Chapter Three
As much as she appreciated Gabriel’s thoughtfulness, he misunderstood the reason for her wooziness. But the only way to correct his mistake was to tell the truth. Priscilla wasn’t ready to share that with anyone, let alone a stranger.
“What’s taking so long?” Gabe fretted while he waited for Tim to bring the sandwich.
“You don’t need to feed me,” she protested, trying to rise. “I don’t want to take your lunch.”
His hand remained firmly fixed on her shoulder. “I always make extra. And I’m not about to have a customer faint in my store. That wouldn’t be good for business.”
After Tim brought the sandwich, Gabe hovered over her while she ate, making her self-conscious about the size of the bites she took. She tried to nibble daintily, but her stomach growled for her to eat faster.
“Would you like some camel’s milk too?” His eyes twinkled. “I hear it’s very healing.”
Priscilla smiled but then forced herself to stare down at her lap as she lifted the last piece of homemade bread to her lips. Gabe’s sparkling brown eyes were mesmerizing.
What was wrong with her today? She never noticed men’s eyes or features. She’d always concentrated all her attention on Matthew. And their relationship had ended only a short while ago. It was much too soon to think about anyone else. After what Matthew had done, she wanted nothing to do with men.
All the humiliation and hurt flooded back, and she tried to suppress an involuntary whimper. But it slipped out.
“Are you choking?” Gabe leaned over her and thumped her back.
Her face fiery, she stuttered, “N-Neh, it—it’s not that.” How could she have made such a fool of herself?
She should have stayed home and done her chores. Hard work helped in getting over a heartbreak. Instead, she’d dashed out the door and ended up fighting an attraction to a stranger.
Only because she was overwrought. She never would have noticed him otherwise.
Liar, her conscience taunted her.
Well, maybe she might have, but she’d have erased him from her mind with thoughts of Matthew. Now thinking about Matthew brought nothing but shame.
Gabe still hovered over her. “Are you feeling better? Your face has more color.”
Priscilla pressed her hands to her cheeks. He considered her flushed face a sign of health? Or was he mocking her?
She peeped up through her lashes to steal a quick glance at him. Rather than a smirk, his brows were scrunched in concern.
“Was one sandwich enough?” he asked. “I can get you another.”
She’d never been coddled in her life. As the oldest daughter, she’d taken care of her younger siblings from the time she’d turned six. Even with Matthew, she’d been the one who tended to his needs. Evidently, he’d become so used to her indulging his every whim, he had no qualms about asking her to cover for his misdeeds.
A gentle hand landed on her shoulder again. “You just winced. Are you in pain?”
Priscilla stifled a cynical laugh. She ached, but not in the way Gabe thought. “I’ll be all right.” Eventually. At least I hope so.
“Are you sure? You’re welcome to stay as long as you need to.”
“I should get going.” She had chores to do, and as much as she wanted camel’s milk, common sense warned her to avoid Gabe. If she’d thought about it ahead of time, she would have expected the store owner to be a wrinkled old man. Instead, this camel farmer was drop-dead handsome. And he did unexpected things to her pulse. Only one word flashed through her mind despite his thoughtfulness and caring eyes: Danger.
* * *
Gabe wanted to reach out to help Priscilla to her feet but kept his distance. He stayed alert in case he needed to catch her if she collapsed. She still appeared fragile, but with the way her jaw was set, he suspected she wouldn’t welcome his assistance.
She also seemed to be sending out distinct don’t-touch-me signals. They warned him not to interfere.
The shop door banged open, startling them both. Priscilla, who’d been partway out of the chair, dropped back down as if she’d been shoved. He’d been correct about her weakness.
A short, stocky Englisch woman with close-cropped gray hair strode into the room. “I’m supposed to pick up orders for Graber and Allgyer. Are they ready yet?”
Gabe had asked Tim to pack those two hours ago. Had his nephew been too busy with customers? He should have been keeping a better eye on the business.
Tim emerged from the freezer and waved toward the door. “They’re right outside there with the other pickups. They should be on top.”
“No, they’re not.”
“Let me check, Hazel.” Gabe strode to the door, and Tim followed at his heels.
“I put them there.” Tim pointed to a small tower of coolers. “Someone must have gotten them already. I stacked them up in order of pickup times.” He led the way to the front of the pile, where names printed in black magic marker identified each one.
“That’s where I found them last time,” Hazel said. She waved a hand toward the pile. “As you can see, they’re not there.”
“But I put them on top.”
“Are you sure?” Gabe asked him, trying to be gentle and not accusing. “Maybe you forgot them?”
