CHRIS’S EYES FLEW OPEN AND LIGHT POURED INTO THE ROOM from the sliver of space between the edge of the green shade and the window casing. Where was he? What day was it?
Then the sleep haze clogging his brain dissipated. Chris was at his uncle Hank’s house, and it was Tuesday morning. He’d awoken after a nightmare at one in the morning, and instead of walking around the pasture as he’d done the night before, he found the key to the harness shop and made key chains until exhaustion robbed him of his focus.
He’d gone back to bed around five thirty. Now it was nearly ten, and he needed to get to work before his uncle fired him and threw him out of the house. Where would he go if he lost his job at the harness shop?
Chris quickly rose from the bed and dressed. Once downstairs, he expected to find Aenti Tillie in the kitchen, but the house was empty and silent. He stood by the counter, trying to decide what to do. He craved something to eat, but this wasn’t his house or his kitchen. Since he didn’t feel at liberty to search through the cabinets without asking permission, Chris stepped out onto the porch and then walked to the harness shop, his work boots crunching on the rock path.
When he entered the shop, he saw Emily at the counter, working on the books. She glanced up at him, and when she smiled, his heart stuttered. She seemed to glow with her blue dress complementing her eyes.
Chris had missed her since they hadn’t spoken since Sunday evening. He’d only seen her from afar yesterday when she was outside hanging laundry on the line. He’d hoped she would stop by the harness shop to say hello, but she hadn’t come by.
Why was he allowing himself to get attached to her?
“Gude mariye,” she said.
Chris attempted to speak, but his response was interrupted by his uncle.
“Christopher!” Onkel Hank crossed the showroom floor and stood beside him. “I can see you were busy last night.”
Christopher’s cheeks were aflame with embarrassment.
“You made nearly a dozen key chains. When did you work?” Onkel Hank asked with concern in his brown eyes.
Chris was keenly aware of Emily’s gaze locked on him. He lifted his straw hat and raked his hand through his hair. “I think I was here from about one until a little after four.”
“Why?” Leroy approached from behind Onkel Hank. “Are you ill?”
Could this get any more humiliating? Chris longed to crawl under the counter to hide from the three sets of curious eyes scrutinizing him. “No, I’m not ill. I have insomnia.”
He turned toward Emily, and the concern in her face twisted something deep in his gut.
Chris’s stomach growled, increasing the shame already suffocating him. Why hadn’t he stayed in bed this morning?
Because I can’t afford to lose this job.
He folded his arms across his abdomen in a futile attempt to silence his hunger.
“Have you eaten?” Onkel Hank asked.
“No. I didn’t see Aenti Tillie, and I wasn’t sure what I could eat.”
“Don’t be gegisch, Christopher,” Onkel Hank said with a laugh. “You can eat anything you want. Meihaus is your haus, remember?”
“Tillie went shopping with mei mamm this morning,” Emily chimed in.
“Oh.” Chris’s stomach roared again and he longed for this embarrassment to end.
“Go get something to eat,” Onkel Hank said.
“But I’m already late. I don’t want to abuse my position here.”
“Abuse your position here?” Onkel Hank laughed again. “You’re working circles around us old guys. You accomplished more in the wee hours of the morning than we do some days. Go eat something and then come back.”
Emily came around the end of the counter and stood beside Chris. “We have plenty of food.” She looked at her father. “Is it all right if I make Christopher breakfast at our haus? We won’t be gone long.”
“Sure.” Leroy shrugged. “Go ahead.”
Chris shook his head while looking down at her. “No, I don’t want to impose. I can’t let you—”
“Go on,” Onkel Hank said. “Take your time.”
“Let’s go.” Emily looked up at him.
Chris reluctantly followed her to the door. What would they possibly discuss while they were alone?
“WHAT DO YOU LIKE TO EAT?” EMILY ASKED AS SHE WALKED beside Christopher up the path to her parents’ house.
“Oh, I don’t know.” He shrugged. “Anything really. You don’t have to do this. I can make some toast and find some peanut butter.”
“I don’t mind,” she insisted. “I like to cook.”
“That makes one of us,” he muttered, and she laughed.
Christopher looked over at her and raised an eyebrow, causing her to laugh again. He was adorable. No, he was handsome, the most handsome man she’d ever met, but he was also the saddest. She longed to break through his cold exterior and force him to talk to her. She had so many questions she wanted him to answer.
They approached the porch and Christopher slowed, allowing her to climb the steps first and open the back door. He followed her into the mudroom and then stepped into the kitchen behind her.
“Have a seat.” She crossed the kitchen and began to open cabinets in search of food. “What do you like besides peanut butter toast?”
Christopher sat at the table. “I’m not picky.”
“Okay.” Emily faced him while standing by the counter. “Do you like eggs, bacon, and potatoes?”
