Maybe it was as simple as his had been the first door she’d come to.
He swallowed a bit of laughter when he thought how she’d chosen his door.
Because…he had questions of his own. He’d been away from home for ten years. How was his family? His mother? Did his brother Jeremiah grow up to be the carpenter he’d always dreamed of being? Lucas became lost in his own thoughts until Esther suddenly took a large step toward him.
“Please,” she said, her voice sounding choked. “Please tell me.”
Their sudden closeness caused his chest to feel tight. “I’m sorry,” he began, “I wasn’t paying—”
Before he could finish, the front door flew open. Stephanie, the clinic’s receptionist, entered.
Esther jumped a full foot back from him, as if Lucas was deathly contagious. “Never mind,” she whispered under her breath, cheeks turning pink. “This was a mistake.” A split second later, she spun around and practically raced out the door, her cape flapping behind her like a superhero’s.
Lucas stared, wondering if she would trail glitter like a comet.
“Hey, boss,” Stephanie said, dropping her keys on the counter.
“I’m not your boss,” he said for the hundredth time.
“Did I interrupt something important?”
He shook his head, keeping his eyes fixed on Esther as she crossed the street.
Stephanie followed his gaze. “Is she from…?”
“Yes.”
“So pretty. Like one of those painted dolls. The porcelain ones, ya know?”
“No,” Lucas said, watching as she walked toward Yoder’s. “I mean, yes—yes, she’s pretty. I can see what my br—” He forced himself to blink out of his ridiculous haze. “We’ve got patients,” he said to Stephanie.
“Not until one o’clock.”
Lucas ran a hand through his hair, scratching at the back, a bit disturbed about where his mind had wandered. “Get the files for me, please.”
Stephanie shrugged, chewing on a wad of gum. “Anything you say, boss.”
While thumbing through the blood work of his next patient, his thoughts easily slid to Esther Miller, wondering if he’d ever see her again.
CHAPTER THREE
“Mortified.” That was the word Esther kept whispering under her breath. Absolutely, completely mortified.
Why had she just barged in there? With barely a thought!
She paused in the middle of the street to shudder. What in heaven’s name had she been thinking? She turned her face away when a buggy pulled up alongside her. She didn’t bother looking at the passengers, knowing how red her face was.
Mortified.
Remembering why she’d come to town in the first place, Esther quickly ducked inside her cousin’s store. There was a bit of a crowd at Yoder’s, and Esther was more than happy to get lost in it, her mind still spinning fast over what had just happened with Lucas.
Lucas Brenneman…
She had thrown soaps at Lucas Brenneman!
“Esther. Esther!”
But lying low, even temporarily, was not in her future. A short, squat woman bounded up from behind the bakery counter.
Leah had been running Yoder’s Home Goods for nearly ten years. Her family converted to the Beachy affiliation when Esther was a child. This highly progressive group of Amish were allowed certain secular luxuries, like owning businesses in town, women working outside the home, and electricity.
Leah was beaming like always, smiling ear to ear. “Is that a new batch for me?” she asked, glancing excitedly at the boxes.
“’Tis!”
“Did I tell you, the box you brought in last week sold out in two days? That’s got to be a record. Not even Louisa’s jam sells so fast.”
Esther tried not to feel prideful, and she would never tell Lou that Leah was keeping track of their sales like a competition.
“Really?” she said, picturing all those happy people peeling open the handmade wrappers of her soap. Inhaling the lovely fragrances. Rose, lavender, and geranium were her most popular scents. Wildflowers. Very safe and obedient. Well within the rules about such things in the Ordnung.
Another twinge of curiosity at the thought of more exotic scents made Esther’s heart speed up. Stifling that desire was getting harder and harder.
Temptation is everywhere, Bishop Abram was fond of preaching.
“They fly off the shelves,” Leah added. “It’s made such a huge difference for business. I can’t thank you enough.”
“That so?” Esther smiled, stepping back so a group of tourists could pass by. “I’m so happy they’re helping your store.”
“I have a check for you in the office.” Leah grinned. “It’s nice that you’re allowed to have a bank account. I told you carrying cash, even around here, ain’t safe.”
Esther nodded, remembering the time she’d been followed by some English teenagers almost all the way home right after she’d been paid quite a lot of money. After that, it hadn’t been difficult to convince Daed to add her to his bank.
“What did you bring me this time?”
Esther set the boxes on a stack of Lancaster County T-shirts with a picture of a horse and buggy on the front. “I was experimenting,” she said, opening the flaps.
“Heavens!” Leah exclaimed. “I can already smell it. It’s positively delicious!”
“Clove,” Esther said. “I was thinking for Christmastime. I don’t know. Too strong?”
Leah picked up one of the prettily wrapped bars and waved it under her nose. “Don’t change a thing.”
Esther looked at the floor, feeling a huge smile stretch across her face.
“Excuse me.” They both turned to see a woman in a flannel shirt, gold sunglasses holding back her short hair. “What is that?”
“Soap,” Leah said before Esther could speak. “Handmade only two miles away. One hundred percent organic.”
