A Plain Love Song (25 page)

The door opened and Leah tromped in, little Jebediah and Hazel toddling behind her like a parade. “Come on, come on.” Leah shooed them in and shut the door behind her with a definitive bang. She carried a basket filled with embroidered napkins and placemats.

Emma stood and rushed to take it from her. “Oh, these are nice. The Englisch ladies will love them.” She set the basket on the glass counter and ran her fingers over the French knots and daisy stitches that created a bright bouquet of sunflowers on the napkin lying on top. “You do have such a nice, fine stitch. I don’t know how you have the patience.”

Emma’s sister-in-law grabbed Hazel’s arm just in time to keep her from swiping a doll from the display case. “It soothes me, truth be told. The doctor says I need a hobby that soothes me. He calls it therapy.”

She laughed and hugged Hazel to her chest. Emma smiled and nodded. “For me, it’s baking bread. Something about kneading the dough. I liked to push it around a bit.”

They exchanged smiles. Adah marveled at how much Leah had improved in the last year. She didn’t try to hide the fact that she was seeing a therapist in Jefferson City. Mr. Lewis drove her all the way to the city once a week. Adah liked the woman for her forthrightness, even if she was a bit prickly and stern. She suffered an ailment most Plain
woman couldn’t imagine—depression after childbirth—but she soldiered on with her growing brood that now numbered six.

Leah’s gaze fell on Adah. “I heard you were working here.” Her smile disappeared, replaced with her bishop’s wife frown. “Doing better, I hope.”

“Doing well.” Emma spoke before Adah could. She dropped the napkin back in the basket. “Would you like to help me price these?”

“Surely.” Leah turned back to the counter. “If Adah will keep an eye on the babies.”

“Of course.” Adah breathed a sigh of relief. Emma knew just how to handle Leah. After all, she’d lived with her sister-in-law at one time. “Go on back. I’ll keep them out of trouble.”

The two women headed into the workroom where the items would be catalogued and the price tags attached. “Mudder, Mudder!” Hazel tried to toddle after them. “Mudder!”

Adah scooped her up. “No you don’t, little one. Stay here with me. You two can be my helpers.”

Jebediah plopped on his behind and stuck his hand in his mouth. Adah knelt next to him and placed a basket of blocks in front of the two children. “Shall we build something first? I can dust anytime and I’d rather play with you today.”

Jebediah grabbed a block and flung it. It smacked Adah in the forehead and bounced away. “Hey! What did you do that for?” Laughing, she rubbed her forehead. “Build, don’t throw.”

He crowed and threw another block that ended up underneath a chair near the door. Hazel clutched a small piece in her chubby hands and began to chew on the corner.

“Nee.” Adah tugged it from her hand. “We don’t eat the blocks. We don’t throw the blocks. We build with the blocks.”

“You’re no fun.”

She froze at the sound of that voice. Her heart hammered in her throat. She shouldn’t be so happy to hear it, but she was. She’d missed that voice.

“I wish you didn’t mind getting your picture taken. I’d snap a few with my phone. You look so perfect with those little babies. You’ll make a fine momma someday.”

So engrossed in having fun with the kinner, she hadn’t heard the door open and close, bringing into the store the one person she shouldn’t be seeing. He sounded so much like Matthew complimenting her on her singing of a lullaby to baby John. The two men weren’t so different. Different hats and different ways of getting around. But at the core, they wanted family to love. A mishmash of emotion roiled inside her.

Matthew wanted what was best for her.

Jackson liked her just the way she was.

She managed to raise her head. Taking a few steps forward, still with that slight limp, he towered over her. “I heard you were working here.”

Breathless, Adah tried to scramble to her feet. For some reason she had two left ones and her fingers only had thumbs. She fumbled to straighten her kapp, sure her hair straggled out and her apron was dirty. He looked clean and neat in his white Western shirt tucked into his blue jeans and the ever-present silver buckle. Her gaze went to his face. To his mouth. The memory of the look on his face when he bent and his kiss engulfed her. She felt the soft touch of his lips on hers all over again.
Stop it. Stop it.
Her face burned.
Gott, forgive me.

