The Proposal at Siesta Key (14 page)

“Anything is good here,” she said as they got in line.

“That's it? You come here all the time, you say it's the best around, but you have no preference for a flavor?”

“It's ice cream, not anything that really matters.”

“It's your opinion,” he said as they moved forward. After another couple of minutes, he continued. “Your opinion matters, don't you think?”

“I think it doesn't matter all that much.”

After giving her a long look, Eric shook his head.

Making her feel worse than she already did. Eric had been nothing but kind today, and now he was even attempting to get to know her better. She needed to stop feeling jealous of a woman she'd never met dating a man she hardly knew. “I'm sorry,” she said. “I know I sounded kind of snippy.”

“What did I do?”

“Nothing.” Well, nothing that she was ever going to admit out loud! Then, because she hated how she was acting—and they likely had another five minutes or so of standing in line—she changed the topic. “I don't know if you knew this, but Big Olaf's has been around since 1982. It's quite famous.”

His eyes lit with amusement. “I actually did not know that.”

“Oh,
jah
. They have all kinds of flavors. And you can even ship their pints of ice cream all over the country. Can you imagine that?”

“I like the idea of being able to get a little something from Pinecraft up in Pennsylvania. I'll have to keep that in mind.”

As they stepped forward, Beverly chattered on, telling Eric all about the other location out on Siesta Key. When she finally paused to take a breath, they were at last at the front of the line.

“I'll take a scoop of mint chocolate chip. What would you like, Bev?”

“Strawberry,” she said with a smile.

“And a strawberry cone, too,” he told the server.

After they got their cones, they headed home. Beverly told herself that the reason they weren't talking was because they were busy with their ice cream.

However, she was fairly sure that both of them had a whole lot more on their minds than that.

S
o how bad do you feel, really?” Evan asked over the phone two days after the surgery.

Michael grinned as he stared out the window in his bedroom. Yesterday Eric had driven him back from the hospital. Though the journey had been a bit painful, the result was worth it. Now he was propped up against a trio of down-filled pillows in a snug bed instead of constantly shifting positions in an attempt to get comfortable in the middle of a drafty, smelly hospital room.

“If you were here instead of in the middle of a tour, you would know that I'm doing better than any of us expected.”

“So am I allowed to call you ten times a fool for not getting this surgery done a year ago?”

“Nope. Nothing was wrong a year ago.” Well, not too much had been wrong.

“I wish I could say I believed you. But I don't.”

“Why don't you concentrate on the good things instead? I got through the surgery and I'll be joining you in a couple of weeks.”

“That will be great. It's not the same here without you.”

“I bet. I am the star of our show, you know.”

“I was going to say that it was
quieter
. Everyone's more easygoing. Things are running like clockwork without your fans following us around.”

“That's so funny. Not.”

Evan gave a bark of laughter. “If you were here, you could watch Mamm about to jump out of her chair and grab the phone from me right now.”

Michael smiled at that. It was impressive that she had allowed Evan to be the one to talk to him. “She said to be sure to let you know that we have our own fans chasing us.”

This time Michael was the one laughing. “Tell her I'm real sorry to be missing that.”

“I don't think I will. She never cared for your sarcasm, you know.”

“I know.” Michael's smile widened. He missed his brother. They knew each other well—so well, that a dozen thoughts could be conveyed in just one or two words. “It's really good to hear from you. I'm glad you called.”

“Of course I'm going to call. So, are you bored and restless already?”

“Not yet.”

“That's
gut
. I'm surprised, but happy to hear that. Actually, I was afraid that you were going to have a really hard time when we left you. You don't always do that well when you're alone.”

“I haven't been alone.”

“Who have you been spending time with?”

“With Penny.”

“The girl who's been looking after you?”

“
Jah
, she works here,” he said, “but she's become a friend, too.
We went to the beach together the day before the surgery. Then she sat with me at the hospital until visiting hours were over.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why is she spending so much time with you, and why are you putting up with that?”

“It's not a hardship.” It was the opposite of that, of course. Seeing Penny was quickly becoming the highlight of his day.

“Really.”

Michael knew the meaning of that “really.” Evan had perfected it when he was about eight years old, and it was the ideal combination of sarcasm and polite response. He'd pull it out at different times, in all kinds of situations, much to the irritation of Michael and Molly.

And that was why, now, he sighed in exasperation. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Okay, fine. I'm just wondering how much you know about this lady.”

