Amish Days: The Runaway: An Amish Romance Story (Hollybrook Amish Romance)

by Brenda Maxfield

  “What?” Mary leaned toward him. She’d never heard of such a thing.

  “Have you heard about Christian Aid Ministries?”

  “Nee, what is it?”

  “An organization that helps Mennonites and Amish reach out in other countries. For both physical and spiritual needs.” His features became more animated. “Some communities send families overseas. They all vote and have to agree to send them. Then they draw lots to determine which family is to go. The rest of the community supports them for a year. That’s how my community plans to handle it anyway.”

  Mary absorbed his words with surprise. This was all very strange; perhaps his community was more different than she had thought.

  “And you want to go?” she asked.

  His eyes danced. “Jah. Wouldn’t it be wonderful gut? To go to another country and help others? To live in a place where you’re completely unknown except to Gott?”

  Mary couldn’t help but grin. “It would, Josiah. To be sure.”

  She stared at his handsome face and excited expression. Did he, too, feel like he didn’t belong? Did he, too, feel like he was in the wrong place or had been born into the wrong family?

  “Sometimes I want to be somewhere else,” she said slowly, testing his reaction.

  He gave her a sharp look. “You do?”

  She took a long breath. “I do.”

  He tipped his head and studied her. “Explain.”

  “Like you said. Leave everything and go somewhere else.”

  “Everything?” His voice was soft.

  His questioning disturbed her. Why was he probing so deeply? Was he really interested in her thoughts? Or was he simply making conversation to take her mind off Jack?

  He watched her face, and then spoke quietly. “Haven’t you noticed how I don’t stay in my district? How I keep coming here?”

  She only blinked in response, unsure which way the wind was blowing.

  “I like to move around,” he continued.

  She gulped air. So, it had nothing to do with her. Or Hope. Her chest tightened. “What about your rumspringa? Did you go far?”

  He looked down at his calloused hands, then back at her. “I didn’t go anywhere.”

  “But why—”

  He cut her off with a wave of his hand. “I guess Abram never shared.”

  “Never shared what?”

  “About my eldest sister, Joanne.” He sighed again and shook his head. “She ran off during rumspringa and never returned. It about killed Dat and Mamm. When the Bishop and the elders found out, I thought Mamm would die. She was devastated. Completely devastated.” He inhaled deeply. “So, I couldn’t do it to her. I couldn’t leave. I spent rumspringa at home, doing nothing more wild than staying out too late.”

  Mary made a soft noise in the back of her throat. “That was kind of you, Josiah. Real kind.”

  “Or cowardly,” he said. “Haven’t really decided which.”

  Five

  Josiah gazed at her with an unexpected look of admiration. Mary’s heart quickened and even in the cool air, beads of perspiration formed on her upper lip. She scarcely could believe the admiration she thought she was seeing.

  He reached out and put his hand over hers and gave a gentle squeeze. She moved slightly, willing her heart back to its normal rhythm. It wouldn’t do for him to think she misunderstood his gesture.

  When he didn’t remove his hand, she cleared her throat and pulled her hand from beneath his. He flinched and drew back.

  “I’m sorry, Mary. I … I didn’t intend to make you uncomfortable.”

  She forced a light laugh and scooted an inch away. “Nee, nee, Josiah. You didn’t.”

  “You going to start lying to me now? After this whole miserable night?”

  Miserable night? Is that how he labeled it? Her lips tightened, and her face closed off. She’d been right all along. How crazy to think that he was interested in her, that he admired her.

  How many times was she to make a fool of herself in front of this man? Was she never to learn?

  She bolted and went to the door, pulling it wide. A blast of cold affronted her, but she didn’t move. The sun peered over the horizon, and its glint on the ice was blinding. She squinted against it and wondered how long it would be before they could leave or someone would come looking for them.

  “Mary.” She winced at the sound of his voice right behind her.

  “What did I do? How come you’re angry?” He rested his hand on her shoulder, and she cringed at his tender touch.

  “Come back inside. It’s too cold. Come.” He took her arm firmly and led her away from the door.