Tears formed in Tim’s eyes, and he blinked several times. “No, I didn’t. Another cooler’s missing too. I don’t remember who it’s for, but I filled eight. Now we only have five.”
“The other one was for Hess.”
At the soft voice behind them, Gabe whirled around. Priscilla stood in the doorway, a bit unsteady on her feet. He wished she’d stayed in the chair until she’d recovered completely.
Or maybe he only wanted her to stay because he had a strange desire to get to know her better. Meeting an Amish woman who’d researched camel’s milk and animal therapy, one who also worked with special children, was a rarity. It would be good to have someone to talk to about his passion.
He shook his head. No, not a woman. He forced his mind back to the conversation.
Tim was gaping at Priscilla. “How did you know that?”
“Because I saw them when I pulled in.”
So, Tim had taken care of the orders. Gabe dragged his gaze away from Priscilla to mouth I’m sorry to his nephew. He should have trusted him.
“And just before I entered the store,” Priscilla added, “a woman loaded them into her car.”
“What?” Tim practically shrieked.
Gabe had been about to ask the same question. “Who?” But there’d only been one other customer when Priscilla had been in the store. “The Englischer?”
When Priscilla nodded, Gabe’s stomach knotted. New Jersey plates. How would he ever trace her? If only he’d studied the numbers more closely.
Squeezing his eyes shut, Gabe pictured the plate, but no numbers or letters came into focus. He’d only been concentrating on the color and the words Garden State at the bottom.
“You okay?” Hazel’s raspy voice interrupted his concentration.
“Just trying to remember what her plate said, but I can’t.”
“I wish I’d looked. I did wonder if she was a driver for the Amish, although she seemed much too fancy.”
“It’s not your fault.” Gabe chuckled inside at the thought of that dressed-up, perfumed woman offering to drive others around in her brand-new SUV.
But he wasn’t laughing when he thought of the money they’d lost. This business was operating on a shoestring until he established himself in the Lancaster area.
“I should have said something. I thought it was odd.”
Priscilla looked so distressed, he longed to comfort her. “Please don’t blame yourself.”
Then he turned to Tim. “Can you fix two coolers for Hazel to take?” They’d have to buy more coolers to replace the ones they’d lost.
Tim scurried inside, and Gabe apologized to Hazel. “I’ll go help him. I’m sorry to hold you up.”
“No worries.” Hazel waved a hand. “Not your fault.”
Gabe headed for the door but stopped in front of Priscilla. He examined her for a minute. “Are you well enough to drive? If you still feel shaky, I’d be happy to drive you home, if you don’t mind waiting until we’ve repacked the three orders.”
“I can drive myself.”
Was that regret in her eyes? She lowered them before he could be sure.
“Be careful,” he said. “And danke for the information on who took the coolers. I have her name, so I’m sure we’ll be able to find her.” Fleurette Moreau was an unusual name. How many women had that name in New Jersey?
“I hope you do. And danke for the sandwich.”
“You’re very welcome.”
What was wrong with him? Hazel stood tapping her foot, waiting, and he couldn’t tear himself away from this petite blonde. The exact opposite in every way from—
Gabe refused to allow those thoughts to overwhelm him.
“I’ll let you go, then,” he told her, but part of him wished she’d stay. “I hope you’ll be back.”
“I’m sure I will.”
Although he shouldn’t, Gabe hoped it would be soon.
* * *
Nothing could erase the wounds of Matthew’s betrayal, but the camel farmer’s thoughtfulness had eased some of her distress. He’d been kind to feed her and care for her. Priscilla refused to examine the other feelings he’d stirred in her.
She’d barely entered the house with the camel’s milk when her parents arrived home. Mamm and Daed both carried groceries to the kitchen. When Daed headed to the front door, Priscilla followed. She needed to talk to him, but it would be best to catch him while he was alone.
“Daed,” Priscilla said, “can I talk to you?”
“Could it wait until I’ve unloaded the wagon and unhitched the horse?”
Priscilla would rather not wait, but she sighed and joined him at the wagon.
After they’d carted one more load inside, Daed headed to the barn to park the buggy. Priscilla trailed after him.
“Can I talk to you while you work?” she asked. “I’ll help with the horse.”
“I was hoping for a bit of peace and quiet.” Daed’s rueful smile revealed he’d been hoping for a break from Mamm’s constant chatter.
“Please? It’s important.”
Daed led the horse into the stall and turned. “It must be, for you to be so persistent.”
“The bishop came by to talk to me this morning while you were gone.”
