The joking and gibes had stopped. Except for the hammer-and-nails melody of a barn under assembly, conversation had ceased, replaced by a heavy blanket of silence.
Zeke strode in, hoping to regain his perch, just for the nearness of a friend. Men had their gazes cast down, their eyes red rimmed, mouths set. Maybe some prayed. Maybe not.
Zeke added a whispered prayer of his own.
Vernon had taken Zeke’s place on the beam next to Cliff. Figured. Now Zeke had to find someplace else where he probably wouldn’t have a friend to talk to. Not that they’d talk. Not with the oppressive absence of sound. Still, having a friend nearby would’ve been comforting.
Jon Lantz. It was nothing short of a miracle he hadn’t died on impact considering the great distance he’d fallen. If allowed, Zeke would visit him in the hospital. He liked Gracie’s brother number twelve.
Cliff caught Zeke’s attention and nodded toward the haus. Zeke glanced that way. Women, including Patience, carried out food for the slightly delayed noon meal. With the church benches gone and other districts’ benches in use for funerals, the men would be eating dinner on the grounds, literally. Unless they sat in the back of wagons.
But Zeke’s appetite was gone.
He shook his head and murmured, “Not hungry.” Hopefully, Cliff could read lips.
Cliff sighed so heavily his whole body sagged. “Gracie.”
Right. Except Seth didn’t trust Zeke.
“Go to her.”
Cliff was kidding. He had to be.
Zeke might be stupid compared to straight-A Vernon, but he didn’t have a death wish.
Exaggerated motions from above caught Zeke’s attention.
Cliff was again pointing toward the haus as if Zeke were daft.
And maybe he was. Because this time, he obeyed.
But if the biggest gossip in this district caught him in Gracie’s bedroom, then it wouldn’t be his fault.
He trudged toward the haus, past the ladies setting out the noon meal—which included platters full of wedding sandwiches—through the kitchen, and into the front room where the stairs were located. Up the stairs where he and Gracie almost kissed. Her bedroom was right across from the bathroom. The door was open, but the room was empty. Gracie wasn’t there.
Disappointment warred with relief. He wanted to be her hero, but at the same time, he didn’t deal well with tears.
But then her muffled sobs reached him. He wouldn’t know what to say, but maybe he could hold her. Pray for her. As he had for Patience on the road. He followed the sounds to Jon’s room. The door was shut and locked.
He pulled in a deep breath and knocked. “Gracie?”
Silence.
Except a sniffle.
“It’s Zeke.”
A squeak or something came from the other side of the door, followed by creaks.
“Your, uh, I mean, both your daed and Daadi Cliff sent me to find you. Sort of,” he explained to the closed door.
The door opened with another creak—the hinges needed oiling or adjusting—and then she stood there, head dipped, tears dripping off her chin.
She swiped at the tears and looked up, her gaze still watery, mouth quivering. “I feel like such a big baby. But really, Jon…”
She hiccupped, made sort of a gasping sound, then wonder of wonders, she was in his arms.
Or at least he thought she was.
But before he had a chance to decide for sure, she was gone, retreating to one of the twin beds in the room.
His body burned from the brief touch.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to bump into you. I was checking to see if anyone witnessed you coming in. Since the coast is clear, you can shut the door.”
“I’d rather keep it open to protect our reputations.” And to keep from misbehaving, because wow, he liked her. He wanted to be close, closer than he had any right to be.
“My reputation is pretty much in shambles, thanks to my intolerance of coffee.”
He chuckled but then thought better of it. Though it was absurd to get a bad reputation over a beverage. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh.”
“I understand. Mamm was going to try to set the gossips straight, but since the rumor reached the barn, it might have to be misproven by the test of time.”
Oh! Now her comment made sense. But Zeke’s brow furrowed. “Misproven? Do you mean disproven?”
“I meant misproven. As in it’s a misunderstanding to be proven false.”
He couldn’t keep from laughing outright.
“I am sorry, though, for what I did on the steps. Trying to kiss you, I mean. I thought maybe I was dreaming, and since kissing you will never happen in real life, then…” Her face warmed. “I never would’ve tried if I thought it might be real.”
His heart warmed. She’d wanted to kiss him, too…but only felt that brave in her dreams.
