Chapter Two
“Priscilla, are you all right?” Zeke asked anxiously, peeking out from behind the basement door. “I thought I heard crying.”
She kept her tear-streaked face turned away from her brother and said brokenly, “I’ll be fine.” Maybe someday. “I just broke up with Matthew.”
“Ach, no wonder you’re upset. I’m sorry.”
So am I. “It was for the best.” Everything that happened was God’s will, and He promised all would turn out for the good. But right now, clouds of gloom blocked even the smallest rays of sunshine.
“It will get better,” her brother promised. “But if you broke up with him, why are you crying?”
Swiping at her face, Priscilla turned to face him. “Ending a relationship is difficult.”
“Jah, that’s so.” Zeke nodded as sagely as if he’d been through it himself.
At twelve, he hadn’t, of course. But his grown-up manner made Priscilla smile despite her tears.
She needed to do something to get her mind off things. Doing chores wouldn’t prove enough of a distraction. Camels. Matthew had mentioned a camel farm. She seized on the idea.
“Zeke, I’m going out for a while. Tell Mamm and Daed I’ll be back later to finish my chores.”
His eyes widened. She’d never run out of the house before, leaving her work undone. But she’d also never felt so blindsided.
After changing into a clean dress and her black half apron and donning her kapp, Priscilla fled to the barn. Hitching her horse to the buggy, usually a mindless task, took all her concentration.
Once she climbed in, she sat for a moment to still the whirling thoughts. Then she clucked to her horse and started off. As Butterscotch trotted down the backcountry roads, the wind blowing past stung Priscilla’s aching eyes.
When she turned onto the road where the camel farm was located, she slowed. In a distant field, large brownish blobs wandered the fields. As she drew closer, the blobs appeared more like humped cows.
Priscilla managed a watery half smile. She’d found the camels. Now she prayed they had a store where they sold camel’s milk.
A small wooden sign by the side of the road said Kauffman’s Organic Farm. With a tug on the reins, she steered into the steep gravel driveway. A large metal building stood at the top of the hill. On the door, a hand-printed sign listed the hours.
Priscilla scanned it. Saturdays: 9 a.m. to 4 p.m. Good. It was open.
She pulled past the building to park her buggy. As she got out to tie up her horse, the metal door banged open.
A petite woman struggled out, her hands filled with two gigantic insulated bags. She set them down and went inside for two more. Then she clicked open the tailgate of an expensive SUV with dark-tinted windows.
Were those bags filled with camel’s milk? If so, maybe this woman in her embroidered jacket with an elegant scarf wound around her neck had bought out the store. The woman slammed her trunk shut as a small boy emerged from the house next door carrying a small stack of bills.
“I have some change,” he called, waving some bills in the air.
“Excellent,” she said, heading toward the passenger door. “I’ll be right in. I just need a few insulated bags.” She waited until he’d gone inside, then she walked over to the side of the building where large cooler chests sat, stacked one on top of the other. Each chest had a name printed neatly in black marker on the front.
Curiosity kept Priscilla standing there, semi-hidden behind the buggy.
Grunting, the woman lifted one of the heavy chests and lugged it to her SUV. The chest said Graber. An Amish name—but the woman definitely wasn’t Amish. She transferred two more chests. Allgyer and Hess. Maybe she was an Englisch driver who delivered orders to the Amish and Mennonites.
She didn’t look like any driver Priscilla had ever seen. Her expensive leather shoes, her silky blonde hair swishing around her shoulders, and her haughty air spelled money. Lots of it.
Before Priscilla could be caught gawking, the woman entered the store again. Priscilla stepped from behind the carriage and crossed the parking lot. She reached for the knob, but the door opened abruptly, almost hitting her.
The petite woman rushed out, calling over her shoulder, “I forgot my insulated bags. I’ll be right back.”
She breezed past, letting the door slam. Priscilla opened it and walked into a wide, spacious warehouse. Shelves full of facial products and lotions lined each wall. A few shelves farther down held raw honey, natural peanut butter, and jars of vitamins.
Across the room, the young boy sat at a desk, with a money box and stacks of invoices close at hand. As in many Amish businesses, the children often ran the stores.
She didn’t see any refrigerators. “Do you sell any camel’s milk?”
“Yes, we do.” The boy stood and headed toward her. “Did you want a certain size?”
“What sizes do you have?”
“From pints to gallons.”
“Where would I find them?”
The woman entered the building and swept past Priscilla. She pushed open heavy hanging plastic behind them, and freezing air rushed over Priscilla’s back. The boy motioned for Priscilla to follow the woman into a huge refrigerated room lined with shelves filled with glass jars and bottles.
