A Marriage of the Heart (9 page)

“
Ya
, surely you are,” his father murmured, straightening.

Luke swallowed. “
Daed
. . . I know none of us has been sick or hurt since
Mamm
, but this is nothing to worry over.”

“
Ya
, so they said about your mother.” The older man dropped into a nearby rocker and covered his face with his hand for a moment. “Perhaps I grow old in my concern.”

Remorse swelled in Luke’s throat when he thought of how his selfish behavior could bring more pain to his father. It had never been his desire to assume the role he had—that of a common thief—and what’s more, he knew that he’d enjoyed it. But no
weight of purpose could outbalance what he’d done. He sighed softly and flexed his wrist in its white bandages.

“
Daed
, we’re all a bunch of fool men in this house, who’ve done little to really talk about
Mamm
not being here. Rose—well, she likes to talk. I’ve come to learn through her that talking helps things. It’s when we don’t say—what we should, maybe—that things are worse.”

He waited, and after a moment his father drew a hoarse breath.

“Well, I miss your
mamm
, to be sure. I thought that if I—spoke too much of it, that it would hurt you boys . . . add to your grieving. I guess I’ve kept the secret of my hurt inside for too long, and you’re right—it’s not
gut
.” He took out a white hankie and blew his nose prodigiously. “
Ya
, especially with a new bride coming to bring life to these walls again. Your Rosie’s got your
mamm
’s spirit, her gentleness and love of life. You’re a lucky man,
sohn—
she’s perfect for you.”

Luke licked at a tear that slipped past his mouth and nodded. “
Ya, Daed
. Perfect.”

T
HE MORE SHE WALKED, THE MORE CONFUSED ROSE GOT
. Luke had her coming and going, and she had him in nearly the same position—except for the fact that he seemed so . . . steamy in his behavior, despite his injuries. Yet she still could explain little to nothing about why he’d done what he had the last months. And he’d kept on as though nothing had happened—except for the day he’d suggested she’d like more freedom . . .

She stopped so abruptly on the dirt road that she nearly stumbled. He’d offered her freedom, and had she taken it, he’d been willing to let her go, without any guilt or condemnation. Remorse flooded her consciousness, and she felt tears sting the backs of her eyes. What she’d taken for granted—his love—was real. It was giving and patient and all of those other things she knew from church but couldn’t recall from her flustered mind.

Aenti
Tabby’s words teased at her consciousness with sudden importance.
What if there were more to Luke? More
.
More. More
.

She sighed and resumed walking, swiping at her eyes with the backs of her hands. Luke still had a lot of explaining to do . . . but then, maybe she did too.

She arrived home slightly breathless with emotion to find that the family had returned from the fair.
Aenti
Tabby was in the backyard making unrefined sugar from the bumper crop of sugar beets they’d had that year.

“
Ach
, some stronger hands than mine for the press,” the older woman said with a welcoming smile.

Rose ducked her head so that her aunt wouldn’t see the emotion in her face and plunged her hands into a nearby bucket of soapy water. She dried her hands on a clean towel and then took over at the apple press, which currently ran with the bright red and purple of sugar beets. Later the juice would be boiled until nearly all the liquid had evaporated, leaving rough granules of sugar for cooking. The hard part was pressing the liquid from the beets.

Aenti
Tabby moved to continue cutting off the rough green tops. “So, have you seen your friend Priscilla lately? I’ve heard the Kings are having quite a time getting ready for her wedding.”

Rose realized she had been too involved in her own issues to
be of much comfort to her friend. She’d have to pay her another visit soon. To think that Priscilla and Chester’s wedding was only three weeks away. The thought made her heart speed up at the seamless passage of time, and thoughts of her own December wedding to Luke flooded her mind again.

“How is your dress coming?”

“
Gut
. I’ve got it pieced, and I sew on it a bit whenever I can.”

Rose was waiting for it—more pressing questions about Luke from her
aenti
—and decided to forestall the process by talking a blue streak. But as she opened her mouth to speak, her
aenti
gave a shocked cry.

“What?” Rose asked in alarm.

“Your hands, child! You didn’t put on gloves.”

Rose stared down at her hands and wrists, now stained as purple as the beet juice that gushed through the press.

“
Ach!
I wasn’t thinking . . .”

“Or perhaps you were thinking too much,” Aenti Tabby suggested.

Rose laughed aloud ruefully. “I suppose I can try kerosene to get it off.”

“Or maybe your Luke would prefer a purple hand to hold until he’s feeling better.”

Rose opened her mouth in shock. “What?” How did her
aenti
know about Luke’s injuries?

Aenti
Tabby laughed at her expression. “Dr. Knepp stopped by before you got here to make sure that you were feeling well. Will you tell me what happened?”

Rose stared down at her purple fingers, perplexed, and thought hard about strangling Luke as she struggled for an answer.

Chapter Fifteen

“G
O ON UP,
R
OSE
.” M
R
. L
ANTZ SMILED WITH WHAT SEEMED
like extra exuberance. “He’s just resting that ankle a bit.”

