“How’s the farm?” she asked.
“Good,” Jeb said. His tone was low, gruff, and it didn’t quite match the way his eyes moved over her.
“I’m going to work on the garden today,” she said. “It’s a bit overgrown.”
“I couldn’t do it all,” Jeb replied. “We focused on the farm mostly, and tried to keep up with the garden in the evenings.”
“I know. I just wanted you to know that I’m going to work on it. What do you want for dinner tonight?” she asked.
“Whatever you feel like cooking. I’m easier to please than you think.” A smile quirked up the side of his mouth, and his gaze softened. There was something in that softened look that warmed her a little.
Leah dropped her gaze. This was all in front of her brother.
“Simon, will you be joining us?” Leah asked, turning toward him.
“No, I’m going into town to meet some friends,” her brother replied.
Leah frowned, and Simon shifted in his seat.
“I’m telling the one I owe money to when I’m paying him,” Simon amended.
“When is that?” Leah asked.
“Tomorrow,” Jeb cut in. “The money will be in my account then, and I’ll go get a money order made. It’ll be taken care of.”
Leah nodded. It would be done—the whole reason she’d married Jeb. And Simon would be safe again.
“You be careful with that Englisher,” she said, spitting the word out like a curse. “You can’t trust him.”
“I know that,” Simon replied, but when she met her brother’s gaze, she wasn’t satisfied that he did.
“They’re already thugs,” she said. “They want money, and if they think they can get more—”
“Leah, I’m not some newborn kitten,” Simon said. “I’ll handle it.”
She looked over at Jeb, but his gaze was focused on Simon, and his expression was grim. She’d simply have to trust the men to take care of this. She had no control over it, and that was a worse feeling.
When they’d finished eating, Leah took the plates and headed for the sink.
“Simon, meet me at the cow barn,” Jeb said. “You can start feeding that calf.”
Simon nodded. “Okay.” Her brother’s gaze moved toward her. “Sure.”
Leah forced a smile. “Come by whenever you’re hungry, Simon.”
Jeb didn’t say anything, and there was some awkward silence until Simon had his boots on and he tramped out the door.
“Are you avoiding me?” Jeb asked.
“I’m just making sure my brother is eating,” she said.
“It’s not going to be easy for us to talk if he’s always here,” Jeb said.
Leah looked over her shoulder. “You’re the one who brought him to breakfast.”
“Yah, but you’re bringing him back for snacks,” he said with a small smile.
Leah didn’t answer, and she didn’t return his smile.
“You’re angry,” Jeb said. “About last night.”
“I’m not!” She sighed and turned away again. She hadn’t nailed down exactly what she was feeling yet.
“You sure?” he asked. “Because I’m angry.”
“At me?” she demanded. “You’re blaming me for that kiss?”
“I’m not mad at you,” he retorted. “I’m mad at myself. There was something about the moonlight and having a beautiful woman in my kitchen. I shouldn’t have kissed you. That’s not what we agreed on.”
“I’m not angry at you,” she said. “I’m just—”
She was scared he’d want more and she wouldn’t be willing to give it. She was afraid the rules were changing and she’d only have herself to blame.
“I promised myself I wouldn’t do that,” Jeb said, lowering his voice. “We both know why we got married, and I promised that I wouldn’t try to seduce my own wife.”
“You wanted to take me to bed, then?” she asked, turning.
“No.” He cleared his throat. “I’ll lay it out for you. I don’t want to sleep with you. And that’s not because I’m not attracted to you, or I don’t think you’re beautiful. On a purely physical level, I’d love nothing more than to take you to bed, but I can’t do it.”
“Why not?” she whispered. The scars ... that was the thought that leaped to mind. How severe had his injuries been?
“Because I know who I am,” Jeb said. “I know what I want. I won’t sleep with a woman I don’t love, and once I have made love to her, I have expectations of my own.”
Leah licked her lips. “Like what?”