Arctic temperatures chilled Priscilla’s nose and hands, and she shivered. Now she understood why the woman wore a coat and scarf. If she made another trip here, she’d dress properly.
Beside her, the woman slid gallon jugs of milk into her insulated tote bags. The bottles clinked as she lifted the bags. “I’m ready to check out,” she said as she flung open the door, pushed aside the plastic, and exited the refrigerated room.
Priscilla had to get out of the cold. She’d grab the smallest container of camel’s milk they had. She hoped Asher would try it. She wouldn’t buy a large bottle, in case he refused to drink it.
A handsome man entered through another door at the far end of the refrigerated space. “Are you finding everything you need?”
“I’m looking for camel’s milk.” Priscilla’s teeth chattered.
“You’re standing by the gallons. If you want a smaller size, they’re down here.”
“A-a p-pint, p-please.”
“You’re shivering.” He lifted a pint from the nearest shelf. “Why don’t you come in here and warm up?” He led her through the far door and into a small office.
Blessed heat enveloped her as she stepped through the plastic. She stood over a small kerosene heater and rubbed her hands together.
“I can tell you’re a first-timer. Our regulars all wear coats. If you want to go back in to look around, feel free to borrow my jacket and gloves.” He pointed to a nearby peg.
“Danke, but I just wanted a sample today. I’m not sure if I can convince my brother to try it. Can you tell me how much this is?”
“That size is fifteen dollars.”
Fifteen dollars? For one pint? She’d read camel’s milk was costly, but she hadn’t expected it to be this expensive.
Heat rushed to her cheeks. Not only had she not been prepared for the price, but in her hurry to get out of the house and away from thoughts of Matthew, she’d forgotten to bring money.
“I’m so sorry. I don’t have my wallet.” Her face and neck burning, she turned toward the freezer door and lifted the plastic sheeting. “I’ll just put this back.” It seemed everywhere she went today, she faced shame.
“No need to do that.” His deep voice stopped her. “Could you wait here? I have a question for you.” His dazzling smile made her blink. “But first, I should help that lady with her bags. My nephew’s a little young to do all the heavy lifting.”
He pointed out of the office door to where the lady in the embroidered coat was digging through her designer purse. Priscilla stood in the office doorway as he hurried across the room.
She should return the milk and leave. That would be the wisest course of action—both because she didn’t have the money and because she didn’t need to get friendly with a man who intrigued her.
To prove how right she was, he turned his winning smile on the lady, who returned it with a flirtatious look. Why would anyone want to be in a relationship with a man who could easily be tempted?
“Are you the one I talked to on the phone?” the Englischer purred, batting her long eyelashes.
“Probably. I usually do answer the phone. Gabriel Kauffman, at your service.”
His deep voice reverberated in Priscilla’s chest, but she hardened herself against the pull. Although his back was now to her, from Gabriel’s smooth answer, Priscilla suspected he was charmed.
“I’m Fleurette Moreau.” The woman extended a dainty hand with highly polished, long, clawlike nails. A predator.
“Pleased to meet you,” Gabriel said, holding her hand a beat too long. Although, to be fair, he did attempt to pull away before she let go.
The young boy gave Fleurette a total, and she opened her wallet. Priscilla frowned as the woman handed over three hundred-dollar bills and received two twenties in change. How could that be all she owed for those six gallons of camel’s milk plus all the other things she’d loaded into her car? Especially when the pint Priscilla held cost so much? Maybe Fleurette had paid for the rest earlier. The boy had gone to get change, after all.
After the woman paid, Gabriel said, “Let me get these bags for you.”
In a sickeningly sweet voice, she replied, “Thank you sooo much, but I’ll take them myself.”
Ignoring her, he bent to take the carrier handles. “They’re much too heavy.”
Gabriel’s solicitous tone sickened Priscilla. Was he only being polite, or had he fallen for Fleurette’s charm?
“I said no.” Fleurette’s sharp tone sliced through the air. When he straightened, she laid a hand on his arm. “I don’t want to bother anyone.”
“It’s no trouble at all.” Gabriel leaned down again. “I’m happy to help.”
“No, no!” Her voice grew shrill. “I can do it myself.”
Before he could reach the handles, she swooped in to block him and grabbed the bags. She could hardly lift them, and Gabriel stared at her, a puzzled frown drawing his brows together.
Fleurette’s actions made Priscilla curious. She evidently wasn’t used to lifting heavy loads. Why didn’t the woman want assistance when the insulated carriers dragged her down? She struggled to the door with the bottles clanking.
