by Reid, Ruth
Once the congregation was dismissed, the children went outside to play in the yard, Ben and Toby loitered in the sitting room with the bishop, and Grace followed the women into the kitchen. Everyone looked forward to the Sunday afternoon meal following service. The scent of roast beef made her mouth water. She stood at the counter beside Mattie. “Did you find anything out about your pie?”
“Nay, but I see plenty of desserts. I don’t think it’ll be missed.”
Grace removed the cover from a cheesy noodle dish, then handed it to Jenny, one of the teenage girls, to set on the table.
Mattie leaned closer and elbowed Grace. “Did you get much sewing done yesterday?”
“Jah, we did.” Grace stuck a spoon into the green-bean casserole. “I thought he was bluffing about being able to sew, but he can stitch a straight line.” She glanced over her shoulder into the sitting room at Ben. Some of the maedels who had finished setting the table were socializing with Toby and him. Her sister was one of them. A spark of jealousy niggled at Grace.
Aenti Erma tapped Grace’s shoulder. “Did you remember to bring the bread? I can’t seem to find it.”
“It must still be in the buggy. I’ll go get it.” Grace scooted outside without grabbing her cloak. If it wasn’t for the gusts of cold air sending a chill down her spine, she would have preferred to eat outdoors. A robin chirped on a nearby beech tree branch, a sure sign that spring wasn’t far away. Soon the lilacs would bloom.
Grace opened the buggy door. The bread wasn’t on the bench. She searched the floorboard and the back but didn’t find the loaves there either. It didn’t make sense. Closing the buggy door, she spotted a large set of footprints in the soft ground. Grace followed them. The tracks went from one buggy to the next. Some of the teenage boys had large feet; perhaps one of the boys was looking for a place to hide while playing hide-and-seek. Mitch had better not be one of them—the boys all knew not to play by the horses.
Grace reached the last buggy, but the tracks continued toward the horse corral. She rested her hand on her hip and scanned the area. No sign of anyone. She hiked over to the fence and crawled between the rails. This was foolish. Was chastising the boys so important that she would chance getting manure on her favorite Sunday dress? She had saved up for months to buy the plum-colored material, and she didn’t want it soiled. Something blue flashed in her peripheral vision. She turned in that direction and proceeded toward the barn.
The bishop’s barn was one of the few with a walk-out basement. She followed the slope of the concrete steps down the side of the barn and entered through the milking parlor. Her eyes needed time to adjust. The small windows near the ceiling were intended more for ventilation than a source of light.
Behind her, the door hinges creaked. Light flooded the area. She held her hand up, shielding her eyes, as a silhouetted form stepped forward.
“Grace?” Ben blinked a few times before his eyes adjusted to the dim light.
“What are you doing here?” Her voice cracked.
“I didn’t mean to frighten you. I’m sorry.” He crossed the empty parlor. The place looked larger without cows standing in the milking stalls. “So, what are you doing?”
“I was getting the loaves of bread—”
“From the barn?”
“Nay,” she said sharply. “From the buggy. What tore you away from the swarm of maedels?”
A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “I saw you leave the haus.” He stepped closer. “And I’m pretty sure you saw me wave at you from the porch.”
She cocked her head and shot him a you’ve-got-to-be-kidding glare before crossing the milking area and disappearing into the larger section of the barn where the horses were stalled.
He leaned against the barn wall and watched as she peeked stealthily around the half wall of the calf pen. The young calves met her at the fence and she gave them a scratch on their foreheads. They tilted their heads up and bawled when she left. The woman was on some type of mission. She went to the opening, which led to the hayloft, and looked up.
He joined her at the ladder. “You don’t think the bread is up there, do you?”
She angled her brow at him. “I thought I saw a man in a blue shirt,” she said, her focus fixed on the haymow. “I noticed muddy tracks near the buggies and I followed them here.” She placed her hands on the ladder rung.
He caught her wrist. “Are you serious?” He eyed her closely. She was. “Toby and Bishop Yoder are in the haus. And I’m nett wearing a blue shirt.”