  She turned to him then, searching his face for the look of pity that was surely present. But it wasn’t there. All she saw was confusion. He let go of her to latch the door, and then grabbed her arm again, taking her back to the smoldering fire.

  “Our families have probably figured out that neither of us spent the night at the other’s places. I imagine there’s a bit of frantic communication between the phone shanties.”

  “Jah. Another reason for Dat to be glad he had the shanty built.”

  “So you shouldn’t have to put up with me much longer,” Josiah said. He didn’t take his gaze from hers.

  “I … it’s not been so hard,” she mumbled, turning to hold her hands out toward the coals.

  His voice was soft. “Outside of Jack’s running away, it’s been good.”

  She turned on him. “You just called it a miserable night! And now you say it’s good?”

  He was impossible! A big fat mass of contradictions. Suddenly all the fatigue and worry and cold surged through her and hot tears burned beneath her eyelids.

  “You can’t say it’s both miserable and good!” she continued and with a gasp, she covered her mouth. Was she forcing him to make a choice? And did she really want to hear what that choice would be?

  “I’m sorry,” she said in a rush. “You’re right. It’s been a miserable, horrid night.”

  He groaned and took a step back from her. “Look. That’s not what I meant. Ach, I can’t say anything right.”

  She lowered her gaze. “Besides, you like our Hope.”

  And there it was. Her words hung between them like a barbed fence. She watched the air seep from his lungs, and a glazed look of despair spread over his face.

  “Ach, what are you saying?” he said.

  “You know what I’m saying.” She threw the words at him. “I’ve got eyes.”

  Josiah’s shoulders slumped. He shuffled his foot back and forth on the dirt-covered planks and shook his head as he stared into her eyes. Then he moved away and slowly walked to the stall where Belter stood. He stroked the horse and spoke softly near her ear.

  Mary watched, the tears now falling down her cheeks. She’d ruined it. Ruined any chance at all. She knelt before the dying embers and shivered. She just wanted to find Jack and go home. She wanted to forget this horrible night had ever happened.

  Yet, how could she? How could she forget being holed up in this decrepit barn with a man who made her palms go sweaty and her heart pound like an anvil? A man whose dark eyes made her breath stop in her throat. A man whose touch sent her pulse racing.

  Josiah patted Belter, murmured again, and turned back to her.

  “So, you’ve watched me.”

  Mary’s eyes widened. “What?”

  “You’ve been watching me, and you’ve got me all figured out.” His expression was guarded, but his deep voice took on an edge of steel.

  She gazed around the barn, searching her mind for how to respond.

  He moved toward her. “To accuse me of that, you’d have to have been watching.”

  She sucked in her breath and clamped her teeth over her bottom lip. She frantically tried to backtrack. “I—I, well, I noticed, that’s all.”

  He towered over her, and she was afraid to look up. He reached down and grabbed her hand, pulling her to her feet.

  “You don’t kn
ow me,” he said.

  She stared at him, unable to utter a word.

  His eyes raked over her face, and the muscles in his jaw tensed. Her breath quickened, and she grew stiff. What was he going to do?

  And then he grabbed her shoulders in a fierce hold and bent to press his lips on hers. The shock of him ran through her body. She didn’t move, didn’t fight him—just closed her eyes. The warmth of his kiss sank into her and without a thought, her lips stirred beneath his. He moaned, and her heart swelled until the pressure in her chest made her want to cry out. The hardness of his lips sent quivers down her limbs. And then, just as quickly, he let her go and stood before her, trembling.

  They stood face to face, staring at each other, gasping.

  His eyes took on a wild look, and he stepped back. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He turned from her and strode to the barn door. He thrust it open and disappeared outside.

  Mary’s shoulders folded in on themselves, and she buried her face in her hands. Hot tears flowed down her cheeks. What had just happened?

  After all the effort she’d put into tossing her feelings for him aside, and now this? She sank to the floor. It was no use now. None at all.

  The only thing she wanted was him.

  Minutes passed before he returned. His face was shadowed, and he dodged her eyes. He walked to the stall and unlatched the gate. “I’m going to hitch Belter up,” he said. “It’s light now, and we’ll take it slow.”

  She rose and wiped her face, leaving streaks of dirt across her cheeks. He glanced at her, and then looked quickly away.

