She started to ask him but then reason took over. If he’d been here earlier than he said and had been spying on her, she doubted he’d tell her. Better to find out herself.
“Is there something wrong with the food?” the waitress stopped at their table to ask.
“No, no, it’s great,” John said, picking up his fork again. “We just spotted some friends and talked with them.”
He resumed eating, as if the tense moment he and Naomi had just had never happened.
“Could I get a box for mine?” Naomi asked. “It’s a lot for me to eat at one time.”
“Of course. Be right back.”
“I’m staying for the auction. Besides, there isn’t another bus for a while.”
She sighed inwardly.
The day of the Haiti benefit auction dawned bright and clear.
Nick arrived to pick up Naomi, Leah, and John. Naomi noticed that John behaved politely despite his suspicion about Nick that he’d stated at breakfast that day.
Then again, a ride was a hard thing to get, with so many Amish and Mennonites wanting to go to the event in Sarasota. Naomi suspected that once John had found that out he’d taken up Leah’s offer of a ride there.
A huge white tent had been pitched and row upon row of chairs had been set up inside. Hundreds of people were already showing up early.
“Leah! Over here!” Ida called, gesturing to seats she’d saved them next to herself and Caleb.
They walked over and Leah sat down, tucking her crutches under her feet.
“I’m going to look over the quilts,” Naomi said.
“You go ahead,” Leah told her, and then she turned to chat with Ida.
Naomi made a beeline for the quilt section. Dozens of them in many different patterns had been donated. Naomi had been quilting since she was a young girl but she figured she could always learn something by studying the work of others. Besides that, there were some truly beautiful quilts sent here by Amish women from around the country.
She loved the traditional ones that had been part of her heritage for years, made of the scraps of clothing materials in rich tones of blues, greens, purples. There were quilts that the Englisch liked to decorate their homes with, most made of brighter fabrics and prints and designs not used in Amish homes.
And then there were some very unique quilts donated to the cause by ladies from several quilting guilds. Maybe next year she’d donate several of the quilts that the bishop back home had thought were “not Amish enough.”
Maybe she’d sew some quilts based on the sketches she’d made while she waited for the fish to bite that day, designs with all the tropical wildlife and colors of this exotic state she was visiting. Hmm … she found her mind racing as she walked around the handicraft of other women.
John and Nick disappeared in the direction of other donated items: farm equipment and handcrafted furniture and tools.
The scent of food drifted through the tent. Those who’d come early and skipped breakfast back at their own places drank coffee and ate bacon, egg, and cheese sandwiches as they sat at tables—Englisch shoulder to shoulder with the Amish and Mennonite attendees.
One little girl with blond wisps of hair escaping her snowy kapp clutched a fresh glazed doughnut so big she’d slipped her chubby fingers through the hole and had difficulty stretching them to grasp it. Sugary icing crusted her mouth as she chewed. A churn cranked out homemade ice cream and loud popping came from a cast-iron skillet being used for kettle corn.
Naomi hadn’t eaten much for breakfast—John had come early to wait for his ride—so the little girl’s glazed doughnut looked so good she couldn’t resist buying one. It tasted heavenly, sweet and sugary on the outside, the inside light and fluffy, melting in her mouth. She accompanied it with a cup of coffee instead of a juice box like the little girl drank.
The tent filled rapidly. People knew to come early to inspect the goods and get the good buys. An auctioneer welcomed them to what he said was the seventeenth annual auction sponsored by the Amish and Mennonites to benefit Haiti, then began his rapid-fire urging for bids, shrewdly encouraging the members of the auction audience to bid more and more.
Nick came to take his seat, but Naomi didn’t see John. She frowned when Nick grinned at her. “What?”
“You have something sugary around your mouth. What have you been eating?”
She reached into her pocket and found a tissue. “A glazed donut,” she admitted.
He gestured at her mouth. “You missed a place. No, the other side.”
When he started to reach to show her where, she stiffened. He quickly dropped his hand. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” she said and swiped at her mouth again. “Gone?”
“Gone.” His dark eyes were intent on hers. He dragged his gaze away and looked around. “By the way, where’s John?”
“I don’t know. I thought he was with you.”
“He was, for a while. Then he saw someone he knew. Some guy.”
She didn’t know he knew anyone here. At least, he hadn’t said anything.
“Naomi, look!” Leah jerked her head to the front of the tent where two young Amish men held up a quilt. “That’s one of the ones you donated!”
“Really?” Nick sat up straighter and checked it out. “Nice!”
“Nice?” Naomi asked him.
“You know. Looks good.” He shrugged and looked a little sheepish. “Hey, I’m a guy. I don’t wax poetic.”
“Wax?”
“Never mind. Sssh.”
She wanted to ask him why he wanted her to be quiet. It wasn’t as if he cared about quilts. His eyes widened and he whistled at the figure the auctioneer started the bidding at.
“You don’t think it’s worth it?” she asked, unoffended.
“No—I mean, I’m sure it is,” he said. “I just had no idea.”
He raised the numbered paddle in his hand.
“What are you doing?” she cried.