“Patience has never appeared in my dreams, though. Not like that. And, well, I didn’t want you to think I was desperate.” A nervous giggle escaped. “I might be desperate, but I really wanted to thank you for listening to me.” She picked up a pillow and clutched it to her chest.
Relief filled him. She wasn’t trying to trap him, after all. She wasn’t using him. He wasn’t a fool for falling for her.
“You can sit down, if you want, but if you stay, you might be subjected to more dramatics.” Her voice broke.
Zeke nodded. “That’s why I’m here. Your daed and grossdaadi both sent me. I didn’t realize it was Jon until after I got back, or else I would’ve warned you.” He sat on the other twin bed on the opposite side of the room. In case the gossips peeked in. Because if he had his choice, he’d sit beside her, arms around her, holding her near while she cried on his shoulders.
He plucked at the wet spot Patience had left.
If he and Gracie went for a walk, someplace out of sight of casual observers, he might be able to hold her, too.
He shouldn’t think like that, especially since she was weeping into the pillow she’d pressed to her face.
He sighed, feeling helpless. After a moment, he bowed his head. Lord…please comfort her…
Was it pointless to pray for comfort and then sit on the other side of the room and not offer it when he had the arms and shoulders needed?
Or should he stand up, cross the room, and pull the one woman he’d been attracted to in, well, ever into his arms and hug her?
Like he did with Patience. Purely platonic.
Right.
Well, she could think it was platonic on his part. He alone would know the truth that the hug was paid for with his heart.
Okay, now who was being dramatic?
He sighed again. He was being dramatic when he should be that comfort that both Seth and Cliff seemed to think he could be.
Zeke planted his hands on either side of himself and pushed up, then crossed the room. He hesitated in front of her. Should he sit beside her and offer a one-armed hug? Or kneel on the braided bedside rug and wrap both of his arms around her?
Oh, the temptation. And since this was likely the only opportunity he’d have to hold her…
He pulled in a deep breath, gently removed the pillow from her grasp, and knelt before her. “We can’t have you smothering yourself.” He opened his arms wide, giving her plenty of time to decide she didn’t want to hug him.
Then, joy of joys, she was in his arms, crying on his shoulder, while his arms were around her, his hands rubbing her back in little circles, kind of like how Mamm comforted Zeke’s eighteen-month-old nephew when he cried.
She buried herself nearer, wrapped her arms around him, and cried, saying something about learning to drive and the worst blizzard in Illinois history that made little to no sense because the words were garbled against his neck.
Or maybe because his senses were tuned into the fact that she was in his arms, her mouth moving against his neck as she talked, and not focused on the words she was saying.
He tried to pray, disjointed sentences like Comfort her and Please let Jon live and be okay that probably made as much sense to Gott as Gracie’s words did to him.
His knees were beginning to hurt, and he began to seriously consider moving beside her on the bed and giving her a one-armed hug instead when Gracie pulled back a little, then surged forward, knocking him on his rear.
“Danki. For being a friend.”
Then, Lord have mercy, her lips were on his.
He handed his heart over in its entirety, tugged her more fully into his arms, and settled into her tentative…not tentative…kiss.
His heart pounded, and he closed his eyes.
Her hands cupped his face, her fingers just reaching to tangle in his hair.
A kaleidoscope of colors burst, forming flares, rainbows, and stars.
He might not survive this assault on his senses.
He wasn’t sure he wanted to try.
He surrendered to the madness.
* * *
Grace was right. Kissing Zeke wasn’t good. It was great. Beyond great. Amazing.
His hands trembled against her back, pressing against her in what might be desperation, until she lost her balance and tumbled more fully into his arms.
Somehow, he scooted around until he leaned his back against Jon’s bed…
Oh, Jon…
She gasped, sucking in air, and then, in desperation, plunged her fingers into Zeke’s soft, silky hair. She needed to forget. And what better way…
Zeke made some sort of sound deep in his throat and settled her against him, taking control of the kisses, taking them from whatever temperature they were to something beyond comprehension.
She made an answering moan, wrapped her arms around him, and held on for dear life.
This—this was better than anything she could ever imagine.
She was melting…melting…melting…
Then, horror of horrors, it was over.
She was no longer in his lap. Instead, her lips felt bereft. She trembled beside him.
He gasped for air, his eyes wide with dismay as he scooted away.
Dismay. Confusion. Regret. Anger. A whole arsenal of emotions—none of them good—crossed his face.