Rose returned the smile to her kindly future father-in-law and decided Luke must have handled things all right. She crossed the beautifully pegged oak floors of the Lantz farmhouse with a familiar appreciation. Luke had suggested that they might move into the small house adjacent to the farm soon after they married, but Rose wouldn’t think of it. She’d loved the woman who would have been her mother-in-law, and part of her longed to bring back the feminine touches that were missing from the home—the watering can of red geraniums on the kitchen windowsill; the sheen and patina of the beautifully carved furniture, which in recent months seemed always to need a dusting; and just the general feel of a woman about the place to cook and clean, heal and listen. She was no fool though, and knew that unless she drew upon
Derr Herr
’s spirit, drinking from the Living Water to nourish herself first, she would have nothing to bring to her new family.

This thought filled her mind as she moved to the bottom of the staircase and glanced upward. Over the years Rose had climbed the staircase to Luke’s room more times than she could count, having always been treated like a daughter by the Lantzes. But today something was different as she gripped the smoothness of the simple balustrade with one hand and swiped at a stray piece of lint on her dress with the other. Today she was nervous, uncertain, and she hesitated at the closed wooden door at the top left of the steps. It wasn’t just her friend who lay within, but her betrothed—and the thief of her heart.

She knocked softly, half hoping he slept, but his voice rang true through the wood.

“
Kumme
in.”

She took a deep breath, plastered a pleasant expression on her face, and opened the door. Luke gazed at her with that same rich smile he seemed to have grown out of nowhere, and she felt herself flushing for no reason.

“Rose,
kumme
. Close the door and sit down.” He patted the edge of the bed near his hip, and she swallowed.

“
Ya
, but maybe I should leave the door open—your
daed
. . .”

“My
daed
knows you’ve been up here a hundred times with that door shut, but suit yourself.” He stretched his long arms behind his head so that his suspenders strained across his white shirt, and shifted so that his ankle was better positioned on the heap of pillows. “Will you sit down then?” he asked.

Rose forced herself away from the idea of the chair near the window and went to perch on his bedside, trying to keep away from the length of his black-clad leg.

“How’s the ankle?”

“Not too bad as long as I stay off it a bit here and there.”

Rose nodded and cast about for something else to say.

“So, it’s my fault, I’m guessing,” he observed.

“What’s your fault?”

“You meeting strangers in the woods.” He smiled up at her, but his eyes were searching, compelling.

She hadn’t been sure how to bring up the subject of his disguise and her enticement with him, but since he’d provided an opening . . .

“
Ya
, it is your fault. Both for being the stranger and for being—well, a stranger to me—your supposedly best friend.” Her voice wavered a bit. “But I could have told you I recognized you.”

“You told that stranger you wanted freedom,” he said seriously. “Why did you agree to marry me, Rose?”

She caught her breath. She couldn’t tell him the things she’d told
Aenti
Tabby when she’d asked the same question, so she sat silent and miserable, staring at the quilt top.

He reached to toy with her fingers and took a deep breath. “It’s not too late for anything, Rose. Engagements can be broken. Friendships can remain.”

Her gaze flew to his handsome face, and her heart hammered in her chest. “Is that what you want?”

He gave her a rueful smile. “No fair, Rose. Tell me what you want.”

You
, her mind screamed with sudden certainty, but she wet her lips cautiously. He’d betrayed her trust, and she did want things from him—the truth, for a start. Yet she hadn’t been truthful either. She decided on plowing ahead in the discussion and getting to her own accounting later.

“You have no idea how it’s been for me,” she declared. “I’ve known you forever but haven’t really known you at all—at least, that’s how it seems.”

“So you feel like I’ve taken advantage of you in a way?” he asked quietly.

She blew out a frustrated breath. “No . . .
ya
. . . I don’t know. And you’ve never seemed to well—desire me—when you were—are—really you—”

“Why are your fingers purple?” he interrupted.

“Beet juice sugaring.”

“
Ach
,” he sighed, squeezing her fingertips. “Well, I have taken advantage of you, I guess. I didn’t mean to. And as far as desiring you, Rose—do you have any idea what it’s been like holding back for all these months—these years even?”

“Then why did you?”

“Because I felt like the same kid who chased bullfrogs with you and brought home stray dogs. I felt like you’d grown into something beautiful while I was still this awkward person. And then . . . when
Mamm
died, I guess I just sort of distanced myself, unintentionally, but the feelings were there, Rose.”

“Well, I thought you couldn’t stand the thought of touching me, and I wanted—well . . .” She thrilled at the thought that he’d fought back his feelings for her.

His hand drifted to stroke her arm. “What did you want?”

She shook her head stubbornly in reply, and he shifted his weight fully onto his back. “Rose, listen . . . I’m sorry. I’ll prove it to you. Come here.” His eyes burned like dark blue flame as he reached out for her.

Rose leaned forward and reached one purple fingertip to trace
the contour of his mouth. She brushed her lips against his, following the trail of her finger. His arms drew her closer and he deepened the kiss, and she felt his chest rise and fall in uneven rhythm.

Rose pulled away. There
was
more she wanted from him . . . answers, for a start.

“Luke, tell me about the thefts,” she whispered. “And the
Englisch
ways of dress and doings. You were baptized last year.”

“I know.”