“Oh posh.” Joy Ann frowned. “You’re holding back. You went to Rosedale with him.”
Megan didn’t know how Joy Ann had obtained that information, but she quickly recovered. “Only one semester. I didn’t really know him. I mean, of course, I recognized him.” She waved her fork. “Let me tell you something funny. I’d heard a Joe Zimmerman would be staying at our house, and he went by Micah at school so I wasn’t even expecting him. It was a total surprise.”
“A nice surprise.” Joy Ann twirled one of the strings on her covering. “He told the committee pretty much the same thing: you weren’t friends, but he’d noticed you. He told your dad that most people noticed you.”
“He did?” Megan wondered why Micah hadn’t told her about that conversation.
Lori pointed. “Look. Something’s going on over there with Brother Zimmerman. I think your dad’s trying to get your attention.”
Megan tensed at her dad’s frantic wave. One glance at Micah, and the way he was clutching his neck and bending over his plate, assured her he was definitely in some kind of trouble. Quickly scooting out of her chair, she hurried to their table. “What’s wrong?”
Dad said, “I don’t know, but he’s wheezing like you do sometimes. It came on him suddenly. I thought you’d know what to do.”
Placing a palm on the table, she bent to look into Micah’s face. “Are you choking?” He shook his head. “Is it something you ate?” He nodded, gasping and unable to speak.
Megan slammed her purse on the table and rifled through it. Her pulse quickened with alarm, making her all thumbs. Beside her, she heard his short gasps as he struggled for air through restricted breathing passages. Frightened, she tossed out the contents of her purse. The EpiPen rolled onto the tablecloth, and she swiped it up. “Don’t worry. This will help you.” Her hands shaking, she worked to set it. She placed her left hand on his shoulder to steady herself and knelt down beside him.
His frantic gaze met hers and went to the EpiPen.
“This will hurt. All right?”
He nodded.
“Hurry, Megan,” Dad urged.
“I’ve never done this to someone else.” But another glance at Micah’s face told her she couldn’t procrastinate. “I have to do this right. I only get one try.”
Micah looked away, concentrating on sucking in fresh air.
She’d have to penetrate both his clothing and his skin. Setting her teeth, she glanced at him one last time then placed both hands over the needle, positioned it above his thigh, and jabbed hard. Micah’s leg jerked up from his chair, but the needle felt solid. “Don’t move.” She finished the injection, hesitating and examining it closely before she removed it.
Her own legs went weak, and she was appreciative when her dad reached down to help her stand.
Micah placed his elbows on the table, slumped forward, and waited. As they all did, watching the back of his suit jacket heave with each struggle for a breath.
“Do you think we should take him to the emergency room?” Dad asked.
Micah shook his head but still couldn’t talk.
“Let’s wait a bit,” Megan recommended, holding tight onto the back of the chair her dad had vacated. Time had never moved so slowly until finally Micah straightened a bit, his breathing much improved. When she saw that his normal coloring was returning, she asked, “What are you allergic to?”
“Sesame seeds,” he slurred, “I didn’t see it in my food.”
“Oh, that’s Inez’s famous Chinese Chicken Salad.”
Micah took several deep breaths. His speech improved. “Thanks. I don’t know what would’ve happened if you weren’t here.”
“I was. That’s all that matters. But in the future, you should carry one of these.” Megan waved the EpiPen and dropped it into her purse.
Micah’s hand moved to help her pick up the rest of her strewn items. “I’ll reimburse you for your medicine.”
“That won’t be necessary.” She quickly scooped up her billfold, and glancing up at the cluster of observers, snatched her cherry lip balm out of Micah’s hand.
“You saved my life,” he croaked. And the admiration on his face frightened her more than when she’d first found him sitting on her porch swing.
CHAPTER 11
On Monday after lunch, Micah went to the guest room to clear out his things, but his bag was already packed and waiting. He opened up his briefcase and got out the cheat sheet that he’d been creating to remember Big Darby’s members. Not that he’d probably be asked back after his embarrassing allergic reaction. But he needed something to fill in the minutes until his humiliation took him back home to Pennsylvania. He looked over his sketchy notes, jotting down anything new that came to mind:
Big Darby Conservative Mennonite Members
Bill and Anita Weaver—Elder. Search committee. Nova blues man, mechanic. Hosts.
