Her mother paused, leaning on the hoe, and studied her. “So everything is gut, ya? Things at the Village have settled down.”
“They have. Amber’s interviewing people for the assistant manager position, and the vandalism has stopped, but . . .”
“But what, dochder?”
Hannah stood and pushed up on her glasses. She also pushed her hair back into her kapp, then bent to retrieve more of the weeds Mattie had dumped in the dirt. “Those mystery guests still arrive every day, especially on the weekends. It’s easy to trip over them because they’re always searching for clues in bushes, behind buildings, and even in the kaffi shop.”
“I suppose they’ll grow tired of the game eventually. Until they do, perhaps you should create a new drink for them.”
“Like a mystery coffee?”
“Ya. You’ll probably sell twice as many.” Eunice put her hand at the small of her back and rubbed. “I’m glad you are happy in your new job.”
“As you said I’d be, Mamm. How did you know?”
“I’ve known you a long time.” Eunice resumed hoeing, though she stayed close enough that they could continue talking. “You’re pretty much happy wherever you are planted, sort of like these tomato plants. As long as they receive a little sun, some water, and a bit of care . . . they thrive.”
“Hmm. I suddenly feel like someone might shake salt on me and take a bite.”
Mattie heard the word bite and decided it was time to eat. She threw herself against Hannah’s legs, tugging on her apron and insisting, “Mattie snack. Mattie snack, Hannah.”
Fortunately Hannah had an apple in her pocket that she’d remembered to carry out for her sister. Mattie said, “Danki,” then skipped ahead to stand next to her mother. She showed her the apple before plopping on the ground and taking a bite. Juice dribbled down her chin and she laughed.
“Little things make her happy,” Hannah said.
“Same with us, if we let them.”
“Oh, I’m happy.” Hannah had returned all the weeds to the pail and was now working on the plant next to where her mother stood. “I’m happy I’m alive after seeing that gun in Patricia Gray’s hand.”
“Violence is a terrible thing.”
“And I’m glad that Amber and I are freinden. I never expected to have an Englisch friend, especially one who was my boss.”
“Gotte provides.” They’d reached the end of the row, so Eunice set the hoe aside and sat on the ground under the shade of the ash tree. Mattie crawled up into her mother’s lap, and Hannah sat beside them. “Never think because someone is different that Gotte can’t pull you close together.”
“But we’re supposed to be . . . separate. It confuses me sometimes.”
“Ya, I know what you mean. But Christ commands us to offer our friendship freely and always to minister to others.”
“I know.”
“We are separate because of the way we worship and the way we live, because we have committed ourselves to following the Ordnung, as you did when you joined the church.”
“Amber attends a church in town.”
“And we will not be judging her where her beliefs are different than ours.”
“Nein.”
“It isn’t as complicated as we sometimes wish to make it.” Eunice reached out and patted her hand. “When you are confused, Gotte will show you the way.”
Hannah didn’t answer for a moment, not sure if she wanted to reveal all that was on her heart. Then she remembered Patricia and the gun and that life could suddenly be cut short. Why would she want to hide things she was feeling when life was so uncertain?
“Sometimes I’m confused about Jesse,” she confessed.
“He is a gut freind too.”
“Yes, but now that he’s asked to take me to singings, I don’t know how to act around him.”
“You’ve had other boys take you to singings before, even on buggy rides for picnics.”
“Ya, but those times it was like going out to play with other students at the school yard.” Hannah stared into the afternoon sun. “I didn’t feel differently about them.”
“But you feel differently about Jesse?”
“I do.” She turned to her mother, relieved that she understood. “I don’t know if it’s love. I don’t even know what that kind of love is. But I do know that my hands start sweating and occasionally I trip over nothing at all, and when we’re together, I sometimes can’t think of a thing to say. Other times I’m with him, I can’t seem to stop talking.”
“Those things are normal.” Eunice set Mattie on her feet and then pushed herself to a standing position. She still hadn’t lost any of the weight from when she was pregnant with Mattie, but Hannah thought her mother was beautiful. She was exactly as she should be.
“If this is all so normal, why do I feel strange? And who wants to go around feeling as if they’re going to throw up at any moment? What fun is that?”
Eunice laughed and slipped her arm around Hannah’s waist as they made their way back to the front porch, Mattie running in front of them. “Falling in love can be like catching the flu—sometimes. Not always, but sometimes.”
“Do you think I’m in love?”
“I couldn’t say. Do you?”
Hannah shrugged. She didn’t know. It was part of what caused her to hesitate each morning before she hopped out of bed. There was so much about herself she didn’t understand.
“Don’t worry, Hannah.” Eunice placed her hands on both sides of Hannah’s face and pressed her forehead to her daughter’s. Her next words were more like a prayer than words of advice. “Gotte will direct you. He loves you.”
“Ya, Mamm. I know.”
Her mother’s words seeped into Hannah’s heart and calmed the troubled places. It wasn’t as if she had to make any decisions about Jesse right away. All she’d promised to do was sit by him in the buggy. As she climbed the porch steps with her mother and sister she vowed to even stop worrying about whether he would kiss her again.