“The bishop?” Daed’s hands stilled. “You haven’t done anything wrong,” he said with certainty, then he added, “Have you?” His eyebrows met in the middle as he turned to study her.
“That’s what I want to talk to you about.”
A concerned look in his eyes, he waited for her to continue. Priscilla recounted the whole story, including Matthew’s visit and request.
When she finished, Daed stroked his beard, as he often did when he was worried or thinking deeply. “Matthew is asking you to take the blame for someone else? How do you feel about that, dochder?”
“I’m confused. Christ took the blame for our sins, so perhaps I should follow His example. And I don’t want Mara to get in trouble. I know how strict her daed is.” Although being Christlike toward the person who’d stolen her boyfriend would be one of the hardest things she’d ever been asked to do. “But I worry, by staying silent, I’ll be living a lie.”
“It is a dilemma. Perhaps you and I should take this question to the bishop.”
“But Matthew asked—” Priscilla burst out.
At Daed’s sober look, she bit back her protest.
After caring for the horse, Daed shut the stall door. “Bishop Troyer will keep this in confidence, and I believe he should know the truth. If he’s missing important facts, how can he make wise decisions?”
Priscilla hung her head. “I hadn’t considered his needs.”
Daed set a comforting hand on her shoulder. “You had many other things to think about. I’m sure finding out about Matthew was a blow.”
Biting her lip, Priscilla nodded. Tears welled in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.
They headed back to the house together.
When they reached the back porch, Daed stopped. “We need to let your mamm know. I think perhaps only the basics, so she can defuse rumors.”
Priscilla nodded, although she wished to keep this from Mamm. She loved her mother, but Mamm tended to run away with ideas that often ended up backfiring.
Daed stomped his boots hard on the mat to dislodge the bits of straw and mud that clung to them. Priscilla did the same and then followed him into the kitchen, where Mamm was still unpacking groceries.
“Esther, I’d like you to come into the living room,” Daed said. “Priscilla needs to talk to you.”
Priscilla’s throat closed up. She’d been hoping Daed would tell Mamm.
“In a few minutes, Joseph. The rest of these things need to be put away.” Mamm bustled around the kitchen, carrying things to the pantry. “Actually, why doesn’t she tell me while we unpack?”
“All of that can wait. This won’t take long, and it’s important.” Daed motioned for her to precede him into the living room.
Her forehead crinkled, Mamm crossed the kitchen and went into the other room. Daed tilted his chin to indicate Priscilla should enter next. He brought up the rear.
When Priscilla walked into the room, her stomach clenched. Mamm was sitting in the rocker where the bishop had been seated that morning. All the confusion and pain from the morning washed over Priscilla. Matthew standing in the doorway, telling her about Mara, asking her—
Blocking out those memories, Priscilla sent Daed a pleading look.
Daed’s face was grave. “Something happened with Matthew that shouldn’t have.”
Mamm gasped and turned narrowed eyes on Priscilla. “You’re not—”
She needed to reassure Mamm that her virtue was intact. “Of course not.”
Daed cleared his throat, trying to get Mamm’s attention. When she looked his way, he began again. “The bishop came calling this morning because—”
“Ach,” Mamm interrupted in a semi-hysterical voice. “If the bishop felt the need to discipline you, that’s not good. You need to get married right away. We can’t have people gossiping about you. And that’s the best way to deal with temptation.”
Once Mamm got started, she ran on and on like one of those Englisch trains, zipping past the crossroads, flattening everything in her way.
Barely pausing for breath, she said, “November is only six weeks away. We could act like we’d—I mean, you’d—always intended to get married during the traditional wedding time. People might question the suddenness, but . . .”
She fanned herself. “All the preparations will put a strain on me, but I’m used to it. Everyone always—”
“Esther.” Daed’s voice cracked through the air.
Mamm kept fluttering her hands, and her mouth remained open, but her words stopped.
Priscilla wrung her hands in her lap. How would Mamm react to not having a wedding? She’d been even more excited than Priscilla when Matthew asked to court her. Parents didn’t usually get involved in relationships or marriage plans, but Mamm had started preparing for the wedding after Priscilla’s first date.
“First of all,” Daed said, “Priscilla won’t be getting married. At least not now. But definitely not in November. And not to Matthew.”
“What?” Mamm’s screech brought Zeke pounding to the top of the stairs.
“Is everything all right?” he asked.
“Your mamm got a bit upset over some news.”
Zeke met Priscilla’s eyes. Matthew? he mouthed. When she nodded, he shot her a sympathetic look. All of Priscilla’s siblings understood how excited Mamm had been about next year’s wedding.
“The noise upset Asher.”