Megan Weaver—
Barbara Troyer—Last preacher’s widow, no children.
Leon and Inez Beachy—Search committee, painter, sixties. Feisty wife, hostess committee.
Ray and Emily Eversole—Search committee, song leader. Quiet wife.
Noah Maust—Search committee. Rosedale professor.
Vernon and Marie Yoder—Elder. Search committee. Middle-aged cabinetmaker. Kids.
Jake and Katy Yoder—Carpenter. Vernon’s daughter is Megan’s friend. Baby boy.
David and Erin Miller—Farmer with shiny black truck. Married to Jake’s sister.
Will and Rose Landis—Farmer. Rose on hostess committee.
Hank and Sara Landis—Farmer. Oldest Landis son. John Deere coffee cup. Little boys.
Stephen and Lisa Landis—Farmer. Youngest Landis son. Curly haired wife. Red-haired baby.
Tom and Michelle Becker—Farmer. Michelle is a Landis daughter with four little girls.
Ivan and Elizabeth Miller—Farmer. Toddler.
Chad and Mandy Penner—Farmer. Easygoing guy. Toddler
Mark and Lanie Kraybill—Sunday school superintendent, carpenter. Wife is taller. Little boys.
Phil and Terri Yutzy—Tall, thin, church groundskeeper. Wife a fancy dresser.
Susanna Schlagel—Widow. Pretty redhead. Inquisitive. Leader of the widows.
Mae Delegrange—Widow. Heavyset with asthma. Talkative.
Barry and Linda Beitzel—Tax accountant with thick glasses. Joy Ann, church secretary
Ralph and Mary Ropp—Builder Supply Company. His shirts match her dresses.
Ruthie—Single, plumpish daughter.
Lori Longacre—Librarian, single, strong perfume.
If nothing else, the cheat sheet would serve as a memory. Someday, he could look back and remember his first interview, his first love.
Megan dipped her hands in hot soapy water, doing the lunch dishes, while next to her Mom lifted the lid to a tin bread box that she’d recently purchased at a garage sale. She removed a loaf of homemade wheat bread and took a serrated knife from the drawer. “Can you get me the cheese from the refrigerator? I want to send a care package along with Micah.”
Knowing it would be useless to point out that they’d just risen from the lunch table, Megan quickly dried her hands on her apron and got the cheese. In the meantime, she heard the plop she’d been waiting for, coming from the bottom of the steps.
“Please tell him to wait a minute.” Mom scrambled to finish the sandwich.
Megan went out of the kitchen and around the corner. Sure enough, Micah stood at the foot of the stairway, his suitcase at his feet.
“Your dad went after the car.”
“Mom’s fixing you a snack for the road.”
Their smiling gazes met. “That’s kind. Look, Megan, I don’t know how to thank you for everything.” He glanced toward the stairway. “Giving up your privacy, helping me with my sermon. But mostly giving me that EpiPen shot. That took a lot of courage. You saved my life.”
“I only did what I’d do for myself. I know what it’s like. I’ve had some asthm
a attacks. But you’ve got to start carrying an EpiPen for emergencies, Micah. Especially if you end up moving here and everybody keeps feeding you.”
He smiled. “I won’t forget your kindness.” He dug in his pocket and handed her a little card that he had prepared beforehand. “My phone number. If you ever need anything, call me.”
She took the card, staring at it as if it were a piece of double-sided tape. She gave a nervous laugh. “Really, you’re making too much of it.”
“You were my guardian angel. This entire weekend.”
She wet her lips then studied him. “I’m glad I got to know you better.”
A breeze fluttered in through the open screen door. Micah sneezed. “Excuse me.”
Mom burst into the room. “Oh good. You’re still here. I packed you a snack.”
Megan unsuccessfully tried to resist the tickling sensation that irritated her own nose. Afterward she glanced up at Micah, embarrassed by their allergy association.
