Bookends (48 page)

He slid out the gold foil card and flipped it open. “A gift certificate! For … for …” She watched his Adam’s apple dip up and down twice. Watched him blink, hard. Watched his eyes move back and forth from her to the certificate to her again.

“Emilie, you didn’t!”

I did.
“Round trip airfare to …”

“Alaska!” He shook his head in wonderment.

“You deserve it, Jonas.” She pointed at the fine print. “It’s good through the end of November. Surely sometime between Honduras and Thanksgiving you’ll find a few weeks to get away.”

“No doubt. Thanks, Em.” He slowly shook his head. “Only problem is, it’s for one passenger.”

She bristled. “Of course it is! It would be unthinkable for me to join you unless we were planning on getting married this summer. Which we’re not, of course.”

He smiled an elfin smile. “Of course.”

Their breakfast finished, they moved back over to the sanctuary for communion at eight, after which Jonas dropped her off at her house then zipped down Cedar toward his place. They both needed to change in time for the rest of the morning’s festivities.

Emilie pulled her new outfit over her head, holding her breath. Another
investment item from Judie. Pale pink angora in a straight sheath of a dress. The long sleeves made her feel modest. The wide, boat neckline and deep V in the back did not, though the woman in the shop assured her it was perfectly appropriate for church or anywhere else.

She fussed with her hair, recapturing the style of Valentine’s Eve with some success, and added more makeup than usual especially on the bruises on her neck. Her good pearls would help as well, a triple strand that filled in her neckline and reminded her fondly of Barbara Bush. Stepping into her tallest black heels, Emilie climbed down the dark, steep staircase with great care.

Waiting on the dining room table was yet another investment. A broad-brimmed hat in the very same pale pink, touched with satin ribbon and a tiny spray of white silk flowers.

Easing it onto her head, Emilie tilted the brim until it was parallel with the floor, as the woman in the hat shop had insisted, then stood before the mirror in the hallway. And grinned.

Even if she only wore it once—today—it was worth it to feel so gloriously feminine.

She hovered by the front door, waiting for a black Explorer to come into view. When Jonas pulled up, she swept open the door in her best imitation of Grace Kelly and glided out, delighted to find him standing at the bottom of the steps with his mouth hanging open.

“Emilie! You … you …!” He gulped. “You …!”

She smiled in a genteel manner, lips closed, eyebrows lifted. “Yes, me.” She sighed as musically as possible, moving toward him. The brick steps were not conducive to gliding, but her entrance had produced just the reaction she’d been hoping for—a sort of bumbling paralysis.

He recovered in a moment and opened her door. She lifted off the hat, realizing there was no way to steer both it and her tall body inside gracefully, then climbed in, carefully placing her new beauty in the backseat, praying for a minimum number of blond dog hairs to attach themselves to her chapeau.

She turned her attention to the man behind the wheel, who looked every bit as polished in his black suit—not a tuxedo, but close enough—when a pale pink tie caught her eye.

“And I suppose the tie is to commemorate the grand opening of Carter’s Run in a mere five days?”

He grinned. “What else?”

“Not a thing I can think of.” She waved at the street ahead, wishing she’d gone all-out and worn gloves. “Carry on, Jonas, or we’ll miss your family’s arrival.”

Which was another reason for the new addition to her wardrobe. She’d met his family at Christmas, long before she and he were an
item,
as Beth called them. Making a good impression was on her mind, though if she only impressed the man at her elbow, that suited her fine.

They parked where they could on the crowded street, then headed up the sidewalk, Emilie with her hat squarely on her head; Jonas bearing a large Easter basket boasting a soft, stuffed bunny and one huge plastic egg in the center. “For Sara,” he’d explained, swinging it next to him like he always toted such a thing.

The rain had given way to hazy skies and warmer air, though on Emilie’s back it felt a bit breezy. When she stepped in front of Jonas to cross the street, she heard him whistle under his breath.

“Man, do I like the view from back here.”

“Jonas, please!” She whirled around, hands on her hips. “I checked the three-way mirror at the store and thought it looked quite demure.”

“You’re right,” he chuckled. “De-more I see, de-more I like.”

