Grace struggled for a breath as Jon’s gaze shifted from her to Patience, then to Zeke.
“Who are you?” Jon’s brow furrowed as he put down the chain saw and approached the buggy. “You aren’t who I expected. Where is Timothy?” His gaze returned to Grace.
She would be surprised if Jon really had expected her to bring Timothy back. She opened her mouth to try to find an explanation, but sudden, unexpected emotion clogged her throat.
Behind her, Zeke cleared his throat. “I’m Zeke Bontrager from Shipshewana. I was told to report to Seth Lantz. I’m part of the crew that came with the Mennonite missionaries, and I’m not anybody’s groom.” He angled a glance at Patience.
“I’m Gracie’s brother Jon.”
Slush climbed over Grace’s lap, his toenails digging into her legs through the fabric of her dress, and he jumped out of the buggy.
Jon put his hand on Slush’s head as Daed came over, crouched down, and petted the dog. “Welcome home, boy.”
Patience turned to stare at Zeke. “You Gracie’s groom,” she insisted.
Grace’s face burned. She forced herself to focus on her brothers and Daed. “I don’t know where Timothy is. His buggy is in the bishop’s living room, but he’s gone.”
Daed frowned.
“Timothy’s mamm said he was racing buggies with his friends,” Grace whispered.
Daed’s eyes widened. He turned his attention to Jon. “Let this be a lesson to you, son. Don’t go racing the nacht before you marry Aubrey.”
Jon nodded. “That would be a given.”
Zeke climbed out of the buggy. “Did my cous—eh, partner arrive? Vernon Graber?”
“Jah. He’s…” Daed waved his hand toward the house and shrugged. “Guess he figured we had the tree under control.”
Zeke nodded. “If you tell me what you need, I’ll get to work. There are the trees we cut to get the buggy through, if I could borrow your wagon…” He glanced around. Grace followed his gaze. No wagons. Her brothers had come on bicycles and scooters.
It would seem obvious for him to help with the current tree, but fourteen men working on one tree was a bit of overkill.
“I could go out looking for Timothy…” Not that he’d know where to look.
“I hear they are organizing a search. They’ll update us if we’re needed. Englischers are heading it up.” Daed glanced toward the road. “They have special people—I believe they said National Guard. From past experience, we’re in their way.”
“I’ll carry your bag in and help Mamm.” Grace held her hand toward Patience to assist her out of the buggy.
Patience grasped her hand and clambered out. “I give Slush bath.”
Slush tucked his tail and howled. A long, mournful sound.
Daed turned to Zeke. “Instead of worrying about the wood, fill the bucket with water, find the dog shampoo, and help Patience with Slush.”
He nodded. “Jah, sir.” He glanced at Patience.
“Keep in mind you’ll be wetter than the dog,” Daed warned.
Slush made a series of short, sharp barks, looking at Daed.
Grace stifled a giggle. The dog was the only one who could get away with back talk. She turned her back to the men, grabbed the picnic basket and Zeke’s bag from the back—one of her brothers had already snagged the chain saw—and turned toward the house.
Mamm had coffee percolating in the kitchen, but she wasn’t in the room. A male voice came from upstairs. Probably the Vernon that Zeke had mentioned.
Grace put the leftover sandwiches and cookies on the table, left Zeke’s travel bag on a chair, and carried the picnic basket to the basement. She slid it onto the shelf where it belonged and turned to go upstairs as Patience and Zeke came down.
Holding hands.
Well, more accurately, Patience tugged Zeke’s hand. “This way.”
Zeke flashed Grace an easygoing grin full of mischief. It was enough to make her wish she were giving Slush a bath. He and Patience were going to have fun. Slush, not so much.
At least not until the end when he retaliated by shaking all the water off his fur and drenching anyone nearby. Then he’d go lie down in the sun with a big grin.
Grace decided to stay in the basement to chaperone. Zeke seemed like a very nice man, but Patience was holding his hand. Grace would have to warn her—again—against touching a man. It was frowned upon, even by courting couples, though some did touch, hug, or kiss when the chaperones turned their backs.