But he’d already turned his attention to her mom. “I appreciate that. As a bachelor I feel like a bear that’s stored about a month’s worth of food this past weekend.”
“I promise you: if you come back, you’ll never go hungry again.” Mom beamed with assurance.
Megan’s dad sounded his horn.
“My call.” Micah leaned and gave Mom a gentle hug around her shoulders. “Thanks for everything, Mrs. Weaver. You’re one special lady.”
“I hope you come back,” Mom half whispered.
He turned to Megan and clasped her hand, gently yet assuredly, like something a fond uncle would do. “Good to see you again.” He picked up his suitcase and started for the door. Just before he stepped through, he added with a sly grin, “Thanks for the use of your hairspray.”
The screen door slammed behind him, and Megan broke into laughter. “So that’s how he accomplished the impossible.”
“Serves you right. I still can’t believe you told him to fix his hair,” Mom scolded. “Why he could be our next preacher. But I guess you were friends from school.”
Megan remembered Joy Ann’s comment, that Micah had shared a little about Rosedale with the search committee. She figured it was time to fill Mom in on all the facts. “If you like while we finish the dishes, I’ll tell you about the Micah I knew at school.”
“Oh, I’d like that. I don’t see how the next candidate could be any nicer. Do you?” They went back to the kitchen, and Mom freshened the dishwater.
Taking up the white linen drying cloth, Megan confided, “Micah Zimmerman was my biggest nightmare at school. The only way I finally got rid of him was by threatening to tell my professor, the church elders, or the law if he didn’t stay away from me.”
“What!” Mom clutched the countertop. “Oh, Megan.”
“I thought you said you didn’t have a boyfriend?” Chance speared Megan with a glittering, blue gaze.
She picked up a stack of paperwork and tapped it against her desk to align the uneven edges. “I don’t. I told you that I don’t lie.”
The creases around his eyes relaxed. “Then who was that guy with you at the parade? He said he was your guest?”
Megan sighed. “Remember I told you that our preacher died?”
Chance perched on the edge of her desk, knocking a pencil onto the floor. He quickly moved to retrieve it, handing it to Megan. “Yeah.”
She pulled her hand away from his touch, stuck the pencil inside her drawer. “Micah is a candidate for the position.”
Chance’s brows furrowed. “And he’s staying at your house?”
“That’s right. My dad’s an elder. Micah left yesterday. I don’t know if he’ll be back. There’s supposed to be one other candidate.”
Chance’s left cheek twitched. “Whoa, no kidding? Your dad’s an elder?”
“And he’s the elder who’s also on the search committee, and we’ve got plenty of room at our house, so he volunteered our place.” She didn’t know why she found herself confiding in Chance, but she added, “As it turns out, I knew Micah from Rosedale Bible College.”
He narrowed his left eye. “So that’s why you looked so cozy at the parade.”
Megan dropped her paperwork and steeled her own gaze. “Why does it matter? I don’t like to bring my personal life to work.”
He leaned close. “I’ve noticed. You purposely push me away. Why do you do that? It’s not like I’m not a Christian.”
Squaring her shoulders, Megan gave him an honest reply. “I’m just setting my heart.”
“What?”
She hoped that if she explained her feelings and convictions to her temporary boss, that God’s blessings would surpass her disappointment over slamming the door in Chance’s face. “Micah preached about it Sunday. Christians need to set their hearts intentionally, so that when things come up, they respond the way they should.”
He stood, squinted at her, and placed his hands on his hips. “You’re telling me you’re purposely setting your heart against me? And that guy told you to do that?”
“No.” Megan blushed. “Not against you. And he wasn’t specifically talking to me, but to the entire congregation. You’ve been to church. You know what I mean.”
“Not your church. I don’t understand you much at all.”
Megan wet her lips. “I’m setting my heart to honor what I’ve been taught about relationships.”
“You’re rejecting me because I’m not a Mennonite?”
“Yes,” she finally relented.
His face broke into a slow smile. “So you’re setting your heart against me because you’re attracted to me?”
