by Reid, Ruth
Ben climbed out of the buggy, waited for Grace to crawl out, then leaned down to peer into the window opening at Mattie. “Danki for the ride.”
“Anytime.” Mattie tapped the reins and the horse lunged forward.
“Wait.” Grace waved her hand to stop Mattie, but failed to get her friend’s attention. Grace turned to Ben. “Wasn’t she going to take you back to the bishop’s haus?”
“I thought you wanted help sewing.” Ben looked up at the sky. “I suppose I could go fishing instead.”
“I was teasing about you sewing.” She smiled amusedly. Up until now she didn’t think his self-confidence could be tampered with.
“Mmm . . .” He looked toward the barn. “Did you ever get a new buggy wheel?”
“Toby already changed it for me.”
His jaw tightened.
“Nau it makes sense why you were irked on the ride here. You’re jealous of Toby.”
He huffed.
“You couldn’t help that you were sick . . . And, well, I’m sure it didn’t help that I teased you about sewing.” She hadn’t known any man who sewed.
“Are we going to stand outside all day? I thought we had sewing to do—what are we making anyway?”
“Dog beds. But if you don’t know how to sew—”
“Then you’ll ask Toby?” He smiled. “He doesn’t know how.” Ben motioned to the house. “Shall we get started?”
“Okay,” she said. “But I still think you’re jealous.” She headed to the clothesline. The quilted coverings for the dog beds should be dry by now. She smiled. Watching him thread a needle would be entertaining.
“You find it funny? I’m nett jealous.”
“I was thinking about something else.” She eyed him suspiciously. “Have you ever threaded a needle?”
“You can show me.” His smile turned into a grin.
She stopped at the clothesline. Places on the line were bare and many of her quilts were gone.
Ben wasn’t sure what had changed Grace’s demeanor, but she stared at the line, dumbfounded by something. Her lips moved without making any sound and her gaze traveled the length of the line. Was she counting them?
“Is something wrong?”
“Some of the quilts are missing.”
“Maybe your sister or aenti took them inside.”
“I don’t know why they would only take a few of them.” She reached for the first item and removed it from the line, then unclipped the next one.
Ben went to the opposite end of the line and felt for dryness. The material was so cold he wasn’t sure if it was damp or not. He took it down anyway and draped it over his arm. Grace worked fast, mumbling to herself as she went. He worked his way toward the middle.
“How many do you have?”
Didn’t she already count them? As he handed the ones he’d collected over to her, he counted them one by one. “Eight.”
She released a long sigh.
“I’m sure there’s a logical explanation for where they are.” He smiled. Although his shoes were still missing and that couldn’t be explained.
“I hope so.” Grace’s shoulders slumped.
“I say we get started.”
She peered up at him. “Do you really want to sew? I wouldn’t want you to feel duty bound.”
Ben nodded. As strange as it was, even if the trout were doing belly flops in the stream, he would give up fishing to spend time with her, and that realization made his heart pump harder.
Her lips twitched into a smile, then she turned abruptly and started walking toward the house.
Ben joined her. “Why do you wash them if they’re for a dog?”
“It doesn’t make much sense to me either. The owner of the shop in town where I sell them suggested I label them prewashed—preshrunk. I suppose it’s a marketing gimmick.”
“Why doesn’t your dog sleep on one?”
“He’s nett a pampered pet. He’s a hound and a stray at that. Besides, he doesn’t seem to mind the mound of hay in his dog haus or that he gets to sleep in the barn during the winter.” Her mouth dropped open and she covered it with her hand.
“What is it?”
“I forgot the cedar shavings in Mattie’s buggy.”
Ben lifted his brows. “Can I talk you into going fishing then?” A brief image of Grace snuggled next to him on the riverbank flashed across his mind, taking him by surprise.
“I can’t.” She trudged up the porch steps. As she opened the door, Mattie’s buggy pulled into the yard.
They glanced at each other, then met Mattie in the drive.