“Like . . . talking—really talking.” Jeb looked away. “The deep kind of love that gets underneath all the other trappings. If I can’t have the real thing, I don’t settle very well for halfway. I’m just that kind of man. I can blame Katie for the downfall of our happiness, but I was to blame, too. I wanted more than she could give, and I couldn’t be happy without it. I told myself I’d never do that to a woman again.”
And yet, he’d married her. And they didn’t love each other ...
“And living ... like we plan to?” she asked warily.
“I think I can do that.” He cleared his throat. “I know why you’re here, and I respect it. But I’m not going to toy with anything else. I won’t be kissing you again. If that makes you feel any better.”
Leah should be relieved, but something inside her twinged at those words. Because she could still remember the feeling of his mouth on hers. She could remember the tremble of his self-control. . . .
Jeb went to the door and plunged his feet into his rubber boots.
“Jeb—” She picked up the lunch basket she had waiting and brought it over.
“Thank you.” He accepted the basket, but carefully didn’t touch her fingers as he took it. Then he opened the door and stepped out in the cool morning air, the door shutting firmly behind him.
Leah stood in the doorway to the mudroom and looked back at the dishes stacked in a crooked pile on the counter, and smelled the scent of breakfast still hanging in the air. He wouldn’t kiss her again. He wouldn’t ask for more.
That was what she wanted ... wasn’t it?
* * *
Jeb passed by the house a few times as the day crept by, and the last time he passed, he saw Leah in the garden on her knees, weeding. She looked up and saw him, and he raised his hand in a wave. She waved back. Funny—put fifty yards between them and the tension seemed to dissipate.
He’d been thinking about her all day, though. As if he could help that. Their careful rules were supposed to make this easier, but all he could think of was how she’d looked in the moonlight with her eyes shining and her lips parted just before he’d covered them with his own. Stunning. She was heart-stoppingly beautiful. And he’d have to stop indulging himself with her. She was his ... but only so far.
As Jeb trudged back toward the house that evening, he saw a new buggy parked by the stables, and a man was just coming out of the low building. He looked in Jeb’s direction, then raised his hand in a wave. It was Isaiah, his brother-in-law.
Jeb sighed. Most people got offended when Jeb disappeared from public and stopped joining in on the social activities. His sister, Lynita, was different, though. He stopped asking her over, but she didn’t stop coming by. She and her husband dropped by at least once a month, and she’d make herself busy in the kitchen, whipping up a meal for all of them to eat. Peter had liked her immensely.
And it looked like Lynita and her husband had decided to drop in . . . within the first week of their marriage. Lynita was many things, including fiercely protective of her younger brother, but she wasn’t always delicate. So much for privacy.
Would Leah mind? Or would she be glad for some company that wasn’t him?
When Jeb came inside, he pulled off his boots and washed his hands in the mudroom sink. He could hear the murmur of women’s voices, and when he came into the kitchen, he nodded to Isaiah, who sat at the table with a glass of lemonade in front of him.
“You’re back,” Lynita said with a smile.
Leah was at the stove, and she smiled in Jeb’s direction, too.
“I wouldn’t stop you from kissing the man,” Lynita said, casting Leah a teasing look. Would she rise to the bait? Her cheeks flushed, but she didn’t move from her spot by the stove.
“You popped by, did you?” Jeb asked.
“We’re here to wish you well, and you know I can’t wait for an invitation,” she said. “Besides, someone has to look in on you.”
“I have a wife for that now,” he retorted.
“Maybe someone needs to look in on her, too,” Lynita replied. “And I like her, for the record.”
Leah smiled at that. The women seemed to be getting along, although it looked to him like Lynita had taken over the kitchen. Jeb went to the cupboard for a glass of his own, and he paused next to Leah. She smelled nice. As he edged past her, he allowed one hand to skim her back.
He might not kiss her again, but he could at least touch her. He grabbed a glass and headed back to the table, where a pitcher waited.