Boys were a mystery, rather like the drink her mother had suggested she make for the Englisch guests.
Which reminded her, she had a book upstairs full of recipes. Perhaps she’d show them to Jesse, and together they could come up with something “New & Tasty” for the guests to enjoy.
Thirty-Eight
Amber stared out at the setting sun. There were probably thirty minutes left until darkness, and she wanted to sit still and let the sun dry her hair. Since the incident with Patricia, she had learned the importance of savoring each day.
Leo sat beside her on the porch, paws tucked under him, eyes closed, napping in the last of the day’s light.
She’d spoken to Tate three times in the last week, but each time had been on the telephone, and a short conversation at that. Why did it bother her so much that he hadn’t stopped by, that they hadn’t shared dinner together? He still emailed her each morning, checking to see how she was doing. And he had mentioned that there were several things that needed his attention.
For two days he’d even gone out of town on some family matter.
Still.
A woman liked to see the guy she was in love with.
And she was in love with Tate Bowman. She’d realized that when Patricia had shot him, when his life had flashed before her eyes.
So why hadn’t he been to visit?
And should she walk up the road to his place?
While she tried to make up her mind, a delivery truck turned off the main road and trundled toward her house. As it drew closer, she saw that it was their local florist, which was odd. A cheer-you-up delivery wasn’t due from her sister for another five months. She sent them twice a year, as predictably as the arrival of spring and fall.
The delivery guy hopped out as she stepped into the yard. He retrieved a bouquet from the back of the truck, handed her the dozen pink roses, and then said, “Sign here, please.” The smile on his face made her wonder if he’d read the card, but she didn’t call h
im on it. She scribbled her signature, thanked him, and walked back toward the porch.
The pink roses were wrapped in silvery tissue paper. There was no vase, which was a little odd.
She sat on the top step of her porch and placed the flowers across her knees. They were beautiful, reminding her of summer days and dreams she thought she had abandoned.
God had been faithful to hand her those dreams, to hand her the desires of her heart. At least it seemed so. That had been her hope and prayer this last week.
She fingered the card but didn’t open it.
Somehow she wasn’t ready to read whatever was written there—the roses, the card, and the words were either a beginning or an end, and she was afraid to find out which.
So instead she let her mind drift back over her afternoon. She’d already had dinner—a salad with turkey, which she’d put together herself. It wasn’t cooking, but it was a start. She hadn’t looked at her tablet since she’d arrived home from work, opting instead to spend her time on the flower beds bordering the west side of her house. The grounds people normally took care of that, and they’d be surprised to see that the weeds had been plucked.
But puttering in the sun had felt good. It had felt right.
As she had knelt in the grass and worked her small rake through the sod, the anxiety from the day had drained away from her. The shower she’d had afterward had done more than remove the dirt from her time gardening—it had also washed away most of the worries that tried to crowd into her mind. She’d pulled on a pair of work-out pants and an old T-shirt and gone to sit on the front porch, not bothering to put on makeup or dry her hair.
Which was when the delivery truck had driven up.
She stared at the card, and somehow she knew that it did indeed represent another turn in her life.
Closing her eyes, she whispered a brief prayer. “Please, Lord, don’t let these be break-up flowers.”
Selfish? Perhaps, but she was learning that God cared about her dreams. All she had known of romantic love was how it disappointed, how it could hurt, leave you bereft, and how difficult it was to overcome all those feelings. She barely recognized the glimmer of hope now pumping through her veins.
She pulled the card from the bouquet and opened it. Leo chose that moment to show an interest in what she was holding. He sniffed the flowers and repeatedly bumped his head against her hand, making it difficult to read the words on the card.
Three words, but they had the power to change her world.
Then she heard footsteps. She closed her eyes, unwilling to hope that it was him. She clutched the bouquet, looked up, and saw Tate walking toward her. He’d had a “haircut” since she’d seen him last. He wore jeans and a tan denim shirt, and he was carrying a vase. She looked down, ran her fingers over the flowers in her lap, then raised her eyes to his.
“I thought you might need one of these.”
“I have vases,” she whispered.
“Yes, I’ve seen those.” His words were teasing, but his expression was serious. “I thought I’d start a new tradition with this one.”
The vase was simple, elegant, and even from where she sat she could see that it was crystal. He’d bought her a dozen roses and a crystal vase. He had timed his visit just right, appearing as the delivery truck scooted on down the main road.
Now he waited at the bottom step, studying her and holding the vase as if he was unsure she’d accept it.
“Is there room on your shelf for one more vase, Amber? Is there room in your heart for me?”
Instead of answering him, she put the flowers down next to her, stood, and walked into his arms.
Tate’s laughter was like rain on Amber’s soul.
When his lips found hers, she didn’t hesitate. They kissed as if it had been a month rather than a week since they’d seen each other. When he snuggled her neck, she ran her hand up and over his head, feeling the stubble where he’d recently had it shaved, then back down to his shoulders.
Tate Bowman was solid—physically, emotionally, and spiritually.
