Sewn with Joy (13 page)

Though she now held in the tears, the trembling of her fingers gave away her emotions. She covered her face with her hands and pressed her chin to her chest.

Georgia placed a hand on her shoulder. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have been so blunt. It's something I need to work on.”

Alicia swallowed down her emotion. “I'd rather have someone tell me how it is.”

Georgia leaned forward, resting her forehead on the top of Alicia's head, whispering into her ear. “At least you can be friends, right? At least you're both here.”

Alicia nodded, wondering how both thankfulness and regret could fill one so completely.

She was here in Florida with Rowan. She didn't know why, but she was. And the first thing she had to do was prove Georgia wrong. She could play her part without everyone knowing her heart was breaking in two. She was an actress, after all.

Taking a deep breath, Alicia squared her shoulders.

Georgia pulled back. “Good girl. That's the way to tuck all those emotions away. Are you hungry?”

“What do we have?”

“Craft services set up a table. There's some yogurt, granola, and juice. Or”—Georgia's eyes sparkled—“I picked up some whole wheat oatmeal bread and strawberry jam from a neighbor. Both are homemade.”

“From a neighbor? How did that happen? Did you already go visiting up and down the street?” Alicia chuckled, hoping it sounded convincing. “To research Amish dresses, I'm sure.”

“No. There's actually a place a few houses down with a sign in the yard that reads Amish Baked Goods for Sale.” Georgia placed a hand on her hip and stuck it out. “I didn't get this figure by passing up baked goods.”

“I'll have the bread and jam, please.”

Like two girls sneaking into a candy jar, Georgia led Alicia to a corner of the wardrobe room where a tote bag sat. She pulled out the bread, still warm, and a jar of jam.

“I don't have a knife, but they gave me a plastic spoon for the jam.”

Alicia picked up the bread. “Who needs a knife?”

She unwrapped the bread from the wax paper and pulled off a thick chunk. The aroma rose, filling her nostrils. She breathed it in. Few things were more wonderful than the scent of fresh-baked bread.

She pointed to the jar of jam. “Do you mind?”

Georgia waved a hand. “Go ahead.”

Alicia picked up the jar and opened the lid with one twist. She placed it on the table and then spooned jam into the soft center of the bread.

Closing her eyes, she took a big bite. The yeastiness of the bread mixed with the fresh strawberry taste of the jam exploded on her taste buds. “Oh my goodness. You have to taste this.” The click of a photo being taken caused her to open her eyes, and when she did she saw it wasn't Georgia who'd snapped the shot. Rowan stood there, dark-haired and handsome, holding his cell phone in his hand. There was a mix of tenderness and humor in his gaze.

He chuckled as he glanced down at the shot he'd taken. “You should see yourself. A true Amish beauty indeed.”

“No, Rowan, please.” She extended her jam-covered fingers toward him. “I'm not wearing a stitch of makeup.”

He pulled his cell phone closer, out of her reach, and typed in something with his thumbs.

Alicia finished chewing and then took a step toward him. One hand held her bread, and she stretched out the other even closer. She pointed to his phone. “You're not posting that—”

“Oh yes. Yes I am.”

“Seriously, Rowan. I look so plain.”

He glanced up, and his eyes twinkled. “Which is how you're supposed to look during filming.”

“No.” She jutted out her chin. “No, during filming I'll only
look
like I don't have makeup on. But my blemishes, my—”

“Tsk-tsk, I don't want to hear it.” He put up a palm, blocking her words. “You know your adoring fans want a glimpse of what you're working on next.”

“Rowan, please!”

He pretended not to hear her and pushed Send. Then he tucked his phone into his front jeans pocket.

Georgia glanced at her watch. “It's 7:35. My guess is 8:07.”

“8:07? What do you mean? What are you talking about?” Alicia took another bite of her bread, pretending her insides weren't
fluttering with Rowan's closeness. Pretending she was shocked by his actions, when she was really pleased with the attention.

Georgia shrugged. “Oh, it's my guess for how long it'll take before you make the home page of
People
.”

“You're kidding, right?” Alicia mumbled between bites of bread. Just then her phone pinged on the table next to her.

Rowan reached for her phone. “I recognize the sound of that notification. I'm honored that you still keep track of me.”

Alicia shrugged. “I just haven't turned it off.” Should she tell him she still had his unique ringtone, and their last vacation photo was still her wallpaper?

“In over a year you haven't turned off the notifications for my Twitter posts?”

She shrugged again. And unlocked her phone. She opened his tweet, and her face popped up. Well, at least part of her face. Half of it was hiding behind the large chunk of bread.

