Chapter Six
“How much longer till you get the kids?” Mariana asked at the next quilting circle. Everyone had been steadily keeping up with Eileen’s quest for foster children. Her dream was about to become a reality. Two little girls were coming to live with her. Sisters. They needed a mother now more than ever. Their own had been injured in the same car wreck that killed their father. Because of her injuries, she had become addicted to prescription painkillers, and between that and the depression, the poor woman had made a couple of bad choices and was now serving some time in jail. Who knew if she would ever get her life back in order enough that she would be able to care for her children. In the meantime, someone needed to take care of them, as their extended family was unwilling.
Clara Rose couldn’t imagine how anyone’s family would be unwilling to take care of two small girls. She had seen the picture that Eileen had brought in the last meeting, and the girls were adorable. Big brown eyes, soft curly blond hair. They looked like little angels. Clara Rose’s heart went out to all involved.
“It may be a little while yet. But I’m hoping before Thanksgiving they’ll be here. Wouldn’t that be wonderful?” Eileen’s eyes lit up in a way Clara Rose had never seen. The woman had wanted to have a child for as long as she had known her. Not that it was a great long time. Clara Rose had only been coming to the quilting circle for the last couple of years, but what Amish woman didn’t want to have children? A whole passel of kids running around, playing games, helping with chores, and otherwise carrying on the Amish way of life to the next generation. Wasn’t that what it was all about?
It was what she wanted. More than anything. To get married and have kids. With Thomas at her side. It was all she had ever wanted.
“That would be good,” Mariana said. But she ducked her head over her quilt squares when she spoke, and Clara Rose had wondered if watching Eileen foster children was something of a heartbreak for the other woman. Clara Rose couldn’t imagine how either one of them felt, in their forties and not able to have kids. Lord please . . . she prayed. But she stopped herself before she could complete the thought. It was selfish to ask for such a blessing. She could only hope that the Lord would see fit to give her the children that she wanted. Even as she wondered why the two gracious and kind women in front of her were barren. It just didn’t make sense. She knew everyone around her said it was God’s will. And she supposed it was. His will was something she tried so hard to accept each and every day of her life. But if she thought about it hard, maybe even too hard, she came up with more questions than answers. And God’s will didn’t seem to always satisfy them. Most times, she just chose not to think about it. Not question Him and pray that one day she would understand.
Clara Rose turned her attention back to the quilt squares folded in her lap. This was the stitching-together time, where they took the quilt squares they’d previously made and stitched them into blocks that would eventually be sewn together to form the complete quilt top. She wanted to ask Marianna how Leroy, her husband, was doing, but every week the woman appeared to be more gaunt than the week before, a little less happy, with dark circles forming under her eyes. The doctor had said Leroy probably wouldn’t live past December, and everyone knew it was only a matter of time before he succumbed to his illness. Another fact that Clara Rose hoped she never had to face.
“Auntie?”
Her heart skipped a beat as she recognized the voice. Obie.
“In here,” Eileen said.
Seconds later, Obie’s face appeared at the large door that led to the bonus room. He had an apple in one hand and a grin on his face as he surveyed the room at large. Clara Rose couldn’t help but notice that his gaze landed on her for only a split second before he looked away. She still hadn’t spoken to him since that night at the hayride. Things were beginning to get more and more awkward between the two of them. Something that she didn’t want. If they could just keep things smooth until after the wedding, she knew everything would be okay. But it seemed that Obie had other plans.
“Just another week, and I’ll bring that puppy to you,” Obie said, his attention back on his aunt.
But Eileen shook her head. “I don’t want a dog right now, nephew,” she said. The large grandfather clock in the hallway chimed out two dongs, which signified that the time to quilt was over. Most quilting circles ended around two so the women could get home in time to take care of the children coming home from school or get the supper ready for their dairy-farming husbands, who had to milk the herd at four. Since none of them had children walking home or husbands who ran dairy farms, it seemed a little strange that they would quit at the same time. But there was something to be said for tradition.
Everyone got up and started packing up their things, storing the quilt squares, and cleaning up the mess of threads and scraps. In no time at all, everyone was gone except for her, Mammi, Obie, and Eileen.
“Are you coming with me?” Mammi asked, one hand on the doorknob.
Clara Rose looked back to Obie, unsure of how to answer. She wanted to stay and talk to him. But she wasn’t sure he wanted to talk to her at all. Especially not after Friday night.
But his gaze snagged hers and held. Those green eyes were unreadable as he studied her face.
“I’ll take her home,” he said without blinking or breaking the contact between them even once.
“Suit yourself,” Mammi said and let herself out of the house.
“Can we talk?”
