The Saddle Maker's Son Part 23

As far as she could tell, the man didn't have a bad side. He looked good from every angle. "His bad side?"

"Hurting, cranky, the real him."

As far as Susan was concerned, no one could hold anything against a man who'd been stomped by a horse. Something warm and soft quivered inside her. Did Mordecai see something she didn't? She couldn't bear to be disappointed. Such a chance, such an opportunity came along so rarely in the life of a woman such as herself. Older, a teacher, someone who lived surrounded by loving family but with too few new acquaintances to even begin to hope for such a chance.

"Take it from me, it's a good thing."

She would take it from Mordecai. He of all people knew of such things. "Now what?"

"Now it's up to him."

It was always up to the man. She should know that. She sighed. "So I wait?"

"There's a lot of waiting involved when it comes to love and second chances." Mordecai patted her shoulder. "The person has to be ready to take that chance. He's waited six years."

"You waited twelve."

"For your sake, I hope he's on a faster track than I was for that second chance." He stomped ahead into the kitchen. "If you don't start on those dumplings soon, we'll be eating after dark."

Susan didn't move. She was too busy contemplating second chances.

TWENTY-EIGHT.

Rebekah brushed a wisp of hair from her forehead for the third time and concentrated on ignoring the throb in her ankle. The evening sun held no less heat at the horizon than it did at midafternoon. The singing would be at the bishop's house tonight. One reason Mudder hadn't frowned when Susan insisted Rebekah don her cleanest dress, her Sunday shoes, and a fresh kapp and go. She said she was tired of Rebekah moping around. Either Susan wanted Martha to have moral support, or she really thought this singing might be the one where a boy forgot all about Leila's defection and asked Rebekah to take a ride.

She glanced at Martha. The girl had been quiet on the long walk. She didn't seem to mind the slow pace necessitated by Rebekah's hobbled walk. The swelling had gone done after the first day, but the pain persisted despite aspirin. The pain in her ankle and the pain in her heart.

They had handled it all wrong. She should've gone to talk to Lupe first. She knew how much Lupe feared men she didn't know. Now every step reminded her of Diego and Lupe. Gone without a trace from their lives. Had they made it to San Antonio? Did they find their father? Were they safe from the men looking for them? The questions tormented Rebekah all day long and most of the night.

Right alongside the questions about Tobias. Two weeks had pa.s.sed since the thunderstorm and those few moments in the shed. Still, it seemed she'd been holding her breath the entire time. Waiting. They would find the path together. He'd said that. She hadn't imagined the words or dreamed them.

So when would he come? When his daed was better. That's what he'd said. Gott was teaching her patience.

She didn't like it. Not one bit.

All these questions swirling around made the singing seem supremely unimportant. Not that thing for which she'd once pined. Once thought the only path to happiness. Rebekah wanted to yell. Instead she continued to plod along to a singing where the man she longed to see would not be.

Tobias wouldn't be there. He was busy taking care of his family, working the farm, and making saddles. She stumbled, stubbed her toe, and righted herself. The throb in her ankle reached a crescendo.

"Are you all right?" Martha put one hand on Rebekah's arm. "Do you need to rest a minute?"

"Nee. Does Tobias ever go to singings?" She bent over and rubbed her ankle, hoping Martha wouldn't see her expression. Just making conversation. "I mean, did he go in Ohio?"

The flush on Martha's damp cheeks deepened. "Nee, not much, not really. I mean, not toward the end."

She sounded fl.u.s.tered. It seemed a simple question. "He didn't have a special friend in Ohio?"

"Nee."

Rebekah waited for Martha to elaborate. She didn't. "I guess he had a lot of work to do. Not much time to think about courting. Like you."

"Jah." Martha sidestepped a cow patty in the middle of the dirt road. She c.o.c.ked her head. "Why are you asking?"

"Just wondered." Rebekah pushed open the gate that led to Jeremiah's front yard. She picked up her pace so Martha couldn't see her face. A short row of buggies, wagons, and worn two-seaters filled the s.p.a.ce in front of the squat, ugly house that had taken weeks for the men to build after a fire had destroyed the first house on that spot. "Looks like everyone is here."

Martha stopped in the middle of the worn path that led to the steps and the porch. Her hands went to her stomach. "I don't feel very good. Maybe something I ate for supper didn't set right." She stumbled back two steps. "Maybe I should head back home."

"Nee. It's only b.u.t.terflies." Rebekah slipped back down the steps and went to stand next to her. "It'll be fun. I promise. We sing. We have snacks. The boys act silly and the girls laugh even when it's not funny. That's all there is to it."

And then some girls got asked to take buggy rides. And some didn't.

Martha sighed and marched up the steps. Rebekah followed, even though the b.u.t.terflies in Martha's stomach seemed to have taken flight and landed in her own stomach. Just get through it.

The evening went exactly as she had imagined it. Elijah Hostetler led the singing with a voice he surely inherited from his daed, Jeremiah. The bishop's sonorous voice kept them all on track during church services. The songs, however, were faster and more fun to sing than the ones in the Ausbund. After six or seven, snacks were served. Then more singing. More jokes, more laughing.

And then that moment Rebekah dreaded. Two by two, they drifted away. There went Milo Byler with Vesta Hostetler. Simon Glick, sweet, simple Simon summoned the courage to ask Susie Hostetler to take a walk with him. She smiled and said yes.

Even Martha, the new girl, seemed to have attracted someone's attention. Jacob King. Mordecai would be pleased. Jacob had been interested in Isabella Shrock, and even though he would never admit it, he'd been disappointed when she chose Will instead. Rebekah forced a smile and a quick wave when Martha trotted by, following Jacob out the door.