In Pinecraft. Filming starting soon. #Amishbeauty

Heat rose to Alicia's face, and she returned her phone to the table. “I can't believe you're making me wear this bonnet,” she mumbled. “And I can't believe that hashtag. People are going to take that the wrong—”

“And I can't believe you haven't offered me any of that,” Rowan interrupted. He tore off a chunk of bread.

Alicia didn't know what to say, what to do. Georgia made some excuse about checking on a delivery and left. As they chewed their bread in silence, Alicia pretended things were as they used to be. For a moment she forgot she was wearing an Amish dress and
kapp
. She just wanted to enjoy the quiet moment with Rowan by her side. She wanted to forget the ache and loneliness of the last year, and enjoy what it felt like to listen to his laugh, to see his smile.

 

Whole Wheat Oatmeal Bread

4 cups quick oats

1 cup brown sugar or honey

½ cup butter

4 tablespoons salt

3 packets yeast

18 to 20 cups bread flour

In a large bowl, mix together the oats, sugar, butter, and salt. Add yeast to 8 cups boiling water and mix into batter; add 18 to 20 cups bread flour. Cover bowl with a towel and put in a warm place. Let rise until double in size and punch down. Let rise a second time until double in size and punch down. Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Divide dough into 6 or 7 pieces. Place in greased loaf pans. Bake until tops are nice and brown. Makes 6 or 7 loaves.

Thirteen

A house is made of walls and beams; a home is made of love and dreams.

A
MISH PROVERB

A
knock at the door announced a visitor. Joy stopped her foot on the sewing machine pedal and set the dish towel to the side. She'd come up with a unique design for Lovina to sell at her pie shop not long after Me, Myself, and Pie opened. She started by making aprons, and it was Grace who'd suggested the towels. Joy sewed a strip of fabric with a quilted pattern on the bottom seam and added rickrack edging. Over the last ten months she'd lost track of how many she'd made.

She hurried to the front door, expecting her cousins. Instead Matthew stood there, hat in hand. His wide eyes were hopeful. “Joy, I was hoping you were still up. I saw the light on, and when I neared the door I heard the whir of the sewing machine.”

“
Ja
, I'm up. Just trying to fill an order.” She stepped to the side and waved him in. “Lovina is a slave driver.” She smiled, releasing a breath. Thankful to see his smile. The last look she'd seen on his face was one of anger, anger over her interaction with the
Englischers
. She didn't have to worry about that anymore though, because she'd determined to stay as far away from those
Englischers
and their television show as possible.

Matthew eyed Joy's face, her hair. “You certain it's okay for me to come in?”

“
Ja
,
Mem
,
Dat
, and Faith have already retired for the night, but I was waiting up for Lovina. She's working late tonight…which really means she's enjoying a piece of pie with Noah after the shop is closed for the evening.”

He stepped inside, shut the door behind him, and followed her into the kitchen. Then he paused and gazed at her hair again. “Honey-brown hair,” he whispered, barely loud enough for her to hear.

“Excuse me?”

“Last night, when I was thinking about the color of your hair, I couldn't quite remember. At first I thought golden brown, but that didn't seem quite right. Honey brown…
ja
, that suits you better.”

She motioned to the table and they sat down. “Speaking of honey, how about something sweet?”

She pulled a plate from a cupboard, opened the storage container on the counter, and took out two lemon bars. She set the plate before him and then scooped two forks out of a drawer. She couldn't hide her smile as she sat down. With three bites Matthew's lemon bar was gone. Joy picked up her fork, but her stomach was flipping around, and she couldn't take a bite. Instead, she returned her fork to the table, thankful he'd stopped by.

Under Matthew's gaze, Joy captured one of her
kapp
strings and twisted it around her finger. She felt his eyes on her, deep down in her core.

Heat rose to her cheeks, and she resisted the urge to fan her face. She glanced away, unsure what to do or say.

He chuckled. “I like that I can see what you're feeling just by looking at your face.”

“You do?”

“
Ja
, and your name suits you well. It always seems as if you're smiling. Well, except for the other day.” He cleared his throat. “I'm sorry, Joy. I didn't mean to get so angry.”

“I understand. I—”

“Ne.”
He held up his hand. “Don't forgive me so easily. It's not right. It's just that there were so many people, and it seemed like everyone was looking at us. And…well, when that
Englischer
came up, they all saw that too. I was more confused than anything.”

Joy nodded as if she understood, but she really didn't. It's not as if she got the attention of the
Englischer
, desiring to talk to him. It's not as if she knew him or had expected him to approach her.

“
Ja.
I suppose those
Englischers
are just used to the attention. Being in television and all.”

Matthew nodded, and then seeing that she wasn't eating her lemon bar, picked up his fork again.

“Go ahead,” she said with a chuckle.