“I’m just going to take a peek.” She lifted her foot to the first rung.
“Let me.”
Grace stepped aside.
Ben climbed the length of the ladder. Rays of sunlight shot through the cracks between the boards and motes of hay dust danced in the air. She hadn’t followed him up the ladder. She was a tough one to figure out. He climbed down. “Just a bunch of hay,” he said, taking the last step. She was inches from him and energy shot through him like he’d been infused with caffeine. He smelled a hint of laundry soap on her dress. On her kapp. “We should go back inside,” he said, warding off the voice in his head enticing him to kiss her.
“Jah, you’re right.” She turned.
His heart hammered hard. Fast. Blood whooshed in his ears as adrenaline fed his blood supply. He reached for her arm, swung her around, and lowered his lips to hers. Gentle at first, then unleashing what little reserve remained, he placed his hand on her back, pressed her closer, and deepened his kiss.
For all of a second, the tension drained from her body and she melted into his embrace. Then she broke from the kiss, breathless.
His throat dried and he swallowed. He tried to recall the bishop’s sermon. Godly living . . . avoiding temptation . . . Ben’s mind went blank.
“I didn’t . . . lure you out here.” She gasped ragged breaths as she stepped backward, every fiber in her body quivering from his touch.
“I know.” His voice was a hoarse whisper.
“Then wh-what was that—all about?” Her lips still tingled where he’d kissed her so completely as only a husband should do. He left her flushed with excitement and her speech muddled. “Answer me.”
He scratched the back of his neck.
She fisted her hands at her sides, ready to fatten those lips of his if he made an offhanded remark. “Ben Eicher,” she said through gritted teeth.
He shook his head and shrugged.
She spun around, heat blazing in her face, and fled to the door.
“Grace,” Ben said, trailing her out of the barn. “Don’t leave upset.”
He stole her heart and wrung the life from it all at the same time, and he didn’t want her leaving upset? She hurried across the yard.
“I didn’t mean to get you riled.”
She halted at the base of the porch steps and whirled around to face him. “Then you should have asked.”
His eyes shined with pride. “Okay,” he said with a nod. “Next time I will.”
“You shouldn’t assume there will be a next time.” She shot up the steps and pushed open the door. Considering the stares from some of the women, she should have taken a moment to catch her breath. Grace touched her prayer kapp. Thankfully it was still in place.
Grace moved quickly through the sitting room and into the kitchen. She found her aunt in the kitchen talking with Mattie and her sister-in-law, Susan. The way the women were fussing over Mattie, they must have figured out her secret. Grace came up beside Aenti. “I couldn’t find the bread.”
“I must have left it on the counter at home.” Aenti shrugged. “I don’t know what’s happened to mei memory.”
Grace placed her hands on her hips and cocked her head sideways. Her aenti’s memory was impeccable. She wasn’t fooling anyone.
“Here,” Aenti Erma said, handing Grace two plates. “Give one to Ben. You both must be starved.”
“Don’t forget these.” Mattie handed her two sets of utensils, smiling widely. Had they
seen Ben and her leaving the barn together?
Ben entered the kitchen. He ran his hands down the side seams of his pants. “Mary sent me in here to get a plate.” He almost sounded apologetic.
“Grace?” Aenti said, giving her a gentle nudge. “Give Ben his plate.”
Grace handed him the dish and utensils without making eye contact. How could he eat? Her stomach was twisted tighter than a lid on a canning jar.
LeAnn breezed into the room. “I just heard you and Toby are going back to Florida. What time does your bus leave in the morning?”
Ben drew a deep breath and knocked on Grace’s back door. He hadn’t been this nervous standing on a woman’s porch in a long time. But since Grace had avoided him the remainder of the afternoon after their kiss in the barn, he wasn’t sure the supper invitation still stood.
“Ben.” Grace sounded surprised.
He shuffled his feet awkwardly when she didn’t immediately invite him in. “I, ah . . .”
Erma came up behind Grace. “Don’t leave Ben standing on the porch. Invite him in.”
