Imagining her twelve-year-old sister, Ruth, throwing a tantrum wasn’t too difficult. But fifteen-year-old Elisabeth, who was in the eighth grade at the Amish-run school, wouldn’t have minded missing a day or two. Or more, for that matter. She hated school and couldn’t wait for her last year to end.
Moriah felt a bit relieved that she wasn’t here. Elisabeth would try to pump her for more personal information about her relationship with Levi, which she’d done the day after their wedding night. Moriah had ignored her probing questions until Elisabeth had finally given up. Her sister then launched into a detailed report about her latest crush, whom she swore she was madly in love with. Moriah highly doubted that, as Elisabeth’s targets of affection were usually discarded on a weekly basis.
“How are things at home?” Emma asked, smearing a knife full of frosting onto the second batch of hot rolls. “Levi doing well?”
“He’s fine, Mami.” To reassure her doting mother, she repeated, “Everything is fine.” The words I’m pregnant danced on the tip of her tongue, but she kept the knowledge to herself. No need to worry her mother. Also, she wasn’t ready to tell anyone about the baby. Not until she told Levi first.
“I hear his shop is very successful. They’ve gotten quite a few Yankee customers.”
“Ya. Levi’s working with one now, in Gates Mills.”
Emma turned and looked at her daughter. “Really? I didn’t know John let his boys make house calls to outlanders.”
“He hasn’t before. But Levi insisted, and Mr. Johnson seems like a nice man.” Moriah had met him the day he’d come to check out the Millers’ shop.
Emma’s brows furrowed. “How often is he gone?”
Moriah paused before answering. She didn’t want to cause her any worry—or hear a lecture about Levi spending too much time in the “devil’s playground.” Besides, he would be finished with that job soon.
She was pondering a suitable answer when Tobias suddenly burst into the kitchen from the back door. He paused and gave the air a long, satisfied sniff, then bellowed with enthusiasm, “Sticky buns. Talk about good timing.” His hand shot out for a freshly iced bun, but Emma snatched them away.
“These are for your daed and your brothers. You can have yours when you come back.”
“Back from where?” His blond eyebrow arched from beneath his hat.
“The Detweilers’. Sarah left one of her pie plates here, and I keep forgetting to give it back to her.”
Tobias looked pained. “Why can’t Lukas or Stephen take it?”
“Because you came in first. That makes you the lucky one.” Emma smiled and tapped the brim of his hat with her finger. Her lighthearted nature warmed the Byler home, creating a comfortable atmosphere of laughter and playful teasing. She handed him a glass pie plate. “Here you go. Oh, and take this batch of sticky buns with you and give it to Sarah.”
“Now you’re just torturing me,” Tobias said with exaggerated drama. “I can’t eat these, and I have to smell them all the way to the Detweilers’?”
“I’m sure you’ll manage.”
He turned and looked at Moriah, acknowledging her for the first time. “Hey, sis, why don’t you take these to the—”
“Oh no you don’t.” Emma shooed him out the door. “I won’t have you pawning your responsibilities off on your sister. Now go!”
Moriah laughed at the helpless expression on her brother’s face as he disappeared outside. She knew he wouldn’t refuse Mami any request, but he had a good time ruffling her feathers before capitulating.
“That boy,” Emma said, shaking her head as she plopped down at the table. “He’ll be the death of me, I’m sure of it. Why can’t he just say ‘yes, ma’am’ like my other two sons and get on with it?”
“Because then you’d think there was something wrong with him.” Moriah grinned as she turned the dough and continued rolling. She was glad she’d decided to visit her family today. It lifted her spirits, making her concern over her relationship with Levi seem far away.
Emma sighed. “You’re right. I just wish he’d find a nice girl to court. But he’s too busy playing games and having fun.”
“Now that’s not quite true, Mami. You know he works hard in the shop and around here.”
“Ya, that he does. But he certainly has plenty of free time. More than your father had at that age.” She brushed a few specks of flour off the table. “I thought maybe he liked that sweet Rachel Detweiler, but she’s been seen with Christian Weaver quite a bit.”
