by Reid, Ruth
She crossed her arms.
“You look rather cute when you pout.”
The line between her eyes deepened and she let out a low growl that he fought silencing with a kiss. He stopped under a large oak and let her down, then sat down beside her, leaning his back against the tree.
She shifted in several positions.
“Do you want to find another tree with a smoother bark? There is probably a beech nearby.”
“Nay, I’ll be fine.”
Clearly she wasn’t fine; she wiggled miserably. Ben slipped his arm around her, moving his shoulder so she could rest her head against him.
“Do you think this is wise?” she asked while yawning.
“Nett at all.” He smiled. “Nau close your eyes and go to sleep.” And dream of me.
If Grace yielded to her own sage advice, she would insist that Ben not hold her so close. But wet and shivering, she wilted into his arms, absorbing his warmth. When he pressed her closer into his cocoon, she didn’t resist. She peered up at him, taking in his brawny jaw and the lips that ravaged hers so completely that they still pulsed.
Ben grinned. “Grace, aren’t you tired?”
Heat climbed her neck and dispersed over her face. She shut her eyes.
He brushed strands of hair away from her face, threading his fingers through her hair and gently caressing her temple with the pad of his thumb. Within a short time, he’d lulled her into sleepiness. She was sure he’d called her Gracie—something only Philemon had called her—and she didn’t know how she felt about that.
Chapter Thirty-One
The kiss Ben and Grace shared stole his breath, his heart, and his mind all at the same time. Now, as she slept in perfect peace, cozy in his arms and practically purring, he wrestled with notions of waking her just to kiss her again. Never had a woman affected him so completely, nor had someone awakened his conscience to this degree. He should pray. Ben squeezed his eyes closed. Except for before meals, he had never been one to pray much—especially like he had over the last several hours, but he couldn’t deny the peace he felt when he had. As if this experience had confirmed that the true hope of salvation could only be found in Jesus. Ben trembled at the thought that God’s grace had extended to him despite his lukewarm attitude toward fully embracing his faith, becoming baptized, even joining the church.
Ben gazed upward as the morning light filtered through the oak branches above them. Working on a fishing boat in Florida, he’d seen plenty of beautiful sunrises, but none as breathtaking as today. Golden rays of light illuminated Grace’s face in an almost angelic glow. A heavenly reminder to keep his hands off her. But what harm could come from letting her sleep awhile longer so he could hold her?
Grace moaned softly, then without waking, she turned her face into the crutch of his arm and lifted her hand to his chest. His heart hammered with unrestrained force. As if she knew the effect she had on him, her lips curled into a smile. Then her eyes fluttered open. She blinked several times before steadying her gaze on him.
“Gudder mariye, Gracie.” He lifted his hand to his chest and placed it over hers. “Sleep well?”
Her eyes widened and she jerked her hand out from under his. “How long have you been awake?”
He shrugged. “I heard you talking in your sleep.” He shouldn’t tease her so early in the morning, but he was fond of the rosy shade of pink her face was turning. “I hope those dreams were of me.”
She shot up, lashes shuttering.
His arms empty, a chill settled over the place where she’d been. He chuckled nervously. “Don’t you want to know what you said?”
“Yes—no! Never mind.” She shook her head and took a few steps backward. “I don’t want to know.”
He stood and, kinked up after sitting so long, stretched his muscles. She turned her gaze away, but not before he saw the deep crimson hue her face had turned. She’d only mumbled a few words during the night, nothing that he could decipher, but oh, how he loved getting under her skin. “Oh, I think you would want to know what secrets you shared, Gracie.” He grinned with inflated confidence and moved toward her.
A rosy shade of pink still colored her cheeks.
Hands covering her face, she spun around. “Why do you call me Gracie?”
He placed his hand on her shoulder and kept it there despite her flinch. “It’s a term of endearment,” he said, turning her to face him. His gaze drifted to her lips and the moment she licked them, he couldn’t shift his focus. He cupped his hand over the back of her neck and brought her closer to him. “Don’t you like it?”