Grace could count the number of times on both hands that Timothy had touched her in the three years he’d courted her.
Kissed would be half that.
Despite herself, her gaze went to Zeke as he let go of Patience’s hand and lifted the metal tub down from the nail on the wall. His muscles pulled the back of his shirt tight. He’d touched her twice in comfort or accidentally since she met him. She’d felt more sparks in those accidental touches from Zeke than in all of Timothy’s intentional ones. What would it be like to be kissed by him?
Ach, her shameful thoughts. Grace fanned her face with her hand, then went to get the dog shampoo and handed it to Patience. But despite her internal scolding, her gaze shot right back to Zeke.
He turned, catching Grace staring at him.
“Sure you don’t want to help, Gracie?”
She wanted to, jah, but there was probably something sinful about having fun with another man on your wedding day, even though her groom had disappeared.
One of the preachers would be able to point to chapter and verse—or find something in the Ordnung—to fit the situation, but Gracie’s brains had packed a suitcase and headed south at some point.
She managed a mute head shake.
“It be fun, Gracie,” Patience said.
It would be. But…“Mamm needs me. Danki anyway.”
“Too bad, Gracie. You need to know Zeke if you marry him.”
Zeke’s face turned a fascinating shade of red that Grace was sure she rivaled, but he chuckled.
“Jah. What she said.”
* * *
Zeke could almost imagine Daed shaking his head in dismay at Zeke’s rather flippant agreement, but he wasn’t sure how exactly to handle Patience. Sure, he had a special cousin, but Jonah was male and didn’t make comments about Zeke marrying some girl he’d just met. He also didn’t cry so easily. And in light of Patience’s overabundance of tears, it seemed wiser to agree now and try to explain the situation later. If and when he found the words.
Better yet, maybe Gracie would explain.
He followed Patience and Gracie upstairs, trying not to notice the sway of Gracie’s serviceable maroon dress. She turned to go into the kitchen where a woman he assumed was her mamm now puttered, pouring Vernon a cup of coffee. A plate of sandwiches and cookies sat in front of him. Snacking instead of working.
Giving the dog a bath wasn’t much better, but that was what he was told. At least he was working.
He shouldn’t judge. Vernon hadn’t bought anything to eat or drink at the fast-food restaurant, so he probably was hungry. And Zeke had eaten a couple of sandwiches in the buggy on the way here.
Zeke turned and followed Patience outside.
Slush lay sprawled on the grass, an almost stubborn expression on his face. He opened his mouth and eerie howls filled the air.
“Up. Now,” Patience demanded, finger pointing to the dog.
The dog made a series of short barks, somehow doing it without getting up. He finished it up with another howl.
Zeke stared, fascinated. Who knew a dog could have a temper tantrum?
“Slush,” Patience said firmly. “Up. Bath.”
The dog commented back with more short, sharp barks and another howl. He didn’t move.
“Let’s go.” Patience stomped her foot.
Slush glared but got to his feet with a huff.
Zeke followed them to the corner of the house where a water spigot was located.
“Hose in barn,” Patience directed.
“Sure.” Zeke nodded. But since the barn was gone, the hose likely was too. He hesitated to say so, though, in case it restarted her tears.
One of the men, probably one of her brothers, approached. “The hose is in the pile of junk over yonder. Not going to guarantee its condition, though, since it had a nail driven straight through it.” He kept his voice low, probably so Patience wouldn’t hear and get upset.
“Danki.” Zeke headed that way. He found the hose, uncoiled it, but the man was right. It was in terrible condition. Good thing it was warm, with temperatures supposed to be in the mid to upper sixties, according to the weather report he’d heard in the van earlier.
He carried the hose over to the spigot and attached it as Patience set the tub where she wanted it and ordered Slush in.
Not that Slush went willingly. He voiced his opinion before obeying and after he got in. Just like Zeke and Eli. They tended to protest when asked to do something they didn’t want to do, too.
Zeke turned the water on, and Patience squealed as water shot from everywhere, as if it were a sprinkler hose.