“How come you didn’t bring the kids?” Jeb asked.
“There was something we needed to talk to you about,” Isaiah said. “And it was best done without the kinner around.”
That sounded ominous. Jeb poured himself a glass of lemonade and took a sip. It tasted good, especially after all that sweating he’d done out there.
“Yah?” Jeb said, eyeing his brother-in-law.
Isaiah shot his wife a look, then sighed. “It’s Menno.”
“Our cousin? What about him?”
“He’s been saying some things, and word is getting around,” Lynita said. As she talked, she continued to work— using a cookie cutter to press out perfect biscuits. She slid them onto a pan.
“Menno is like that,” Jeb said.
“He’s saying you pressured his father into giving you the farm,” Isaiah said.
The words took a moment to sink in. He’d known Menno would be jealous—even Peter had known that—but this was a serious accusation.
“If that will was my idea, why would I make it so that I had to get married to get the money, then?” Jeb demanded. “That’s ridiculous. I did no such thing.”
“He’s saying that the stipulation that you marry came from his father’s desire to leave the money to his real son,” Lynita said.
Jeb gritted his teeth. So that was what Menno was saying behind his back? Did he bother telling people that he’d had little respect for his own father and barely ever visited him? And all because Peter had punished Menno when he was a hardheaded kid. Menno had never forgiven his father for that. Did he bother telling people that he’d barely put a week’s worth of work into this farm since his marriage, and that Jeb had worked this land tirelessly?
“So let him talk,” Jeb said. “He’s lying.”
“People don’t know that,” Lynita replied.
“Then you tell them he’s lying,” Jeb retorted. “You know I didn’t strong-arm Peter into anything. He told me years ago he intended to leave the land to me as appreciation for helping him out when his own son wouldn’t. How could he have run this farm alone?”
There was silence from his sister, and Isaiah looked down into his glass.
“This could be brought to the bishop,” Leah said quietly, but in the silence, her voice carried.
“No.” Jeb sighed. “I’m not sure I trust the bishop to be on my side of this. Menno might be a lazy man who refused to help his own daet, but he knows how to polish his own image for the bishop and elders.”
Leah had been thinking about how to fix this for him, though, and he appreciated that. She just might have his back, after all. He looked up to find Leah looking at him, her expression worried.
“It’ll be okay, Leah,” he said. “Quit worrying her, Lynita.”
“Maybe she should be worried,” Lynita replied. “I mean ... you need to look at the bigger picture, Jeb. He’s talking to the community and making it look like you are a liar and a cheat. I know you aren’t, but Menno is respected, and—”
“I’m not,” he finished for her.
“You know how it is, Jeb.” Lynita shot him a meaningful look. “Besides, Peter wasn’t our father, he was Menno’s. If this is about money—”
“It is, partly,” Jeb admitted. “I worked this land for barely anything. I could have been building up my own home, working somewhere that paid properly. That inheritance was my payment. And what little I made, I was supporting Mamm.”
“I know . . .” Lynita’s gaze softened at the mention of their mother.
“What are people saying exactly?” Leah asked.
Jeb wasn’t sure he even wanted to know, let alone have Leah know. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It does!” Leah countered. “People’s good opinion matters.”
“They’re saying that Jeb took advantage of a frail and sick old man to make him leave his land to him,” Isaiah said. “And they’re linking it to the fire.”
Those words were like a punch to the gut.
“How?” Jeb demanded. “How could that possibly be linked to Katie?”
“It’s been suggested that the fire wasn’t so accidental,” Isaiah replied.
Jeb saw the blood drain from Leah’s face, and she put her hands on the counter to steady herself. He didn’t care so much about public opinion, but he cared a whole lot about her opinion. Blast it, why did his sister have to come and blather about all this in front of his wife?
“Leah, that isn’t true,” Jeb said, and he shot his brother-in-law a glare. “I can promise you that. If it wasn’t an accident, why would I have run into that fire after her?”
