“Please, Mallory, I’ve dreamed of this moment … of what I wanted to say to you.”
The pictures of him lying in bed with Victoria burned in her memory, and Mallory slipped from his grip. “There’s nothing to say.”
He grimaced, his eyes searching hers. “Please, let me help you.”
“Help me what?” She turned from him. “There’s nothing you can do. It would be better for you to stay away from me.” She didn’t have to look at him to know his lips had thinned into a straight line—that his gaze still burned through her.
He turned her back to him and tilted her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. “I’m sorry, but I can’t do that.”
She stiffened and jerked away from him. “What about Victoria?”
“What about her? She has nothing to do with us.”
She stumbled back, shaking her head. “You were together and just like that, it doesn’t even matter. How can you say that? What about your trip, the ballgame? Do I have to spell it out for you?” She exploded. “It was a mistake. I can’t do this.”
“I don’t know what you mean. We went to a ballgame, but that was it.”
Liar. How could she have been so stupid to trust him? All men were liars. Mallory moved toward the store.
He grabbed her arm. “Mallory, please wait. Talk to me.”
“I can’t. It doesn’t matter.” Slipping from his grasp, Mallory stumbled into the first shop, making sure the door closed behind her. She shuddered, her eyes darting all around her. Moving to a dark corner, pent-up emotions exploded, shaking her frame.
Eric let her go, but didn’t intend to give up. She was safe and staying with Mary, Paul’s cousin. Had Paul known? And what had she meant about the ballgame?
He crossed the street and jumped in his truck. Tapping the steering wheel harder than necessary to the rhythm of the song playing, he drove through curvy, country roads toward the Chamberlain’s. His thoughts reeled with unanswered questions, but every few minutes he gave a shaky laugh. It didn’t matter that she was upset with him—it only mattered he had found her. An Amish woman. Brilliant.
He parked in the driveway and headed toward the front, his steps lighter than they’d been in weeks.
Sebastian answered. “Good afternoon, Eric. Mr. Chamberlain isn’t in at the moment.”
“I actually need to see Andrew. Is he here?”
“Yes, sir. I’ll get him for you.”
Eric waited in the foyer for Sebastian to return and when Andrew came toward him, Eric stood.
“We need to talk.” He leaned against the door frame, crossing his arms. “I ran into Mallory today.”
Andrew straightened, his eyes widening. “Really? How is she?”
His smirk begged for vengeance, but Eric finally had some control and wasn’t going to lose it. “Don’t look so surprised, Andrew.”
“What do you mean?”Andrew shifted with short, tense movements.
“You’ve known all along, but that’s not why I’m here. You will tell me the truth about this. The day you found Mallory crying, did it have anything to do with me and Victoria?”
“I told you, she didn’t tell me what happened. She couldn’t even talk she was so upset.”
“You asked me about the ballgame, and now she has said something about it.” Andrew’s cold, hard stare assured Eric this wouldn’t be easy. “Why? What do you even know about it?”
Andrew threw up his hands. “This is none of my business. What you do and who you do it with is no concern of mine.”
“Did Mallory say something to you about the ballgame?”
“Mallory said she never wanted to see you again.” Andrew’s tone sharpened. “But you and Victoria … you were with her only a week before that Sunday we went to Hershey Park, and then I saw what Mallory must have found.”
“What’re you talking about?”
Andrew barked a sarcastic laugh. “You really expect me to believe you don’t know?”
Eric crossed his arms. “We went to a ballgame together. What could you have possibly found?”
“I thought Victoria had said something to her, so I checked her room. The bathroom light was shining, but the door was open. I called her name and when she didn’t answer, I walked in. There was a pregnancy test box in the trash.”
“A pregnancy test?” His gaze clouded. “So? That has nothing to do with me.”
Andrew continued. “It would to Mallory, especially after seeing the pictures of you and Victoria together.”
“What pictures?”
“One of you and Victoria sitting together in the stands.”
Eric remembered the camera’s flash blinding him in the middle of a huge play. “So, she took a picture at the Phillies game.”
Andrew searched Eric’s face. “There was another one of you and Victoria in bed.”
“I had my own room. I never even kissed her.” He stopped, his memory catching up with him. She called him into her room after she had a nightmare.
“You never kissed her?”
“No. Never. Do you have the pictures?” Eric waited in the foyer while Andrew ran upstairs. Moments later, he returned, his hand outstretched.
Taking the photographs from Andrew, Eric searched each one, his lungs struggling for air.” I can’t believe this.” He slumped onto the foyer bench, wanting to rip the pictures to shreds. “She called me into her room in the middle of the night. She had a nightmare.”
“Was she wearing that?”
“When I came in yes, but I threatened to leave. She went to the bathroom to change but never came back. The only chair was covered with her things, so I sat on the bed. I must have fallen asleep. When I woke up, she was wearing a sweat suit.”
“You didn’t know she was taking a picture?”
