Treasuring Emma (13 page)

“
Ach
, I’m sorry!” She took a step back, too embarrassed to look up and see who she’d run into. She moved to brush past him but felt a hand on her shoulder.

“It’s all right.”

She didn’t recognize the voice, and when she looked up at his face, she still didn’t know who he was. He was a couple of inches taller than she, with blue eyes. Eyes that suddenly looked a bit familiar. His square chin was clean shaven. He smiled, revealing a chipped front tooth.

Her face reddened. “I’m sorry.”

“You already said that.” His smile widened. “And it’s okay.” He opened his arm, gesturing to his slim body. “No harm done.”

Emma averted her gaze. “I’m glad.” She started to leave when he spoke.

“You don’t have to run off.” He held out his hand. “Name’s Mark King. Yours?”

“Emma.” Her face warmed. She wasn’t used to men she didn’t know talking to her. He was quite bold.

“Nice first name. Do you have a last one?”

Her gaze met his. She pulled at the hem of her jacket, hesitating.

His smile faded. “That probably sounded rude. I didn’t mean to be. It’s just I noticed you sitting next to Clara King and thought maybe you were related. I’m Peter’s cousin.”

Her eyebrows lifted. “Clara is my sister.”

“Then we’re cousins. Very distant ones, by marriage.” His smile returned. “Peter is my third cousin.”

“Are you from Kentucky too?”

“Ya.”

They stood there, and as the seconds ticked away, Emma’s face heated more. But Mark seemed perfectly comfortable with the silence, still looking at her, still smiling. Maybe he was waiting for her to say something.

“Have you been in Middlefield long?”

“A few days. Not long enough to get to know my way around. Or to meet many people.”

“Clara and Peter know just about everyone.”

“I can see that.” He poked his thumb over his shoulder. “I left Peter talking with the
mann
who owns this place.”

“Tobias Byler.”

“
Ya
. And your
schwester
took the
kinner
and went inside. Guess they kind of forgot about me.”

She knew what that felt like. “I’m sure they’ll introduce you to everyone once lunch starts.”

“Oh, it’s fine if they don’t. I get along all right on my own. I met you, didn’t I?”

She released the hem of her jacket. Mark King had an easy manner, a confidence about him. She could see some resemblance between him and Peter. “
Ya
. I guess you did.”

“I should probably remind my cousin I’m still here. Are you coming inside for lunch?”

“
Nee
. I’m on my way home.”

He frowned, but his eyes were still bright. “All right then. Maybe we’ll see each other soon. Being as we’re
familye
and all.”

“Maybe.”

“I would like that. Very much.”

Mark headed toward the house, his stride as comfortable as his bearing. Just as she started to turn away, she saw him look over his shoulder. He grinned. Then he did something she’d never seen a man do, at least toward her. He put his hand over his heart, pointed at her, and walked away.

Clara frowned as she watched Mark approach the men huddled outside the barn. Her gaze went to the end of the driveway, where Emma stood frozen in place. Even from the front porch of Rachel’s house, Clara noticed her sister’s red cheeks. And they weren’t rosy from the October air either.

Clara had seen the gesture Mark made at Emma.

Melvin tugged at Clara’s skirt, but she ignored him. She stared at Emma, then at Mark. He had joined Peter and Tobias and a few other men, as comfortable among them as if he’d grown up in Middlefield.

When she looked at Emma again, her sister had started down the road in the direction of home. Clara felt another tug at her skirt. She looked down. “What do you want?”

“I’m
hungerich
.”

“You always are.” She sighed, brushing his brown bangs back from his forehead. “We’ll eat in a few minutes,
ya
? Can you wait that long?”

He nodded and scampered down the porch steps to join a few other boys his age as they ran around the front yard. But she quickly lost interest in the children and looked toward Mark again.

Surely she couldn’t be jealous. Of Mark? Of
Emma
? Yet his message to her had been clear. It was a romantic gesture, one that even made Clara’s stomach flutter the tiniest bit. He was interested. And he wasn’t afraid to let anyone see it.

But why? Clara loved her sister, but Emma was plain, even among their plain people. She had always been round, and over the past year Clara noticed Emma had put on more weight, especially in her hips. Clara had remarked about it a few times, only to be met with a glare and an order to mind her own business.

There were several other single girls in their church district. Unless Mark flirted with every woman he saw, why would he choose Emma over anyone else? Especially since he just met her.

During the rest of the afternoon, Clara watched, waiting to see if Mark paid attention to any of the other girls. He talked to several single young women, all of whom were quite pretty. But she couldn’t tell if he’d made a connection with any of them.

Later that afternoon they walked home. Peter lagged behind with a sleeping Magdalena pressed against his strong shoulder. The boys ran a few feet ahead. It amazed her that they still had energy left after spending the afternoon playing and dashing around. Melvin whapped Junior on the back with his hat. Peter admonished them, and Melvin stopped. Soon they started kicking at pebbles on the road.

Mark moved up to walk beside her. “I met your
schwester
today,” he said. “Nice
maedel
.”

“There are lots of nice
maed
in our district.” She stepped over a tiny puddle on the side of the road.

“
Ya
. I talked to a few.” He didn’t say anything for a moment. “Is Emma married?”

Clara paused. “
Nee
. She’s not.” She glanced at Mark. “Why do you ask?”