The backdoor to the house opened and Vernon and Gracie stepped out. Vernon glanced at Zeke, his expression heavily lined with judgment, as if Zeke’s job was women’s work—and it was—and that were all Zeke was good for, which it wasn’t. Zeke resisted the strong temptation to turn the hose in that direction just to see Vernon dance, but it wouldn’t win Zeke any friends. It’d probably earn him a well-deserved lecture and maybe an early trip home.
He needed to go home a hero, so perhaps—
No matter. He’d be unlikely to be recognized as anything more than a screwup even if he saved the whole world from certain disaster like some comic book superhero. Which he wasn’t.
Gracie said something quietly to Vernon, who bestowed a charming smile on her, and he went to join her brothers and daed. And Vernon would probably know all their names before he did a lick of work.
Zeke figured he’d get to know them in time. Standing there while twelve people tossed names at him at once would only serve to confuse him.
“Pay attention.” Patience jerked the hose from his hand.
Right. Zeke turned, just as the dog’s grin faded and he let loose another long, pitiful howl.
“You soap. He not hold still,” Patience said. She aimed the hose toward the washtub and Slush’s feet.
Slush moaned, long and loud enough that any neighbors nearby would think the animal was in agony. Shoot, Zeke was right there and he almost believed Slush was dying or something.
“He hate baths.” Patience glanced at Zeke.
That would be a given. But Zeke nodded. He dared to venture close enough to pat the dog’s head. The look he got in return could only be called pitiful. And miserable. Definitely miserable.
“You poor thing,” he crooned. “You’ll feel so much better once you’re clean. And the sooner we get started, the sooner we’ll be finished.” He reached for the dog shampoo and soaped the dog up. “Do you have a wire brush for him?”
“That Gracie’s job.” Patience started rinsing the dog off.
“I won’t mind if he does it.” Gracie’s voice startled Zeke. He hadn’t known she was still near.
“Maybe you’ll sit with me while I brush.” The words came out without conscious thought. He liked the idea, though, but it would be a very courtship-type thing to do, and they weren’t courting. “Slush, that is. Not you.” His tongue tripped over itself in his hurry to retract. Not that it worked. He cringed. He sounded like an idiot, because if he was brushing Slush, then of course Slush would be sitting with him. He clamped his mouth shut before he added something even more stupid. Like maybe suggesting a walk later.
Patience giggled. “He not mean Slush.”
Gracie blushed. “Maybe I will.”
Really? His heart pounded.
“And we’ll outline a game plan to find Timothy.”
Right. The missing groom.
And with that Zeke was slammed right back into his place.
* * *
Grace went to fetch the dog brush from the basement shelf, then returned to the back porch as Slush violently shook, sending water flying in every direction.
Patience squealed.
Zeke made a grunting sound.
Grace tried not to giggle, but it escaped anyway, as Slush grinned happily and strutted off, tail held high.
Zeke spun to face her, as if something in her giggle had lit a spark of…well, something. His eyes filled with humor and maybe a challenge.
She shivered and backed away.
He took a step toward her, then stopped, the light dying in his gaze.
Disappointment stabbed her.
What would it be like to be courted by this man?
Shame flooded over her like the waters of the local creeks during the spring rains. She shouldn’t think that way when she was engaged, promised, almost married…
Ach. Acute pain butchered what was left of her emotions. Tears stung. A lump clogged her throat. She dropped the brush on the porch floor and blindly fled toward the backdoor, stumbling over her feet and uneven boards, and oof. An unseen step flung her forward.
She threw her arms out to catch herself, but the next second strong hands closed around her waist, hauling her up and back.
She came to rest against a firm but wet chest. Male hands stayed loosely clasped, but the tingling warmth of them filled her along with a very pleasant male scent of pine and fresh air.
A breath tickled her ear. “Don’t worry, Gracie. We’ll find him.”
Was it wrong that she didn’t want to? Well, she did, but…
“You’ll be married in no time.” His voice dipped, probably in an effort to be comforting.
Instead it was…sexy.
She shivered and stepped out of his grasp.
Jah, Timothy would be found. They would be married.
And she’d forever wonder what might’ve been.