“I made it all the way home before remembering the wood shavings were still in the back of mei buggy.”
“I’ll get them out.” Ben walked around and opened the hatch. A strong cedar aroma filled his senses. He grabbed the grain sacks, then, unsure where Grace wanted them put, he waited for a break in the women’s conversation. They chatted as if they hadn’t seen each other in a week when it hadn’t been more than a few minutes. It was too cold to wait for Grace to finish telling Mattie about the missing quilts. He carried the bags up the porch steps and left them next to the door.
“I hope they show up soon. I have the order to fill for the store in town, plus I just got another order, so I’ll be busy sewing to get them all done in time.” Grace sighed.
“That’s strange that your quilts are missing,” Mattie said. “One of the pies I made this morning disappeared from mei back porch. I left two of them out to cool and when I got home, one was gone.”
Ben set the last bags down. “In Florida, the ants and roaches would have a picnic with anything sweet left outside.”
“It’s too kalt for bugs.” Grace shrugged. “But nett for bears.”
“Bears? But you said—” He paused a half second to calm the anxiety growing in his voice. “Earlier, you said they’re still hibernating.”
Grace smiled but quickly covered it. “It wasn’t a bear.”
“Oh?” Ben crossed his arms and stared at Grace.
Mattie stifled a soft giggle. “A bear would have eaten both pies. And it would have left a mess.”
Ben forced a smile. Apparently, these northern women were intent on making a fool of him.
Chapter Fifteen
Sitting on the sofa, Grace leaned closer to Ben and studied his stitches. Straight, even. Amazing. “You’ve done this before, jah?” “I’ve had plenty of practice.” He weaved the needle through the cotton fabric with ease and pulled the thread taut.
“And you made me show you how to thread the needle.” She shook her head.
“You can’t blame a man for wanting to get close to a woman.”
“I should have known.”
“You’re nett going to tell anyone mei secret, are you? After all, I might get invited to a sewing frolic.” He wiggled his brows at her.
“You’re . . . you’re—”
“Irresistible.”
“That’s nett what I was going to say.”
He shrugged. “It’s what your eyes said.”
She stiffened, then pinned him with a deadpan expression. He wasn’t going to get the best of her.
The playful flicker in his bright-blue eyes sent a chill skittering to her core. As he sat in front of the window, his blond hair shimmered with a halo, but he was no angel. He probably held every maedel captive with his smile back in Florida—here in Michigan too. Even Becky Lapp had been taken by his charm, and she was about to be proposed to when Philemon returned.
Grace cast her gaze across the room as warmth spread across her cheeks. Think of other things . . . The curtains were starting to look sun-faded. The windows had a thin layer of soot that would require full-strength white vinegar to get them clean.
He shifted on the sofa, glanced in the same direction, then continued to stitch the quilt block. “I know it’s tough to deny me.”
“You’re so full of yourself.” She quirked a brow. “I think you believe it too.”
He pus
hed the needle through the material, jabbed his thumb, and yelped. He boyishly shoved his finger in his mouth, then plucked it out and looked at it.
Grace resumed sewing. She wasn’t falling for his pretend injury.
After a minute, he picked up the block of navy-blue fabric with the needle hanging from it and continued to sew. “The first day I met you, I told Toby you were an icy one.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” She pushed her sewing aside and stood. “I’m going to warm mei kaffi. Would you like another cup?”
He bit the end of his thread, then tossed the finished block on the pile. “I’m gut, Icy, but danki for asking.” He grabbed two more pieces of fabric and sandwiched a section of batting between them.
She took her mug and retreated into the kitchen. Icy one. She could only imagine what type of women he shared his time with, certainly nett someone with strong beliefs.
Aenti Erma looked up from the table. “I’m just finishing a letter to mei cousin.”
“Tell her I said hello.” Grace dumped the cold coffee from the mug into the sink, then put the kettle on the stove to boil.
Aenti folded the letter. “How are the quilt blocks coming along?”
