The Bridge of Peace (33 page)

Grey slapped the reins without responding. The sick feeling in his gut didn’t ease as he drove toward Lennie’s, but he couldn’t come up with what bothered him so much. It felt like jealousy, but that made no sense whatsoever. He pulled into her driveway and saw Israel in the side yard, applying stain to a freshly made coatrack. He hopped down and went to him. Lennie’s dog came up to him, wagging her tail. He petted her. “Morning, Israel.”

“Grey, what brings you out this way?”

“Mamm’s got Ivan busy for today, so I’m using this time to keep a promise I made last fall. Lennie did some work for me in exchange for me making and mounting window boxes.”

“You know, I remember her asking me to make her some of those a few years back.” He chuckled. “I guess she gave up on me and came up with a new plan. She’s inside somewhere. Go right on in. If you don’t see her, just holler for her.”

Grey went to the front door, tapped on it, and walked inside. He heard what sounded like a coffee cup chink against a plate in the kitchen, so he walked that way. When he caught a glimpse of Lennie, he stopped cold. The image engraved itself on his heart. Her long chestnut hair flowed. A fleece blanket had fallen off one shoulder, revealing a thin, bright pink strap and a lot of milky white skin. Clearly she hadn’t dressed for the day, which meant she must still be in her sleeping clothes. He’d thought all Amish women wore white nightgowns from neck to ankle, but whatever she’d slept in, it wasn’t a gown. Papers were spread out in front of her, and she had a pen in hand, looking every bit as gifted in intelligence as she was in beauty. Breakfast dishes and coffee cups still sat on the table.

Desire grabbed him. Lennie danced through him like she’d turned to vapor and entered his very being. How had he not realized what had been taking place within him since … since Christmas?

She took a deep breath and stretched, looking relaxed and absorbed in her own thoughts.

“Lennie.”

She raised her eyes to his, and she seemed to awaken dreams he’d given up—dreams of unity, laughter, and hope with a woman. “Grey.” Covering her bare shoulder with the blanket, she sat upright. “I … I didn’t know you were coming.”

He wrestled with guilt. What had he come here for, anyway—to build window boxes or to talk and laugh with Lennie? Right now, he knew the answer to that, but his wife had died in his arms not yet six months ago.

From her chair at the table, Lennie waved her hand. “Grey?”

He demanded his eyes move from her so that his lips could speak. “Uh, I … your Daed said for me to come in.” He motioned toward the front door. “I brought the wood and saws to make window boxes.”

“Ach, that’s
wunderbaar
.”

“Ya, I … I need to take measurements … of the window sashes.”

“Sure. I’ll get dressed. Have you eaten?”

He nodded.

“You can help yourself to a cup of coffee if you like. I’ll just run upstairs.”

When she stood, he noticed the long pink satiny pants peeking out from the wide gape in the blanket that ran down the front of her. She tugged at the fleece, trying to cover her immodesty. He lowered his head and stared at the floor as she hurried past him and up the stairs.

Her scent of lavender and roses and violets hung in the air. Trying to clear his head, he went outside and began unloading the wood. He wasn’t ready to feel any sort of attraction for a woman. He had nothing left in him to give. Besides that, the feelings pouring into him were not who he and Lennie were. She’d been a constant in his life, but when did she seep past being a friend and sink into the deeper parts of his heart?

Thoughts of Elsie tore, and fear ate away. The idea of marriage terrified him. He never again wanted to give someone the power that came through the bonds of matrimony. But he hadn’t known that until today. As hidden thoughts continued to reveal themselves, he understood one thing: he had nothing left to give to a marriage—the ideals of it, the struggles, the walls. He … couldn’t.

Before he unloaded the last board, Lennie bounded out the front door—cape dress, black apron, and prayer Kapp in place. But none of that stopped his heart from pounding like crazy.