Leah nodded. “That’s true.”
“I told you before that Menno and I never really got along. He’s jealous of the relationship I had with his daet, and obviously right now he’s jealous of that inheritance. He thought he’d get the farm anyway—even with how distant he was with Peter. So he’s . . . just barking at a tree.”
“It might be a bit more than barking,” Lynita said. “He’s bending the ear of anyone who will listen.”
“And what would you have me do about that?” Jeb demanded.
“Give it back to him!” Lynita shot back. “Just hand it over!”
“I’m not doing that!”
“Then give him half. Peter was his daet, after all. Menno’s the only son in the family,” Lynita said. “This is becoming a big embarrassment, and being respected and trusted in a community is important, Jeb. You of all people know that. I know you’ve written off the community’s good opinion, but I haven’t!”
He knew his sister’s fears. They’d come from a sordid past, at least in Amish estimation. And while the Amish didn’t blame children for their parents’ mistakes, they sure did watch for a similar sinful streak in those children. Lynita had started fresh with Isaiah, and she had kinner who were nearly grown, but a reputation could still be sullied. A bad enough mar could affect her own kinners’ ability to find quality spouses.
Except he’d asked Leah to marry him for this land, and if he gave it away, this marriage of convenience, this lifelong commitment that was supposed to be worth it for the money and the land, was a waste. He couldn’t do that to Leah. They got married for a farm, and he would keep it.
“That would make all this for nothing,” Jeb breathed.
“All what? Your marriage?” Lynita shook her head. “It wouldn’t be for nothing, Jeb. It would be for love, I thought. You’ve found a beautiful woman who loves you. A good wife is a blessing. Land is just—”
“Land is a future, land is security,” he said. “Land is a life, Lynita!”
Color tinted his sister’s cheeks and she looked over her shoulder toward Leah. Did she assume Leah’s feelings would be hurt?
“Lynita, Leah understands this,” he said with a sigh. “I promised her a
farm. We hurried up this wedding for the land. I think it’s obvious to pretty much everyone. I’m not giving up this farm and that’s final.”
Lynita turned to Leah, and Leah dropped her gaze.
“My husband is the one who takes care of business in our home,” Leah said demurely, and Jeb smiled ruefully. She’d wanted this land and the money that came with it as much as he did.
“We can talk about it again another time.” Lynita sighed, then turned to Leah. “These biscuits are ready for the oven.”
Jeb looked over at Isaiah, who sat staring into his half-finished glass of lemonade, his lips pursed.
“You think I’m so crazy?” Jeb asked.
Isaiah shook his head. “I see your point, Jeb. I’m just not sure it will help you in the end.”
Because the community would side with Menno. The bishop and the elders would put pressure on him to “do the right thing” or else be shunned. And Jeb was bitter enough that he’d keep the land and accept a shunning. But Leah’s priorities might be different from his. Leah had married him for the money, and it was the one thing he could provide for her.
He wasn’t giving up yet.
Chapter Eleven
Leah licked her lips and looked over at the men at the table. They were talking in low voices—she couldn’t make out what they were saying—but Jeb looked grim. What would happen if Menno got this farm and the money that came with it?
Anxiety bubbled inside her. The will was clear—if Jeb married, he inherited. But somehow, she’d never considered the possibility of the community pressuring Jeb to do anything differently. Jeb might not care about the community’s opinion overly much, but Leah did. She’d hoped to gain some acceptance as a married woman, not find herself cut out of things because her husband had insulted people’s sense of fairness and honesty.
“I didn’t mean to upset you,” Lynita said quietly. “But I don’t believe a wife should be left in the dark either.”
“No, I agree with that,” Leah murmured. She certainly wanted to know what was happening, and it was a sign of respect that Lynita had spoken to her brother in front of her. She could have taken Jeb aside, and Leah wouldn’t have known any of this.
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