MATT, I CAN’T explain. I need the sled—only for a few hours.” John struggled to keep his voice down as he pleaded with his younger bruder; he had no desire for the rest of the family to hear.
But Matt, usually quiet and passive at twenty years of age, seemed in no mood to bargain. He lounged on his bed with a smug expression and shook his head at everything John tried. “Nee, John, that sled is a fine piece of craftsmanship. I’ve worked on it for months. I might even sell it. But only the truth will get you a ride in it today.”
John gritted his teeth but remained silent. The truth . . . lately it seemed that he’d not been hanging on to that value.
Matt smiled. “Could it be, big bruder, that you’ve finally found a girl worthy of you—because that would be sweet information to know.”
“Girl? What maedel? Who are you talking about?” Esther Miller appeared in the doorway, her eyes wide with curiosity.
John wanted to knock his head against the door frame. His twenty-two-year-old sister was moody, loud, and extremely nosy. Now there was no escape from either of his siblings. They would pester him until he told them what they wanted to know. But he felt strongly that he could not betray the promise he’d made to Rob, so he’d have to choose another way out of the mess.
“All right,” he ground out. “I asked Barbara Esch to go sledding today at two. Are you both happy?”
“Nee!” His siblings sounded off in unison. Matt sat up on the bed, and Esther pulled John into the room and closed the door behind them.
“John, are you narrisch?” Matt asked. “That girl is a pit viper. She’s well and tried to get me to take her sledding already.”
“Ya, John,” Esther echoed worriedly. “Barbara may be the bishop’s daughter, but she gossips, chases all the men, tells—”
“Enough,” John snapped. He knew better than anyone what Barbara was about. He also knew she was a means to an end. “Can I take the sled or not?”
Matt sighed and shook his head. “Take it. But trust me, you’re making a mistake.”
John’s shoulders relaxed. He’d obtained his goal. But that didn’t mean he was happy. Forcing enthusiasm into his voice, he said, “Great, danki.”
Then he moved past his sister and escaped into the hall before more comments could follow.
Tabitha gave a last glance at the wind-up clock on the frosty kitchen windowsill and adjusted her apron with a discreet pull. For some reason she didn’t even want her beloved aenti Beth to know how nervous she was about having John come for dinner. She was still trying to decipher why he’d wanted to come over and decided during the night that perhaps John wanted to speak to her about Rob in a more quiet and discreet manner. Which was kind of him, to say the least. If she was wrong and he had nothing to say, she’d also resolved to ask him herself if he had news of Rob. She was growing impatient.
“Might as well mash the potatoes, Tabby. I’ve never known John Miller to be anything but on time. And I am sure supper will be delicious as always. You are gifted in the kitchen, far more than I am.”
Aenti Beth’s sweet voice broke into her thoughts, and Tabitha realized once again how grateful she was for her aenti’s gentle and encouraging spirit. As usual she had surmised Tabitha’s disquiet, and with a few words had settled her nerves, enough that Tabitha could set her hand to mashing the potatoes with butter and milk and salt until her arm ached but the spuds rose light and fluffy in the bowl, with not a lump to be found. And then, right on the hour, John knocked at the front door and entered.
Tabitha watched him step out of his large, snowy boots on the rug beside the door. He removed his coat and hat and hung them on a nearby peg rack. He was wearing an aqua green shirt that went well with his dark hair. When he turned to greet her and Aenti Beth, he smiled, a flash of white teeth in his cold-flushed face.
“Ladies, a gut afternoon. And thank you both for having me.” He came forward and bent to kiss Aenti Beth’s cheek, then nodded to Tabitha.
She realized that she still held the potato masher. More importantly she realized she’d been staring at him. Quickly she dropped the masher in the sink, too embarrassed and confused to look at him directly. She picked at an imaginary speck of lint on the tablecloth, still averting her gaze. How could she find John Miller attractive when her heart belonged to Rob? The thought confused her.
Flustered, she finally forced herself to look up at him and return his smile. “Dinner’s hot and ready,” she invited.
Without prompting, John moved to wheel Aenti Beth to her place at the table. “Can I help you with anything?” John asked Tabitha.
“Nee,” Tabitha hurriedly replied, not liking to think of what his proximity might do to her resolve to wait until after dinner to speak with him about Rob. Be patient. Unfortunately patience had never been one of her virtues. She forced herself to focus on serving the meal instead.
As it was, under Aenti Beth’s approving eyes, she managed to present the stuffed meatloaf, mashed potatoes, gravy, corn off the cob, and cucumber relish with relative ease. She’d save the pumpkin pie to have later with the coffee. She took her place next to Aenti Beth at the table, John directly across from her. They all bowed for the traditional twenty-one seconds of silent grace before beginning to eat.
“My compliments, ladies,” John smiled after a few moments. “Everything is wunderbar.”
Tabitha was pleased by his words, but it didn’t calm the nerves in her belly. She looked down at her plate; she’d barely touched her own food.
“Ya,” Aenti Beth spoke into the silence. “I am training Tabby so that whoever she marries will not want for gut cooking.”
Tabitha gave John a swift sidelong glance and decided she surely must have imagined the tightening of his sculpted jaw at her aenti’s mention of a future husband.
“That may be true,” he agreed. “But Tabitha, as all girls, must choose wisely and has much time to decide.”
“Perhaps I’ve already decided,” Tabitha murmured without thinking, then could have bitten her tongue for the comment. Aenti Beth doesn’t know about Rob. . . mainly because of his insistence on keeping everything so secret.
“Do tell,” John said with apparent ease.
“Ya,” Aenti Beth said dryly. “Share with us.”
“A silly comment,” Tabitha returned, reaching for the corn. “I meant—maybe I know the type of man I wish to marry.”
“Ahh,” John nodded. “I see.”
Tabitha sought to turn the attention from herself and smiled at John. “And what of you, John Miller, what type of girl would you marry?”
She was surprised to see a faint flush stain his cheeks as he gripped his glass with long, white-tipped fingers.
“I do not intend to marry.”
Aenti Beth clucked sympathetically. “A loss, John Miller, to some woman’s life—I’m sure.”
Tabitha watched him shrug.
“As it may be.”
He asked for the bread and Tabitha handed it to him. “I wondered, John, if I might have a moment of your time after dinner today to talk . . .” She went on hastily at his raised eyebrow. “There’s um—something not quite right with the buggy in the barn.”
She knew she’d have to repent later of the fib, but she wanted to talk to him about Rob so much that she could taste it better than her dinner.
“As it is,” John spoke, glancing down at his plate then straight at her with his deep blue eyes. “I’ll be escorting Barbara Esch this afternoon in a sledding outing, so I have little time for talking. Perhaps I can come back later to check on the buggy.”
Tabitha raised her own brow and sniffed at the polite dismissal. “Determined not to marry yet escorting Barbara Esch—somehow I wonder how the two matters go hand in hand.”
“Tabby!” Aenti Beth interjected. “John’s life is not ours to question.”
Her aunt was right, of course. In her disappointment that John had no news of Rob, she’d spoken without thinking. “Excuse me,” Tabitha said, then pushed back from the table.
“Tabitha,” John said. Did she imagine it, or was his voice touched with a trace of concern?
“I need to get the pumpkin pie.” She rushed to the pantry, which fortunately shielded her from John and her aunt’s possible searching eyes. Tears burned as she lifted her apron to press hard against them. She missed Rob so much that it hurt.