Nicky ran to her, and she knelt, patting her dog. “You might not know this because I kept it really quiet, but a couple of years back, right before school began, I injured my back and had to wear a plaster cast around my torso.” She stood, looking rather serious. “It fit under my dress and wasn’t noticeable at all. I had some tough eighth-grade students and wasn’t sure how I’d corral them into being good for the year, especially since I couldn’t move around too well. On that first day I had the windows and doors open, and a strong breeze kept flapping the ties to my prayer Kapp, so I took the stapler out and stapled the ties to my chest. Oddly enough, I had no trouble with discipline that year.”

Grey held her gaze, feeling laughter stir as he watched humor dance in her eyes. “You’re lying to me, Lennie Kauffman.”

“Ya, but I made you smile.” She interlaced her fingers and popped them.

He stared at her, awed at how she made him feel stronger than he was, rather than weaker. Surely she wanted no more from him than he could give—friendship. “You are something else.”

“Ya, I am. So where do you want to start measuring first, upper-level windows or ground level?”

“I’m not very practiced at this, so let’s start at the top. The extra distance will help hide the goof-ups from those looking at your home.”

“Good thinking. Is that why my bedroom is on the top floor?”

He chuckled. The hours melted away too quickly as they worked together. She fixed them a quick lunch of leftovers from the night before, a beef stew and jalapeno cornbread, both of which were so good he asked for the recipe. Israel ate with them, and afterward he pitched in to help make window boxes. Grey wouldn’t finish today, but a couple of hours next Saturday should do the trick. By evening they’d built, stained, and mounted six window planters. He still had to build two large ones for the front porch, but those would need extra care, so he’d get to them next week.

Lennie lined each wooden box with a mesh often used for screening porches. Then she passed him the stapler to secure them while she went to the greenhouse to get a bag of soil.

From inside the home at a ground-level window, he stapled the mesh in place.

Lennie came around the corner of the house. “Can you take this and fill them about three-fourths full of dirt?”

The top of her head was two feet below the bottom of the windowsill. He reached through the window, easily able to grab the top of the bag of soil as she held it up as high as she could. While he filled the box with dirt, she remained outside, using the squirt nozzle to pressure clean the screen that needed to go back in the window where he currently stood.

“Okay, these two are done.” Grey shot one last staple into the mess. “Do you want us to put the screens back on now or wait until you’ve put flowers in them after the last frost?”

She gazed up at him, smudges of dirt on her face and stains on her dress and apron. Even with the heart of a woman, her countenance seemed like the carefree girl he’d always known her to be. “What’s the prediction for the last frost this year?”

He set the bag of dirt in the windowsill and wiped his hands on his pants. “May fourth.” Unable to see her, he leaned out the window. “Hey, where’d you …” His elbow knocked the bag of dirt over. He caught the bottom of it, but all that did was cause its contents to flow right on top of her.

She screamed. “Benjamin Graber, I’m telling!” She shook her head, dumping mounds of soil around her feet. He started laughing while she flapped her apron, ridding it of some dirt. She then used the underside of her apron to wipe off her face.

“Oh, ya, this is just really funny now.” She glared at him. “You just wait until I tell.” She cupped her hands around her mouth. “Daed!”

Her father came around the side of the house, took one glance at her, and applauded. She picked up the hose, wrapped her hands around the spray nozzle, and rotated it back and forth, pointing at her Daed and Grey.

Surely out of respect she wouldn’t squirt her Daed, and Grey stood inside her home, with its polished floors, well-kept furniture, and white sheers, so he felt safe. “Ya? So just what are you going to—” Cold water smacked him in the face. While she continued soaking him, he slammed the window. She shifted and bombarded him from the next window right beside the first one. “Lennie!” Laughing too hard to catch his breath, he closed the next window.