  “I can help,” she said, going to him.

  “No, stay inside. It’s bitter out.”

  He took Belter by the harness and led her through the barn. Mary stood back to let them pass. She gathered up the quilt and shook the dirt and bits of straw from it. Feeling drained and hollow, she folded the quilt in her arms and made her way outside. She gasped as the glacial air assaulted her. Josiah harnessed Belter and opened the buggy door for Mary.

  They avoided eye contact as she stepped up and settled onto the bench. The buggy groaned and creaked as Josiah climbed in on the other side. He picked up the reins and clucked his tongue.

  “Okay, Belter, let’s take it real slow.”

  Mary sat like a cement post next to Josiah. She kept her eyes straight ahead, squinting into the glare. She welcomed the harsh air swirling through the buggy, anything to take her mind from the man next to her—the man so close that with one small move she could snuggle into him with her head on his broad shoulder.

  Thoughts raced through her mind. She remembered the whole purpose of why she’d set out the night before and she shuddered. Was Jack safe? Or was he lying in a ditch somewhere, frozen dead? Moisture stung her eyes, and she blinked. Would tears freeze on her face in this cold?

  Josiah guided Belter with a strong hand, keeping the reins taut. He’d left the window open a slice. “Slow down there, girl. Corner ahead.”

  They rounded the bend and Mary saw her dat driving their wagon straight toward them. She raised her hand. “Dat!” she called out through the opening. “Dat!”

  Relief flooded through her at the sight of him. Maybe he knew something about Jack. Josiah tugged Belter to a halt.

  Dat pulled up next to them. “Our Mary!” White steam puffed from his mouth. “We thought you were at the Lambrights. When we heard you weren’t, I was sick with worry.”

  “Sorry, Dat. I’m okay. But have you seen Jack? Where is he?” she cringed inside, waiting for his answer.

  Suspicion riddled Dat’s face, deepening the wrinkles around his mouth. “What happened at the singing? And Jack is fine. Do you remember Jack’s friend Pete? From the school in town? Pete’s mom brought Jack home when the storm started. She stayed the night. Too dangerous to drive back.”

  Mary slumped and clasped her hands to her heart. “Thank Gott,” she breathed. “He’s okay, then.”

  “Where were you?” Dat asked, his eyes full of questions.

  “We weathered the storm in a barn, sir,” Josiah said. He motioned with his head. “It’s up the road a piece. We couldn’t continue. The ice was too bad.”

  “Whose barn? Where?”

  Mary explained. “I think it was the old King barn. You remember it, Dat?” A surge of guilt rose through her as she saw Dat mentally work out the details. She pushed down the guilt. There was nothing to be guilty about. Or was there? Should she feel guilt for the kiss? Josiah wasn’t her beau—he wasn’t even courting her. Ach, she couldn’t dwell on that part of it. Taking shelter in the barn had been the only sensible thing to do.

  Dat stared at her, and she kept her eyes steady on him.

  “All right then,” he finally said. He looked at Josiah. “Thank you for keeping her safe. Mary, get in our buggy.”

  Mary glanced quickly at Josiah, but he wouldn’t meet her eyes. With a sigh, she opened the door and gingerly climbed down onto the ice-covered asphalt. With careful steps, she walked around Josiah’s buggy and climbed into their own.

  “Thank you again, Josiah,” Dat said as he slapped the reins on Chocolate’s back. With a lurch, they took off, leaving Josiah staring after them.

  Dat kept his mouth pressed in a thin line all the way home. Mary held herself stiffly and remained quiet as they inched their way over the roads. The entire episode had been a disaster right from the start.

  And Jack had been safe all along. She hadn’t needed to dash out into the storm after him.

  She should have felt only relief and gratitude that he was safe, but her hands trembled as irritation sliced through her. How could Jack have been so thoughtless? Taking off like that and scaring her to death? How could he?

  How could he, indeed?

  Her blood pounded and her cheeks burned to realize her part in the whole mess. Last night, she’d been right to tell Josiah it was all her fault. She never should have pushed Jack. She knew how fragile he was. She’d been watching him mope about for weeks. Losing his mother and moving to their Amish community was too much for him.