He took another gasped breath, then stumbled to his feet. “I…I’m sorry. I never meant…I mean, it shouldn’t have happened. Oh, Gracie. It…I…I only meant to try to comfort you. I feel—felt—so sorry for you and all you’re going through. I never meant to take advantage of you. Gracie, it’ll never happen again.” He made a terrible groaning sound and left the room at a lurching run.
She covered her bruised, well-kissed lips with her shaking hand.
She’d wanted to say thank you.
He was sorry? It wouldn’t happen again? He felt sorry for her?
So when he took over…What was this—some sort of pity kiss?
She managed to pull herself to her feet, only to have her unexpectedly weak knees give out. She collapsed on Jon’s bed again, fell back against the pillow, and rolled to face the wall.
A huge sense of loss washed over her, covering her in grief.
It’d never happen again?
She wouldn’t be able to live without it.
* * *
Zeke stumbled down the hall, somehow made it to his temporary room that he shared with Vernon, and fell on his knees beside the bed. Oh, dear Lord. What did I do? Seth trusted me! He trusted me, and I…oh, merciful Lord. Please forgive me.
Would he need to confess to Seth that he’d violated his trust and taken advantage of his vulnerable daughter?
Or Cliff? Would he need to know?
Would Zeke end up surrounded by eleven of the twelve brothers, all armed with pitchforks or chain saws?
Not rational thinking perhaps, but he gulped.
Someone, somewhere, began beating something. And in his mind, it turned into a drumbeat, summoning the natives to war.
It’d probably be wise for him to pack his bags and find another host family. Preferably one without a daughter. Or at least one without twelve brothers.
He got up and started shoving his things into his bag.
“Ezekiel.”
He looked up and stared into Seth’s eyes.
“What are you doing?”
Zeke put the socks into the bag just to avoid answering. Besides, wasn’t it obvious?
“I thought I’d see if Gracie wanted to go to the hospital with us. We’ll leave Patience here because the women will look out for her, but since you have a special bond with her, I figured you’d keep an eye on her, too. However, it appears as if you are planning to leave.” Seth’s eyebrows rose. “Is something not to your liking here?”
“I kissed her. I mean, she kissed me.” Zeke groaned. “Actually, I mean, we kissed each other.” His face burned.
Seth’s mouth quirked.
Zeke looked down and picked up his pajama pants.
“Who kissed who first?”
“Does it matter? The deed was done. I violated your lack of trust.”
“It wasn’t a lack of trust. And jah, it does matter.” There was a touch of humor in Seth’s voice.
Odd. Not exactly the response Zeke expected.
“She kissed me first. But I was a very willing participant—at least until my brain caught up with me,” he mumbled to the floorboards, lacking the courage to look Seth in the face. He braced for the firing squad of angry family members.
Seth laughed. He actually laughed. Very strange, considering his youngest son was on the way to the hospital and Zeke had just confessed to kissing his daughter. Anger would be more appropriate.
Zeke looked up, frowning. Had the man gone daft?
“You’re welcome to stay, if you think you can adjust to the family dynamics…and drama. My daughter is…impulsive. And in light of some of the things I was told, I completely understand. Keep in mind, though, that understanding is not the same as condoning. Especially considering we still need to find Timothy.”
“I understand.” Zeke folded his pajama pants, stood, and placed them on his pillow. “Danki.” There was a foreign twinge of hope that he got to stay awhile longer, though it’d be harder on his heart to be so close to Gracie—especially now.
And this—this level of parental guidance was amazing. He felt the discipline without the shame. And the grace of a second chance…
“And I thank you. I learned some very troubling things from both of my daughters and from my daed. I appreciate you convincing them to talk to me. I don’t understand why they wouldn’t have in the first place.” He frowned. Shrugged. “Danki for making yourself available to listen.”
Zeke didn’t know what to say. You’re welcome would imply he’d done it on purpose, and it was purely accidental. He swallowed. “I’m praying for Jon.”
“Appreciate it.” Seth walked across the hall. He knocked on Jon’s door, then entered, crossing to wherever Gracie was.
Zeke headed for the stairs. In light of what just happened, if he and Gracie ever talked about what she told her daed regarding Timothy, they’d need to be well chaperoned.
Because Zeke wasn’t totally sure he would be able to keep his promise not to kiss her again.
Especially since he was already going through withdrawal.