A Miracle of Hope (The Amish Wonders Series) (30 page)

He took another one. “I wouldn’t want your hard work to go to waste.”

“It was just as well that everyone didn’t
kumm
. Hannah was exhausted.” She transferred the cookies from the plate into the jar.

“She probably could have slept all
nacht
at the Troyers’.” He smirked. “But I didn’t think you wanted to stay.”

“It would have been a little awkward . . . to keep our arrangement.”

He muttered something undecipherable under his breath and took a bite of the cookie.

She continued tidying up the area, wrestling with the decision to talk to him about her past.

“We’ll host a gathering soon,” he said, interrupting her thoughts.

She chewed on her bottom lip. “I wanted to talk with you about the other
nacht
.”

“You don’t have to explain.” He started to turn and she caught his arm.

“It isn’t that I—” She cringed. This was harder than she expected.

He stepped closer. “Don’t say anything.”

“I must.” Or else she might never. “I wanted you to kiss me.” There, she said it. “It’s just that—”

“It’s all right.” He cupped her face in his hands and looked her in the eye. “It’s all right if you don’t feel the same way about me.”

She couldn’t hold back the truth. Even if he rejected her as Moses had. “You asked me about the father of the
boppli
.” His hands dropped from her face and he groaned, but she continued anyway. “You asked why I didn’t tell him I was pregnant.”

He lowered his head.

“I don’t know the father.”

“What?” He jerked his head up. “Eli made it sound as though—”

“
Mei bruder
doesn’t know.” Acid coated the back of her throat. She fumbled with a loose string on her apron, unable to
look him in the eye. “Moses and I had gotten into a spat.” Her voice shook. “He tried to kiss me and I wouldn’t let him. We had promised each other we would wait until we were married. But he was leaving the next day for his
onkel’s
and . . .”

“I don’t understand.” He moved in front of her. “You said you don’t know who the father is—”

“I was stubborn. I refused to ride to the singing with Moses.
Mei
friend was hosting the
nacht
and we lived two farms apart, so it was a short walk. It should have only taken me a few minutes.” She squeezed her eyes closed and forced herself to continue. “A car slowed. I kept walking—even faster when the man yelled out the window at me. He said some things . . . that frightened me. Then the car stopped.” Her heart pounded hard, recalling the screeching sound of the brakes, the car door opening, and the footsteps thundering against the pavement. “I ran into the woods to hide. Only I tripped over a stump—and—and—” She gasped for air.

Josiah ushered her into his arms and pressed her against his chest. “I won’t let anything happen to you again.”

Every fiber in her body quivered. She fisted her hands against his chest but suppressed the impulse to push him away. “I couldn’t fight him. He tore
mei kapp
from my head and crammed it into my mouth. I screamed—until I passed out.” Anger flared. “He took what he wanted, then left me for dead.”

He held her a little tighter. “You’re safe
nau
.”

His soothing voice relaxed her. A long stretch of silence fell between them. Her throat was dry. She stepped out of his embrace. Her hands trembled as she filled a glass with tap water and drank.

“Why didn’t you tell Eli?”

She lowered the glass from her mouth. “I couldn’t.”

“Lindie, it wasn’t your fault.”

“The man threatened to burn every barn in the district if I told. I believed him. He knew where I lived, and that I ran Margaret’s vegetable stand.” She took another drink, then set the glass on the counter. “That’s why I could agree to your terms of marriage. Love didn’t matter as long as it meant leaving Ohio.”

“And Moses? Surely if you had told him, he would still have married you.”

Shaking her head, she said quietly,
“Nay.”
He didn’t press her to say more, but she did. “I confided in him. He wanted me to take a pill that he said would solve everything. When I refused to end the pregnancy, he said I wasn’t what he wanted for a
fraa
. I was . . . tainted.” She lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. “He wasn’t wrong.”

“
Jah
, he was.”

She took another drink. “I made a kneeling confession in church that I was sorry I stayed out all
nacht
with an
Englischer
.” She bowed her head. “I was accepted back into the flock, but Eli worried I would never find a man who would marry me.” She shrugged. “I didn’t understand why you would be willing to take me . . . but I was grateful.” She lifted her head. “I couldn’t stay in Ohio with that madman loose.”

“You should have told the bishop what happened.”

“I thought being shunned would be easier than living with guilt if the man burned down the barns. Besides, he knew where I lived—everything about me. He would have . . . violated me again.” Tears welled, blurring her vision. “Can you forgive me?”

“For what? Lindie, you never sinned.” He cupped her face in his hands. “You have nothing to be ashamed of. Nothing.”

She blinked and warm tears cascaded down her cheeks.

He leaned down and brushed his lips against her forehead.

Tension shot through her and she stiffened.
God, will I ever get over those vile memories? I don’t want to feel detached from Josiah every time he touches me
.

“I’m sorry,” he said, releasing his hands. “I didn’t mean to frighten you with
mei
advances.”

“I’m sorry too. You deserve someone better than me.”

Josiah shook his head. “Don’t say that.” He reached for her hand and held it. “I want to be your husband—more than just in name. But only if you want our agreement to change also.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but he spoke first.

“Don’t decide
nau
.” He smiled. “We’re in this marriage for our lifetime. I’ll convince your heart eventually.”

“You said you wouldn’t ever change your mind.”