“We’ll try to be quieter up here,” Daed promised.
“Oh-oh-oh.” Mamm clutched at her heart and sounded as if she were struggling to breathe. “What happened with Matthew?” She sounded close to tears.
“Priscilla broke up with Matthew today. For a very good reason, I might add.” Daed kept his tone level and calm.
“No!” Mamm turned to her. “Let not the sun go down on your wrath. Apologize. Do what you have to do to make things right.”
“I—I can’t marry Matthew.” Priscilla’s words came out strangled. Then she cringed, waiting for the explosion.
Instead, Mamm’s face crumpled. “Not getting married?” she moaned. “But—but . . .” She continued spluttering until Daed’s stern frown stopped her.
“Priscilla made the right decision under the circumstances. We will speak no more about this.”
“But,” Mamm wailed, “who will want to court her after hearing what she’s done?”
“Our daughter has done nothing wrong. We will make sure Bishop Troyer and Deacon Raber know the truth. She has broken up with Matthew, and that will be the end of the matter.” This time, at the firmness of Daed’s tone, Mamm went completely silent.
But her question played over and over in Priscilla’s mind. If, like Mamm, everyone assumed the worst about her, no decent man would offer to court her. She’d not only lost Matthew; she’d also lost any chance to marry.
* * *
Head in his hands, Gabe sat at his desk after Priscilla left. He’d never been so drawn to a woman before, which meant she spelled trouble. How many Amish women had researched camel’s milk and worked with special needs children? She’d be the perfect helpmeet, except—
Gabe groaned. He’d made a promise, and he’d never go back on his word.
Tim peeked into the office. “Is something wrong?”
Pasting a smile on his face, Gabe reassured Tim, “I have a lot on my mind right now.”
“You’re not mad at me about the coolers?” Tim edged back a few steps and hung his head.
“At you? Of course not. It’s not your fault.”
His nephew blew out a long breath. “Pheww. I thought maybe you’d be upset.”
“I am upset, but not at you.” He didn’t want to think about this loss when the business couldn’t afford any additional expenses. He could barely keep up with the ones he had. “We’ll need to buy new coolers before next weekend’s orders. For now, maybe we’ll keep them inside beside the doorway so we can keep an eye on them.”
Tim puffed up his chest. “And I’ll watch for that lady who took ’em.”
“Good idea.” Gabe also planned to pay close attention to Fleurette if she returned. “I don’t think we’ll be getting many more walk-in customers today. Why don’t we start putting the extra milk into the deep freezer?”
They both put on knitted caps, heavy coats, and thick gloves to transfer the leftover milk into the freezer. Gabe pasted labels on several shelves and dated them. Then he and Tim carted most of their stock from the refrigerator to those shelves.
When they were done, Gabe removed his winter gear, flexed his chilled fingers, and sat down to finish recording the previous week’s billing. His thoughts were so consumed by the theft and by Priscilla, he struggled to concentrate on accounting.
He totaled the columns for inventory again and compared them with the totals from Tim’s receipts, which equaled the amount of money in the cash box. Gabe had subtracted the stolen coolers and the pint he’d given Priscilla, but something was wrong. Very wrong.
“Tim? Could you come in here for a second?”
His nephew scurried into the office.
“I want you to go over these receipts carefully.” One by one he laid them out in the order in which they’d been filled or checked out. Tim verified each of them.
Gabe shook his head. Tim was young and new at this. Maybe he’d mistaken the sizes and undercharged the customers. Gabe gathered up the receipts and slid them into a file folder. He’d do a quick test to be sure Tim understood directions.
“If I ask you to get me a gallon of camel’s milk, which one would you choose?” Gabe pointed to the clean, unfilled bottles on the wooden storage shelves across the room.
“That one.” With no hesitation, Tim pointed to the correct container.
“For camel’s milk, how much would you charge?”
Tim repeated the right price. He ran through the tests without missing an answer. His nephew had not been the problem.
“Did I mix something up?” Tim’s face screwed up into anxious lines. “I tried really hard to do everything right.”
Gabe reached out and ruffled Tim’s hair. “You did it perfectly. I only wanted to be sure I’d trained you properly.”
“If I did a good job, why are you frowning?”
“I didn’t realize I was.” He tried to smooth out his furrowed brow. “I’m confused about why the books aren’t balancing. Maybe I miscounted when we stocked the shelves.”
After donning his winter gear, Gabe entered the deep freezer to recount the milk they’d shelved as well as the remaining stock on the regular refrigerator shelves. Not counting the losses from the plastic coolers, twelve additional gallons had gone missing.