“Bidding. What’s it look like?”
Scandalized, she pulled at his arm. “Stop that!”
“Hey, I like it and the money goes for a good cause.”
“You can’t afford it!” she hissed as someone outbid him.
He gave her an affronted glance but winced when he heard a second bidder go higher. Still, he started to raise his paddle. Naomi pulled at his sleeve and turned to her grandmother.
“Grossmudder, make him stop!”
“What’s going on?” John asked as he appeared.
He frowned as he looked at Naomi’s hand on Nick’s arm.
9
Nick could sense the tension emanating from John.
Maybe he’d have felt the same way if he’d walked up and seen his fiancée touching another man’s arm. Especially since the Amish were careful about that type of thing—about public displays.
“Nick’s trying to bid on my quilt,” Naomi said.
John took a seat next to Nick. “If you like the quilt I’m sure Naomi will make you one for a lot less money when you get back home.”
He sounded bored but Nick sensed that he was hiding a discontent. He started to suggest that he could switch seats with John so that he could sit next to Naomi, but something held him back.
He hoped it wasn’t jealousy on his part.
“Please, Nick, I’ll make you a quilt.”
Nick heard the auctioneer calling, “Going once, going twice!” and the final bid. He gulped. Any illusions that he could afford the quilt had just been shattered.
“They cost that much?”
“Not the one I’ll make you,” she said, laughing. “Besides, you did my grandmother and me quite a favor driving us here.”
John’s head snapped up. “What, you’re not paying him?”
“Nick wouldn’t let Grandmother and me pay him what we should,” Naomi said quietly. “And he’s constantly asking us if we need him to drive us someplace or pick up anything.”
John shot him a look that Nick could o
nly describe as disbelieving.
Shrugging, Nick focused on the auction. Every so often he cast a surreptitious glance at Naomi, who appeared to be enjoying the selling of the quilts. Only when they were gone did she seem a little restless.
Nick moved a seat closer to Leah to make room for a woman looking to sit down. He turned to Leah. “Having a good time?”
“Wunderbaar,” she said, smiling. “It’s a great auction.”
John had looked at the handcrafted furniture and tools that were for sale, since he was a carpenter by trade, but Nick noticed that he didn’t seem interested in bidding on anything. Maybe that was because he didn’t want to have to haul it back with him on the bus to Pennsylvania.
Naomi asked if anyone wanted anything from the food concessions, and when she got up and left them, John followed her.
At first, Nick thought that the other man went along to help carry food back, but it seemed John was saying something to Naomi that put an unhappy expression on her face.
Nick decided that he had even more reason to dislike John. Not that he’d needed any. When he felt a tug on his sleeve, he glanced over and found Leah staring at him.
“Aren’t you having a good time?”
“Sure.”
Had she noticed that he was tracking her granddaughter? He hoped not.
“I’m just not interested in farm equipment,” he told her. “I think I’ll stretch my legs for a while.”
Leah smiled and patted his hand, then turned her attention back to the auction.
Nick walked through the crowd that milled around the auction and went outside. Dozens of people were outside talking. Such an event would have been fun enough in this little town, but coming together to help out the people of one of the poorest countries in the world—something this community had been doing for years—appeared to lend an air of excitement.
Many of those he passed exchanged a smile with him; it didn’t seem to matter if they were Amish or Mennonite or Englischer.
He didn’t know it was possible to be surrounded by so many people and feel so lonely.
It wasn’t rational, he told himself. Even though he spent most of his working day ferrying people around—most of whom either chatted with someone with them or spent much of the time talking on a cell phone or doing paperwork or just enjoying some quiet time—he was a solitary man.
He was nearly thirty, and while he hadn’t been in a rush, on his last birthday he’d been surprised that he hadn’t been married by now. Somewhere along the way he’d thought he’d meet someone in his work—after all, he didn’t just drive the Amish around—but he guessed it was like Daniel had told him: he met mostly tourists.
Then, one day Leah had called him and asked if she could arrange daily transportation between work and home for herself and her granddaughters.
The three granddaughters had similar looks as cousins and, of course, wore similar Plain dress. But that’s where the similarity ended. Mary Katherine stood taller and her hair had auburn tones to it. She’d seemed more withdrawn, less confident when he’d first met her but had really blossomed as her ability at her loom grew—and as she fell in love with Jacob.
Anna was the smallest of the three and yet exuded such energy that she seemed the most vibrant. Her moods swung from one end of the spectrum to the other so quickly. And he’d never known anyone so curious … well, downright nosy.
And Naomi. She’d become quieter and more introspective in the past few months.
He’d always thought that instant attraction was the stuff of those romances women read. The whole thing was ludicrous in any event. Amish and Englisch might mix as friends and often did. But they didn’t marry. Naomi had been baptized and, he quickly found out, was engaged to an Amish man. They would have been married by now but the Ordnung dictated that they couldn’t marry until after the harvest.
They’d become friends—even more so traveling here. She’d never indicated any kind of interest in him. Ever. And even if he’d suspected she wasn’t happy with John, she continued to stay with him. He’d even come here to see her.