Eric stood, balling the pictures in his palm. “I had no idea. I was asleep. I went back to my own room as soon as I awoke.” Victoria had set him up. Andrew believed it, and so did Mallory. “Victoria planned for Mallory to find these. Why else would she take a picture like this and leave it lying around? She went to North Carolina and found Jake. She’s the one who brought him here.”
Andrew ran his hand through his hair. “What? I knew she left, but thought she was visiting friends.”
“I overheard her talking to your uncle.”
“I’m sorry.” Andrew stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I wish I’d known.”
“Does Nancy know she’s okay?”
“I told them all. I couldn’t help it. Nancy and Marla kept crying thinking something had happened to her.”
Mallory glanced over her shoulder every few minutes, knowing Eric could be watching. When safe inside the quilt shop thirty minutes later, the scent of new fabric welcomed her. She grabbed the green thread from the shelf, but it tumbled to the floor, leaving a long, tangled trail. She wound the thread back in place, her tears threatening to escape.
An adrenaline rush seized her as the door bell jingled. “Ms. Margie.” She exhaled a lung full of air. “How are you today?”
For someone with such confidence, Margie moved as though she carried cement blocks on her back. Her thin frame slumped. “Fine, thank you. How’s that new baby?”
“Perfect.” Mallory placed her elbows on the wood counter, restraining her urge to look through the window. “Thank you again for taking us to the hospital.”
“I’m so glad I was able to help.” The woman took her usual seat in the corner.
“Ms. Margie, I have to tell you something.” Mallory stuffed her hands in her apron pocket. “I haven’t been honest with you.” Her breath quickened. “I’m not really Amish.”
“I know that, dear.”
Mallory straightened. “You do?”
She nodded.
“I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t worry. I’m sure you d
id what you felt you had to do. But now that I know you’re staying next door, you’ll have to visit.”
“Oh, I’d love to.”
“Can you come today after work? I’ll make a special treat and send enough with you for Thomas and Mary. We’ll give the young couple some time alone on their first night home with the baby.”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely. And if you need to, bring the little one along.”
“Mary’s mother took Abigail for a couple of days.”
Margie settled into her chair. “Then it will be just the two of us.”
“You should be able to take your quilt home today. It’s beautiful.”
“Magnificent, and just in time. I wanted to see if you had some material to match one I’ve had for years. I would love to have it redone as a gift for my son.”
Her son. How sweet. She’d never mentioned her children.
“Bring it in, and we’ll try to match the pieces.” Mallory focused on the woman’s bright expression, but an image of Eric slipped in and crippled her thoughts.
“It’s in my car. I’ll be right back.”
She needed a new job. It would keep her busy and be a good distraction. With only a few more stitches, she would be finished with this one. The touch of Eric’s fingers against her chin still lingered. She was running the needle and thread through the blue and burgundy material diligently when the bell jingled again.
“Elizabeth, can you help me, dear?”
The quilt slipped from Margie’s fingers, and the front stretched across the floor. Mallory froze.
Taking one end of the quilt, she helped Margie set it on the counter.
It can’t be the same one. “It’s beautiful.” Mallory paused, catching her breath. “Where did you get this?”
Margie pushed a few strands of loose hair behind a bobby pin. “My mother gave this to me when my son was born.”
Mallory covered her mouth with her hand. There had to be some explanation. It was exactly the same. There was only one way to know for sure, but Mallory couldn’t compel her gaze downward. Margie took her end flipping it forward and held the corner in the palm of her hand. Turning it over, she pointed to the drawing on the left hand corner.
“My son drew this. I wanted ...”
A picture of a butterfly was drawn in the same vivid colors. Margie’s voice rang through her ears, but she couldn’t make out the words.
“Come with me, there’s something I want to show you.”
Mallory followed dragonfly deeper along the trail through the woods. Every few seconds she slowed and glanced over her shoulder. Where was he taking her? Why should she trust him? She’d never trusted anyone.
With crinkled brows, he beckoned her to follow. “Come on, we’re running out of time.”
A few steps later, he stopped and faced her.
Propping her hands on her hips, she frowned. “I don’t see anything.”
“This…” he pointed over his shoulder. “I built it over the weekend.”
She took a hesitant step forward and studied the wooden frame surrounding two large stumps. “What is it?”
“It’s ours.” He moved toward her and reached for her hand. “Think of it as a clubhouse … our very own where no one else is invited to join.”
“Why? I don’t understand.”
He took her fingers and led her to the bench covered with a quilt. “I wanted you to have something special—something with me—something of our very own.”
“Elizabeth, are you okay?” Margie took her hand. “You’re pale.”
Unable to speak, Mallory nodded.
“I’m sure you’ll be able to liven this up and make it look like new.”
She stared at the woman still holding her hand. Would she ever be okay again? He was her son. Dragonfly. How could this be happening?
“You will stop by this afternoon, won’t you?” Margie didn’t wait for an answer. “Come around six. I should have everything ready by then. You’re so pale. Are you sure you’re feeling all right?”
