Along Wooded Paths (8 page)

“Yes, of course.” Marianna nodded and then hurried toward the kitchen. Sarah, the other young Amish woman who worked there, hadn’t arrived yet. Edgar’s words replayed in Marianna’s mind, yet before she had time to think about them, she paused at the threshold between the open kitchen and the dining room. Ben sat at the table closest to the kitchen and his eyes were on her, as if he expected her. No, more than that . . . as if he studied her. Without having to ask, she knew why he’d come.

He must have heard about Aaron.

Marianna paused and eyed the man who’d drawn her heart. If only she could be sure about her feelings for the handsome Englischman—about anything. Like water rushing over her, all she once knew lay buried under curling depths of emotion. Surfacing seemed impossible. Her steps paused. Her lips parted, but no words came.

He looked at her, and she saw in his eyes the same tenderness she’d first seen that night, months ago, when he played his guitar and sang at the restaurant. She could still remember how she’d felt hearing his music, how it had affected her when their eyes met. And yet . . .

Though she’d replayed that memory dozens of times, today she could no longer remember the tune.

CHAPTER NINE

Ben sat at the table, nursing a cup of coffee. All during the drive to take Ike to the worksite, and then the whole way back home, he’d told himself it didn’t matter that an Amish man had arrived to sweep Marianna off her feet. That he’d probably been mistaken about her interest in him. The more he thought about it, he realized Marianna always tried to keep her distance. He’d been the one to approach, to talk with her. He’d been the one to wrap his arms around her as she held the guitar.

All during the drive back to his place, he told himself to give the woman time to figure out her own future. Even so, he’d showered, shaved, put on cologne, and dressed in his nicest jeans and shirt—without looking too dressed up—and put on his snow boots and headed out. He tried to pretend he’d come here because he hadn’t had breakfast, but he knew better. Maybe that’s what Ike had expected. He didn’t seem surprised when Ben headed down the hill instead of staying at the worksite.

Now he watched Marianna cook up scrambled eggs and ham for him. She worked with an efficiency that she’d been trained to from birth. Her long skirt swished around her calves as she whisked the eggs in a bowl. Ben tried to convince himself he wasn’t going against Mr. Sommer’s wishes by being here, but he knew he was kidding himself.

Five minutes later Marianna approached, placed the plate before him, and refilled his coffee cup.

“Do you have a few minutes to sit? We haven’t talked in a while.”

Marianna nodded. “
Ja.
”

That surprised him. He hadn’t expected her to agree.

She placed the coffee carafe on the table and then sat in the booth across from him. She glanced behind her, to where Edgar washed the front window. The store was empty of customers. She turned back to Ben.

“So, I hear that your friend was in an accident. Is he okay?” Ben added sugar to his coffee, stirring in slow circles.

Marianna shrugged and eyed him. She didn’t seem shocked he knew about Aaron. News traveled quickly around these parts.

“He’s okay, but not great. Aaron’s leg is broken, just above the knee.”

“Aaron, huh?”

She nodded. “Aaron Zook.”

A good Amish name for a good Amish man.

“It’s a bad break. He won’t be able to do much for six weeks.”

“Six
weeks?”
The words shot out before he could stop them. Ben looked down to his plate, feeling heat rise in his cheeks. He picked up his fork and cut off a chunk of his scrambled eggs. He took a big bite and inhaled. The still-hot egg burned his mouth. Ben swallowed fast, but it didn’t help. The eggs burned all the way down his throat. Pain traveled with it, but it didn’t compare to the pain Marianna’s words caused.

The man she once loved—the man she’d planned on marrying—would be staying with her family for months. He’d be there, every day, close to Marianna. Close in a way Ben couldn’t be.

He lifted his napkin to wipe his mouth, blowing air over his singed tongue and studying Marianna’s face. Did she still love Aaron? Had she always?

Marianna sighed. “It shocked me too. I didn’t even know he was coming. He’s using my room, and I’ll be sleeping with my little sisters. They may be small, but they sure take up a lot of space yet.” The more Marianna spoke, the more she relaxed. Ben’s shoulders relaxed too. He could tell from her wide-eyed gaze that she didn’t want to talk about Aaron. She leaned forward more, as if saying,
I want to talk to you, not talk
about
him.

Following her cue, he changed the subject. “I want to thank you. You know, for the quilt. I think of you when I use it.”

“I’m glad.” She offered a soft smile. “I enjoyed making it. It’s my way of thanking you for—”

Ben raised his hands. “I know, you told me. I didn’t say that to have you gush.” He reached around and patted his back. “I have a big enough head as it is without your accolades. Time to change the subject again.”

Laughter spilled from Marianna’s lips, and the room seemed to brighten. “Okay, what is it we can discuss?”

He leaned forward, fiddling with the corner of his napkin. “Working on anymore quilts?”

She tilted her head down and eyed him under her lashes. “I thought we were going to change the subject.”

“We did. Got it back off me and onto you. Or rather your handiwork.”

“Well, I do have to make one for Annie. I’ve yet to start.”

“If you need a ride down to Eureka, to the fabric store, well, I can give you a ride.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Her finger ran up and down the crease where the wood planks of the tabletop joined together. She studied the wood as if it were a Michelangelo painting. From her expression, it was clear she was thinking about more than a ride to the fabric store. But what?

If only he could read her mind. Was she thinking about Aaron?

Ben chewed on his bottom lip. Should he ask the question that fogged up his mind, just like their warm breath fogged up the window beside the table?