“Gut. Ben can actually sew straight stitches. And he’s fast.” At more things than just sewing.
“It doesn’t sound like you need mei help.” Aenti smiled as she stuffed the letter into an envelope. “I think I’ll get supper started. Maybe you could invite Ben to join us.”
“Nay. I mean, Bishop Yoder and Mary are expecting him.”
Aenti licked the envelope and sealed it. “Maybe another time.”
“Jah, maybe,” she said, hoping to sound indifferent. She stared at the clear top on the percolator. Brew already, she silently coaxed.
“Why don’t you ask him over tomorrow nacht?”
“Tomorrow is Sunday.” The entire settlement spent the afternoon together fellowshipping after service, and usually they ate a big meal and heated leftovers at suppertime.
“I know what day it is.” Aenti lifted her brows. “I’m nett so old that I don’t remember Sunday singings.”
Grace snatched the kettle off the stove even though it hadn’t stopped perking. She filled the mug with weak coffee.
“I just thought it would be nice if you invited him—”
“Before someone else does?” Someone who didn’t limp. Grace picked up the mug. “We only have singings during the summer and early fall when the men are home. And since when do women ask the men to court?”
“I was only suggesting supper.”
Grace left the kitchen before her aunt got any more crazy notions. Even if Ben wanted to share a porch swing one evening, he would have two dozen unmarried women to choose from, so why would he pick her—the icy one?
Ben greeted her with a smile as she entered the sitting room. “I finished another block.”
She set the mug on the lamp table and picked up the blocks as she sat on the sofa. She studied his stitches. Some stitches were longer than others, but overall the spacing was good. “Nice work. When did you learn to quilt?”
“These are mei first blocks.”
She shook her head. Those were no beginner blocks.
“They are, really.” He reached for his mug and took a drink. “Mei father is a shoemaker, although most of his work consists of repairing old shoes. He taught me basic sewing, which until now, I didn’t have much use for.”
“You never mentioned working for your father. Only that you worked on a fishing boat and in landscaping. Did something happen?”
He flipped the material over in his hand and examined it as if trying to decipher between the right and wrong sides of the fabric.
Ach, you do have a weakness. She was going to draw attention to his avoidance, then chose not to. It took a long time after her mother died to talk about it. A moment of silence fell between them.
“Mei daed and I have never seen eye-to-eye,” he finally said. “I upset him when I didn’t want to be the fifth generation of Eicher shoemakers.” The sparkle in his eyes faded.
“Telling him must’ve been difficult.”
He nodded. “So was telling him that shoemaking was a dying trade. But it’s true. A person could buy three pairs of shoes for what it cost him to buy supplies for one.”
“I’m sure his shoes last longer.”
Ben sighed. “Mei father argued that point as well.”
She made a few stitches. “Is that why you left Florida?” When he didn’t answer, she looked up from her sewing and met his gaze. “Oooh . . . You’re hiding something, Ben Eicher. Don’t you know that every gut sewing frolic has juicy gossip to talk about?”
He cracked a smile, but only for a second. “Some things happened that I’m nett proud of.” He bowed his head. “I disappointed mei father—for the last time, as he put it. Then he sent me here.”
Grace recalled the disappointment she’d seen in her father’s eyes when she brought up the idea of seeing a specialist about her limp. Isn’t God’s grace sufficient for you? her father had asked, creating an abyss of guilt so deep, it swallowed her whole. After that, she avoided the subject of moving to Ohio, and even when her muscles grew weaker, she pretended to believe in God’s grace.
“You’re awfully quiet,” Ben said. “Nau that I’ve told you all that, you nay longer like mei character?”
“I hate to burst your bubble, but your character was a little sketchy to begin with. But that’s coming from an ‘icy one.’ ”
“I only said that because . . . well, you’re judgmental.”
“Nay, I’m nett.”
His brows shot up and his eyes widened.
“Okay, so I did judge you in the beginning. I thought you were a fence-jumper . . . And that you might lure LeAnn away with all that talk about the ocean. You don’t take anything serious.”