“Rachel and Tobias can’t stand each other, Mami.”
“There’s a fine line between passion and hate, Moriah.” Emma sighed and leaned her elbow on the table, putting her chin in her hand. “Doesn’t matter what Tobias thinks about Rachel, she’s pretty close with Christian now. Sarah suspects they’ll be wed this fall.”
“She does?”
“Ya. She’s planting plenty of extra celery in the garden this spring. You know, Tobias needs to pay attention to what Christian’s doing. He needs to put childish things behind him and start thinking about his future. Like you did when you married Levi. Although that young man dragged his feet for so long we didn’t think he would ever get around to asking you.”
Moriah hid her frown. Her mother’s words stung a little, digging deeper into Moriah’s insecurity.
Emma must have noticed, because she quickly added, “Doesn’t matter anyway. You two are married now. And happy, ya?”
“Ya. We’re happy, Mami.”
With a grin Emma said, “Gut, gut. Then my prayers have been answered, praise God.”
Her pricked emotions assuaged, Moriah couldn’t resist the chance to rib her mother. “Maybe you should pray for patience with Tobias.”
“Believe me, I do. Every single day of my life.”
Chapter 4
Tobias couldn’t believe his bad timing. The last thing he wanted to do was go to the Detweilers’. He hadn’t seen much of Rachel since he zinged her leg with the baseball last November, and that suited him just fine. She’d been keeping company with Christian, even sitting next to him during the singings. Neither of them had been at the last frolic, and Tobias remembered someone mentioning that they had spent the day in Ashtabula, shopping with Christian’s family.
Tobias gripped the reins tighter, barely hearing the clopping of the horse’s hooves against the slushy roads. Guess things were pretty serious between Christian and Rachel. Not that he cared. She could marry whomever she wanted, and he liked Christian. Although he wondered how a calm, soft-spoken guy like Christian could handle Rachel’s crazy moods. Especially when she was angry, those gorgeous eyes of hers sparking, that pert mouth emitting a diatribe that would burn even the most seasoned man’s ears. A spitfire, that’s what she was. She could be so passionate—
He jerked on the reins. Where the heck did that come from? Passion and Rachel in the same thought? Heat crept up on his neck, and his coat was suddenly too warm, even though it was thirty-something degrees out.
Maybe his mami was right. He should find some nice girl to court, someone to marry and have a family with. Several of his buddies had already chosen their wives, and Christian seemed well on his way to doing so. Perhaps if he had his own girl to focus on, he would quit thinking about Rachel Detweiler all the time.
But then again, women tended to complicate things. His life was fine the way it was—good job, fun friends, nice home, a great family. He was young, only nineteen. Plenty of time for him to get married—if he even wanted to.
A few moments later he pulled up to her house and turned in the driveway. He brought the buggy to a stop, then hitched up his horse. If he was lucky, Rachel would be at Mary Yoder’s restaurant, serving her customers some of the authentic Amish cooking that drew tourists and locals looking for home-style meals or tempting baked goods. But nothing could beat his mother’s sticky buns. He would just leave them with Mrs. Detweiler, then rush home to finish the load of work waiting for him. He hated working late. Why h
is mother hadn’t sent Moriah to run this errand was beyond him. Not like his sister had anything else to do.
On the Detweilers’ front porch, he knocked on the white oak door, his knuckles hurting from the cold. While he waited, he breathed out white puffs into the chilly air. He had just formed his mouth into a perfect O to see if he could make a circle with his breath when the door opened.
Rachel planted her hands on her hips. “What are you doing?”
His lips froze in the O shape as he stared at her. Wow, she looked pretty in her midcalf-length dress and white kapp. Light purple was a good color for her. It brought out the blue in her eyes, eyes that were suddenly looking at him as if he had totally lost all his marbles. For the second time in ten minutes, he felt a rush of heat surge over his face. “Sticky buns,” he said, thrusting the plate at her.