Hearing her raspy breaths made fighting the urge to kiss her nearly impossible, but as he leaned closer, her words cut him off. “Do you call many women that?”
“Nay,” he said. “The only other Grace I know is mei mamm’s age.” He moved back into position.
His lips had barely brushed against hers when she pulled back. “You know what I mean, Ben.”
He dropped his hand to his side, then raised it to rub the back of his neck.
“I thought so,” she hissed. “You’re nett adding me to the lot.”
He’d wanted to be honest with her about his past, but her self-righteousness ignited a fire he couldn’t squelch. “Yes, I’ve flirted with women—several. If you’re waiting for someone pure like yourself . . . it’s nett me.”
She stiffened, stared at him blankly, then closed her eyes and dropped her head in disgrace.
“Grace.” Ben’s mouth dried and he swallowed. “Mei feelings for you are real . . .” Until this moment, he hadn’t realized the fullness of what he’d felt toward her, but he would never question his love for her now. If she would have him. “Most of mei flirting with maedels has been innocent.” He shouldn’t have said that. Her jaw tightened. “But one person . . . Neva. Mei flirting was . . . misunderstood and, well, she was drunk and . . . we ended up staying out all night on the beach.”
Grace bristled. “Spare me the sordid details.”
“Will you just hear me out before you cast me to the devil?”
Her eyes narrowed. “I’m nett God. I don’t need to listen to your confessions.”
“And I bet you’re stingy with forgiveness too.” He nodded, fueling himself. “You’re all balled up in self-righteousness. You’ve judged me since the moment we met.” Ben snorted. A gentle answer turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger. Ben blew out a breath as the verse from Proverbs spoke to his spirit. Apologize. Ben grimaced. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“You shouldn’t have said what? That you slept with someone, who apparently you cast aside to come to Michigan—or what?”
A gentle answer turns away wrath . . . gentle answer. Gentle. “I shouldn’t have called you self-righteous. And the time Neva and I stayed out all nacht, I was trying to sober her up.”
Her glare never faltered.
Either she was stone deaf suddenly or she’d disregarded everything he’d said. The back of his neck prickled defensively. He should let it go . . . but he couldn’t. “You’re stingy with forgiveness.”
She squared her shoulders and tipped her chin smugly.
Ben crossed his arms. “But you’re nett stingy with your kisses.” He smiled, wide and gloating.
The air left Grace’s lungs in a whoosh and she spun around as her eyes burned with tears. Ben was right, she hadn’t been stingy. She’d even kissed him in her dream during the night, only in her dream, they were married. He probably knew that, too, because he teased her about talking in her sleep. Grace batted away the tears as they collected on her lashes. Once she moved to Ohio, things would return to normal.
She heard Ben approach from behind before he spoke.
“Gracie, please don’t hate me.”
“I don’t,” she said, avoiding his rueful gaze. “I just want to go home.” She collected her hair, her fingers fumbling to braid it.
“Can we talk about—?”
“Nay.” She didn’t need any m
ore pleas of forgiveness and she didn’t need more memories to infest her dreams. But what she did need was to contain this tangled mess of hair. A simple braid shouldn’t be this difficult.
Ben sighed. He reached into his pocket and pulled out her prayer kapp.
Her hands froze. Had he had her prayer kapp all this time? Perhaps if he’d returned it earlier she wouldn’t have been so forward. I’m sorry, God. I shouldn’t need to depend on a kapp to remind me to pray or to avoid temptation . . .
“I found it when I was searching for you. I went half mad when I found it next to the river. Jah, I was really worried.” He nodded as if amazed by the realization.
“Only half mad? Why doesn’t that surprise me? Is the other half of your worry still in Florida with . . . Neva, was it?”
He furrowed his brow. “Are you going to criticize everything I say from nau on? I went completely mad—I even prayed for a miracle.” He mumbled something under his breath, turned a sharp circle, and came at her with fire in his eyes. “You know,” he said, pointing his index finger close to her nose, “had God nett answered mei prayer—I wouldn’t have found you.” He inched closer to her still. “Or maybe I would’ve arrived too late. Maybe Jack would’ve done more than kiss you. Would you have asked me to erase those memories as well?”