  She turned and stared at the barren icy landscape as they slowly passed down the road. She would make a horrible mother. She steeled herself against the growing feelings she harbored for Josiah. He’d be better off without her. Not that he’d wanted her in the first place. She forced her mind to concentrate on her goat project. She’d build the pen and the milking platform herself. She didn’t need Jack. She didn’t need anyone.

  How hard could it be? After all, she was an Amish girl and used to hard work. The guilt inside her lessened as she determined to be a burden to no one.

  Beside her, Dat cleared his throat before he spoke. “I trust nothing untoward happened in that barn.” His voice was pinched, and she saw the effort it cost him to keep his tone level.

  “Nothing untoward, Dat,” she answered.

  He inhaled sharply. “Then we’ll speak no further on it.”

  Six

  Mamm and Ruth welcomed Mary with open arms and a fair amount of fussing. Before she could even clean up, they filled her with a hearty breakfast of eggs and potatoes and slabs of bacon which she ate just to please them. When she cleared her dishes, she asked to be excused to her bedroom.

  Mamm gave her a worried look. “Jah, child. Of course. You must be spent. Go on up. Take a bath.”

  It was Monday, which meant laundry day, and Mary was relieved it could be done without her. A bone-chilling exhaustion had taken over, and all she wanted was her bed.

  She pushed open the bedroom door and collided with Sally on her way out.

  “Mary! You’re back!”

  “I’m back,” she said, walking to her bed and sinking down on the tan-and-blue quilt she had worked on the summer before.

  “Whoa! You’re a total mess,” Sally observed. “Did you spend the night in a bucket of mud?”

  “Not funny,” Mary answered.

  Sally pulled a clean dress from its peg on the wall. “Get into this. Here, I’ll help you.
”

  “In a bit.” Mary’s eyelids felt weighted with iron. They fluttered and closed.

  Sally shut the door with a quiet click and came to sit beside her. “Don’t go to sleep, yet. What happened? Mercy kept her lips sealed, but Josiah never came back to the singing.”

  Mary’s heart quickened at Josiah’s name.

  Sally jabbered on. “We quit early. The storm was ferocious. I about turned into a corpse on the way home. And Jack! That woman bringing him home? He wouldn’t speak a word to me. Not one word!” Sally shifted her weight and tucked a knee under her chin. “Which is no real surprise, I know. But usually I can get something out of him. And what was with him going to Pete’s house in the first place? Was he invited? Did he tell you he was going?”

  Her words flowed like water from a well, and Mary had trouble attending to any of it. Her tired mind kept circling back to Josiah, and irritation at herself pricked her heavy heart.

  Sally leaned over and gently shook Mary’s shoulders. “Are you listening to a thing I’m saying?”

  Mary opened one eye and took in her cousin’s animated expression. “Not really,” she mumbled.

  “Mary! This is the most excitement I’ve had since coming here. You can’t shut me out now. Hope wouldn’t.”

  Mary’s jaw clenched. She sighed and struggled to a sitting position. “Of course Hope wouldn’t because Hope is so perfect!” Her voice was harsh, and she instantly regretted it. “I’m sorry. I’m so tired.”

  Sally wouldn’t let up. “Were you with Josiah then? I figured as much. I know you’ve got a massive crush on him—Hope told me. Well, not in those words. But, whatever. So, where did you stay the night? Did you go back to the Lambright’s?”

  Mary fell back onto her pillow. “Please, Sally. Let it be for now.”

  Sally gave a loud groan and jumped off the bed. “Fine. Just fine. I’m going.” She stomped to the door and flung it open. She stared back at Mary, and then gave a small smile. “You’re sure you don’t want to spill? I’m good at secrets. Really, no lie. And my, but Josiah is fine.”

  Mary raised her arm and waved Sally away. With another groan, Sally left the room, leaving the door wide open. Mary was too exhausted to get up and shut it. Her mamm’s voice floated up the stairs. She was organizing the week’s laundry and Aunt Ruth’s voice joined hers. Mary pulled the quilt over herself, dirty clothes and all, making a snug cocoon. Slowly, warmth began to flow through her limbs, and she drifted off to sleep.