Love Still Stands (41 page)

“He ran out of bailing wire and went into town.”

Leaving her with Elijah.

“Come on.” Joseph tugged on her arm. She swayed. He let go. “Whoops! I’ll get your
crutches.”

“Yeah, come on,” William said in his best wheedling tone. “You don’t want to miss
this.”

She wasn’t a coward. Besides, Elijah had been nothing but polite and downright sweet
since that day at the hospital. He seemed to be waiting for something. She couldn’t
be sure what.

“Get the extra blankets in the cedar chest in your room. Not the quilts, though. And
don’t be tracking mud up those stairs.” She grabbed her crutches and hopped toward
the kitchen. “I should be able to take the cinnamon rolls from the oven now and I’ll
turn the stove off. We can reheat the chili after the foal gets here.”

Shedding their boots without sitting down, the boys accomplished the task in less
than a minute and a half. She donned her coat and the boys were back into their boots
in no time. “Come on, Aenti, come on!”

They flew out the door, blankets flapping behind them.

She shoved through the door and heaved herself down the steps. Elijah stood in the
corral, his hand on Cinnamon’s bridle. Even at a distance, she could hear his cooing,
his breathing coming in white puffs. The man had a deft touch with horses.

“I thought the babies came in the spring,” she called as she drew closer. “Is it coming
early?”

“Most come in the spring, but not all of them.” Elijah ran a hand across the horse’s
back. She dipped her head and whinnied, a nervous, high-pitched sound. “She needs
to be inside.”

“Will the foal die if it’s born when it’s cold?”

“Foals have kind of a fuzz that insulates them. As long as we keep it dry and out
of the wind, it’ll be all right.” Elijah urged the horse toward the barn. “William,
run ahead and put down a thick blanket of hay in the last stall. Joseph, you stuff
some rags into the cracks along the wall. We don’t want a draft in there.”

Inside, Cinnamon, oblivious to her rapt audience, pranced about in the stall for several
minutes, then sank to her knees. She rolled to one side, then stood again. Once again
she sank to the ground. Seconds later, the long, knobby knees of a foal made an appearance.
Bethel gasped. William and Joseph joined her in a chorus of exuberant surprise and
excitement.

Elijah joined Bethel at the railing. “You’ve never seen a foal born before?”

“Nee.” She hesitated, aware of the boys, who had crawled up on the railing to sit
and watch, their expressions enthralled. “Is it all right if I stay, do you think?”

“It’s amazing.” His voice softened. “The birth of one of God’s creatures is a miraculous
thing. It reminds us of the beauty of God’s plan and His infinite care in creating
this world.”

He sounded as awed as she felt.

Cinnamon whinnied and tossed her head. She tried to rise, then sank back.

“Looks like she needs a little help.” Donning rubber gloves, Elijah approached the
horse. He spoke a steady stream of soft nothings as he gently tugged on the long legs.
The baby’s head, cloaked in the birth bag, appeared. A few seconds later the rust-colored
filly slid into the world in one big
whoosh
. Bethel imagined most women would like to have their babies so quickly. The filly’s
spindly legs and slim head rested on the hay for a bit while Elijah helped Cinnamon
finish up the job. Then he cleaned out the baby’s mouth and removed the birth bag
so she could wiggle free.

“A beauty. What a beauty,” Elijah whispered as he worked. “You done good, Cinnamon.
Old Wally will be a proud papa.”

Cinnamon must’ve agreed. She snorted, stood, and began to clean her baby.

“That a girl, good mama.”

The foal tried to stand, her long, almost white legs stuck out in four directions.
She wobbled and went down in an awkward pile of bones. The second time she teetered,
lost her balance, and rolled over, legs flung in all directions. The boys chortled
and flapped their hats in extreme amusement. Bethel couldn’t help but join them.

A stubborn little critter, the foal gave it all her might and the third time managed
to stay up. Covered with bits and pieces of hay, she dipped her dainty neck and tossed
her head. Her legs were spread so far out she looked like a tent with the poles too
far apart. She didn’t seem to have any idea how to pull them in.

“She’s doing fine. She’s a strong one.” Elijah tugged off the gloves and leaned on
the stall gate. His big hands, fingers clasped, hung over the edge. Bethel had to
force her gaze from those hands, so strong, to his face. He looked satisfied. Content.
“She’ll be running all over the pasture in no time. Luke will be pleased.”

“I’m glad I was able to see it.’

“I knew you’d like it.”

The significance of his words registered. “You sent the boys to get me, didn’t you?”

He tilted his head toward her, his voice low, the words between the two of them. “I
figured you were there when we had to put down Ned. You should see the other side
of the coin.”

“Danki.”

The foal was trotting around the stall in perfect step with Cinnamon as if she’d been
doing it her whole life. All fifteen minutes of it. “That day in the barn, I acted
like a spoiled child who didn’t get his way.”

“More like a jealous beau.”

She held her breath, waiting for his reaction.

His eyebrows went up. So did the corners of his mouth. “Maybe.”

“Maybe, but you made up for it by coming to the hospital to get me. We’re fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Jah.”

Cinnamon’s foal would start a new life today. Bethel breathed a silent prayer that
she and Elijah might also have a new start.

How many new starts would God give them before they managed to get things right? Bethel
didn’t ask that question aloud either. The God of second chances never gave up on
His children.

Elijah’s hand stole across the space between them and rested on hers. She forgot how
to breathe. His fingers were warm and his grip solid. His gaze came up and met hers.
“I need to know something.”