Every fiber within her ignited. She narrowed her eyes.
He took a step back, lifting his hands in surrender. “All right, I shouldn’t have said that.”
“I hit Jack with the shovel, so you might not want to . . . to get me riled.”
He grinned. “You’re nett riled yet?”
Ben ignited more than her temper, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing. She resumed braiding her hair. He would probably hold it over her forever that she had initiated a kiss. Thankfully, he didn’t know what effect it’d had on her. Nothing so wrong had ever felt that right. Lord, forgive me.
The sound of branches snapping and dead leaves rustling underfoot startled Grace. Ben heard it too. He stood in front of her, spreading his arm out protectively.
Her breath stilled in her lungs. She peeked around Ben’s shoulder as the figure emerged from the thicket, and then, recognizing Philemon, she let her tension drain with a breathy exhale. Ben shot a glimpse at her over his shoulder, but kept his arm locked in place.
Philemon charged toward them. His clothes wet and clinging to his body, he appeared as weary as they did.
“It’s okay.” She gave Ben’s shoulder a pat and stepped out from behind him.
“Gracie!” Philemon rushed to her, surprising her with a bear hug that lifted her off the ground and into his lumberman arms. She giggled as he whirled her around, then gently lowered her to the ground. He eyed her over, head to foot, as heat prickled to the surface of her face. A look of shock spread over his face and he lifted his hand to her cheek. “You’re black-and-blue. What have they done to you?”
“I’m all right nau.”
Ben approached, smiling buoyantly. “You must be one of Grace’s bruders.” He thrust his hand toward Philemon. “I’m Ben Eicher.”
With Philemon’s hand still capping her shoulder, he extended his other hand to Ben. “I’m Philemon Troyer. But I’m nett Gracie’s bruder. We’ve been very close friends for . . .” He gazed at her with a gleam in his eyes. If she didn’t know his plans to propose to Becky, her heart might have been fooled by the affection in his tone. Even so, it felt good to be missed.
Ben cleared his throat. “I think he’s asking you, Grace.”
“Ach.” She exchanged smiles with Philemon. “Feels like . . . forever,” she and Philemon said in unison, then laughed. She glanced at Ben. His smile had faded and his slightly narrowed eyes were aimed at her. “Ach, Philemon, this is Ben Eicher.”
Ben’s jaw twitched.
“Ah . . . I meant to say, Ben is from Florida.”
“Jah, so I’ve heard. Bishop Yoder says you’ve been staying with them,” Philemon said, adding, “I know I’ve been giving Gracie all the attention, but everyone has been worried about you, too, Ben.”
Ben lowered his head sheepishly.
Philemon clapped his shoulder. “Danki for taking care of her. She’s a very special woman.”
Philemon had spoken highly of her and always with a hint of pride that fed her false belief that one day she would become his wife. Her thoughts adrift, she hadn’t even noticed Philemon staring at Ben until she followed his line of sight and noticed her prayer kapp in Ben’s hand. She stifled a short gasp.
“Jah, she is special.” Ben handed her the prayer kapp without lifting his gaze.
Her stomach pitted with a heaviness she wasn’t expecting as a mix of relief and regret fought to dominate her thoughts. She was anxious to get home and relieved that the nightmare had ended, but she regretted having ever kissed Ben.
Ben masked his somber mood with a smile when Philemon made the comment about how he and Grace must be starved. Ben’s stomach stopped growling hours ago, but his physical hunger—the craving, which burned in his gut whenever he held Grace—could never be satisfied.
“Well, should we get started?” The lines that cornered Philemon’s eyes softened as he looked to his side at Grace. “I know where there’s a safe place to cross the river.”
She offered a weak smile. “I’m afraid I gave Ben a fit when we crossed it last nacht.” She glanced over her shoulder at Ben. “Isn’t that right?”
“We were in a dogfight with Jack,” he replied dryly.
