by Marta Perry
He couldn’t help it. He had to smile. “I guess you’ve had your hands full with the two of us.”
She eyed him cautiously. “You could say that. Come now.” She sat down in the chair next to him and drew it a little closer. “What is so important that you have to go over to the store this minute?”
“It’s my store.” He rubbed his palms on the arms of the rocker. “I’ve been focused on it for so long that I don’t know how to let go, even for a day.”
“The store filled your life up after your wife was gone.” Susanna’s voice was soft.
“Ja, I guess it did.” Who would he be without it?
“Then you should understand how I feel about the shop. It’s all I have.”
Nate could read the longing in her face, and he suddenly found himself wishing that longing was for him, not for a shop that might be gone for good.
“It’s different,” he said. “I had to make a success to take care of my family.”
“It’s not different,” she protested, leaning toward him, her hand on the arm of the rocker. “My mother is gone, and I have to take care of myself. And even if I have family now, I still need the shop.” Passion filled her face, her voice. “Everyone needs something they can do, something to make them feel useful in the world.”
“You are useful, shop or not.” He put his hand over hers, holding it warmly. “You help so many people. You’re a friend, and a sister. You have a life beyond the shop.”
He leaned forward as he spoke, needing to show her, to convince her that she had value to so many others. Her eyes widened as they met his.
“Doesn’t that apply to you as well, Nathaniel?”
Her question seemed to hang in the air between them. She was so close that all he could do was drink in the sweet scent of her. He wanted to pull her close against him, feeling a longing, a passion, a need that he’d thought he’d buried forever.
He lifted his hand, tracing the curve of her cheek with his fingertips. Her skin was so soft, so smooth, her eyes so deep a blue that a man could get lost in them, like diving into a deep blue pool.
He shouldn’t. He had to. He cradled her face in his hand and then slid his fingers to her neck, drawing her closer until he could feel her breath on his face.
He kissed her . . . long, gentle, asking for a response and deepening the kiss when her lips softened under his. This was good. It was right. This was where they’d been heading for weeks, and they were finally here.
At last he drew back, leaning his forehead against hers, unwilling to have this moment end.
There was so much promise between them. It would be easy to let go . . . to release his caution, his common sense, and his fear. To let himself tumble into love with her.
But something deep inside made him hesitate on the precipice. What if he made a mistake again? What if he couldn’t make her happy? It held him paralyzed, unable to speak.
Then the back door rattled, footsteps sounded, and Susanna sprang from the seat, her hands going to her hair, smoothing it before anyone should see.
The moment was past, and he was left longing to have it back again.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Chloe
spent much of the next day working the lunch cart in the area down toward the river, where people were finally able to start salvaging what they could. It proved to be more emotional than she’d bargained for. People needed a listening ear and a sympathetic heart as much as they needed sandwiches and coffee.
And when the trucks began to empty their loads of stoves and refrigerators, sofas and coffee tables, and all the other ruined furnishings of everyday life at the flood-ruined tennis courts where such a short time ago people had been playing, she found herself choking up as well. Those weren’t just things—they were a symbol of normal life, now turned to scrap to be hauled away.
The bustle of hungry people finally diminished, probably because they were too tired or too disheartened to work any longer today. Tomorrow would be time enough to plunge back in again—for her, as well.
Chloe stowed everything carefully, closed up the cart, and slid behind the wheel. It was time to take the leftovers back to the consistory building, where the shelter had become the staging area for feeding people.
By the time she pulled into the parking lot, fatigue had set in. It took a moment to rally herself, and by then a volunteer had come out to help her unload.
“Hi, Mac.” She opened the doors and began handing the leftovers to him. “How is it going today?”
Mac Evans, who proudly admitted to being eighty-one, gave her a grin that seemed to split his leathery face into a fine network of wrinkles. “Just fine, just fine. Give me a busy day anytime.”
“You’ve had plenty of those lately.” She picked up the cooler that held perishables and climbed down with it.
“Better to wear out than to rust out, I always say.” He propped the door with his shoulder to let her enter the kitchen. “I’ll get the cart shined up for tomorrow if you’ll put stuff away.”
“That sounds good to me.” Chloe resisted the impulse to keep Mac talking. Friendly as he was, his job wasn’t to take her mind off her troubles, so she headed for the walk-in cooler with her load.
Working the lunch cart had kept her safely away from Seth all day, and other people’s problems had been a diversion from her own.
Too bad she was alone now, because that was when the memories were the strongest. She stacked packages of hot dogs on a wire shelf, aligning them as neatly as if they might explode if she didn’t get them just right.
She could control the hot dog packages. She couldn’t control her mind, which persisted in planting an image of Seth’s face in front of her, his eyes pained, his jaw determined.
He wouldn’t let her in. What was love, if not sharing your thoughts, your joys, your worries, and your grief with another person? She’d learned that from Lydia and Adam, she realized. They had given her far more than she had ever given them.
Seth wouldn’t let her in. He wouldn’t let her share a decision that affected the rest of his life.