“She's twenty-four. Her sister died in a violent crime twelve years ago, and it pretty much messed up her whole family. She was hired at the Orange Blossom Inn for the express purpose of helping me. She's a nice girl.”

“Are you sure she didn't get the job to get close to you?”

He winced, hating how that sounded. Hating even more that he'd thought the same thing at first. “I'm sure.
She's a nice girl
,” he repeated, thinking there was no better way to describe her. “She's shy.”

“Oh. So she's only in your company because she's getting paid. You're her job,” Evan said matter-of-factly.

Michael scowled. He didn't like the idea of anyone trying to classify his relationship with Penny. He knew for a fact that there was more between them than his neediness and her paycheck.

At least, he hoped so.

But how could he convey that without giving too much away? “Yes. But we're becoming friends, too.”

Now, why had he said that?

“Didn't know you needed a new friend in Pinecraft.” Again, Evan's tone was careful and controlled. It was obvious that he was feeling his way around the conversation. But what Evan didn't know was that he was walking a thin line between sounding careful and condescending.

“I can always use a new friend. Don't worry about it, Evan.”

Evan sighed. “Michael—”

“Listen, I've got to go. Penny's about to bring me supper.”

“What does that have to do with anything? She can wait, right? After all, she's getting paid to bring you food.”

It was time to change the direction of the conversation before he said something he regretted. “When do you all hit the road again?”

“In four days. Molly or Daed or I will give you a call in a day or two.”

“Great. I'll talk to you then.”

“Michael. Listen, I'm sorry if I sounded like a jerk, but we both know that nothing can happen between you and that girl.”

“I know. Because we have to continue the tour.”

“It's what we do, brother,” Evan stated, his voice sounding as firm as their father's.

And though Michael did completely understand what his
brother meant, he resented it. “Evan, don't you ever wish it
wasn't
what we did?”

“
Nee
. Never.”

“Really?” He found that hard to believe.

“It's given us the opportunity to travel all over the country. We've spread the Lord's message. We've given money to charities, too.” After a pause, Evan added, “Michael, our work is a blessing to so many.”

“I didn't say it wasn't . . .”

“You are a gifted speaker,” Evan continued, his voice sounding a bit harsher. “It's what you were meant to do.”

Michael wondered if Evan even heard himself. Did he realize that he was touching upon everything they'd gotten to do but not much about how their schedule had affected them?

Michael knew in his heart that the five of them were a team. He might be the face of their group but only teamwork made the Knoxx Family the success that it was. And that was terrific. Great. It always had been. Except now he'd started wondering what life might be like if he left the group. If he dared to walk away, would he ruin his parents' and his siblings' lives?

Was he willing to do that?

Michael realized then that the whole time he'd been talking with Evan, he'd had the strange sensation of being on the outside looking in. And he'd been happy with that. Though he'd missed his family, to be sure, he didn't miss what they were doing. He hadn't even been all that interested in their itinerary or how things were going. Had he really moved on? If that was the case, how was he going to tell his family?

And what was he going to do then?

A soft knock interrupted his thoughts. Thankfully. “Evan, listen, I've got to go. We'll talk again soon.”

“Hold on. When—”

“Sorry, I've got to go. Bye!” he said as the knock came again. “Come in,” he said with relief.

A turn of the knob brought in pretty Penny. Her arms were laden with a tray filled with supper, a tall glass of iced tea, and what looked like two pieces of pie.

This afternoon she had on a pretty coral-colored dress, which did amazing things to her blond curls, her lightly tanned skin, and her mesmerizing eyes. But beyond her looks, it was her sweet, almost demure temperament that had trapped his heart. He liked how shy she was. He liked that she seemed to see him for who he was, not for what he was.

“Penny! You are my favorite person in the world,” he declared, intentionally making his voice sound effusive so she'd do the next thing he absolutely loved to see. As he'd hoped, she blushed prettily, and two seconds later, that darling dimple made an appearance.

Adorable.

“I have a feeling you say that to all the girls who bring you pie,” she teased.

He pressed a hand to his chest in mock distress. “No I don't.”

“Nee?”

“Lately, I only say that to girls who bring me pie
and
supper. And Beverly's iced tea.”

She closed the door behind her with one hand before crossing the room to him. A faint smile played on her lips. “Then I must remember to thank the Lord tonight when I say my prayers. Because it seems I am blessed enough to be that girl today.”