Grace opened the door wider and stepped aside.
“I’m warming up meatloaf. I hope you’re hungry,” Erma chirped.
“Jah, it smells wunderbaar.” Ben stole a glimpse at Grace, whose furrowed brow and deep lines between her eyes were anything but inviting.
Erma turned. “Supper will be ready in ten minutes,” she said over her shoulder.
He cleared his throat, a noisy rattle rising from his chest. “You avoided me all afternoon.”
“Jah, I know.” Grace removed her cloak from the wall hook.
“Are you leaving?” He’d come to spend time with her, not her aenti.
She rushed out the door without giving him another look or taking time to put on her cloak.
He shot out the door behind her. “Grace,” he said, following her to the woodshed. “Didn’t we have plans this evening?”
“I assumed you had packing to do.” She stooped down at the woodpile and collected a few of the smaller pieces of kindling.
Ben squatted next to her and filled his arms with wood. “I was going to tell you tonight about mei plans to leave.”
“Tonight!” Her jaw tightened. “You kissed me—knowing that you were leaving.”
He nodded sheepishly. He’d berated himself over his actions all afternoon, starting the moment he saw the hurt in Grace’s eyes when LeAnn had asked what time his bus was leaving.
“Why? To brag to your buddies in Florida?” She shook her head. “Never mind. I don’t want to know.” She marched toward the house, but stopped prior to entering and turned to face him, eyes glaring. “Jah, I do want to know—I deserve to know. Why did you kiss me if you knew you were leaving?”
Hurt flooded her eyes and he wanted nothing more than to tell her the truth. He began with a slight catch in his throat. “I wanted to know if there was a reason to stay.”
Her eyes narrowed to slits and she spun around.
Ben jostled the armload of kindling and, reaching for the doorknob, kept her from going inside. “I care about you.” His throat dried. Her maddening silence bored through him like acid. “Is there a reason for me to stay?”
She blinked, and for a moment, the lines between her eyes softened. But with renewed vigor, she straightened her shoulders and jutted out her chin. “Aenti Erma doesn’t like it when supper is delayed.”
She should have just kicked him—the air left his lungs as though she had. He opened the door and waited for her to enter. On his way into the kitchen, he tried to come up with an excuse to leave, but couldn’t. Perhaps after supper he would have the chance to sit with her on the porch. Beg for her forgiveness.
Erma carried the conversation throughout the meal, with exception to LeAnn asking about the length of the trip. Seated directly across the table from him, Grace refused to look him in the eye. The meatloaf settled in his stomach like a bag of cement.
Ben cleared his throat. “Danki for the meal,” he said to Erma.
“You’re welkom to join us anytime.”
He wished Grace had extended the same invitation. His hands turned clammy and he rubbed them on his pants. He looked at Grace, but she averted her gaze when he opened his mouth to speak.
Grace scooted her chair back from the table, stood, and started collecting the dirty supper dishes.
“I can get these,” Erma said, rising from her chair.
Ben rose, too, and picked up his plate. He followed Grace to the sink. “I’ll help.”
Erma set a stack of dishes on the counter. “If you two are going to redd-up the kitchen, I think I’ll sit in the other room and read.” She left the room, signaling for LeAnn to also.
“You don’t have to stay. I’m sure you have a lot of packing to do.” She lowered the dishes into the sink and started to fill it with water.
“I didn’t kumm with much.”
The sink hadn’t filled completely before she started washing the plates.
Once the dishes were rinsed, he dried them with a dish towel. “Where do you want these?” He motioned to the stack of plates.
“You can leave them on the counter. I’ll put them away later.” When she rinsed the last pan and handed it to him, their hands touched. She released the pan immediately and jerked her hand away. She busied herself by the stove, adding more slabs of wood, then placed a large pot of something liquid on the cast-iron surface.
“Do you have a few minutes to go for a walk or sit on the porch?” he asked.
“I don’t think that’s a gut idea.” She removed a wooden spoon from the drawer and stirred the concoction.