As much as she wanted to say yes, there was another part of her that wanted to tell him no. “What good is talking at this point? Every time we talk, all we do is fight.” Clara Rose shook her head.
“I don’t want to fight with you, Rosie. I just want to—” He broke off with a shake of his head, then turned back around, his green eyes pleading. “Please. Just stop and hear me out.”
She hesitated, then finally nodded. “Okay. For a bit. It’s getting cold outside.”
Obie nodded and waited for her to don her sweater before the two of them made their way down the porch steps and around the back of the house. The sky was laden with gray clouds, and the wind held the definite chill of the approaching winter. But Clara Rose knew from experience today could be fifty and tomorrow could be eighty. Oklahoma weather was as unpredictable as her own feelings.
They walked for a few moments in silence, each with their hands in their pockets as they trudged through the brown clumps of grass between Eileen’s house and Obie’s.
With all the quiet, if the wind blew just right, she could hear the bark of the puppies on Obie’s farm. The sound brought a smile to her lips.
“That’s the first time I’ve seen you smile in weeks.”
Was it? “You haven’t been around a lot.”
“Are you saying I’m the reason for your frown?”
Clara Rose stopped and shook her head. “I don’t want to do this, Obie. I don’t want to fight with you. It’s not any fun.”
Obie stopped as well, turning to face her, his expression as clouded as the sky above. “I don’t want to fight with you either, Rosie. You’re the most important person in my life, and I can’t imagine it without you.”
This. This was what she had been waiting on. She had been praying for this first step in reconciliation between the two of them. The first step toward understanding and a compromise, the bridge between the changes they were making in their lives. She was getting married to Thomas, and Obie needed to understand that. With a little work, they could turn what seemed to be a dead end to their friendship into something much, much more. There was no reason why the two of them couldn’t remain friends just because she and Thomas were getting married. And whatever Obie had in his thoughts, it was time for him to let them go, to trust her judgment with Thomas and to know and trust that Thomas was the man he presented himself to be.
“I feel the same way, you know,” she said. And she did. The last thing she wanted to do was lose him in order to gain her other dreams. It just didn’t seem fair that she couldn’t have both.
She said a small prayer of forgiveness at those selfish thoughts. God knew what was in her heart and understood her.
“I know.” His words were soft, strained, as he took a step closer. His eyes were unreadable as he tugged her hands from her pockets and held them in his own. His fingers were warm and callused. Hands that did good work. Trusting, loving hands.
“Promise me,” he said.
“Anything.” She said the word without hesitation. They’d come around the bend on this snag in their friendship. And they were climbing that hill toward understanding. They would get there. They would survive this.
“Promise me things won’t be different once you marry him.” His voice cracked on those last two words. He cleared his throat. “Promise me.”
Clara Rose tilted her head back to stare up at him. He tugged her just a bit closer, the tails of her coat brushing against his. “I promise.”
His eyes turned a deep emerald green, a color she’d never seen before, and had an intensity she hadn’t known he could feel.
“Thank you,” he whispered into the space between them, and then all of a sudden there was no space. And his lips touched hers.
Was this real?
Clara Rose wanted to shake her head. It couldn’t be. But she didn’t move for fear of losing the contact she now had with Obie. It was sweet, and her lips tingled where his touched hers. Her eyes fluttered and closed as she let the beauty wash over her. It was just the two of them, just a small kiss between friends.
Obie lifted his head and stared into her eyes, searching for something, though she had no idea what. Then he released her hands and cupped her face in his palms, pulling her mouth to his once again.
Clara Rose leaned in to him. His lips were warm, heating the air around them. His kiss was gentle, heady, everything she’d ever dreamed of in a kiss, and it went straight to her head. She wanted to step in closer. Instinctively she wanted to wrap her arms around him and never let go. As first kisses went, it was the best. And he was her best friend. Obie.
Obie!
Her eyes snapped open. She couldn’t kiss Obie.
She clasped his hands into her own and pulled them from her face, stepping back and away from him even as she wanted to draw closer than before.
His eyes snapped open and centered on her. Even as close as they stood to each other, she couldn’t read his expression. “Clara Rose?”
“We can’t do this.” She shook her head.
She took another step away even as Obie took one toward her. “No, no, no, no, no.”
She was getting married to Thomas in just a few weeks. Yet she’d kissed Obie as if her life depended on it. What made her any better than Ivy Weaver?
“Clara Rose, just listen.”
She shook her head again. “No.” She turned on her heel and started back toward the house. She had to get away. She had to get away now. Maybe if she ran fast enough she could catch up with her grandmother. Her legs started to run. And run.
“Clara Rose!” Obie called from behind her.
She ran faster.
She thought she heard him call, “I’m sorry,” as she continued up the hill, but it could have been the wind whistling in her ears.
She ran on.