“May I?” the woman asked, displaying an open palm. Just as Leah had, the woman held the bar up to her nose and took a deep breath, sighing in bliss afterward. “This,” she whispered, “is the best thing I’ve ever smelled—including Chanel. Did you make it?”
Esther nodded. “Jah.”
“Are they for sale? Now?”
“Of course!” Leah burst.
“How much?”
“Two—” Esther began, but Leah cut her off.
“Three, um, four dollars a bar.”
Esther froze. There was no way anyone—even a rich English tourist—would spend four dollars on a simple bar of soap. Esther felt guilty charging two.
“Four?” The woman nodded, a smile appearing on her face. “Hillary, Gretchen, check these out. Authentic Amish soaps—handmade. And only four bucks each.”
“Seriously?” Two more women approached. Leah quickly handed each a bar. “Ooh, nice,” one of them said. “It smells like Christmas.”
“Right? Think of how they’d make your bathroom smell.”
“Spa city, baby!”
“How many do you have?” the flannel shirt woman asked.
“There’re two dozen in each box,” Leah said. “Two boxes.”
The woman’s grin stretched wider. “I want both.”
“Hey!” her friend said, elbowing in. “You can’t have them all.” She glanced at Esther. “Unless you have more?”
“Sorry,” Esther replied, flabbergasted. “This is all I brought.”
“We have to at least split the boxes,” the friend suggested. “We’re not coming back this way.”
The flannel shirt woman sighed and rolled her eyes. “Fine. We’ll split.”
“OMG,” the third woman said. “I’m a blogger, and I’ll definitely feature these soaps on my next post. They’re totally amazing! Do you have a mailing list? I’d love more.”
>
Esther opened her mouth to answer.
“Yes,” Leah said. “Of course!” She momentarily slipped to the back and returned with a clipboard, paper, and pen. “Jot down your name and email address. We’ll let you know when we have more in stock.”
“Amazing.” The woman beamed. “They smell so delicious, I almost want to take a bite!”
“Don’t do that,” Esther said, grinning. “They’re made for washing, not eating.”
“She’s adorable!” the flannel shirt woman said. “This whole shop is fantastic.”
“Thank you.” Leah’s huge smile made her eyes go squinty. “I can ring you up at the counter if you’re ready to check out.”
While she escorted the three women—their carts full of jams, shoofly pies, and multiple jars of pretzel dough—to the cash register, Esther covered her mouth with a hand, her body swaying slightly.
What had just happened? Never in her life would she think her soaps could be so popular. After all, she made them in a tiny cubby in her mother’s kitchen. Even when she’d allowed herself to imagine success, her dreams had never gotten this far. What would Daed say? Should she even tell him?
Of course, Esther. Why would you think of hiding this from him?
She knew the reason why. Daed was afraid success would go to her head, fill her thoughts with ideas that led to pride, and thence temptation.
“So much for your record, cousin,” Leah said when she returned.
“Huh?”
“It took two days for a box to sell out last time.” She put an arm around Esther’s waist. “Today, we didn’t even get to put them on the shelf!”
“But, Leah, I can’t believe you doubled the price. I reckon that’s a sin of selfishness.”
Leah patted the side of her hair. “That’s good salesmanship. I have to keep on top of trends in commerce. Like it or not, your soaps are the current hot commodity.” She paused to massage the back of her neck. “Mercy me… Who on earth am I going to find to make you a catalog?”
Esther laughed, feeling ever so proud—in a humble way, of course.
“Back to this,” Leah said. “What brilliant, addictive fragrance will you come up with next? Better be a good one, and the stronger the better—you know those are the real money-makers. Business is all about making money, cousin.”
“That’s true,” Esther said in agreement, though feeling the slightest bit conflicted between wanting to please Leah and perfectly follow the Ordnung. Despite what she knew was obedient, she grinned as she left the store—cooking up new combinations in her head. The smile wobbled some as she eyed that redbrick building. The trip to town might’ve started out as an embarrassing mess, but it had ended on a high note.
Praise to Gott for bestowing upon me such a gift. May I try to stay humble and use my talents to serve Him.
The inner prayer felt false, causing sudden fatigue in her limbs. Why couldn’t she be content with a peaceful, simple, unselfish life like everyone else she knew? Was there something wrong with her?
The thought made the constant heaviness in her soul feel even heavier. Once clouds appeared over her spirits, they just kept rolling in. Why hadn’t she been more adamant about answers from Lucas Brenneman when she’d had the chance?
Only he knew what happened when Jacob had been away from Honey Brook, before he’d gone to live with the Lord. Only Lucas Brenneman knew why poor Jacob had returned home like that.
She slowed her walk as she glanced back at the clinic. Surely now he was busy with patients and had written her off as a plain old Amish girl—indistinguishable in a crowd of Anabaptist folk. He’d been wearing jeans and a blue-striped collared shirt under his lab coat. Not in the least bit Amish anymore—not that she needed proof.