Ben tried to decipher the scent, but the best he could come up with was a liniment of some sort. Then he recalled the day he arrived and how she’d come out of the barn carrying a similar-sized pot. The kitchen stank that night, too, as she heated the mixture.
“What are you making?” He leaned closer to look into the pot.
“Nothing to eat.”
“I figured that. It smells like medicine.”
She stiffened briefly. “It is.” She resumed stirring and kept her focus on the pot. “I have problems with mei joints and this reduces the swelling.”
“You need a better pair of shoes.”
Her shoulders rose and fell with a deep breath. “It’s more than just old shoes. I limp because one of mei legs is shorter than the other.”
“I know that. I looked at your shoes, remember?”
“Oh yes. The man who snubs his nose at repairing shoes inspected mine. I remember.”
Grace lifted the steaming pot from the stove and placed it on the wire rack. She removed a pair of tongs from a drawer and dipped them into the water. She removed the amber-soaked cloths from the pot and placed them on a plate. His eyes watered.
She picked up the plate. “Good-bye, Ben. I hope you have a safe trip.”
Chapter Sixteen
Ben jammed another shirt into his duffel bag. Tomorrow morning couldn’t come soon enough. How did he let that icy woman get under his skin? He’d stooped to groveling. Is there a reason for me to stay?
“These are yours.” Toby sent a pair of socks flying across the room.
Ben caught them midflight. “Danki.” He shoved them into the bag.
“What lit your fire? I’ve never seen you in this much of a hurry for anything.”
“I’m just ready to get out of Badger Creek.” But the thought of returning to Florida unsettled his nerves. He wasn’t ready to face his father either.
Toby snorted. “This afternoon you made it sound as if you might stay. What changed?”
Ben plopped on the mattress, exhaling a sigh that did nothing to ease the burden weighing on his heart. “I kissed her.”
“And you got slapped—again.”
“Nay,” Ben snapped. “She responded.”
“They all do, don’t they?” A scowl crossed Toby’s face as he rolled his head, as if stretching out his neck muscles.
Ben shot off the bed, a low growl rumbling in his throat.“Graber, I’ve heard enough of your digs. We were best friends. What happened?”
Anger flicked in Toby’s eyes. “You tell me.”
A knock sounded on the door. “I’ve got the rest of your clothes,” the bishop’s wife said through the closed door.
Ben opened the door and forced a smile. “Danki, Mrs. Yoder.”
She handed Ben the neat stack of laundry. “I’m sorry, but I can’t seem to find the clothes I put on the line the other day.”
“Don’t worry about it. They’re old clothes.” Ben gently set the items on the bed.
She placed her index finger on her temple and her forehead creased. “I don’t remember if I checked the wash haus.” She looked up at him. “Would you be so kind as to look for me? I’d hate for you to go back to Florida and leave something behind.”
He was already leaving his pride behind. A few shirts didn’t matter.
“Sure.” Ben clipped Toby with a challenging glare. “You coming?”
Toby tossed the pants he’d been folding on the bed, smiled stiffly, and headed to the door. “Let’s go.”
They donned their coats and hats and grabbed a lantern before heading outside. Ben couldn’t help but notice Toby clenching and unclenching his hands as they fled the house. The simmering pot was about to boil over, and for the life of him, Ben didn’t know why. He waited until they were halfway across the yard before starting the conversation. “What’s gotten into you, Graber?”
“They’re all a challenge to you, aren’t they?” Toby shook his head in disgust.
“You’ve said that before.” Ben shrugged. “I don’t get it. You’ve known me all mei life. I haven’t changed.”
“Exactly. And Grace deserves someone better than you.”
Ben nodded. “I was wrong. I misread the look in her eyes and I shouldn’t have kissed her.”
Toby growled under his breath.
“I—was—wrong. What else do you want me to say?” Ben scowled when Toby merely huffed. “I thought you were mei friend.” He jerked the door open to the wash haus and waited for Toby, who was carrying the lantern, to enter first. “I actually feel rotten for what I did—even without your reprimand—so back off.”