“I already told you I like you,” she whispered, acutely aware of her nephews clowning
around on the railing a few yards away. Her heart slammed against her chest so hard
she couldn’t breathe. Every nerve in her fingers pulsed at his touch. “I’m…I think
I really do…like you, I mean.” She sounded twelve. Not like a grown woman who knew
her own mind. “I do. Like you.”

“Good. I’m glad we cleared that up.” He took a step closer. “It’s one thing to like
me. That’s good. It’s fine. But do you imagine a future where you might do more than
that?”

She wanted to say yes. She wanted to blurt it out. Catch her dream and reel it in
before it slipped away in a cold, winter wind. “I try.”

“You try. Is it that difficult?” His voice hardened and his hand began to withdraw.

She caught at his fingers. “I don’t want you to be disappointed.”

“Me?”

“I may never be the woman I was before the storm. I may never be the woman who taught
school on her own again.”

“I didn’t even know that woman.” The boys looked up at the angry disappointment in
Elijah’s voice. He smiled at them and softened his tone. “I know you and I like you
fine with the crutches, without the crutches. It doesn’t matter to me. Can’t you get
that through your thick head?”

“You are the sweet talker, aren’t you?”

“You aggravate me to no end.”

What had Emma said about Thomas aggravating her until she finally married him? “Then
what do you want with me?”

“I want everything.”

“Then you’ll be patient with me.”

He gritted his teeth, a pulse beating in his jaw. After a few seconds, he sighed.
“I’m not getting any younger.”

“You only act like it.” She wasn’t getting any younger either, so why was she arguing
with him? Because something about him told her if she ever gave in there was no going
back. The look on his face, the feel of his hands on her waist. He indeed wanted it
all, and that scared her. What if she didn’t have all to give? “Like a child who can’t
wait for his supper.”

“Supper.” He groaned. “You think this is like supper. It’s like birthday and Christmas
bundled together and thrown so far into the future, I can’t see how they’ll ever get
here. I’m not getting any younger and neither are you. We’re not teenagers still going
to singings and trotting around on buggy rides late at night.”

“Hush.”

Too late. This time William hopped from his perch and trotted toward them. Bethel
let go of Elijah’s hand. He took a step away, but she still felt his presence invading
her space, the warmth of his skin against her fingers. His glare told her the conversation
hadn’t ended to his satisfaction. “Are you all right, Elijah?”

Elijah rumpled the boy’s walnut-colored hair. “Where’s your hat? Best find it and
then go carry some firewood into the house. A real blizzard is expected to kick up
tomorrow. By evening, we won’t be able to find the wood stack.”

William scampered toward the door. Joseph followed suit. They were two peas in a pod.
Bethel tugged on her gloves and prepared to do the same.

“Where are you going?”

“To finish the chili.”

He grabbed her arm and swung her around so she faced him. Her crutches fell to the
ground, but she stood on her own. Before she could fathom his intention, he bent his
head and his lips brushed against hers. It was the merest of kisses for the briefest
fraction of a second, but the look on his face spoke of an intent that could not be
mistaken.

His gaze locked on hers with a ferocity that made her shiver. Within the good-natured
youngest son who gave up so much to care for his parents lived a man of deep emotion.
“You’re scared, aren’t you?”

“You’re not?” Her voice trembled. Her first kiss. Over before she had a chance to
reciprocate or even know how to feel about it. “I’m not afraid to admit it, either.
Marriage ties two people together for the rest of their lives. There is no going back.
No room for a mistake. I’d be silly not to be afraid. Aren’t you?”

“Is this about Shawn McCormack?” His hand dropped from her arm, but she could still
feel his touch. “If you have doubts because of an Englischer, then you’re right. This
goes no farther.”

He read her too well. Her fascination with Shawn McCormack could only serve to hurt
him. She couldn’t let that happen. “Come to supper?”

He frowned and jerked on his gloves with more force than necessary. “I don’t think—”

“Chili, sourdough bread, cinnamon rolls. You like my cinnamon rolls. You know you
do.”

“I do.” He rolled his eyes and sighed a gusty sigh. “But I like you more. I will come
to supper.”

“Gut.”
She liked him too. Was it enough? How did a woman know when it was enough?

“I kissed you.” His glance dropped to the dirt floor, then made its way back to her
face. “I meant no disrespect. I should have contained myself. It’s just you provoke
me—not that you are at fault. I’m the one at fault.”

“I felt no disrespect.”

Far from it. The brief touch of his lips on hers told her something about Elijah that
she needed time to absorb. That he saw her as someone he wanted to kiss, that he liked
to kiss, told her something she needed and longed to know. He found her…she sought
a word not part of her vocabulary. Despite her weak legs and her crutches and her
disabled body, he saw something when he looked at her that made him want to kiss her.
She wasn’t ugly to him. To a Plain man who wanted a fraa and children, she might be
enough for him.

He raised both hands in the air, fingers stretched out, his face questioning. “That’s
all you have to say about it?”

“I’d like to do it again sometime.” The words burst from her before she could stop
them. Her cheeks burned. “Not to be forward. I mean someday if all goes well.”

His face went red as a tomato. “I’m glad,” he stuttered. She’d never heard him stutter
before. “I mean, we’re not done talking.”

“I know. Give me time. What I need is time.” It did her heart good to know he was
as nervous as she was. “We’re not done with a lot of things, getting to know each
other better being at the top of list.”

His expression eased and he nodded. “I like the sound of that.”

So did she. If she could keep the doubts and the fears and the uncertainty at bay
long enough, she might learn how to think of herself as worthy of the love and companionship
of a man who wanted her at his side. A man who kissed her and told her with the look
in his eyes that he longed to do it again.