That left her and Elijah Hostetler. He tipped his hat as he walked by. And kept right on walking.

She blew out a breath she didn't even know she'd been holding. It was for the best. Elijah was a boy compared to Tobias. A nice boy, but still. She took her time opening the door and closing it behind her. The sun had disappeared and the dark night promised cooler air. Despite her ankle, she would enjoy the walk home.

"Hey."

Startled, she missed a step, stumbled, and grabbed the railing just in time to keep from landing on her behind. The throb in her ankle did triple time. "Tobias! You scared me."

His two-seater was parked in the empty s.p.a.ce left by those who had gone before. "Sorry." He didn't look sorry. He smiled. "I figured it was time I made good on that talk we had in the shed. Besides, with your hurt ankle, it doesn't seem right for you to walk home."

About time indeed. "I thought maybe you forgot."

He didn't answer. Instead he hopped from the two-seater and strode around to the other side. "Go for a ride with me." He held out his hand. "It's a full moon. We'll be able to see to drive down by the pond."

"There's no water in the pond."

"Jah, there is. It filled up with the rain the other day." He wiggled his fingers. "You want to argue about the water in the pond, or do you want to go for a ride with me?"

She sniffed and took his hand. It felt warm and calloused. His touch rippled down to the tips of her toes. "Ride." She managed to stumble over that one simple syllable. She cleared her throat and tried again. "Ride with you."

"Perfect. Because I want to ride with you."

He let go of her hand, grabbed her around the waist, and lifted her into the two-seater.

"Hey!"

"Hush." He strode back and around and hopped in beside her. "Try not to talk. You only make it worse."

"Make what worse?"

He put his finger to his lips. "Do you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"The sound of us being alone."

She closed her mouth and c.o.c.ked her head. A lazy, humid breeze rustled spa.r.s.e leaves on the mesquite trees that lined the road. Lovely silence.

She settled back in the seat and let the clip-clop of the horse's hooves beat a rhythm like music only folks who lived in the country could appreciate. Tobias took a shortcut across Jeremiah's property and let the horse have full rein until they turned onto the rutted road that led to the pond where the kinner liked to fish, catch minnows and tadpoles, and look for night crawlers when it rained.

The smell of mud mixed with the scent of wet, rotting leaves. "Whoa, whoa." Tobias brought the two-seater to a halt. "I believe I see water."

"Not much."

"I didn't say it was a lot."

"Nee, you didn't."

He wrapped the reins around the handle and leaned back, hands relaxed on his thighs. "What did you think of the singing?"

"I thought it stank."

"It stank?" He chuckled. "Is that any way to talk?"

"It stank."

"Because no one asked you to take a ride?"

"Someone did ask me."

"What about Martha, did someone ask her?"

Was this about him spying on his sister? Irritation welled in Rebekah. She had enough of her own family watching her every move. She wouldn't be party to doing that to Martha. "Take me home." She hopped from the wagon. "Better yet, I'll walk."

"Hey, hey, where are you going?"

"I told you home."

"Because I asked about Martha?" He jumped down and stalked after her, his long legs overtaking her in two strides. "I just want her to have a good time."

Rebekah slammed to a halt. "Oh."

"Oh is right."

"I thought-"

"I was using you to spy on my sister." He shook his head, his eyes bright with laughter. "I don't need you to do that. I have spies everywhere."

"Now you sound like Mordecai."

"I could do worse."

"He is a good man." That Tobias recognized that fact warmed Rebekah. She started walking again. "I like the smell of mud."

"Me too. It smells clean, as strange as that sounds."

"It smells like spring."

"Even in summer."

The conversation made perfect sense. Rebekah smiled.

"You have the best smile." Tobias caught her hand and pulled her around so she faced him. "Anyone ever tell you that?"

"Not one person. Not once."

"I'm happy to be the first." His hands came to her shoulders and held her there. His gaze roved over her face from her eyes to her mouth and back. "Would it be all right if I kissed you?"

Rebekah had no idea how to answer that question. Her whole body said yes so loudly she couldn't hear anything else. If her mind thought it was a bad idea, she would never know. She swallowed and managed to whisper, "Jah."

The one-syllable word barely escaped before Tobias's mouth covered hers. Whatever she'd imagined kissing would be like, however she and Franny and her sisters had speculated, they'd had no idea. Better than the best day of the year. Better than homemade ice cream and strawberry-rhubarb pie. Better than a pile of presents, family gathered around to watch them being opened. Better than sleeping late or lying on a blanket and counting stars under a spring sky. He tasted like a promise kept.

She breathed in his scent and memorized the way his hands felt around her waist. How they tightened as the kiss deepened. Just when she thought she might simply float away, he let go. But he didn't go far. His head inclined over hers, his dark gaze probing. Rebekah saw something there that she couldn't explain. She didn't see birthday and Christmas presents wrapped up in hand-colored paper. She saw fear and pain. Uncertainty.

"Tobias?" she breathed. "What is it?"

He shook his head and kissed her again. Hard and sure. Like a period at the end of a sentence. Not a question mark, a period.

He backed away. "I'm sorry. I feel like we're getting ahead of ourselves."

A shiver ran through her despite the July heat. "I think we've been ahead of ourselves since that first day." She wrapped her arms around her middle and stared at the moonlit water. A turtle popped his head above water, disappeared again. "You make me feel . . . off balance. You don't seem sure you want to be here."

"I didn't seem sure just now?"

Heat flamed across her cheeks. "Kisses are one thing."

"Feelings another."

"Jah."

"It worries me."