Stop thinking about Seth, she ordered herself. She leaned her forehead against the inside of the door, as if the cold surface could freeze the thoughts away.
The clatter of the swinging door to the kitchen brought her back to her senses. Someone else was still here besides her and Mac. Nobody needed to see her being so . . . what was that word Lydia used? Ferhoodled, that was it. It was certainly a very expressive word for the scrambled nature of her thoughts right now.
Closing the cooler door, she stepped into the kitchen and found herself face-to-face with Jessie. For an instant Jessie’s face expressed panic. It looked as if she’d turn and run.
Then she came a step closer and stopped, clasping her hands in front of her apron. “Chloe. I’m sehr glad it’s you.”
That was certainly a change in attitude from the last time they’d spoken. “It’s good to see you, Jessie.” She felt as if she had to edge her way through a minefield. “Have you had a busy day here?”
Jessie blinked, maybe at the friendly tone. She looked as if she’d been bracing herself for something, and Chloe wasn’t sure what.
“A little.” She shook her head, not meeting Chloe’s eyes. “I must say how sorry I am. I should not have spoken to you that way.” Her lips trembled, and she pressed them together, still not looking at Chloe.
How should she respond to the apology? Say it was nothing? But it had been something, and to dismiss it would be to belittle Jessie’s feelings. She might not understand the forces that drove the girl, but Jessie was entitled to her feelings.
“I’m sorry, too,” she said finally, trying not to analyze her words too much. “I want you to understand something, Jessie. Yes, I care about your brother.” Her heart bled a little. “But that’s not why I want to be your friend.”
&n
bsp; Jessie’s eyes, startled, lifted to meet her gaze. “Why, then? Nobody else does.” She lifted her hands in an expressive gesture, palms up. “I don’t blame them. But why should you care?”
“Sometimes I think I know what it’s like.” She was treading cautiously, fearing she was going into forbidden territory. “I know how it feels when the people who love you try to . . . well, protect you too much. My grandmother used to hover over me as if she thought I couldn’t be trusted not to make a mistake unless she was there.”
Jessie seemed to consider her words. “What if you do make a mistake?”
“I’ve made plenty.” Including falling in love with your brother, it seems. “But you know what? I’ve learned something every time, and I haven’t made the same mistake again.”
“It’s different for you.” Jessie didn’t sound angry. She was simply stating a fact. “You’re Englisch. You can do anything.”
She had to smile at the naïve comment. “Maybe it seems that way to other people, but I love my grandmother, and I don’t want to hurt her.”
Chloe reached out tentatively to touch Jessie’s hand. “You have a heavier burden to carry than I ever did. But I think you can do it.”
Jessie stared at her, and Chloe couldn’t tell whether she accepted or believed the words or not. Then she turned away and hurried to the sink, her back turned firmly to Chloe as she began running water.
Well, she’d tried. Chloe pushed her way through the swinging doors. There weren’t any easy answers for Jessie. Maybe there weren’t any easy answers for her, either.
Chloe reached the front door just as it opened. It was Seth, coming to pick up Jessie, probably. He stopped at the sight of her. His tight face didn’t give anything away.
“Chloe. I didn’t think you’d be here.”
In other words, he’d hoped to avoid her, just as she’d been attempting to avoid him all day.
“I dropped off the lunch cart. I’m on my way home.” Please, Seth. Talk to me. Tell me what’s going on.
But he nodded, holding the door for her.
A lady never shows her feelings in public. One of her grandmother’s sadly outdated maxims, Chloe had always thought, but at the moment it came in handy. She gave Seth a meaningless smile, brushing past him to go out.
“Chloe, wait.” He still held the edge of the door, his arm taut, his fingers white with his grip. “I . . . There’s something I have to tell you.”
“Yes?” She forced herself to look at him. Tell me you love me, Seth. That’s all I want to hear.
“I can’t go on like this, half in one world, half in another. It’s not fair to anyone. I’ve submitted my resignation. I’m going home to stay.”
She seemed to have lost the ability to breathe. That was it, then. He would live Plain, he would be baptized into the church, and he would try to be content. Maybe he could do it. She knew she couldn’t.
She tried to force a smile, but her lips wouldn’t cooperate. “I wish you well.”
If she said anything else, she’d start to cry, and that wouldn’t do either of them any good. She turned and fled.
* * *
Susanna
was just about ready to lock the front door of the bulk foods store when Chloe came hurrying in.
“You’re just in time.” Susanna flipped the lock and pulled down the shade. “We’re closing, but if there’s anything you need for the lunch cart, of course you can have it.”
“No, nothing.” Chloe smiled, but she looked tired. There were dark shadows under her eyes that hadn’t been there even during the worst of the evacuations.
Still, the ongoing stress was hard on many people. The adrenaline faded, and people just had to push through as best they could.
“You had a busy day?” Susanna led the way toward the counter.
“I’d like to talk.” Chloe ignored the question. “Can you leave for a bit?”
There was a serious note in Chloe’s voice and strain around her eyes. Susanna glanced quickly around the store. Thomas was tidying up the shelves while Susie swept the floor. They both knew exactly what had to be done at closing time.