She gritted her teeth, breathed, and lifted her chin. “How did you know I was here?”

“Dani Jo’s sister came in for some peach preserves. She told Dani Jo and Dani Jo told RaeAnne, who told me.” His smile disappeared into a frown made of granite. “Her way of rubbing it in, I imagine. She still thinks Dani Jo has a chance.”

Their grapevine worked much the same as the one in the Plain community. “So you had to come see for yourself.”

“Don’t get snippy with me.” His voice dropped to a growl. “You’re the one who didn’t even say goodbye or give me one good reason why.”

“I didn’t work for you. I didn’t have to tell you.” Adah stopped, her hands on her hips, her face hot. She didn’t want Emma and Leah—especially Leah—to come running out to see why she was yelling at a customer. “You know the reason I couldn’t come back.”

“I told you I was sorry. You didn’t have to quit.” He squeezed his hat in his big hands, flattening the brim. “I called you.”

“I got rid of the phone. And the iPod.”

“Why?”

“Why? How can you ask that?”

“I’ve listened.” His volume grew equal to her own. Adah slapped a finger to her lips and nodded toward the back. He heaved a sigh and twisted his hat in his hands. “I’ve listened to you sing and heard you talk about how much you love music. Your face lights up when you talk about it. You and I are a team.”

“You need to leave.”

“I talked to Mac McMillan, Clay’s manager.”

“Jackson—”

“Hear me out. I sent him a disc I burned of you and me singing—”

“Where did you get a recording of me singing?”

“I made it on my phone, the last time we sang together, but you’re missing the point—”

“You recorded me without telling me?”

“Let me finish, will you? Mac liked what he heard. He said to come on down to Branson. He’ll work with us to make an audition CD and help us set up some auditions for the shows there.” The hat flapped as he waved his hands. “This is big, really big.”

A chance to sing in Branson. A dream always out of reach suddenly thrust in her face. She could stay here, dust wooden toys, and straighten shelves, or she could sing and make music.

She’d have to give up her family. And Matthew. “I can’t.”

“Come on, you know you want to do this. You’ll regret it for the rest of your life if you don’t!”

Hazel’s round face squeezed. She began to fuss. Adah gathered her up. “Hush, you’re scaring the baby.”

“You are the most frustrating, irritating woman I’ve ever met.” His volume dropped to a hissing whisper. “You can’t tell me you don’t want this.”

Adah rocked Hazel on her hip, trying to soothe her. She’d never wanted anything more in her life. She shook her head. “No.”

“Think about it. I’ll pick you up in town so you don’t have to try to get a ride or mess with a buggy.” If he didn’t stop pulling on the hat, it would be torn in two. “Don’t let me down.”

She searched his face, trying to understand the angst behind those
words. If she went with him, was she committing to the music or to him? Or to both? She couldn’t be sure which scared her more. “I can’t go with you to Branson. Where would I stay?”

He looked puzzled and then he laughed, a hoarse chuckle. “I scared you away once. I won’t do it again. My Aunt Charlene takes care of the cabin we own on Table Rock Lake. You come with me, that’s where we’ll stay. Aunt Charlene will take good care of you.”

Adah jostled Hazel to her other hip. She kissed the toddler’s silky curls and inhaled her baby scent. Even that couldn’t calm the wild patter of her heart. “What about your parents?”

“They know I’m not going back to school.”

“They know about Branson and they said it was okay?”

“I didn’t say that. They know I withdrew from the university. They’re fired up, they’re so mad. If I tell them I’m going to Branson, Pops will self-combust and end up a heap of ashes on the ground.”

“Your aunt won’t tell him?”

“I imagine she will, but I’ll already be there. What’s he gonna do, come drag me home by my ear? I’m a grown man.”

Hazel fussed. Adah loosened her grip and bounced her on her hip. “Shhh, you’re fine, you’re fine.”

“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?”

Jackson took a step toward her, one hand out as if he would touch her. The sheer desire of the moment wrapped itself around her chest and pressed, making it hard for her heart to beat. Blood pounded in her ears. What about Matthew? Matthew needed her.