“Just curious. I’d like to get to know a few people around here. Especially
familye
. Living in Tennessee, I spent a long time being without relatives close by. Got kind of lonely sometimes.”

She’d never known family members to make the flirty gesture Mark did with Emma. “My
schwester
lives with
mei grossmammi
. Their
haus
is about a mile farther down from ours.”

“I see.” He looked at Clara, his expression serious. “Maybe I’ll have to visit sometime soon.” Before she could respond, he ran to Junior and Melvin. “Race you
buwe
home!” Mark and her sons sprinted, Mark slowing his steps to make it an even competition.

“What were you and Mark talking about?”

Clara hadn’t heard Peter come up beside her. She looked at her husband. “He was asking about Emma.”

“He was?” The corner of Peter’s lip lifted in a half smile. “Now that’s interesting.”

“I don’t see anything interesting about it.”

The expression of amusement vanished. Magdalena shifted restlessly in Peter’s arms.

“Here, let me take her,” Clara said.

“I can carry her the rest of the way home.”

“I’ll take her.”

With a shrug Peter handed his daughter to his wife. Then he lengthened his strides until he was well ahead of her.

Clara barely noticed.

C
HAPTER
12

When Emma arrived home, she saw Adam’s truck in his parents’ driveway. Apparently he hadn’t left yet. But it was only a matter of time.

She tried to put him out of her mind and headed toward the barn to check on Dill. She’d given the horse extra oats before church—as if that would make up for her lame leg. Spurred by guilt, Emma hurried. As she neared, she heard a tapping sound coming from inside the building, from Dill’s stall. She looked over the top edge of the door. Adam was inside, pounding nails into Dill’s foot.

“What are you doing?”

He looked up at her, two nails stuck between his teeth. Instead of answering, he took one of the nails and hammered it into the metal shoe. He had Dill’s foot anchored between his thighs, but instead of wearing the leather apron a farrier would use, he had on his baggy blue jeans. Dust from Dill’s feet covered his legs. When he finished putting in the final nail, he gently released her leg. She stepped on it gingerly.

“She needed special shoes.” Adam patted Dill’s back flank. The horse nickered in response.

“Your
daed
told me he called the vet,” Emma said. “He’s coming tomorrow.”

“I know. I thought I’d save him the trouble and you the bill by picking up the shoes this morning. I also put a pad between the shoe and hoof. It will help even her hoof out a bit. Take a little of the pain away.”

Emma forgot her anger with Adam and went inside the stall. She knelt next to Dill. “Was she in a lot of pain?”

“Hard to tell. Dill’s a tough horse. A
gut
one too.”

“
Ya,”
Emma whispered. “She is.” She rose and looked at Adam. “Why did you do this?”

“Because I could. I wasn’t about to let Dill suffer because of your stubbornness.”

Any gratitude she felt toward him disappeared. “I would never let my horse, or any of my other animals, suffer. You have no right to say that to me.”

It was an instantaneous, defensive response. But she knew that on some level, Adam was right. She had let Dill down. The horse was suffering, just as her mother had suffered while she was sick. And it didn’t matter how many people told her it wasn’t her fault, that she had done the best she could, Emma didn’t feel any better.

As tears threatened, Emma left Dill’s stall. She didn’t want to break down. Not now. Not in front of Adam. She’d humiliated herself in his presence before, and it was not an experience she ever intended to repeat.

Tommy meowed from the back corner of the barn. He did figure eights between her legs, and she poured a few more morsels of food in his dish, even though it had been full before she left for church. She sat down on the square hay bale nearby. Away in the woods she could hear the sharp sound of dogs barking, probably chasing the birds or squirrels. At least some of her pets were happy.

Adam went to her. He paused, then sat down. She angled away from him, her hands pressing the dark green skirt of her Sunday dress against her legs.

He leaned forward and rested his forearms on the knees of his dirty jeans. “Emma, I didn’t mean it that way. I know you would never hurt anyone, or anything you care about. Dill’s leg isn’t your fault. I wanted to do something to help her, that’s all.”

She pulled at the strings of her
kapp
, hard enough that she felt a bobby pin loosen. As she breathed in, she smelled the mixture of soap and barn dust on his skin and clothes. Why couldn’t he just leave? She didn’t want to be beholden to him for anything. But as usual, she never got what she wanted.

“How are you doing?” he asked.

“How do you think I’m doing?” She glared at him, sighed, and looked away. “
Mammi
died. Dill’s lame. I’m—”

The rest came unbidden to her mind:
I’m alone and shattered
. She swallowed down the truth and said, “I don’t need your pity.”

“I didn’t come back to Middlefield because of your
mammi
, although I am upset she died. And I am sorry about your horse. But I don’t pity you.”

She turned toward him but couldn’t think of a thing to say.

“You don’t need my pity, Emma. You’re stronger than that.”

She looked down at her shoes. Brown specks of dirt covered the toes. “I don’t feel strong,” she whispered.

“You are. You’re the strongest person I know. Except for maybe your
grossmammi
.”

His words made her smile for just a moment, and that made her resent him even more. She was supposed to be mad at him, not charmed by him.

“The reason I came back was because of
mei mudder
,” Adam said. “Leona wrote and said she thought there was something wrong with her. That I should come back and see for myself. But I don’t know what she’s talking about.
Mamm
seems fine.”