“At the time, I believed that to be true.” He shrugged. “Apparently
mei
heart didn’t listen, because I’m in love with you.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

L
indie kicked at the bedcovers. If she wasn’t going to get any sleep, she might as well read the Scriptures. She blindly groped the side table for the matches and lit the lamp wick. Flickering shadows danced on the walls as a warm glow filled the room.

She flipped opened the Bible, stopping in the thirteenth chapter of 1 Corinthians, and began to read. “Love is patient, love is kind . . .” Josiah was both. She skipped ahead. “It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Always,” she repeated. “Love never fails.” She aimlessly flipped more pages and resumed reading in Philippians. “Then make my joy complete by being like-minded, having the same love, being one in spirit and of one mind.” All the passages she read brought Josiah to mind. In many ways, she and Josiah were like-minded. They both loved the Lord and wished to serve him above all.
The same love
. . . Could they really share the same love for each other?

She’d never experienced such tenderness as when Josiah held her, offering her a safe haven. She closed her eyes, recalling the warmth his arms provided.

Lindie eased out of the bed and onto the floor where she knelt and folded her hands.
Lord, I was so consumed with trying to avoid rejection that I closed my mind to what you had provided. You have given me a kindhearted husband. But I rejected him. Please forgive me. Help me overcome my past so that I can be the wife that you would have me be
. After a long moment, she rose with a renewed purpose and proceeded to the door.

Josiah stirred at the sound of the bedroom door opening.
Hannah?
He rubbed his eyes when they refused to focus. Looking again, moonlight streaming from the window silhouetted Lindie’s form.

“Is everything okay?” He pushed back the covers and stood. The cool air reminded him that he’d stripped off his T-shirt earlier and now stood before her dressed only in a pair of long johns.

Moonlight seemed to follow her as she crossed the room.

He expanded his lungs to capacity, then released his breath in a rush. His thoughts flitted as he tried to rationalize her standing before him in her nightdress.

“If you still want to change our arrangement”—her voice quivered—“I want to be your
fraa
.”

Unable to pull his eyes away from her fingers working the hooks on her gown, he stammered, “I, ah . . . I—”

“I’m sorry,” she said, tugging her garment in place. “I shouldn’t have put you on the spot.” She whirled around and bolted toward the door.

“Don’t go.”
Fool
. Why did he gawk? Josiah lunged into the hall and stopped her before she could disappear.

Backed against the wall, she lowered her head and fumbled
with the nightdress closures. She squeaked something between panic and frustration. Finally, unable to work the closures with her trembling fingers, she balled up the material in her clenched hands.

He stepped closer, yet reined in his craving to take her into his arms. “Please give me another chance.”

She kept her head down.

“What did you mean when you said you were sorry for putting me on the spot?”

She shrugged.

“I admit I’ve never been struck speechless before.” If she had an inkling of how hard his heart was beating, she wouldn’t feel insecure about her decision to come into his room. He lifted her chin and brushed his fingertips over her soft cheek. “I don’t want you to leave.”

Her eyes searched his for reassurance.

“I love you.” He leaned closer and kissed her. This time she didn’t push him away.

The brisk morning temperature woke Lindie before dawn. Had she been sleeping in her bed, she would have burrowed deeper under the blankets to conserve heat. But she wasn’t in her bed—or alone.

She eased the blanket back, slipped one foot out from under the covers, then, pushing herself up, sat on the edge of the bed. Daylight would spill through the windows at any moment and wake the household. She wanted to keep things discreet, at least for the time being. She scanned the floor.

Where was her nightdress? If she thought she could slip the
top blanket off the bed without waking Josiah, she would wrap herself in it in order to walk across the hall to her room. She reached for the blanket’s corner at the foot of the bed and gave it a tug. Freeing the quilt from between the mattress and footboard, she gingerly pulled it toward her. She hoped she wouldn’t wake Josiah.

Josiah stirred. Then, rolling up onto one elbow, he stretched his arm around her waist and pulled her toward him. “Where are you going? It isn’t even daybreak,” he said in a husky, dry voice.

“I didn’t mean to wake you.” Her eyes caught sight of the patch of hair on his chest and heat crawled up her neck. She looked away.

“Guder mariye.”
He scooted closer. “Did you sleep all right?”

She nodded.

Josiah lifted the corner of the blanket, kissed her shoulder, then slipped his hand under the covers.

She sucked in a breath. “Don’t you . . . have barn chores?”

A sheepish grin spread over his face. “They can wait.”

Without a lantern lit last night, she hadn’t noticed the purple discoloration on his chest. “How did you get those bruises?”

“From you when I found you in the woods.”

“
Nay
. Bruises don’t last that long.” She touched his skin gingerly. “Do they hurt?”

“Nay.”
He kissed her forehead.

Her hand moved over his chest, touching a red blotchy area. “What about this rash?”

“I’ve been working a lot with cedar boughs.” Josiah pulled away from her. “You’re right. I have some chores to do in the barn.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

M
ore snow had fallen in Cedar Ridge over the past week than Ohio had seen all of last winter. The weather was normal for mid-January, according to Josiah, but Lindie couldn’t get over how bone-chillingly cold it was in northern Michigan. She rose from the desk, having caught up on the bookkeeping for the recent shipment of pallets.