There had to be some mistake. Mallory needed to be alone, to think this through. Did he live in Lancaster County? What if she’d seen him here in Paradise? A wave of darkness swept through her, and she grabbed the counter. What would she do if she saw him? Would they recognize each other?
“Elizabeth.”
Margie called her name, but the sound was distorted, garbled. Darkness clouded her vision as she slipped into a sea of shadows.
“Elizabeth.” Mallory woke to find Margie standing over her. “You fainted. Are you okay for me to run and get Thomas?”
She lifted herself into a sitting position. Her head spun at the sudden movement.
“I’ll hurry. You stay right here until I return.”
Mallory stared at the ceiling, Dragonfly’s blurred image coming back in full view from her memory.
Her head pounded. He left. He never even told her goodbye. She worried for months something had happened to him. How could he do that after promising to take care of her forever? They were only kids, though. How could Mallory expect him to mean any of it? She wanted to believe it … she needed to.
Thomas followed Margie inside the shop, the bell jingling.
“Elizabeth, are you all right?” He knelt, removing his straw hat.
“I’m okay. I got a little dizzy.”
He positioned his hat back on his head and reached for her hand. “Can you walk to the buggy if you hold onto me?”
“I’m fine really. I have work to do.”
Thomas pursed his lips. “Closing the shop would be best for today, ain’t so?”
Margie held to Mallory’s hand and helped her in.
“You go on home now and get some rest. Don’t worry about coming to visit.”
She straightened her kapp. “No, I’ll still be there, even if I have to get Thomas to drive me.”
“Are you sure, dear?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Margie’s brows furrowed. “Come around the back. We’ll visit in the sun room.”
Mallory barely answered Thomas’s questions on their drive home, her mind consumed with tormenting thoughts.
She crossed her arms and stared through the window.
“Elizabeth, what is it? Are you dizzy again?”
“No, I’m fine, thank you.” Fine wasn’t the correct word, but she couldn’t voice an accurate reply. Stunned. Flabbergasted. No, preoccupied. Because her mind definitely wasn’t here in this airless buggy. It was somewhere between her past and future, with a hazy present slamming into her reality. This couldn’t be happening.
Thomas turned onto the dirt driveway moments later. She wanted to go straight to her room to be alone. Mary, cradling her baby, met them at the door and moved with careful steps toward them, a finger pressed against her lips.
Thomas spoke before Mallory had a chance. “Elizabeth had a fainting spell at the shop. Thankfully, Ms. Margie was with her.”
Mary opened and closed her mouth, but no words followed.
Mallory forced a full smile. “If I lie down for awhile, I’ll be all right.”
“Jah, you rest. Can I get you some water, or lemonade?”
“No, thank you. Just wake me if I sleep too long, please. I’m going to Margie’s around six.”
Tiny lines filled Mary’s forehead. “Maybe you shouldn’t be visiting today.”
Nothing would change her mind. “I promise, I’m fine.” She turned to Thomas. “Thank you for bringing me home.”
It would be better to see a picture of Dragonfly than to meet him face to face. Once in bed, she tossed and turned, a tingling sensation drifting through her blood stream. It had been over ten years. He must have changed so much. Unable to lie still, Mallory moved to the window facing Margie’s home, but it was too far f
rom view. Three more hours seemed like an eternity.
Plopping her head against the pillow, her eyes followed the streaks of sun that danced across her wall. She’d never be able to sleep this time of the day. But as she remembered blurred details of his face, every memory of their time together raced back, and she slipped into a dream—one where they never parted.
Mallory crossed the field to Margie’s, her heart pumping with a mixture of excitement and dread. Reaching the house, she searched the driveway for another vehicle. There was only Margie’s.
She treaded softly around back toward a black, iron table and chairs with seat cushions of blue and green on the patio. Mallory took the brick stairs leading to the sunroom.
Margie met her at the door. “You made it. Did Thomas drive you?”
“No, I walked. Mallory searched the room for a picture—for something. “I’m feeling much better.”
Food had already been set on the table, next to iced drinks.
“Have a seat.”
Mallory moved toward the couch facing the beautiful view of Margie’s back yard.
Several times Mallory thought about asking to use the restroom, but something … a deep fear prevented the words from leaving her mouth. She tried to pay attention to Margie’s one-sided conversation, but she couldn’t concentrate.
Margie stood and moved toward the door leading to the kitchen when a voice echoed through the house.
“Mother?”
“I’m back here,” Margie called.
Mallory froze as footsteps neared. With her back to them, he would never see her face. It had to be him, but she wasn’t ready for this. Would she ever be ready? She thought of running when he moved around the chair and stopped right in front of her.
Twenty-Eight
His boots were dusty, but familiar.
The moment she looked into his eyes a thousand sensations rushed through her.
“Mallory?”
She could never let him know who she really was.
“Mother, why is she here?” Eric never took his eyes from Mallory’s.
“This young lady’s a very good friend of mine. I was hoping to introduce you, but you seem to already know each other.”
Broken Butterfly Page 20
