An Amish Arrangement. Jo Brown AnnЧитать онлайн книгу.
was waiting in the exact same spot where she’d been when he’d left. Again, guilt tormented him. Part of him wanted to walk away, but he couldn’t.
“Did you find enough blankets?” she asked.
“I did.”
“They may not be in good condition.”
“They’re gut enough for tonight.”
She rubbed her hands together as she had before, and he realized she was as torn as he was. Turning the other cheek was the Mennonites’ way, too, but he’d seen how her eyes snapped when she spoke of him keeping her from making a home here for her and her kind.
“If it gets too cold,” she said, “come back.” A hint of a smile played along her lips. “You freezing to death would be a real complication.”
When he chuckled, her smile broadened, revealing the gentle person she was.
“Don’t worry, Mercy. I’ll be fine.” He hoped it wasn’t a boast. The temperatures had been dropping fast when he came to the house. He headed for the door.
“Do you have anything to eat?” she asked.
Her question stopped him in his tracks. “No.”
“Wait here.” Mercy rushed into the kitchen. He heard cabinet doors opening and closing as well as drawers being slid in and out; then she returned with a plastic bag filled with odd shapes. “It’s peanut butter and jelly and a few slices of the bread I brought with us. Also a couple of cans of orange juice. It’s Sunni’s favorite, so I always have a bunch on hand.”
“It’s my favorite, too.”
The smile he hadn’t guessed he’d see again spread across her face, adding an aura of light to her eyes and skin. “I’m glad!”
That pleasurable something uncurled within him once more as he gazed into her pretty eyes. A man could get lost in those eyes. He looked away. He hadn’t come to Harmony Creek to get lost, but to find his dream.
Picking up his duffel bags, he opened one and stuffed the thin blankets inside. He felt like a hobo as he steered his bags and himself out of the house. By the time he’d reached the porch steps, he heard the dead bolt click closed. Mercy wasn’t taking any chance he’d have second thoughts and return.
He would be there tomorrow, he thought as he trudged through the snow. Because he wasn’t ready to give up his dream...when it was within his grasp.
* * *
The next morning Mercy surveyed the wall completely stripped of ugly, peeling wallpaper. It’d taken more effort than she’d expected to get the remaining paper off. Maybe she shouldn’t have done more work until she knew for certain what was going to happen with the farm. When the clock on the mantel in the living room had chimed nine o’clock, she’d used the phone in the kitchen and called Darren Paquette, Grandpa Rudy’s Realtor. His office was in Glens Falls, more than twenty-five miles away, and she’d been grateful to catch him at his desk.
At least she had been until he told her not to do anything until she heard from him again. When she explained about the meeting that afternoon with Jeremiah and his Realtor, Mr. Paquette warned her to say nothing.
“A real estate transaction is adversarial at best,” he’d said, “and this is far from the best situation.”
“When can you come here?”
“Tell Kitty Vasic to call me, and we’ll discuss it. There’s no reason to involve you and Mr. Stoltzfus at this point.”
“I’ll tell her.”
How could he say she and Jeremiah weren’t involved in deciding the future of the farm? That was the silliest thing she’d ever heard.
“Are you okay, Mommy?” asked Sunni as she came downstairs.
Mercy smiled at her dear daughter, who looked adorable in her light green dress and with her black braids falling over her shoulders. The little girl was sensitive to everyone’s moods, and Mercy didn’t want her to get more upset.
“I’m fine, eolin-i.” The phrase meaning “little one” was one of the few she knew in Korean.
“Is he coming back?”
“Jeremiah?”
“Yeah, him.”
She got the broom she’d found in a kitchen closet and began sweeping the wallpaper scraps into a pile. “He’s returning this afternoon with a friend of his.”
“Is he going to make you sad again?”
Putting aside the broom, Mercy squatted until her eyes were level with her daughter’s. “Jeremiah didn’t intend to make me sad. But he talked about Grandpa Rudy, and that made me sad.”
“Me, too.” Her dark eyes glistened with tears. “I miss his water balloons.”
“I don’t miss that.” Mercy forced humor into her voice. “You two made me your favorite target.”
“It was fun to be splashed on a hot day.”
“It was, wasn’t it?” She hugged Sunni, being careful she didn’t pull her daughter off balance.
Mercy started to add more, but the door opened. She gasped when Jeremiah walked in. Nobody ever knocked at her grandfather’s door, but for the first time, having someone let himself in seemed like an invasion. From where she squatted, it appeared the top of his straw hat brushed the ceiling.
Telling herself not to be frivolous, she made sure Sunni was steady as she came to her own feet. Paper crunched under her sneakers when she turned to him. “I thought you were coming this afternoon.”
“It is afternoon.”
“It is?”
He chuckled. “The hours pass swiftly when there’s plenty of work, ain’t so?”
Mercy warned herself to relax. His teasing was aimed at trying to make the situation as comfortable as possible. “There are never enough hours in a day.”
“True.” He turned to Sunni. “How are you doing today?”
“You aren’t going to make my mommy sad again, are you?” her daughter shot back in a tone that warned Jeremiah he’d be sorry if he did that.
Though she wanted to remind Sunni of her manners, Mercy said nothing. How Jeremiah answered could tell her a lot about what he was planning to do next.
Taking off his hat, he held it by the brim. “I’m sorry if I made her sad before.” He raised his eyes to meet Mercy’s, and she saw his sincerity as he added, “And I don’t want to make her or you sad.”
“So you say,” Sunni retorted, shocking Mercy again. Her daughter wasn’t usually rude, but she seemed to have taken an instant dislike to Jeremiah. Should Mercy heed her daughter’s instincts...which she now could see had been spot-on where her ex-fiancé had been concerned?
But being rude to someone in their home—or what she hoped would be their home—wasn’t acceptable. “Sunni,” she interjected in a firm tone, “it’s not nice to suggest Jeremiah would do something hurtful on purpose.”
As it isn’t kind for me to ask why Grandpa Rudy hid how he was selling the farm that he said would be mine. Why? Why would you change your mind without telling me?
“I’m sorry,” Sunni said, but her obstinate frown countermanded her words.
“It’s okay to ask questions,” Jeremiah replied, “but my mamm says you can catch more flies with honey than with vinegar.”
“Who wants to catch flies?” The little girl grimaced. “Gross.”
Mercy struggled not to laugh as she explained the adage to her daughter. Looking at Jeremiah, she said, “It’s past time for Sunni and