The Bridge of Peace (28 page)

But he didn’t laugh or make a joke as she’d expected. His features grew gentle, and he enveloped her hand in his.

“Ah, I’m much warmer now.” Even as she teased him, unease ran through her. He’d been honest about how he felt, and it seemed inappropriate to flirt—to make him hope for things she remained unsure of wanting. But her hand in his felt so right that she couldn’t make herself pull away.

They walked through the old town where tall brick buildings lined the sidewalks. Once in front of the bank, she pulled her hand free of Jonathan’s and slid the thin bag through the deposit slot. When she turned around to leave, Jonathan stood directly in front of her.

He slowly lowered the knit scarf from around her lips. “I can think of something else that might warm you … us.”

The aroma of aftershave clung to his hands, and his warm breath smelled of peppermint. Mesmerized by some invisible power, she couldn’t respond. He slowly drew closer, and when his lips met hers, even her toes warmed. She moved her hands to his chest to push against him, but her hands disobeyed her and clutched the lapels of his wool coat. The gentleness of his hands against her face and his lips over hers caught her off guard. Never in her life had she experienced a kiss like this.

The kiss grew with each moment, leaving her breathless. When he eased his lips from hers and studied her, she leaned against the brick building for support.

“It’s … awfully … hot out here.” Deborah tried to make light of what had just happened, but her breathless, trembling words betrayed her.

She pulled the knit fabric over her lips and tried to catch her breath. He ran the back of his fingers across the scarf and her cheek. “Like summertime in February,” he said softly.

Staring into his eyes, she understood that Jonathan had a way of making her feel totally secure and incredibly treasured. As she studied him, an odd and unwelcome sensation grabbed her senses. She closed her eyes, hoping it’d go away. It didn’t. She sidestepped him, looking down the block. A man seemed to be looking right at them, and she knew he’d returned.

“Something wrong?”

The man eased into a side alley, disappearing completely.

Her legs shook. Was it really Mahlon or just her imagination, conjured up the moment she kissed another man? “Let’s go back.”

Jonathan glanced up the block and back to her. “You okay?”

Deborah wrapped her arms around herself and started walking. “Sure.”

They walked home without talking. Once inside, the stiltedness between them made her want to tell what she’d seen … or thought she saw.

The wall clock showed that it wasn’t yet nine, but Ada, Cara, and Lori apparently had retired to the upstairs. Deborah’s eyes met Jonathan’s. “I … I’m going on to my room now.”

“Sure. Good night, Deb.”

He turned to leave, to go to his room above the carriage house, then paused. “You want to talk about what spooked you?”

Her heart cinched into a knot. She’d reacted to his kiss with clear desire, and then she’d shut him out. Her behavior felt similar to the way Mahlon used to treat her. And embarrassment filled her as Jonathan wanted to face it openly. She took a shaky breath. “Just shadows of the past dogging me while I try to move forward.”

He looked like he wanted to say more, but he tipped his hat and left. She outted the lanterns and stood in the darkness. Had Mahlon returned? The thought bounced around inside her head, confusing her more with each passing minute. She wouldn’t know what she thought or felt until she knew whether it was him or not.

She eased into the foyer, looking up the steps for signs of light coming from under doorways. The only room with light was Cara’s. She rarely settled down for sleep before midnight. Grabbing her coat and winter bonnet, Deborah went out the front door, moving quietly so no one heard her. While going down the walkway, she put her coat and hat on, but her insides felt colder than the night. The moon reflected brightly on patches of snow, but living in town didn’t compare to the fields of undisturbed white at her Daed’s place.

When a man moved out from behind a tree just a few feet away, Deborah gasped.

“Easy, Deb.” Mahlon’s familiar voice caught her. He’d cut his hair short, ridding himself of the curls he’d always hated. He wore a belt instead of suspenders, and his leather coat stood open as if the cold didn’t bother him. He looked healthy and carefree.

“What are you doing here?”

“Checking on the two women I love.” He shifted, looking surprisingly confident.

He loved her? “What do you want?”

“You.”

She ached to say,
It’s too late
. But as he stared at her, the words wouldn’t leave her mouth. Something about him tugged at her, just as it always had. She should hate him. But all she could think of was that she had loved him before she’d even been old enough to know what love was. Her heart beat hard against her chest, pounding out the many, many feelings she’d had for him almost her whole life. “What does that mean?”

“I’m sorry I left, especially the way I did. I was so confused. I’m not anymore. And I love you. I always have. I want to come back and make it right.”

“Make it right? I caught you sneaking off. When I confronted you, you rode off in a car with a friend, leaving me crying on the side of the road. You were a jerk to me and your Mamm, giving no thought to anyone but yourself.”

He tilted his head, his quietness drawing her in as it always had. “A jerk doesn’t care. I’ve never for one minute stopped caring.”

“Then tell me why, Mahlon. You asked me to marry you, and then you ran off.”

“No excuse.” Mahlon lowered his head. “I … I messed up.”

“No excuse? So either you still don’t know, or you aren’t telling.”

He shoved his hands into his pants pocket. “You’ve changed since I left.”