She would have swatted him if they weren’t almost at their destination: the picnic grove behind the Sunday school building. “Behave yourself, sir,” she cautioned, hooking his elbow. “There are children afoot.”

Youngsters of every age dashed about the damp grass. Little girls ruining their white Mary Janes with bright green stains. Little boys soaking their pant legs in the nearby puddles. Emilie, ignoring the headaches such shenanigans would give their mothers, found the scene utterly enchanting.
Someday, Lord.

Across the parking lot, she spied two Jonas look-alikes moving toward them. Good heavens, would Lititz ever be the same with three Fielding men in one setting?

Three, not four.

The realization caught her by surprise, taking a bit of the sparkle off her morning, if only for a moment.
Poor Nathan.

“Emilie Getz, you remember Chris and his wife Connie? And Jeff and Diane? Welcome, everybody.”

She extended her hand, giving each one an affectionate squeeze. The women were warm and gracious, complimenting her dress as she did theirs, without any trace of giving her an is-she-good-enough-for-our-Jonas? once-over.

Jonas, on the other hand, embarrassed her nigh to tears asking her to twirl around so his brothers could see her dress from the back. She graced him with a V of her eyebrows to match.

“Honestly!” she huffed, and the women nodded sympathetically. “Suppose we get down to the business at hand. Namely, an Easter egg hunt. Are you children game?”

Five little Fieldings, ranging in age from three to six, nodded enthusiastically and took off with their baskets to join the growing circle of kids preparing for the egg hunt, wet grass or not. Jonas followed them over, making sure they were properly registered.

From a distance, Emilie observed him with the children, feeling a warm tingle move through her system as she watched him swing Sara into his arms, then present her with her gift basket. He seemed intent on telling her about the egg inside, no doubt containing a special present for later, judging by the way he was wagging his finger.

Seconds later, he was back by her side as the woman in charge blew a whistle, silencing the children with remarkable speed. “The youngest go first, please. Threes, that’s you. Go on now.” They toddled out, a bit confused with it all, till the fours soon followed, quickly showing them the way of it. Sara, in her adorable flowered dress with the full skirt and multiple petticoats, showed them off prettily each time she dipped down to scoop up an egg.

Less than ten minutes later, it was over, as giggling children returned to their parents who duly noted their efforts and counted their eggs. The Fielding clan had done well, gathering two dozen eggs among them.

“And here comes Sara,” Jonas called out, seeming more exuberant than one might expect from a man at a child’s Easter egg hunt. “Whatcha got in the basket, sweet Sara?”

“A bunny!” She held it up. “His name is Peter!”

“Oh, for Peter Rabbit?” Diane asked, wiping the wet grass off her own daughter’s patent leather shoes.

“No, for Peter the apostle,” Sara said with conviction. “He was a follower
of Jesus who really followed him. Not like that bad guy, Judas.”

“Good for you, Sara.” Jonas hovered over her basket, peeking inside. “Got anything else in there?”

“Eggs.” She grinned a pixie grin.

“Regular old eggs.”

“Yup,” she sang out. “Except this one.” With that, she lifted the oversize plastic egg out with great care. “It’s pink,” she announced importantly. “And it has a name on it. Look.”

Sara held the egg up high.

It did indeed have a name on it, Emilie noticed.
Mine.
“Is that egg for me, then?”

Sara nodded. “Whale Man said it is. Oops.” She blushed. “I wasn’t supposed to tell.”

Jonas tousled her hair and winked at his family, gathered in a loose circle. “No problem, sweetie. Emilie would have figured that out soon enough. Go ahead.” His voice softened. “Open it. We have a good twenty minutes before church starts.”

Emilie shook it first, wanting to stretch out the suspense. For a woman who hated surprises, she’d learned that when Jonas Fielding was involved, they were always wonderful. Eventually.

She gazed at him now, trying to read his expression. Dark eyes trained on her, crinkled in a smile. Smoothly shaved chin begging to be touched. A grin broad enough to melt any woman’s heart.

“Please, Emilie?”

He didn’t have to ask again. She gently pulled the two halves apart, holding them as if they contained real egg whites that might come spilling out in a gooey mess.

One half was empty.

The other half had three small, gold keys, all different sizes and shapes.