“Oh no. You don’t have to make all of that for me.”
“I’ll take that as a yes.” She pulled two frying pans out of a cabinet and set them on the stove.
“Emily, you really don’t have to go to so much trouble for me.”
She spun and gasped. He was standing right behind her. He towered over her, and she hadn’t until that moment realized just how tall he was. He looked to be as tall as her brother-in-law, Jason, if not taller. For a moment, she couldn’t speak.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” He gave her an embarrassed grin.
“It’s okay.” Emily pointed toward the table. “Go sit, and I’ll get started.”
Christopher paused and seemed to be thinking about something. “Fine,” he finally said. “But I’ll have to make this up to you somehow. I’ll do the dishes.”
She retrieved a carton of eggs, a potato, and bacon from the refrigerator. “You will not do the dishes, Christopher, and I—”
“Call me Chris.”
“What?” She glanced over her shoulder at him as she broke the first of two eggs into a bowl to scramble them.
“I said you can call me Chris.” He sat with his elbow resting on the table, chin in his palm. Was he going to fall asleep while she cooked his breakfast? “Mei freinden call me Chris.”
“Oh, but Hank and Tillie always call you Christopher.” She poured the eggs into one of the pans.
“I think it’s like a parent thing,” Chris said. “Do you have a nickname?”
“Mei freinden and schweschdere sometimes call me Em.” She started chopping the potato as she spoke.
“Do your parents call you that?”
“No.” She shook her head. “I see what you mean. So your parents call you Christopher?”
“Ya.” His face hardened with anger, or maybe it was frustration. “All the time. I’m never Chris to them.”
“That’s interesting.”
His smile returned, and Emily swallowed a sigh of relief. “Parents are always formal, but our freinden use the nicknames. I can’t stand it when mei freinden call me Christopher. I always feel like I’m in trouble for something.”
Emily made a mental note to never call him Christopher again. She slid the slices of potatoes into the second pan and then flipped his eggs.
“I feel faul sitting here while you do all the work.” His tone held a hint of teasing, and she suppressed a grin. Was she finally breaking through his wall?
“Don’t be gegisch,” she scolded. “You worked during the wee hours of this morning. You’re certainly not a faulenzer. Do you like cheese with your eggs?”
“Sure. Danki.”
She reached into the refrigerator for a piece of cheese and tossed it onto the eggs before folding them over in the pan. After removing the eggs from the pan, she dropped in a few slices of bacon and then put two pieces of bread in the toaster.
“I didn’t plan this right,” Emily lamented as she brought him the plate with the eggs. “I should’ve started the potatoes before the eggs so you can eat your breakfast all at once.”
Chris beamed. “Do I look disappointed? You heard my stomach growl so rudely earlier.” He rolled his eyes.
Emily set the plate in front of him. “You don’t need to worry about that around me.” She handed him utensils. “Kaffi?”
Chris paused as if debating if it was too much to ask.
“I’ll have a cup with you,” she offered.
“Okay.” He bowed his head in silent prayer and then dug into the eggs.
A comfortable silence fell over the room as Emily finished making his breakfast. She brought the toast, potatoes, bacon, and peanut butter to the table before bringing two cups of coffee, creamer, and sugar and sitting down across from him.
“This is a feast,” Chris said in awe. “You shouldn’t have troubled yourself.”
“I’ve already told you I don’t mind.” Emily sipped her coffee. How could she convince him to open up to her?
“Would you like some bacon or a piece of toast?” He moved his plate toward her.
“No, thanks. I already ate.”
“Come on,” he coaxed her, holding out his plate. “I can’t eat all of this by myself. If I do then you’ll think I’m a pig.”
“Fine.” Emily couldn’t refuse his cute expression. She took a piece of bacon and bit into it as he scooped up potatoes. She recalled the key chains he’d created earlier this morning. Had she finally earned the right to ask him questions? “How long have you had insomnia?”
He stopped eating and held the spoonful of potatoes in midair as his gaze snapped to hers. She immediately regretted the question, which seemed to float in the air between them. If only she could start the conversation over again with a less personal question.
“I’ve had it for a few months now.”
“Do you always work when you can’t sleep?” Maybe he would answer her questions after all.
“No.” He set the spoon on the table. “Sometimes I walk outside and other times I just stare at the ceiling and hope sleep will come and find me.”
“Did you sleep at all last night?”
Chris shrugged and lifted his cup of coffee. “I got a few hours in. Maybe four.” He sipped the coffee and then scooped more potatoes into his mouth.
A silence gripped the kitchen again, interrupted only when Chris’s utensils scraped across the plate. After he finished the potatoes, he spread peanut butter on his toast. She wanted to pull more information out of him, including why he came to stay with his aunt and uncle, but she didn’t know how to get him to really talk.