“So you going to make a quilt for your friend? Aaron, right?”

“Yes.”

Ben’s heart sank. For all these weeks he’d considered the quilt a special gift, a token of her care, but if she made one for Aaron Zook too—

“Yes, his name is Aaron, but I have no plans on making a quilt for him.” She paused and gazed at Ben, as if she wanted to say more.

“I better get back to work.” Marianna rose and smoothed her apron. “And I’m glad yer enjoying that quilt, Ben. It has a special place in my heart.”

With that, she turned and hurried toward the kitchen. He watched her and couldn’t help but smile. He’d rather she’d confessed
he
had a special place in her heart, but he was satisfied with what she did say now. His appetite restored, he tucked into his breakfast.

He glanced down at his watch. He had work to do. He couldn’t spend all day at the restaurant, sitting by the heat of the fire with a pretty Amish girl warming his heart.

So she’d once planned on marrying that Aaron Zook—he rose and left a generous tip—but what were her plans now? Surely, if she still loved Aaron, her special quilt would be draped over his lap instead of Ben’s bed.

With a wave to Edgar, he headed out into the cold. The snowfall had stopped, and morning light turned the sky into a faded pink color—the same pink that had colored Marianna’s cheeks when she saw him. He climbed in his truck and smiled.

She cared for him. Just as he cared for her. The problem was, neither could do a thing about the matter.

The morning crowd had been filled with familiar faces. Both Millie Arnold and Jebadiah Beiler had asked about Aaron. Others had asked too, and Marianna was surprised by how the news spread. Then again . . . it was news. In a small place like this, getting a new horse or a dog having a litter of puppies could stir conversation for a day or two. She supposed Aaron’s accident was the biggest happening since the Carashes’ barn fire and Charlie’s accident before that.

The rest of the day went by as normal. She’d baked. She’d waited on customers in the restaurant. When her cookies were in the oven, she even took time to help Edgar stock the store shelves.

As she worked, Marianna couldn’t believe how comfortable she’d become here working with the Englisch, serving them. They appreciated her hard work, and she found great satisfaction in seeing folks enjoy the special treats she baked. Like the weeks prior, this day continued on with no surprises. What did surprise her was seeing Ben again as the clock ticked closer to the time she got off. Seeing him enter the restaurant gave her a burst of energy as she helped Annie prepare the evening’s dinner.

“Hey there.” Ben approached the open door between the restaurant and the kitchen, leaning against the doorjamb.

Marianna eyed the stream of cream pouring into the potatoes. Her face was flush from spending the afternoon cooking, but her cheeks warmed even more upon hearing Ben’s voice.

She glanced at him, feigning surprise. “Ben, hello.” She placed the carton of cream on the counter and let a smile curl on her lips. “Yer a bit early for dinner.” She took a deep breath in. “But it smells good, doesn’t it?”

“I’m not here for dinner.” Ben leaned his back against the refrigerator door. “I mean, I’ll probably be back to eat later, but that’s not why I stopped. The wind has picked up out there. It’s miserably cold.”

“You came here to give me a weather report?” Marianna picked up the hand masher and pressed in to the potatoes. Steam rose from the large pot, fogging the window and blocking the view.

“No, not quite. I came to see if you wanted a ride. I know you walk, and it’s only a mile, but . . .”

As his voice trailed off, she turned to him.

“It’s more than the cold. When the weather gets like this the roads are real slick. People don’t slow down as they should.”

Marianna pressed a hand against her hip. “Ben, I think you’re worried about me. I better ride home with you or you’re gonna be sneaking around my house tonight to see if I made it fine. And Dat doesn’t like sneaking much.” She continued mashing but kept her eyes fixed on his.

He opened his mouth and laughter spilled forth. “That’s one thing I like about you, Marianna. You say things how they are. There’s no chance for a man to flirt with you . . . to try to make you see things my way.”

“Flirting is nonsense.” She waved a hand in the air. “All that acting and pretending. I already know about you, Ben. You’re considerate—and determined. I’ll ride with you.”

“Okay then, thanks.”

Marianna looked at him. “You’re thanking me? I should thank you for your thoughtfulness.” She took a cube of butter from the counter and dropped it in the pot. “And, truth be told, I wasn’t looking forward to cold toes.”

Thirty minutes later when she got off, Ben held her elbow as he led her down the front steps of the store. He was right, it was slippery out.

Ben’s truck smelled like gasoline, wood shavings, and something sweaty, like dirty socks he’d shoved under the seat. Marianna climbed in and the wind shut the door behind her. The weather was picking up, and she didn’t mind the smelly truck if it meant she’d stay out of the cold.

In the driver’s seat Ben put on his seat belt and started the truck up. Tepid air blew from the vents.

“Thanks for the ride.” She folded her arms in front of her, tucking her mittens under her arms. “I don’t mind walking. Lately, it’s been my best time for prayin’, but I think that wind woulda blown me into the woods for good.”

“No problem.” He put the truck into gear and headed out. His tires slid as he pulled from the parking area onto the road—not that you could tell where one started and the other ended. All of it was white, icy.

“Gives me something to do. That’s the hard part of cold nights like this. I’ve read two novels in the past week and wrote a new song—”

The truck slid and Marianna grabbed on the dash. “A song? Really?”

“Yeah, nothing special. It’s, uh, never mind.”

She looked to him and watched as he rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. His cheeks looked red, and not from the cold.