“What …?” Emilie poured them out in her hand, holding them out for all to see. “Am I to wear these on a necklace, Jonas? Charms, perhaps?”

“Well, you are a charming woman, but no, that’s not what I had in mind.” In two steps, he was by her side, close enough that she could feel his warmth, catch a whiff of his aftershave, sense one hand sliding around her waist.

“Now this key—” he began, holding up a flat, ordinary one—“this fits
that.” He pointed to the parking lot, where Chris had positioned himself next to an older but sturdy BMW in powder blue. “Behold your new wheels, Emilie Getz. Used, of course, but only because brand new doesn’t become you, Madame Historian.”

Her carefully lined lips dropped open. “For me? A … car? Jonas, you didn’t!”

“I did.” He grinned and lifted out the second key. “This one should look familiar.”

She stared at it for a moment, then fumbled in her purse for its twin, holding it up with a gasp. “They
do
match! It’s a key to the Woerner house. The place I’m renting,” she explained to his family, who exchanged knowing smiles. Were they in on
everything?

Jonas lifted his broad shoulders in a nonchalant shrug. “You can call it the Woerner house if you want to—for historical reasons—but according to the deed, which is now in your name, there’s not a reason in the world it can’t be forevermore known as the Getz house.”

“Jonas!”
She was having trouble breathing. “What about the dear people who—”

“The missionary couple? They asked the church to sell it for them.” He grinned. “I helped. Dee Dee handled the paperwork.” He patted her cheek, no doubt feeling the heat that had pooled there. “You seemed so at home in your little Main Street cottage.”

“Well … I am, but … Jonas!” She looked for somewhere to sit down before she fainted, then realized fainting was the least of her worries.

“Oh, but Jonas!”
This is not good, not good at all.
“What will happen to my precious house when I have to go back to Salem College and … and …?”

“That’s where this third key may come in handy.” He stood in front of her now, toe to toe, effectively blocking the others from her view, as if he wanted her all to himself.

Jonas Fielding, I’m yours for the asking.

Had her gift communicated her love for him, as she’d hoped?

Did her eyes tell him so now, as his so eloquently expressed?

Might the warmth of her hand, enveloped by his, let him know that he made her heart beat faster, her skin grow pinker, her toes start tingling?

Does he know, Lord?

Yes, Emilie. He does.

“Jonas,” she whispered. “Kiss me.”

Without a moment’s hesitation, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers, obviously not caring for a moment that they had an audience.

Nor did she.

“Emilie,” he whispered back. “Kiss me.”

Which she promptly did, with pleasure. “Now about that key. What does it open?”

His eyes twinkled. “Don’t you know?”

She held it up. “It’s a rather large key, I know that much. Not the type that fits in a car or a house, and anyway, you’ve already amazed me with those.” Studying it, she took a few educated guesses. “Something valuable?”

“I hope you’ll think so.”

“Is it old?”

He laughed at that. “Old enough.”

“Is it big, this thing it opens?”

“Some have said so, yes.”

Emilie racked her brain. “Is it breakable?”

“Most definitely.” His eyebrows knit together for a brief, stern look. “I’ll count on you never to do so.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” she assured him, then shrugged. “Jonas, I’m afraid I’ve run out of questions and still don’t know what this might open.”

“The truth is, Emilie Getz, it’s already wide open and waiting for you to move in. Permanently. I’ll tell you what this key opens.” He whispered two words in her ear.

“Oh, Jonas!” Now she really might faint. “Are you saying …?”

“I’m saying marry me, Emilie Getz. Make my heart your home.”

He slipped his arms around her, tickling her bare back because he was a Fielding, then gently kissing her because he was Jonas. “Say yes, Emilie. Say you’ll come home to Lititz for good. And come home to me, forever.”

“Yes, Jonas.” Tears were poised on her lashes, making everything around her shine like stars. “I will.”

“That’s it! I heard an ‘I will!’ ” announced Chris, creating no small amount of ruckus among the assembly. Emilie stepped back, startled to find herself suddenly surrounded with hugging, cheering Fieldings. Had they truly been there all along? Somehow she’d only had eyes for Jonas, who was now enduring backslaps and high fives with his usual aplomb.

“So.” Diane flashed a toothsome smile. “When’s the wedding?”