The spray of water had caught potting soil off the top of the window planter and whisked it inside. Now soil and water covered a good bit of the floor, curtains, and cloth furniture. She stood outside with her hands on her hips and a thin layer of dark soil covering most of her. The waning rays of sunlight shone from behind her, making her appear to radiate white light. Those brief moments seemed to capture so many aspects of her nature—mischievous, playful, funny, innocent, and daring. “Never think you can predict a prankster, Grey,” she yelled through the closed window.

Her Daed eased the hose from her and turned off the spigot. Grey opened the window.

“She has a motto.” Israel studied his daughter, clearly amused. “I don’t agree with it, but you see what it’s like to try to control her.”

“So what’s this motto?”

Israel grabbed the screens to the window. “Things can be cleaned and replaced. Great moments cannot afford to be lost.”

Lennie pointed at Grey’s soaked clothing. “And that was a truly great moment.”

Israel headed for his workshop. “I’ll just put all the screens away until after she’s planted flowers in those boxes.”

Torn between who he should be as a recent widower, his raw doubts about marriage, and what he felt for Lennie, Grey knew why he was sorry he’d told Christian anything about her. He didn’t want him seeing Lennie. He didn’t want anyone having time alone with her.

Not anyone but him. Now how did that make any sense when he’d never have anything more to offer her than the friendship of their childhood?

Twenty-Nine

Deborah drove her rig toward town, passing stores and her bank before arriving at the restaurant. After tethering her horse to a hitching post, she walked across the parking lot. She pushed open the door and was greeted by the rattle of plates and waitresses carrying large trays of food. The smell of bacon and hamburgers added to Deborah’s queasiness. She moved to an empty booth and slid to the middle of the seat.

The streetlights shone brightly against the blackness of night. A few people were walking along the sidewalk, cars stopped at the red light, and a couple of folks crossed the street. Town life had its own pace. Much more bustling than the farm she’d grown up on, and yet, compared to what Cara said New York City was like, it moved very slowly.

Slowly. That’s how she’d let this mess with Mahlon drag out. He’d asked for a few days. It’d now been nine weeks. Nine weeks!

But she knew why she’d let it go on and on. Selfishness. That, and he’d written to his Mamm. The letter had made Ada so happy, so hopeful he might return, that Deborah couldn’t find the strength to say anything to Mahlon that might cause him to leave. And for every week he’d stayed, she’d seen and understood more of who she was, what she wanted from life, and why she’d felt so drawn to him.

The bell on the restaurant jingled, and Mahlon walked in. His hazel eyes lit up as he walked to the booth. “Hi.” He slid into his seat and stretched his hands over hers. “Thanks for coming again, Deb.”

She stared at their entwined hands, hoping the right words came to her.

A waitress set a glass of ice water in front of her. Deborah freed her hands of his and took a sip, trying to settle her nerves. She hated how distant she’d been to Jonathan since the night he kissed her, but what else could she do? At least he’d been gone a fair amount lately with his blacksmith job. Right now he was staying several nights at a farm some twenty miles from here, shoeing a herd of horses.

Mahlon studied her—probably sizing her up and choosing his words.

As a long-distance truck driver, he hadn’t been around all that much either. The absence of both men had given her time to think. When she did meet with Mahlon, he’d poured his heart out to her—promising her everything, including making Ada happy with a houseful of grandchildren.

She dipped her finger in the water and traced patterns with it on the table. Contrary to what she’d thought since Mahlon ran off, she did know him. And he knew her.

He wanted to give up his job as a truck driver and go through the steps to become a member of the Amish community in good standing again. He would return only to be shunned. Knowing that, she understood why he’d wanted time to talk to her before he made everyone else aware of his homecoming.

“I’ve done as you asked, Mahlon.”

She’d listened to every word and taken time to think about them. It all made sense now. He’d felt trapped and overwhelmed. He was having panic attacks, but he couldn’t say what he was feeling, in part because he didn’t know what he was feeling or why. His Englischer friend had offered a way out, and in a state of depression, he’d jumped at it. Now that he was better, he regretted what he’d done. She’d listened. She’d heard. She’d made her decision.