to have some horse training to focus on today. Levi had done his best to keep to himself since he and Rosmanda had gotten back from Ketura’s home. He couldn’t play with whatever was brewing between them. Rosmanda might spark some fiery passion inside of him, and up until now, he’d been more concerned about what was good for her. But it was about more than that—this halfway romance wasn’t enough for him, either. He used to silently pity men who claimed to marry their “best friends,” because those friendly relationships with girls hadn’t held a candle to the roaring blaze he felt with Rosmanda.

  His female friends had been girls who might laugh and joke with him, who might have known him and Wayne since they were kinner climbing hay bales together.... They might be decent girls who would make decent wives one day, but to settle for a candle’s light when he knew what a blaze felt like? It seemed sad somehow.

  Now, however, he wondered if those young men hadn’t been wiser after all. A female friend might see the best in a man, when a lover could be a harsh judge. Those men were married now, with kinner and homes of their own. They had the comfort of a warm stove, a wife’s embrace, and kinner to play at their feet. And Levi . . . didn’t. So, who had been the fool all this time? Maybe him.

  Levi opened the stall door and eased inside. Donkey backed off, his ears going down, and Levi stopped. He held out a carrot.

  “You want one?” he murmured.

  He was getting Donkey used to his voice, too—associating it with safety, treats, and good things. Donkey leaned forward and gobbled up the carrot with large, snapping teeth. He crunched on the mouthful, then leaned forward for the second carrot. Levi gave it to him, watching him eat his treat.

  Levi poured some oats into his feed bucket, then laid a hand on the huge horse’s shoulder. The muscles trembled under his touch, but Donkey stepped forward to reach the oats. Levi pulled the saddle blanket off the rail, movements slow—no surprises. He reached forward and put his free hand on Donkey’s muscular shoulder, but the horse didn’t even look up from the oats.

  Levi tossed the saddle blanket over Donkey’s back. The horse raised his head and took a step back, looking over his meaty shoulder toward the saddle blanket. Levi had gone as far as getting a saddle blanket onto the horse before, but today, he wanted to add a plow saddle on top of that. The saddle was a part of the hitching equipment. So Donkey would never have to worry about carrying a man on his back. But if he could be hitched up, he’d be a beautiful source of horsepower.

  With a deep breath and a silent prayer, Levi tossed the saddle on top of the blanket. Donkey shook himself restlessly and the saddle slipped off into the hay. Levi sighed, and he bent to retrieve the saddle, but as he did, the door to the barn opened with a creak, Donkey startled. Levi wasn’t sure what happened next, but he felt a hoof connect with his chest, throwing him up against the stall rails.

  The pain radiated around his rib cage, and everything spun as he clambered to hold on to something. He couldn’t breathe—everything seemed to be clenched tight around his rib cage, and he crawled a couple of feet before he coughed out a breath. Sucking air into his lungs was excruciating.

  “Levi?”

  He didn’t look up—all of his attention on trying to breathe, but he felt Rosmanda’s hands under one armpit as she hauled him forward and out of the stall. He collapsed onto the cement floor, and he heard the stall being shut and locked behind him.

  “Levi!” She bent down, her face hovering over his. “Are you hurt? How bad is it?”

  He was still trying to breathe, and he feebly pushed her prying fingers away from his shirt.

  “Stop it . . .” he huffed. “Stop . . .”

  Rosmanda stopped, and he grimaced, pulling in a shallow breath. It was easier now—his breath coming back.

  “Bad timing . . .” he whispered. “Thanks a lot.”

  She seemed to take his words as legitimate thanks, but he’d meant them in sarcasm. His voice just wouldn’t give him enough flexibility to relay that.

  “Let’s get you inside,” Rosmanda said. “Come on. Hurry up. The babies are sleeping and I can’t leave them long.”

  Right. He staggered to his feet, and she slipped an arm around his waist. Rosmanda was stronger than he’d thought. And she felt good there—soft and warm. He leaned on her as much as he dared, and let her lead the way bac
k to the door. He glanced back once and saw Donkey staring after him. He’d almost swear he saw a mocking smile in those liquid eyes.

  That blasted horse. He’d hitch him up or die trying.

  * * *

  Rosmanda let Levi rest against the side of the house while she went ahead and pushed the door open. She’d heard the solid thunk of a hoof hitting flesh, and heard Levi’s grunt. Her heart had felt like it stopped, and it was still catching up. She’d get him inside—that was her first goal—and then see how bad it was.

  She pushed open the door and then hurried back to help Levi up the steps. He was heavy, and she had to move in closer to help him, her hip pressed hard against his. He pulled himself forward up the rail, his arm heavy around her shoulders.

  “Almost there—” She let him lean against the doorjamb for a moment before he headed inside, his boots leaving a dirty track into the kitchen. When she pulled out a chair from the table, he sank into it with a grimace. He held his chest, breathing in a shallow whisper.

  “What happened?” she asked, and this time when she pulled at his shirt, he didn’t stop her. His hand dropped to his lap, and she undid his buttons as quickly as her fumbling fingers would allow. Then she pulled the shirt aside to reveal his broad chest. On the lower right, a large pink and purple bruise had started to spread along his ribs. She ran her fingers over the spot and he sucked in a hissing breath.

  “Sorry . . .” she said. “That’s a good kick, Levi.”

  “Yah.”

  “Do you think your ribs are broken?” she asked, and she ran her fingers along the other side of his chest. His flesh tightened into goose bumps under her touch. She found herself enthralled by the smoothness of his skin and the way his chest hair swirled.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “It still hurts, but not quite as much. I’m going to say not broken.”

  It was about his injury, and she’d better keep that in mind. But there was something about this man leaning back in the chair, his shirt hanging open, allowing her to run her fingers over his skin—