The plate wobbled in his hand, nearly tipping over until she reached out and grabbed it. When she did, their fingers touched for the briefest of moments. Tobias wanted to slap some sense into himself. No wonder she thought he had lost it—he was starting to think the same thing.
“Thanks,” she said, still giving him a wary eye. “I’ll give these to—”
“Who’s at the door?” Sarah Detweiler appeared behind her daughter. “Oh, Tobias, hello. What brings you by?”
“Sticky buns,” he repeated, then fought the urge to roll his eyes. Apparently those were the only two words in his vocabulary this morning.
“From Emma?” Sarah took the buns from Rachel. “They smell marvelous. How about you come inside and we can share them together? I just put a pot of coffee on to perk.”
Rachel’s eyes grew wide, and Tobias could tell that the last thing she wanted to do was share sticky buns with him. That helped him make up his mind. “I’d be obliged, ma’am,” he said, walking past Rachel and removing his hat. He hung it on a peg near the door, then slipped off his snow-covered boots. He turned and gave Rachel a big, smug smile.
She responded with a glare.
“Goodness, Rachel!” Sarah said. “Shut the door; you’re letting in all the cold air.”
Rachel dutifully closed the door. She started to head to the kitchen when Sarah stopped her. “Why don’t you and Tobias get settled in the living room? I’ll bring out the buns and coffee. How do you take yours, Tobias?”
“Black,” he said, grinning even wider as he saw Rachel’s frown. “If you please.”
“Rachel?”
“None for me,” she mumbled, then scooted past Tobias into the front room, which served as the Detweilers’ visiting area. She plopped down on the most comfortable looking chair and crossed her arms, her mouth in full pout mode. He followed her into the room and could almost feel the daggers shooting from her eyes. Her resentment cast a pall over the neat, plainly furnished room.
Tobias caught the warning glance Sarah gave her daughter before heading to the kitchen at the back of the house. He lowered himself in the chair directly across from her, his eyes never leaving hers.
“Don’t you have work to do?” she asked, tilting her head and looking at him dead on, as if she could wish him away if she glared at him hard enough.
“Don’t you? Thought you’d be at the restaurant.”
“I’m off today. You still haven’t answered my question.”
“I just can’t resist my mother’s sticky buns.” He smirked.
“Then you should go home and eat them there.” She met his gaze, unflinching.
“But I wouldn’t want to disappoint your mother.”
“I’ll explain why you left.”
“Then you’ll look like a fool, because I’m not leaving.” He put his hands behind his head and leaned back in the chair, reveling in the fury he saw building inside her. Good Lord, she was fun to rile up. The spark that leapt to her eyes affected him, like touching a lit match to a stick of dynamite.
Rachel suddenly jumped from her seat. “You are the most infuriating person I have ever met.”
“Wow. That’s a big word,” he said drolly. “You been reading the dictionary in your spare time?”
“Ooh,” she said, going to him. She poked him in the chest. “You are seltsam, Tobias Byler!”
He grasped her hand midpoke, not even caring that she had called him weird. Instead of letting go of it, he held on. His own hands were rough, scarred, and gouged from working with wood since he was a child. Her hands, in contrast, were small and soft, with slender fingers that he had a sudden urge to intertwine with his own. Their gazes instantly met, and for the life of him he couldn’t move away from her, even if he wanted to. Which he didn’t.
“Nothing better on a cold winter morning than coffee and sticky buns,” Sarah’s voice sounded in the hallway, as if she were warning them of her approach.
They both jumped apart, Rachel snatching her hand out of his grip and flinging herself into the chair. Tobias looked at Sarah as she entered the room and placed the tray on the coffee table. While she settled herself on the sofa, he gave Rachel a quick glance, and was surprised to see the blush blooming on her cheeks, making her look even prettier than before.
Sarah looked up and directed her attention to Rachel, a frown forming on her lips. “Are you feeling all right, daughter? You look flushed.”
Her mother’s comment seemed to only intensify the reddening of Rachel’s face. “I’m fine.”
Suddenly, his pleasure at putting her on edge disappeared, replaced by a tiny bit of shame, and a large dose of confusion. Since when did he have the urge to hold her hand, especially since everyone knew she and Christian were courting?