Her throat ached. She swallowed and took a step back. “You have to leave.”

“I’m going. Tomorrow.” He slapped his hat on his head and backed toward the door without taking his gaze from her. “You’re coming with me, aren’t you?”

“Go, please.”

“I’ll park over at the bakery. If you don’t show by five-thirty tomorrow, I’ll know you’re not coming.”

A crash made her jump and the pungent smell of vinegar and dill and pickles wafted through the air. She whirled. Jebediah stood on bare feet in a puddle at the bottom of the display case, pickle juice soaking
his pants and shirt. He looked up at her, a frown on his chubby face. “I want pickle.”

He squatted, grabbed a spear, and waved it in the air.

“Nee, nee, little one.” Fearful of glass shards, Adah plunged in his direction, plucked the pickle from his grasp, and scooped him up with her other arm. “You’ll cut yourself!”

Jebediah squalled and flung himself about, trying to get down. “Pickle!”

“What was that?” Leah rushed into the room, Emma right behind her. She stopped short, her gaze darting from Jebediah to Adah to Jackson. “What happened? Who are you?”

“I believe he’s the reason Adah doesn’t clean houses anymore.” Emma swept past Leah and took Jebediah from Adah’s arms. She set him on top of the counter and began to pick sprigs of dill and slices of onion from his soaked pants. “If you’re not planning to buy anything, Mr. Hart, it would be best if you moved along.”

Jackson slapped his hat on his head. “Actually, I wanted a jar of those pickles. My daddy loves bread and butter pickles.”

“Adah, you heard the man. Get him a jar of pickles.” Emma wiped Jebediah’s feet and handed him over to Leah, who scowled at Jackson before taking her child. “Then clean up that mess.”

Adah scrambled to grab a jar from the shelf and scurried around the counter to ring it up on the old cash register Luke had rescued from an auction.

“I’ll ring it up.” Emma squeezed in next to her. “You’d better get a mop and a bucket of soapy water from the back. That juice is sticky.”

Adah didn’t dare look back until she reached the workroom door. Jackson had his head down as he peeled off dollar bills and lined them up on the counter. He picked up the jar and eased toward the door. At the last second, he looked her way.

And winked.

Chapter 22

M
atthew settled into the rocking chair on the porch, the bowl of peach pie and homemade ice cream in one hand, a large serving spoon in the other. Molly and Elizabeth chattered inside, as they had been doing all evening. They sounded like a flock of blue jays. He wasn’t sure why he still lingered. The chores were done. Daed and Mudder had gone to bed. Matthew could go on to bed himself or go check their fishing lines down at the river. Instead, here he sat, his shirt wet with sweat and his feet aching to get out of his dusty work boots. Why that made him feel out of sorts, he couldn’t say. He should be happy sitting here with his dessert and a cool evening breeze. What more could a man want?

His own place. A place he built for his fraa. Matthew wiggled in the chair. In Gott’s time. He had no right to question. His time would come. For now, he should enjoy the breeze and the best peach pie this side of the Mississippi. Leastways that’s what Daed always said about Mudder’s peach pie.

Having the Gringriches around had made evenings even more enjoyable, he had to admit. Enoch told a good story and his daughters, especially Elizabeth, loved to laugh and contradict the stories. Enoch’s fraa was quieter, always rushing to the kitchen to refill the serving bowls, as if she had to make up for any extra work their presence may have caused. Supper had been followed by a rousing game of Scrabble.
Of course Elizabeth and Molly went head to head. Matthew was a terrible speller. Mudder and Daed had thrown in the towel early, going to bed right after Groossdaadi and Groossmammi. Enoch and Clara hadn’t been far behind. That left the kinner, one by one, to call it a day until finally only Elizabeth, Molly, and Matthew remained. He should go to bed. But he didn’t. Neither did Molly. She just gabbed on and on. Two girls with the gift of gab. They’d be up half the night.

“Nice evening.”

He glanced up to see Elizabeth standing at the screen door.