Nick considered himself a realist. Even if he’d wanted to go out to a club and meet a woman, he knew if it got around that he visited a drinking establishment he might put his career as a driver at risk. Besides, he wasn’t really comfortable with the dating scene. His friends often teased him for being bookish. Introverted. And, like the Amish he drove, born into the wrong century.
He supposed that they were right. Although he loved his personal car and the bigger vehicles he used for transport, and technology like his e-reader and his cell phone, he tended toward quieter activities like reading. Recently, he’d tried dabbling in writing the occasional short story. His idea of an ideal evening? Dinner with friends. Good conversation.
Such an evening, Nick reflected with some irony, wasn’t really much different than an evening his Amish counterparts might enjoy.
Matter of fact, once a friend had even teased Nick that he seemed more Amish than some Amish he knew.
“I hope you’re happy.”
Naomi looked at John standing there, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket. She often saw other women staring at him, thinking he was good-looking. They often flirted with him, even after she and John had announced their engagement.
But right now, when he was … there could be no other word for it than pouting—his bottom lip was thrust out and he glowered like a little boy who hadn’t gotten his way.
She sighed. “I’m not happy, John. But if you’d asked me about coming here, I could have saved you the trouble.”
“Are you saying I needed your permission?” His tone was quiet because there were people nearby. But his mouth thinned and his eyes went cold.
“Are you saying I can’t go on vacation with my grandmother without having you come, too?” she asked him, keeping her voice level. “We’re not married yet.”
Instantly his expression changed, and he took her hands in his. “I just wanted to spend some time with you.”
This wasn’t doing anyone any good, she thought. They were just going around and around.
She used the excuse that her purse slipped off her shoulder to pull her hands from his. He resisted at first, tightening his fingers around hers, and then finally let her go.
“I’ll be back in Paradise before you know it,” she said lightly as people milled around them.
He bent to kiss her and when Naomi turned, he grasped her forearms and she gasped.
“You’re hurting me!” she cried.
“What a fuss,” he said, letting her go. “All I wanted was a good-bye kiss,” he told her. “Is that too much to ask?”
“John, you know we don’t do that in public.” Naomi rubbed at her forearms and frowned. “You hurt me.”
He took off his hat and ran his hand through his hair. “I didn’t mean to. You know that. You just get me so upset. Why do you do that?”
It was her fault again.
“There’s no reason you don’t want me around here, is there? Aside from wanting to spend time with your grandmother.”
“Of course not.”
“You’re schur?”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I want you around?” She told herself she had no reason to feel guilty. But she did because she didn’t want him around right now. And she did because she’d had impure thoughts about Nick. She hadn’t acted on them though, so she had no reason to feel guilty.
“What about this Nick who drove you here?”
“Nick drove my grandmother and me here. He’s our driver. You know that.”
“Is that all?” His eyes were intent on her. Tension radiated from him.
“I’ve been faithful to you, John,” she said quietly. “In Pennsylvania and here.”
He looked at her for a long moment and then he seemed to relax.
She glanced over his shoulder and saw the bus filling up. If they talked anymore he wouldn’t get on and then who knew how much longer he’d be
here? The bus didn’t run on a daily basis back and forth to the north.
“John, you need to get on the bus. We’ll talk when I get back home.”
His eyes were dark and troubled as he stared at her. “Ya, we’ll talk.”
She frowned. The way he said it, it didn’t sound like a promise that such a talk might work out the differences between them.
It sounded more like a threat.
Then he clapped his hat back on his head and strode toward the bus. She watched him go, troubled, yet not knowing what else to do. Just before he reached the front of the bus he was hailed by someone, a young Amish man, and the two of them stood talking.
Naomi frowned as she tried to catch a better look at the man. She didn’t know John knew anyone here and yet he seemed to be talking to the man as if he were a friend.
She shielded her eyes from the bright sun, trying to see better. Just then, a cloud passed over the sun, and as the glare went away she recognized him. She’d seen him around several times, walking up and down the street and in a restaurant when they were eating.
The man slapped John on the back in a friendly fashion and strolled off, and John got on the bus.
She watched him walk to the rear of the bus and find a seat. He looked out the window and raised a hand to wave at her. The remaining passengers boarded after stowing their luggage and their various boxes and totes and carry-ons. Quite a number of mesh bags of Florida oranges and grapefruit were going home with them.
The plain wooden coffin that Naomi had seen off-loaded wasn’t traveling back up north. At least not on this trip.
Finally, the driver climbed aboard, shut the door, and started the bus. He drove out of the lot and his passengers and the people seeing them off waved good-byes.
Naomi searched the row of windows, looking for John as the bus passed her. She didn’t see him and her breath caught. For a moment, she thought he’d somehow gotten off the bus without her seeing him and he’d pop up in front of her.
Then she saw him staring at her through the third to last window. She waved and he waved back, but he wasn’t smiling. And neither was she.
The crowd that had come to send off their family and friends walked away slowly, as if reluctant to lose sight of the bus.
The Heart's Journey: Stitches in Time Series #2 Page 11