Though she would’ve had to have been blind to not notice how striking he looked—handsomer even than when they were teenagers. Nice, broad shoulders, darker, wavier hair, taller and sturdy like the Douglas firs behind her house. An appealing man like that could really take up space in a room…and space in her mind.
As she passed by a grove of trees, she stopped walking and pushed out a long, heavy breath, knowing she had absolutely no business thinking about Lucas Brenneman in that way.
To temporarily shoo away those dark clouds, once home, Esther helped her mother with the schooling of her younger siblings. Abraham was stumped by an arithmetic problem that Esther was more than happy to help work out. Math was never her interest, yet when it came to making soap, the arithmetic and miniscule amount of chemistry she’d learned in school were surprisingly helpful, especially when doubling a batch—like she planned on doing the next day.
“You’re in a good mood,” Maam remarked after the children had gone outside to play. “Anything special happen?”
Deciding to keep all of today’s events to herself for now, Esther only shrugged. “A trip into town.”
Her mother smiled and tucked a loose piece of Esther’s hair into her kapp. “Well then, seems you should find reasons to be in town more often.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Early dusk fell as Lucas turned the keys in the ignition. Headlights weren’t needed yet as he drove toward home, but out of precaution, he turned them on anyway. He didn’t live so far from town that his truck was really necessary. While he’d been away, however, he’d gotten used to the convenience.
And, since everyone around here thinks I’m going to hell in a handbasket, why does it matter?
He shifted into third gear. They have no idea what’s truly in my heart. The choice I made all those years ago was the right one. I feel that in my soul.
Even if no one else understands.
Passing the road that led to the Millers’ farm, Lucas’s thoughts drifted to that conversation with M&M’s Esther. He still didn’t know what that had been about. The one topic she had spoken clearly of was what had happened to Jacob.
For Lucas, that was an impossible subject to divulge.
Still, it was probably highly beneficial for his psyche to connect with anyone from his childhood, for old wounds still cut deep. The choices his father had made back then. Jacob, too. And the one choice Lucas had known he’d had to make.
Good for the psyche, he repeated in his head.
Just that morning, he’d lain in bed, thinking about the day before, the good he’d done, the mistakes he’d try not to make again, and the goals he had for that day—the closest thing to saying a prayer like he used to. He’d thought about his family and home, all he’d left behind when he’d made that choice at sixteen.
Why had he really returned to Honey Brook? He could’ve taken a job anywhere. Why this place? Why…if he still had bitterness in his heart toward his father? It had been six months, and he still hadn’t reached out to anyone.
As he idled at the one stoplight in town, Lucas recalled a woman he’d treated earlier that day. She’d come in with a sprained wrist, bruised rib, and fat lip and told him a fable about falling down the stairs. Lucas was too familiar with the ways of the world to be fooled by a story like that. If she’d been treated by anyone else at the clinic, they would’ve called the sheriff. But Lucas’s inner Amish heart couldn’t do that. He’d grown up believing that all problems—even the serious ones—were to be solved within the community, and no one ever intruded on another’s private issues.
Then he remembered a patient from a few months earlier. Same types of bruises and scarring, only this woman had been plain. X-rays showed she’d had two arm breaks before, and neither had healed properly. As he’d been writing her a prescription that he knew she’d never fill, a burning wave of resentment pushed through his bloodstream.
He still could not understand why, when modern healthcare was so close to their village, they chose not to take full advantage.
As today’s patient was about to leave, Lucas had taken a moment to block her way out of the exam room.
“I promise you, I will call the authorities if this happens again,” he’d said firmly, making sure she’d met his gaze. “Such an action goes against everything I believe in. That’s how serious I am.”
A tiny tear had trickled down the woman’s cheek. “I know.”
“Is there somewhere you can stay?”
The woman dipped her head, then nodded. “I think so.”
Lucas finally stepped out of her way. “Go there now, not home.”
“Okay,” she said, her voice thick. “Thanks.”
While hanging a right hand turn, Lucas released the kind of exhale that came only after a very long day. As he pulled his truck around the back of his house, it was dark inside. He still hadn’t installed the security system that turned lights on and off to make people think someone was home. Not that he expected much crime in this neck of the woods, but it was best to be prepared. He’d had one of those security systems at his apartment in Queens, though it still hadn’t kept him from getting robbed twice.
He didn’t like dwelling on those days. Although he’d felt back then that he’d been on the path God had intended for him, he struggled daily, worrying that he’d disappointed the most important people in his life.
As he shrugged out of his coat and switched on the light, he thought about Esther again, oddly wishing her visit had lasted longer. He hadn’t realized until now how much he’d been aching to talk about Honey Brook. Did his family miss him? Did they have anything in their hearts for him besides betrayal?
The thought made his head throb, so he grabbed the remote. The flat-screen on the wall came to life, set on the Food Network—but was there any other channel? For Lucas, it was the sole reason he had cable.
It was a baking competition, a rerun Lucas had seen twice, so he found a show he’d recorded and pressed play. As usual, he chuckled along, especially at the part when the judge of the show got in the contestant’s face and swore up a storm, throwing the poor wannabe chef out of the competition.
Never an Amish Bride Page 3