Gabriel rushed to open the heavy metal door and stood staring after her. A sharp pang shot through Priscilla. Did all men make fools of themselves around beautiful women? If Matthew were here alone, would he have followed that woman to the door? How many times had he been interested in other women? Was Mara the only one?
* * *
How odd! Gabe wasn’t sure what to make of this Englischer with her fancy clothes and Jersey accent—at least, he was pretty sure he’d identified it correctly, because he had many regular customers from Jersey and Philly. Or he had before he moved to Lancaster.
Usually women who dressed like Fleurette expected assistance. They never carried their own purchases. And she certainly didn’t look as if she was used to toting heavy bags.
He would have opened her car trunk if she hadn’t turned and glared at him. She set the bags beside the passenger door, clicked her key fob to unlock the car, and then stood with her arms crossed, tapping her foot, until he let the shop door swing shut. Before it did, he glimpsed her license plate. He’d been right about New Jersey.
Shaking his head, he turned to face the pretty Amish woman who’d forgotten her wallet. He had no idea why hearing her plight had made him determined to give her that bottle of milk for free. God seemed to have laid it on his heart.
He walked across the room to where she stood, looking as if she wanted to flee. He suspected she might not accept a gift, so he intended to make it seem as if she were doing him a favor.
As he got closer, her eyes, filled with sorrow, grew bleak. He’d been through enough rough times to understand her pain. And he wanted to comfort her. But she was a stranger. That was one thing he could remedy right now.
“I didn’t introduce myself earlier. I’m Gabriel Kauffman. Welcome to my camel farm.”
“You’re the owner?” She sounded surprised.
A lot of people were when they discovered he was twenty-four and ran such a successful business. He had no idea how this move to Lancaster would affect his income, but he’d needed more land. Even more importantly, he’d had to get away.
She stared at him with a quizzical look, and he realized he’d never answered her question. “Yes, this is my camel farm.”
“I’m so glad you moved to this area.”
If everyone in Lancaster was this enthusiastic, he’d do a terrific business. “That makes me happy.”
“I’ve been reading about the benefits of camel’s milk. I never thought I’d find a camel farm in this area.” Although her eyes still held sadness, excitement bubbled in her words.
“You didn’t come in only out of curiosity?” He had a lot of people who stopped by just to look at the camels and see what he had in the store. She must have sought him out, so maybe she’d become a regular customer.
“Well, I’m curious, but I’ve read so much about the health benefits. I was hoping it would help my brother Asher. He’s autistic.”
“I have some great stories about successes we’ve had with autistic children. I’d be happy to tell you about them sometime.”
“I’d love to hear them.”
Her wide, generous smile sent a jolt through him, but he steeled himself against it. Women were off-limits for him. He’d never take a chance with hurting another woman. Never.
He responded with a cautious half smile. Best to keep this businesslike, especially when he found her interest in camel’s milk so intriguing. Sure, Gabe, and you didn’t happen to notice how attractive she is.
He’d gotten far off track here. He forced himself back to the conversation. “One day when you have time, stop by and I’ll share the stories.” Real smart, inviting her back again so you can spend more time with her.
“I have a lot of chores today, but I’ll plan to come back. Maybe next weekend?”
“That would be fine.” Though his answer was clipped, his heart was singing.
“If you’d rather I not—?”
He sighed inwardly. He hadn’t meant to make her feel unwelcome. “No, I’d be happy to have you anytime.” Ach, that sounded overly friendly. What was it about this woman that tied him in knots? And he didn’t even know her name yet.
Trying again, he said, “I always love to talk about camel’s milk with people who are interested. As I’m sure you can guess, not many people know much about it. So, when I find someone who’s actually researched it . . .”
She laughed. “I know what you mean. Not many people share my interests. I’m always reading about ways to help special children. That’s why I convinced one of my friends to open a horse therapy business.”
Now Gabe was even more intrigued. Her eyes shone with passion. For the topic, of course. He jerked his mind back to the conversation. “I’d like to hear about that too.” What was wrong with him? He should be avoiding her, yet here he was encouraging her to spend even more time with him.
“Really?” She lowered her eyes as if he’d embarrassed her.
“I’m always fascinated to learn new ways to help people. That’s the main reason I started a camel farm.” And to assuage his guilt.
“I see.” She didn’t sound convinced, and she’d gone from animated to hesitant, as if she distrusted his answer.
“Back to the milk,” he said, pointing to the pint in her hand. “I planned to give away one free sample to anyone willing to introduce my products to people in their communities.” Actually, he’d only just come up with the idea, but it might be a good way to get the word out. “If you find it works for your brother, would you be willing to tell others about it?”
“Of course. I teach in a special needs school, so I’m sure some of the parents will be interested. But I’d be willing to do that even if I paid for the milk.”