“I’m nett a fence-jumper, although I have thought about it, but I wouldn’t intentionally lure her away.”
“Danki,” she said with a smile. “LeAnn’s been talking about leaving since she turned seventeen last spring, and I find her gazing at the bus station every time we go into town. It’s been especially hard on her since our mother died. Aenti Erma has kumm every year to help while mei daed and bruders go to camp for the winter, but I think LeAnn’s convinced she doesn’t want to live in northern Michigan. It’s too desolate.”
“And you?”
“I don’t mind our small settlement. The winters are difficult with the men gone, but we manage. I’m sure Bishop Yoder is grateful that you and Toby are here and are available to help. He’s probably already told you about the lumber order that needs to be shipped by the end of next week. And once the men return with the fresh-cut timber, it’ll have to be debarked and rough cut. They timber a year in advance since it takes several months for the wood to be seasoned.”
“Jah, he mentioned it.” His expression sobered.
“Is something wrong?”
“Nay. Nothing.” He smiled, though it appeared strained and disappeared quickly.
“Shipments don’t always go as planned. The weather has a tendency to interfere.” She followed his gaze to the floor. What was he staring at, her shoes? Grace tucked them under her dress, but it was too late. Ben had slipped off the sofa and was bending at her side.
“May I see your shoes?”
“Why?” She slid her feet back against the sofa.
“Please,” he said. “I think I know what’s wrong with them.”
She did too. The wooden lift on her left heel was worn to a nub. But she sure didn’t want him inspecting them. And yet, he hadn’t moved from his kneeling position. The man was forward speaking, asking for her foot the way he had. Now he stared up at her with coonhound eyes. “You’ve teased me enough, Benjamin Eicher.”
“I’m a shoe repairman, Grace. I’m nett teasing you.”
She inched her good foot out from under her dress and gasped when he reached for her ankle.
C
radling her foot in the crutch of his elbow, he pressed the tip of her shoe, pushing first against her big toe, then worked his way across. “Nett much room. Do they feel tight?”
Did he really expect her to answer? She could barely breathe.
His hands moved to the back of the shoe, sending a parade of tingles that prevented her from concentrating on anything but the trailing sensations coursing along her nerves. He had unlaced her shoe and slipped it off before she could object.
He lowered her foot to the cold, plank floor and examined the shoe. His forehead crinkled. “No arch support to speak of . . . ,” he said, more as a note to himself.
The front door opened as Ben readied the shoe to slip back on her foot.
Humming softly, LeAnn entered the house. She removed her cloak, hung it on the wall hook, then, turning to face them, her jaw dropped.
Grace snatched the shoe from Ben’s hand and glared at him until he rose from his squatting position.
“It’s her left leg that gives her problems,” LeAnn said, stepping farther into the room.
Aenti Erma breezed in and wrapped her arm around LeAnn’s shoulder. “I’m glad you’re home. I can use some help in the kitchen getting the meal ready. Ben, you’re welkom to join us for supper.”
“Danki, but Bishop Yoder and his fraa are already expecting me.”
“I hope you’ll plan on having supper with us another time,” Aenti Erma said.
“I’d like that.” He watched them leave the room, then turned to Grace. “I should probably go so I’m nett late.” He ran his hands down the sides of his pants as though drying them. “I could help you sew more blocks tomorrow, if you want.”
“Sunday service is tomorrow morning, and the meal afterward takes up the entire afternoon.”
He shrugged one shoulder. “Do you already have plans for the evening?”
Sunday service was always shorter in the winter and early spring. With the ministers away at camp, there wasn’t anyone to read the Scripture. The group sang several hymns from the Ausbund, then Bishop Yoder combined the Scripture reading with his main sermon.
Grace shifted on the bench. This service was running longer, or so it seemed. Bishop Yoder tended to direct most of his sermon about living a godly life toward Ben and Toby, who sat attentively on the front row in the bishop’s sitting room.