“Shh! I can’t believe you’re talking like this. What if somebody hears you?”
He turned and tossed over his shoulder. “Come into my office.”
“No.” Megan shook her head, just wanting him to go away and leave her alone. “I have a ton of work to do.”
He pivoted and hardened his tone. “I’m not asking you, Megan. I’m telling you.”
Angrily shoving back her chair, she strode into his office, casting a wary look behind her to make sure no one had overheard them. He reached around her and shut the door then remained standing next to her.
“Do you think this is wise? I don’t feel comfortable coming in here to talk about something personal.”
“But you don’t want everybody at Char Air overhearing our conversation, either. Just relax.”
After his showing up at the parade and now his direct questioning, Megan couldn’t ignore his personal interest. He wasn’t relenting, and they needed to address it. “Fine. But I feel like you’re pushing me to go out with you. And I want you to stop.”
“It’s nice to know I haven’t been talking to a wall. Why won’t you go out with me?”
She tilted her head with an exasperated sigh.
“We can just go out as friends, if that’s what you want. I’ll let you set the parameters. Since you’re an expert at setting things.”
“It’s nothing against you personally. I’m not going to date somebody who’s not a Mennonite. And going out with you would just encourage you to hope for more than I can offer.”
Chance leaned against his desk and crossed his arms. “Why can’t you go out with me as a friend? I’m a Christian. I’m a fun guy. And I’m not asking you to marry me.”
His comment brought heat to her face. In her thinking, marriage was the object of dating, not friendship. She’d been brought up to believe that intimacies were saved for marriage. Their thinking was miles apart. Conservative Mennonite couples used dating to test for compatibility because marriage was geared to last a lifetime. The more differences, the less compatible, according to her dad and the Bible verse that was once taped to her visor. Swallowing her embarrassment, she asked, “What if I grew to like you and wanted to marry you?”
He grinned. “I suppose that depended on how nicely you asked me.” Instantly angry that he mocked her, Megan wheeled and started toward the door. Chance sprinted aft
er her and snatched her arm. “Wait. I’m sorry. I was just teasing. Why are you a good sport about every other topic, but such a gloom and doom about dating? You’re the sunshine of this office. What is it about me that scares you?”
Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes. When she opened them again, he was staring at her and waiting. “Just you. You frighten me.”
“Why?”
“Because I like you. And my only defense against you is myself. You’re making this hard for me. I wish you’d just forget about me.”
“Look, I give you my word that I won’t push you into anything serious. I understand about our differences. Just think how we can learn from each other. Become better people for it. I know you’re interested in missions. I could take you to Ecuador. Show you my work there. Maybe we were supposed to meet for a reason. Did you ever think about that? Maybe God wants you to see Ecuador.”
His reasoning caught her off guard. It sounded similar to what had just transpired between her and Micah. Was there more to Chance than she had imagined? Was he her door to Ecuador? Had she actually been working against God’s will? “That’s an interesting idea,” she admitted.
“Good.” Chance smiled. “So let me take you to lunch. Let’s go to your friend’s restaurant, and we’ll talk more about this.”
Megan knew that Lil wouldn’t be at Volo Italiano. Chance knew it, too. She considered having lunch with him there. It was private and just around the corner. Maybe if she went with him, he’d quit pressuring her. Maybe he wouldn’t even like her. But if they left together and returned together, it would start office talk. “No, not lunch.”
“Mr. Campbell?” Megan jolted at the voice that blared over the office intercom and interrupted their conversation.
With an angry huff, Chance stepped to his desk and replied, “Yes?”
Megan recognized the voice of the flight technician and turned to go.
“Whoa,” Chance ordered her with an upturned palm. Then to the technician, he replied, “I’ll be right there.” When he returned to Megan, he softened his voice. “You think about it. Give me a place and a time before you leave the office today. We need to get some things straightened out between us. Otherwise, I don’t know how we’re going to continue working together.” He glanced at his desk calendar, with several rows of large red x’s. “We’ve got more than a month.”
Plain City Bridesmaids Page 72