“I must tally the receipts before I can leave, but I do that in the back room. Komm. It’s quiet there.”
Chloe nodded. “Fine, as long as it’s private.”
No sense in puzzling over what Chloe had on her mind. She’d know soon enough. Susanna took the cash box and led the way to the back room.
The small space didn’t warrant the title of office, although that was its function. It had been carved out of a corner of the storeroom so it had no windows. File cabinets filled the end wall, and Nate’s desk was a clutter of orders, receipts, and bills he hadn’t been able to get to.
“I thought Nate usually did the receipts.” Chloe paced the length of the room, which only took her a few steps.
Sitting down, Susanna cleared enough space to work and opened the ledger. Many Amish businesses had started using stripped-down versions of computers, but Nate clung to doing everything by hand.
“Dora and I are trying to keep him from doing too much. He insisted on coming in for a time today, and I think that taught him he wasn’t ready yet.”
Susanna couldn’t help smiling at his reaction to being thwarted by his own weakness. Men could be like little boys when they were hurt.
She looked inquiringly at Chloe. Chloe seemed to have forgotten that she was eager for a private talk. She was standing in front of the bulletin board, staring at the lists of orders as if fascinated, her hands thrust in the pockets of her denim jacket.
The bulletin board shuddered at a thump from the other side of the wall. Chloe straightened it. “What on earth is going on over there?” She glanced around, as if orienting herself. “Is that next door?”
Susanna nodded. “It’s so sad. Walker’s Hardware is closing, another victim of the flood.”
“They surely didn’t have water up this high?”
“Not the store, but their house is down on Water Street.” Water Street was aptly named in this case. The owners of those houses had paid dearly for their view of the river.
“A total loss?” Chloe had been here long enough to know what that meant.
“Ja. So sad. They’ve lived there all their lives. But Mr. Walker said their children have been wanting them to retire and go live near them, and he and his wife just don’t have the heart to start over again.”
“That’s getting to be a familiar story.” Chloe ran a hand through her already disheveled auburn hair. “How is Nate doing, other than being frustrated over work?”
“He’ll be fine if we can make him take it easy.” Susanna fought the urge to smile at just the mention of his name, even though her heart seemed to warm at the sound of it. He hadn’t spoken yet, but he would, that was certain-sure. He wouldn’t kiss her like that unless he wanted a future with her.
She pulled her thoughts away from rosy dreams and focused on Chloe. “You wanted to talk, ja? Sit. Tell me what the trouble is. If it’s bad, we’ll face it together.”
Chloe took the only other chair in the room, a metal folding one. “It’s not bad. I just haven’t quite known how to tell you.” She took a deep breath and seemed to compose herself. “I had a call from our grandmother yesterday.”
Susanna nodded. That wasn’t unusual, she’d think. Their Englisch grandmother seemed to keep a close watch on Chloe, even from a distance.
“She’s well, I hope?” She still found it hard to even picture the woman, and even the words seemed a contradiction. How could she, Susanna Bitler, possibly have an Englisch grandmother?
“She’s well, I think. I’ve been keeping her posted on what’s happening here with Lydia and her family and with you and the shop.”
Susanna nodded to show she was following. Was the woman even interested? From what she’d learned, Margaret Wentworth
hadn’t wanted her or Lydia. Only Chloe.
“Now, listen to me before you say no.” Chloe leaned forward, her hands on the edge of the desk. “Gran wants to give you the money to buy the shop and fix it up. You won’t have to worry about what Nate wants. You can make the shop just the way it was before.”
Susanna was too shocked to move for a moment. But then she shook her head. How could she accept money from someone she didn’t even know?
“Think about it,” Chloe said, her voice persuasive. “This would be just as much a legacy from your birth mother as the farm and orchard were to Lydia. She didn’t refuse to accept them, did she?”
Somehow it didn’t feel like the same thing, but Susanna didn’t know how to explain that to Chloe, who had probably always taken her grandparents’ riches as a matter of course.
“I don’t think I can.”
“Give me one good reason why. Like it or not, Diane Wentworth was as much your mother as she was mine.”
Put that way, it sounded logical, but . . .
“Anyway, I don’t know that I’ll need it. I might not need to buy out Dora’s share of the shop. Things have changed between me and Nate.” She was stammering a little, and her cheeks felt hot.
Chloe was staring at her as if she had sprouted wings. “You mean you and he actually . . . what you said the other day about having feelings for him . . .”
Susanna nodded, unable to hold back a smile. “I think so. I mean, he hasn’t asked me yet, exactly. I know you don’t like him. I’m sorry.” Well, not sorry that she loved him, just sorry that Chloe had the wrong impression of Nate due to her.
“What difference does that make?” Chloe came around the desk and gave her a fierce hug. “It’s what you feel that counts. Anyway, I only disliked him because of what he was doing to you. If he’s finally woken up to what a wonderful person you are, that’s great.” Chloe took a step back and studied her face. “You’re sure of your feelings?”