“Ya, I have. It’s been almost eight months, and I’ve had to survive what you heaped on me. I doubt if you’ll ever really know what you’ve done. You say you want to come back and make it right, but you’re sneaking around in the dark, hiding your presence from everyone but me. Why?”

He stared at the ground before looking her in the eye. “I needed to see you alone. To have a chance to tell the full story. I’ve changed too, Deb. All for the better. I promise you that, but you’ll have to give me an opportunity to prove it. I’m living not far from here. I’d like for us to talk, to cover some ground together, before my presence is known. Can you do that much for me?”

“You keeping secrets just never ends, does it?”

“I’m only asking for a few days. That’s all.”

She wanted to keep it a secret, but not for him. For her. It’d give her the freedom to figure out what she thought before everyone else started pulling at her to think and feel what they wanted her to. Even with her own reasons for doing this in place, she felt like a fool.

If she acted irrationally and Mahlon left again, Ada would pay. The man in front of her was Ada’s only child. For any Amish woman, that alone carried a heartache that couldn’t be erased. But if he returned, Ada’s life would never feel lacking again. Deborah’s presence and loyalty could only ease Ada’s loss in a tiny way. Mahlon had the ability to erase Ada’s sorrow and carry on her family line. “And if I never want to be in a relationship with you again, will you return anyway and rejoin the faith?”

He stared, his hazel eyes still holding power over her, and she hated herself for it. “Think about giving me a second chance, Deb. When you’re ready to talk, leave a message for me with the cook at the Family Restaurant in town. I can tell you what you want to know. Just don’t tell anyone else for now. Please.”

Feeling a need to get inside before she gave him any more access to her heart again, she nodded. “Okay. For a little while.” She started to walk off, but he caught her by the arm.

He gazed into her eyes, but she didn’t know who stood in front of her—the man who’d always drawn her or a stranger. Or both. Had she ever known him?

His eyes misted. “Denki.”

“I’m sorry, Mahlon, but I’m not doing this for you.” She pulled free of his arm and headed for the porch, hoping she hadn’t just created an opening for him that she didn’t have the power to close. If Jonathan discovered that he’d returned and that she was keeping it a secret, Jonathan would walk away and never look back. As steady as sunrise in every season, Jonathan had no patience for girls who played games. He didn’t need or ask for answers she didn’t have, but he demanded honesty in a relationship.

She went inside and locked the door.

Why had she agreed to keep a secret for one man—a man who had proved unreliable—when it could ruin a promising relationship with someone worthy of her trust?

Twenty-Four

Lena moved the pot of heartland corn chowder from the stove onto the kitchen table, careful to square it on the hot pad.

Valentine’s Day.

She set the flatware in its place and tucked a napkin beside it. In all her years since being old enough to be courted or to date, she’d never spent this holiday with just her Daed. At least one girlfriend and she had spent the evening eating chocolate candy and talking until the wee hours of the morning—that was the norm. One year when everyone else had a date, Jonathan had come over, and they’d played checkers, schemed new pranks to pull on people, and whiled away the hours just being pals. This year all her friends had someone special. She’d yet to find a man who interested her, except Grey. But when the time came, he could have any single woman, and he wouldn’t consider her.

The sense of being different wrapped around her, and she seemed unable to shake it. The threat of losing her teaching position had made it easy for loneliness to carve its features all over her heart.

While moving the freshly baked bread onto the table, she heard the back door open, signaling her Daed’s prompt arrival for dinner. His furniture shop stood less than twenty feet from their home, but she never had to call him—he came in early or on time. Except lately he’d missed a few dinners while he spent more and more time in Hope Crossing with Ada.

“These came for you.” He passed her several envelopes. All but one were an odd size and color. He moved to the kitchen sink to wash up.

She set the other notes on the table and studied the business-sized envelope. Her hands felt clammy and her head swimmy. It didn’t have a return address, but the handwriting was Michael’s. The return address had been omitted on purpose. It wasn’t from any one person. It came from the school board. Her heart pounding, she turned her back to her Daed, who remained at the sink, and quietly slid her finger under the loose seal and broke it. She pulled the neatly folded letter out and opened it.

Dear Lena,

We appreciate your years of service. You’ve been an excellent teacher, and we’re aware that no position ever comes without issues, but it seems that you are having too much trouble submitting to the authority of the board. It is our decision that, starting with the next school year, you will be free to find a teaching position outside of Dry Lake. So that we do not hinder you from finding a new position, we will keep our decision confidential among the school board. You will have little trouble finding a teaching position elsewhere. Perhaps you will not find it so difficult to submit to the leadership of a different school board.

Sincerely,

Michael Blank

Enos Beiler

Jake Fisher

Grey hadn’t signed it. Either he didn’t agree with the decision, or he didn’t know what was going on in his absence. She guessed he didn’t know. Michael tried not to add more to a person’s life than was absolutely necessary.

Her Daed finished drying his face on a kitchen towel. “From your friends, ya?”

Lena stuffed the letter and envelope into the hidden pocket of her apron, drew a shaky breath, and turned around. “Ya, they’ve remembered Valentine’s Day.” The envelopes on the table contained cards from each close friend—Deborah, Anna Mary, Rachel, Linda, Nancy, Lydia, Frieda, and Esther. And every one of them had beaus … again.