“What kind of work did you do in Ohio?” she asked.
Chris’s gaze locked with hers, and his face hardened. The invisible wall he’d built around himself suddenly reappeared, and Emily longed to take the question back.
“Mei dat owns a horse farm.”
“Oh,” Emily said. “So he breeds and sells horses?”
“Right.”
“Did you like working on the horse farm?”
He kept his focus trained on the toast as he responded. “I’d rather work in the harness shop, if that answers your question.”
“I see.” She yearned to know the whole story.
Chris looked up at her. “Did you want to ask me something else?” The question wasn’t brusque.
“Why did you leave Ohio?” she asked softly. Tillie told her she thought he needed a new start after his brother died, but Emily hoped Chris would share his burdens with her.
He leaned back in the chair and was silent for a moment. “I was tired of disappointing my father and constantly arguing with him. Leaving seemed to be the only option.”
Surprised by what he’d said, Emily looked at him, taking in the anguish and frustration in his eyes. She started to ask him another question, but he quickly interrupted her.
“Everything is appeditlich.” Chris wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Do you work only at the harness shop or do you also work as a baker or something?”
Emily blinked. He was deliberately taking the focus off of himself and pushing it onto her. She took the hint. It was time to back off and allow him to recover from her probing questions.
“No, I don’t work as a baker. Veronica has a bake stand, and she sells pies, relishes, and pickles. I used to help her when she lived at home. Now I work in the shop and help mei mamm with the chores around here. I also make quilts, and we host dinners for Englishers periodically. I’m never bored.”
“You make quilts?”
“Ya. Mei mamm and I sell them at stores and charity auctions.”
“Mei mammi made me a quilt a long time ago. I think I was about eight or ten when she gave it to me for my birthday. I wish I’d brought it with me. I left it on my bed.”
The regret in his words settled over her. She’d never imagined he would miss a quilt his grandmother had made for him. Only a couple of days ago she’d considered him rude, but now she realized he was a deeply emotional man. She looked into his eyes. What else did he miss about his home in Ohio?
“You’re staring at me.” Chris smirked. “Do I have egg on my face or potatoes up my nose?”
She laughed, and the tips of her ears blazed. “No, you don’t have food on your face.”
“What is it then?” He lifted a piece of bacon. “Do I look ridiculous or something?”
“No, it’s not that at all. It’s your eyes.”
His amusement faded. “What about my eyes?”
“They change color. When I first met you in the harness shop, your eyes were blue-green. Then the second day I saw you in the harness shop, they were bluer. Sunday night, they were green in the light of the lanterns when we sat on the porch together. But today they’re like a turquoise color. They seem to change color depending on the lighting in the room.”
“Really?” He smiled.
Emily took a deep breath and pushed on. “You have the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen,” she whispered, her voice trembling.
Chris’s grin vanished, and he set the bacon back on the plate.
“I said too much.” Emily longed to bury her face in her hands. She once again spoke without thinking. Her cheeks might explode from the heat of her humiliation.
“No, no.” Chris leaned forward and reached for her hand, but then pulled back before making contact. “I didn’t mean it that way. I’m just not used to getting compliments. You’ve complimented me twice in the past few days, and I don’t know how to handle it.”
“I’ve complimented you twice?” she asked, and he nodded. “When was the first time?”
“It was when we were sitting on the porch Sunday night. You said I had a great smile and you liked seeing it. No one has ever said that to me. And no one has ever complimented the color of my eyes.”
“I find that difficult to believe.”
“It’s the truth,” he said simply. “Danki.”
“Gern gschehne.”
Chris studied her, and something shifted between them. His eyes grew intense, and a thrill shivered through her body. She had to escape his gaze. She reached across the table, gathered up the empty dishes, and carried them to the sink.
“I’d better start cleaning this up.” She tossed her words over her shoulder as she began to fill one side of the sink with hot, soapy water.
“I told you I can do the dishes.”
“Oh no. Don’t be gegisch. I’m sure mei dat has plenty for you to do at the shop today.” She started filling the other side with clean water for rinsing.
“I appreciate the breakfast.” Chris pushed his chair back from the table. “I do need to make it up to you sometime.”
“That’s not necessary,” Emily insisted as she washed her coffee cup.
Chris appeared at her side and handed her the last plate and his cup. “Danki for everything.”
“Gern gschehne.” She looked up at him. “Maybe I’ll see you later?”
“I hope so.” Chris turned and headed for the back door.
As the door clicked shut, Emily replayed their conversation in her mind. She’d learned a little bit about Chris, but how had his brother’s death played into his issues with his dat? No one had ever told Chris his eyes and smile were attractive? If he’d ever had a girlfriend, then she certainly would have told him he was handsome.
Emily looked at the clock above the sink. She couldn’t wait for Mamm to get home. She had so much to tell her!