The parlor, which had been so welcoming and comfortable minutes before, now seemed stuffy and claustrophobic. He scrambled up from his chair, assailed by an uncontrollable urge to get out of there. When he started to speak, the words came out in a foggy croak, so he cleared his throat and tried again. “I gotta go, Frau Detweiler.”
Surprise crossed Sarah’s features, her blue eyes so similar to Rachel’s. “So soon? You haven’t even had your coffee yet. Surely you can stay for just a little while.”
“I know, but I just remembered I promised Daed I would do something for him.” He grappled for a more thorough explanation, but his mind went blank. “Something important” was all he could come up with. He nodded toward the tray. “I’m sorry to put you to so much trouble. Danki. I appreciate the hospitality.” Spinning on his sock-clad heel, he dashed to the front door, yanked on his boots, and grabbed his hat, then flew down the steps to his buggy. He slapped the reins on the horse’s flanks.
As the horse and buggy sprinted home, he felt a tingle in his hand. The hand that had held Rachel’s. He glanced down at it, remembering how much he liked the feel of Rachel’s skin against his.
Dummkopf. He should have never accepted Frau Detweiler’s invitation. Now she probably thought he’d lost his mind. With a hard shake of his head, he tried to clear the scene from his mind. If Rachel’s mother thought he was crazy, she wasn’t the only one.
“What on earth has gotten into that boy?”
Rachel shrugged, but she didn’t look at her mother.
“Did you two have a fight? Rachel, look at me.” Sarah moved closer to her daughter. “Did he say something to you?”
“Nee, Mudder,” she replied, hoping her mother didn’t notice that Rachel’s face was perilously close to exploding with embarrassment. As if that wasn’t bad enough, she was dealing with some other emotion she couldn’t define. A tickling, yet tingling sensation that started as soon as Tobias had touched her hand. “He’s just seltsam.”
Sarah frowned, the parentheses-shaped lines around her mouth deepening. “That’s not a nice thing to say, Rachel Anne. It doesn’t matter how you feel about someone, when they are a guest in your home, you are to treat them with kindness and respect. Part of the duties of a good wife is to make her home a welcoming place. Not just for family, but for the community. Tobias is a part of this community, whether you like it or not.”
Properly
chastised, Rachel leaned back in the chair. “Sorry.”
With a nod, Sarah picked up the untouched tray from the coffee table. “Besides, it doesn’t hurt to keep your prospects open.”
Rachel popped up from her chair. “What do you mean?”
“In case things don’t work out with Christian.”
“Things are fine with Christian.” At least she thought they were. True, their relationship was building slowly . . . very slowly. Probably at a slower pace than she had expected. But that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. She and Christian both needed to be sure about their feelings for each other before they became serious. They were suitably matched—they had a deep connection to their families and faith, they enjoyed reading, and . . . well, she knew there were more things they had in common, she just couldn’t think about them right now. One thing she did know for sure, Christian was better for her than Tobias could ever be.
“Don’t be surprised if he changes his mind,” Sarah said.
“Tobias?”
“Christian,” Sarah said as she walked out the door. “Men can be fickle, you know.”
Rachel fell back in her chair. She didn’t know about men and their inconsistencies. In fact, she knew very little about men at all. True, she had brothers, but they were all several years older than her, except for Aaron. While her friends in school had spent their younger teen years crushing on one boy or another—with Tobias as the object of their affections at some point—she had focused on schoolwork and grades. Her diligence paid off, she had made straight As all through her school career. While she was proud of that accomplishment, her singular devotion to her studies—and her relentless competitive streak—had come at the expense of some of her friendships. Then she took that same ambition and applied it to her job at Mary Yoder’s Kitchen, not paying much attention to the social opportunities she might be missing.
For the first time she regretted not being a little less ambitious and a little more pacifying. Then she might have gained an insight or two on how men ticked. Or maybe not. Maybe this had nothing to do with her, and everything to do with Christian.
The Hearts of Middlefield Collection Page 6