Her generosity touched Gabe. “That’s really kind of you.”
Her brows drew together. “Kind? Shouldn’t we share anything we know that will help others?”
“Of course.” Gabe had been in business long enough to know most people were only out for themselves. Perhaps if his life had followed a different path, he would have stayed locked into his selfishness despite being raised to care about others and put community and family needs above his own.
* * *
Priscilla couldn’t believe Gabriel would give away an expensive container of milk to a complete stranger. He had asked her to advertise for him in exchange, but she still didn’t feel right about not paying. “I can get money and come back to pay for this.”
Gabriel shook his head. “Neh, I’m serious about the free sample. Haven’t you ever gotten a free sample in the grocery store?”
“Of course. Actually, my friend Hope Graber offered a free horse therapy lesson for each student when she opened her business, and many of them signed up for sessions.”
“I hope giving away free products will work for my farm too. With someone as nice as you telling people about my products, I’m sure it’ll help.”
At his compliment, Priscilla drew back a bit, warning herself against his flattery. Earlier, she’d wondered if he tried to charm women, and now she was convinced of it. Yet, she struggled with an attraction to him.
It’s only because he’s interested in camel’s milk and horse therapy. Matthew had always looked bored when she shared information about helping special children.
But she wouldn’t be talking to Matthew. Not anymore. The truth hit her so hard, her lips trembled. She turned away to regain her composure.
“Are you all right?” Gabriel moved closer, and her stomach clenched.
No, she might never recover. And the last thing she needed was to be attracted to anyone else. Ever.
Gabriel stared at her with sympathetic eyes, waiting for an answer.
She needed to give him some explanation. “I—I had some bad news right before I came here.”
“I’m sorry. I hope you didn’t lose someone . . .” He winced as his voice trailed off.
She had, actually. But not in the way he meant. Priscilla only shook her head.
He blew out a breath as if relieved. “I didn’t mean to pry.”
Beneath the kindness and caring in his tone, Priscilla detected a deep sadness. She almost asked him the same question he’d asked her. Was he all right? But she stopped herself.
They both stood there uneasily, Priscilla with her gaze fixed on the ground, and Gabriel studying her. She wanted to go but didn’t trust herself to speak. Not when she was all choked up about Matthew’s betrayal.
A wave of dizziness swept over her. She hadn’t eaten much breakfast, because she’d been busy planning the picnic. And then she’d had two shocks with the bishop’s visit and Matthew’s request.
Now she was hungry and shaky. Or was some of it from Gabriel’s nearness?
“I should get back to work,” he said. “It was nice meeting you, um—”
“Pr-Priscilla Ebersol.”
Gabriel held out his hand, and she reached out to shake it. When their palms met, the warmth shocked her, and the strength of his fingers curving around hers in a gentle embrace brought memories of Matthew flooding back. He’d held Mara’s hand and kissed her. An ache started deep inside and grew until a small sigh hissed from between her teeth. She tried to hold it back but was powerless to stop it.
Like a sharp knife blade to the heart, the memory of that morning pierced her soul. She sucked in a sharp breath and blinked back the tears that threatened to fall.
Without letting go of her hand, Gabriel stepped closer and took her elbow to support her. “Is something wrong?”
She shivered at his touch. That added to her other churning emotions set her head whirling. “I-I . . .” She’d intended to say she’d be fine, but she struggled to get the words out.
“Timothy, can you slide that chair over here?” Gabriel called as he continued to support her.
Maybe if he’d let go, she’d be fine, but the brush of his sleeve against her arm, the laundry-fresh scent of his shirt, the heat flowing from his skin everywhere it touched hers . . . She willed him to let go, but she wanted to stay like this forever.
What was wrong with her?
For the past four years, she’d thought about no one but Matthew, and now in only a few hours, she found herself attracted to someone else. No—it was only shock and loneliness.
The young boy she’d talked to earlier scooted a chair across the floor in their direction, and Gabriel lowered her into it. “Feel free to stay there until you’re feeling better.”
“I’m fine. Just a little light-headed. I didn’t eat a meal before I came.” And she’d recover faster if he’d stop hovering.
He kept one hand on her shoulder as if to steady her. “We can take care of that.” He motioned with his head to the office. “Tim, get one of the sandwiches from my lunch cooler and some water.”
“Neh, neh.” Priscilla struggled to get up.
But Gabriel’s hand held her firmly in place. “You’re not going anywhere until I’m sure you’ve recovered.”
Then she’d be stuck here for a long, long time, because Priscilla wasn’t sure she’d ever recover from Matthew’s betrayal.