He winked. “Amen to that.”

But instead of another dimple appearance, her eyes widened. Obviously, he'd gone too far with his wink.

“Hey,” he said as she approached awkwardly. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be so forward.”

“It's all right. I suppose you can't help yourself.”

“What does that mean?”

She set his tray down on the bedside table, then expertly shook out a linen napkin and handed it to him. After he took it from her, she continued. “Nothing. It's just that I'm fairly sure you're used to women bringing you supper.”

“No.” When she tilted her head to one side, he patted the side of his bed. “Have a seat, wouldja?”

Instead of sitting where he'd gestured, she pulled over the chair. “What is wrong?”

“Penny, I want you to understand something. This isn't my life. I don't sit in bed and ask to be waited on. That's not who I am.”

“Michael, what you do is none of my business.”

“We're friends now, right?” With obvious reluctance, she nodded. “Then it is your business. When I'm on tour with my family, we are usually traveling to our new stop, preparing to speak, or sleeping. I'm not complaining or saying it's a terrible way of life. It's not. Not at all. But I don't sit around and hope someone will wait on me.”

“I see.”

“I hope so.” Then, before he lost his nerve, he added, “And furthermore, I hope it's not going to be my life forever.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I want to stop touring. I want to simply be Michael Knoxx, the guy who lives down the road.”

She stared at him hard. Then, to his surprise, her lips twitched. Right before she burst into giggles.

“What?”

“What? You!” Still giggling, she leaned close and grabbed his hand. The one that was still raised in the air, ready to make a grand point.

Almost against his will, his fingers immediately linked through hers. His lips seemed to take on a life of their own, too, because he started smiling, though he wasn't even sure what he was smiling about. “Talk to me.”

“Michael, you will never simply be that guy down the street. It's not going to happen.”

“Sure it can. When I stop touring, everyone will forget about me being some kind of celebrity.”

She shook her head. “No one is going to forget. You shine so brightly, it would be impossible for anyone to forget you.” Looking down at their linked fingers, she gave his hand a little squeeze. “For now and forever, you are Michael Knoxx. That is all there is to it.”

He liked the way their hands were joined. He liked the feel of her slim fingers threaded through his own. He liked how soft the fragile skin over the top of her knuckles was. But most of all, he loved that she'd reached for him. And how she seemed to enjoy the feel of her hand in his as much as he did.

Just then, the door opened. “Excuse me, Michael. Is Penny in—” Beverly paused as she took in how they were sitting. The way Penny was leaning toward him.

And most of all, how they were holding hands.

As far as compromising situations went, theirs was hardly noteworthy, Michael knew that. But as far as the two of them—especially with Penny not only working for Beverly but being Amish—this was not good. He knew it, Beverly knew it, and by the way Penny dropped his hand, jumped to her feet, and nearly toppled his tray, it was very obvious that she knew it, too.

“I should go,” she whispered.

Beverly's expression was as angry as he'd ever seen it. “Yes, Penny, you should. Go down to the kitchen, if you would. We need to have a talk.”

Penny nodded and rushed out of the room.

“Beverly, don't be upset with her. What happened is my fault.”

“That's big of you to say. And you might even be correct,” she replied. “But it doesn't change what I saw.”

“All you saw was two people sitting together. Holding hands. It wasn't like we were in some passionate embrace. She wasn't even sitting on my bed,” he added for good measure, pushing away the knowledge that he'd tried to get her to sit there in the first place.

“She was hired to bring you meals. To get things you need. To help you hop over to the bathroom. She was
not
hired to flirt with you at your bedside.”

“She wasn't flirting. She wasn't being inappropriate.”

“I've been an innkeeper for over three years now, Michael. I think I have a better idea of how my employees should conduct themselves than you do.”

“It wasn't like that,” he said again.

“I'm not blaming you. Though I must say if you are used to picking up women in hotels, you've definitely come to the wrong place.”

“Don't,” he bit out. “Don't make this into something like that.”

“I don't need to make it into anything,” she replied, her voice turning frigid. “I know what I saw.”

“It was nothing like that.” He couldn't help it, but his voice rose.

He never lost his temper. Sometime around the twelfth hour of sitting in that ravine, he'd decided to stop sweating the small stuff. He'd also decided that “small stuff” included everything that wasn't being trapped in a ravine, pain shooting through his leg, and feeling like he'd give up a hand, too, if he could simply have one tall glass of water.