“Get my card?”
Amber nodded, trying to blink away her tears.
Tate led her back up onto the porch steps.
They both sat on the top step, and he pulled her hand into his and kissed it, sending a shower of shivers up her arm and into her heart. “Take this,” he murmured, placing the vase in her hands.
And that was when she saw he had brought her more than a crystal vase and a dozen pink roses. She peered down into the vase and saw a small box. Her heart beat a tango, and she blinked back tears.
Slowly, she upended the vase, and the ring box fell into her hand. As she opened it, the last of the day’s rays fell on the diamond, causing it to sparkle and shine.
She glanced up when Tate moved away from her and dropped to one knee on her top porch step. Then she couldn’t stop the tears from brimming over.
“It’s not young love, but it’s true love, Amber. God has blessed us with another chance, another path, and I would be honored if you’d share that path with me. Will you marry me, Amber?”
She tried to answer, but didn’t trust her voice. Her emotions were holding together by a slender ribbon, and she didn’t want to ruin the moment by blubbering in his arms.
“If you need more time—”
“I don’t.”
She picked up the card, held it in one hand and the box with the ring in her other. Her gaze fell to his note, written under the printed word “From”: “Your true love.”
“Want to share your answer?” Now he was teasing. She supposed she’d have to get used to that.
“Yes. My answer is yes!”
He stood in time to catch her as she threw herself into his arms, nearly knocking him off the step. Tate’s arms went around her. He kissed her lips softly and ran his fingers through her hair. Amber knew in that moment that her dreams had come true. She felt God’s favor as surely as she felt Tate’s heart beat in his chest where she snuggled against him. And though she didn’t think she deserved all that she’d been given, in her heart she said a prayer of thanksgiving.
They sat on the porch steps until darkness fell completely around them, more comforting than a handmade quilt. She moved closer into the circle of Tate’s arms. Leo lay next to them, his yellow eyes and rumbling purr indicating his approval. The stars came out, a stellar display of God’s provision, especially designed for them—or so it seemed to Amber.
Tate explained that he had gone to visit both of his sons. He didn’t need their approval, but he wanted their blessings.
“And they’re okay . . . with us?”
Tate ran his fingers through her curly hair. “They can’t wait to meet you. The first week of summer they’ll both be home.”
“With Camille?”
“Yup. My granddaughter is eager to meet the lady who named my donkeys.”
Amber stared down at their hands in the darkness. She couldn’t see where her fingers and his were intertwined, but she could feel their connection. And she knew that she could put her trust in him, the same as she put her hand in his, the same as she put her trust in the Lord. Tate was a blessing God had given her. One she had been afraid to ask for, but God had sent nonetheless.
When she started crying, he pulled her even closer to him, kissed the top of her head, and waited for her pent-up emotions to work their way out.
Finally she felt clean from the stress of the last week. Her heart and her life felt as if they had been turned about, tossed upside down, and finally scoured clean by the fury of a spring rain.
Wiping her face on his shirt, she laughed through her tears. “I love the ring, but I didn’t need another vase.”
“Oh, yes, you did. Those crazy vases are fine for your sister’s flowers, but my flowers can always go in this crystal vase.”
“You mean I’m going to get more flowers?”
“Does Leo like to chase after the birds?”
The answer to that seemed to be yes. Amber
thought about Tate regularly bringing her bouquets, and she felt as if she’d stepped into a romance novel.
“Want some hot tea?”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
They walked into the house. Tate stopped when he saw her living room. He seemed especially interested in the new loveseat positioned in the corner.
“Nice,” he said, running his hand over the tan-colored leather.
“I donated the old one to the Salvation Army.”
“Because—”
“Because I thought of Charlie every time I walked into this room. It wasn’t worth the cost to keep it. I’d have needed therapy to overcome my aversion to snakes.”
Tate stared down at his feet, but Amber saw the grin he was trying to hide.
“I know you are not laughing at me, Tate Bowman.”
“No, ma’am.”
“Because if we’re to marry, you’re going to need to find a place for my new couch in your house.”
He walked slowly back across the room to where she waited. His eyes on her sent a delicious warmth all the way to her toes. His look was a combination of love, devotion, and amusement.
“We’ll find a place for the couch. Did I tell you that I saw the animal control director on my way out of town?”
“You didn’t.” She started to protest when he drew her back into his arms. She was supposed to be making tea.
“They found a nice spot for Charlie at a zoo in Fort Wayne.”
“I’m so happy to hear it, especially the Fort Wayne part.”
He kissed her softly. “I love you, Amber Wright.”
“And I love you.” She could have stood in his arms forever, but then she realized her crying had made her thirsty. So they moved to the kitchen, and she set a kettle of water on the stove as he pulled out two mugs.
A few weeks ago, she had stood in her kitchen trying to convince herself that she was too old to find love, that it was too late for God to satisfy her dream of marriage, that she would never have children of her own.
She and Tate might have found each other late in life, but they had found each other. God willing, they had many days and nights left to share together.
Murder Simply Brewed Page 30