Her nose scrunched as if she didn’t like his snippy answer and she redirected her attention to Philemon. “It was awful. I thought I was going to drown. Jack held me under . . .” She wiped her eyes with her dress sleeve.
Philemon certainly had more willpower than Ben, not taking her into his arms at the first sign of a tear. It wasn’t Ben’s place now to console her. He’d done enough of that last night.
Philemon merely offered her a crumpled hankie, damp from the river. “The police found him washed up downstream.”
“Dead?” Ben asked.
Philemon nodded. “Jah.”
Ben couldn’t help but notice Grace’s back stiffen. He would have expected some sort of elation, but when she glanced at him, all that showed was hooded despondence. She lifted the hankie to her nose and blew.
Another man met them on the trail. It didn’t take long listening to the conversation to know that he was Mattie’s husband, Andy. Grace introduced him once again as “Ben from Florida.” Not as the man she’d passionately kissed—or who’d held her in his arms all night. Not even the man who had rescued her from Jack.
“Ben?” Grace lifted her brows. “Philemon asked what brought you to Michigan.”
“Mei rebel tendency got me into trouble,” he said, fixing his gaze on Grace. “I was on the first bus out of town.”
She peered at him just as he expected—with disgust—then jutted her chin in that self-righteous snub and looked away. It would be easier if she despised him, he decided.
“Mattie’s been worried sick about you,” Andy said. “She told me how the man had threatened to take her first . . . I don’t know that she would have been strong enough to . . .”
“God makes the weak strong.” Grace cast a furtive glance at Ben.
Ben turned to Andy. “What about the fire? How far did it spread?”
“By the time we crossed the river, the millhouse was gone. The heavy downpour of rain kept the fire from spreading past the meadow. Danki God, nay homes were lost.”
Ben nodded. “A miracle for sure,” he said, remembering Erma saying they needed to pray for rain.
They reached the river and stopped. It didn’t appear that much safer. Don’t look at her. Avoid her. He stole a glance anyway. Hugging herself in a tight embrace, her face had turned as white as a capped ocean wave.
Philemon nudged her with his elbow. “Remember when your fishing waders filled with water?”
“Do you have to remind me of that nau?” She glowere
d. “You were so busy reeling in a fish upstream, you almost didn’t see I was about to drown.”
“Oh, I remember. I lost a gut pole that day.” His eyes flickered with playfulness.
Andy laughed. “You two should get married.”
Grace and Philemon exchanged a glance that soured Ben’s stomach. He’d seen that same look between his sister and her intended just before the bishop announced their upcoming plans to wed.
“Well,” Ben said, moving to the edge of the river. “I’ll meet you on the other side.” He plunged into the frigid water. Without Grace’s arms wrapped around his neck, cutting off his breath, he didn’t have any trouble paddling to the other side. He should have let the current carry him downstream so he could walk the remainder of the way alone. But concerned for her safety, his conscience wouldn’t let him. Ben plopped down on the sand. Philemon seemed to have more experience than Ben carrying Grace across. Except for her dress hem, she didn’t even get wet. She also never panicked as she had with Ben.
Red bounded out of the stand of cattails. The hound’s muddy coat was the same as when Ben had seen him last. He jumped on Ben and lapped him with kisses. “Okay, okay, that’s enough, Red.” Ben pushed off the ground and swept what sand he could off his pants.
Philemon helped Grace reach the top of the embankment. She didn’t need Ben’s help anymore. Emptiness washed over him. He plugged along behind the others, eager to get back to the bishop’s house and change into something dry. Then he remembered his duffel bag was at Grace’s house and cringed.
Two more men who had been out searching greeted them. The older one had tears in his eyes when he touched Grace’s bruised face, and the younger one, who Ben discovered was her older brother, Emery, appeared genuinely relieved to see Grace, but neither of her family members picked her up and whirled her around as Philemon had.
“I’m Reuben, Grace’s father. You must be Ben.” He pulled a hankie from his pocket and wiped his eyes with it. “Danki for saving mei dochder.”
“God kept us both safe in His hands,” Ben said.
