Phoebe sat on the middle seat of the van beside Bay, twisting her fingers together in her lap. She stared out the window. There had been a heavy snow the evening before in northwestern Pennsylvania, so heavy that she had feared the driver Joshua had hired would cancel their trip. But as promised, he had shown up early that morning at the Miller house to take them to New Wilmington to fetch John-John. Rosemary and Benjamin had seen them off with egg and scrapple sandwiches and two large thermoses of hot coffee for breakfast, which was enough for Phoebe, Bay, Josh and their driver. There were also sandwiches and cold salads for lunch. The plan was to stop for dinner somewhere on the turnpike, once they were on their way home.
They passed the road sign welcoming them to New Wilmington and a heaviness settled in Phoebe’s stomach. It wasn’t that she wasn’t excited to see her little boy, to feel him in her arms again, because she was. But she was dreading the confrontation with Edom, a confrontation she knew would take place. There was no way he would simply allow Phoebe to walk out of the house with her son. And she was worried about Joshua’s safety. What if Joshua defended her and Edom became violent? She knew from experience that her mother wouldn’t intervene. Elsie Wickey was either unwilling or unable. Phoebe wasn’t sure which. Her only hope was that Joshua would keep a cool head even if her stepfather did not.
Phoebe couldn’t imagine what this trip had cost Joshua. She’d tried to find out the last time they had stopped to use the restroom. He’d bought everyone, including the driver, a hot chocolate with fluffy marshmallows at Starbucks. He’d also bought them crunchy gingerbread cookies called biscotti. And refused to let her pay for her own drink or tell her how much it had cost him to hire a driver and van for the day. He kept telling her not to worry about it, but she had promised she would pay him back. She wasn’t even sure how she would do it. She had little money of her own. But she and Bay had been talking about making wreaths for other seasons, and she had suggested ones made from grapevines that could be decorated in various ways. An hour later they had a plan to make not just grapevine wreaths, but swags to go over doors and such, and Bay had offered to pay her to make them. The idea was to sell them in the greenhouse shop Bay and Joshua hoped to have built by spring.
“Phoebe, you okay?” Joshua asked gently from the front passenger seat of Shorty’s minivan.
Phoebe glanced at Bay, who was knitting while staring out the window, tapping her foot to Christian music playing on the radio. Technically, they weren’t supposed to listen to radios, but Joshua had assured them that because it was Shorty’s vehicle and he had chosen Christian music, it was okay. Apparently, Bay loved music like this, because she was so focused on the tunes that she wasn’t paying any attention to Phoebe and Joshua.
“I’m all right,” Phoebe said, keeping her voice down. “Just nervous.”
“No need to be,” he insisted. He reached out as if he was going to take her hand and then pulled back, she suspected for fear Bay might see him. “I’ll be right there with you.”
Phoebe closed her eyes, saying a prayer. She thanked God for Joshua and asked Him to deliver her son safely into her hands. “You don’t know Edom,” she said when she opened her eyes again. “He’s going to be very angry.”
“He’ll have to deal with that anger himself, Phoebe. Because that’s not our problem.” His tone sounded confident and strongly masculine. “You’re doing nothing wrong.”
She glanced out the window again and saw her own reflection in the glass. She had dressed carefully in the same clothing she’d been wearing when she had gotten on the bus almost two months ago to go to Hickory Grove. She wore her black dress, black stockings, black shoes, black dress bonnet over her prayer kapp and the heavy black wool coat that had been a hand-me-down from years ago. Clothes that didn’t seem like they belonged to her anymore. Not when she had a blue dress and a green one and a new cloak Rosemary had sewn for her.
“I just want this to be over,” she said softly.
“And it will be.” He met her gaze, his dark brown eyes warm with caring. He was dressed in his Sunday clothes of all black, and a black hat and coat. “We’ll be in and out of there in a couple of minutes. You get your son and bring him back to the van, where Bay, Shorty and I will wait. Then you go back in for anything you want, anything of yours or John-John’s.”
“I don’t want anything of Edom’s,” she said, shaking her head adamantly.
Joshua opened his arms wide. “Then this will be even quicker. Before you know it, we’ll be on the road heading south. And you’ll have your son, and no one will separate the two of you again.” He hesitated. “Okay?” he asked gently.
She couldn’t resist the faintest smile. His optimism was contagious. “Okay,” she responded.
Ten minutes later, they pulled into her stepfather’s barnyard, which in no way resembled Joshua’s father’s place. While the Miller farm was neat and orderly, Edom Wickey’s place was not so well cared for. The dilapidated farmhouse was a two-story frame structure with tall brick chimneys at either end. Behind and to the sides loomed several barns, sheds and outbuildings, all missing shingles and in need of repair. A derelict windmill, missing more than half of its blades, leaned precariously to one side. None of the recent snow had been cleared, and a dog barked hungrily from atop the doghouse it was chained to. The two driving horses in the pasture looked thin and cold and were without blankets.
Phoebe saw the state of unkempt property register on Joshua’s face, but he said nothing.
“Pull up there please, Shorty,” she instructed, pointing to the back porch.
The moment the van rolled to a stop, Joshua was out of the van. He opened the sliding door and offered his hand to Phoebe, who was already out of her seat belt.
“We’ll be back in a couple of minutes,” Joshua said.
“I’ll move the car seat up,” Bay offered, setting down her knitting. “John-John will want to sit with his mother.”
“We can sit in the back.” Phoebe stepped down out of the van and into the snow without Joshua’s aid. “I don’t mind,” she told Bay.
“Nonsense. I like the back. I might even stretch out and take a nap on the way home.”
Phoebe heard the screen door of the back porch open and then close. She turned, steeling herself to see Edom. To her relief, it wasn’t him, but her mother.
“Phoebe!”
Elsie Wickey was a tall, thin, sallow-faced woman with a narrow beak of a nose, a wide mouth and very little chin. But to Phoebe, she had always been beautiful. “Mam,” Phoebe croaked, running through the snow and up the rickety porch steps to throw her arms around her mother’s bony shoulders.
“What are you doing here?” Phoebe’s mother asked, hugging her daughter tightly. “You shouldn’t have come.”
Phoebe drew back, wiping a tear from her cheek. “I had to come back, Mam. For John-John.”
Her mother’s thin mouth twitched. She looked older to Phoebe than she had when she’d left. And she appeared tired and sickly. Her nose was running and cheeks chafed. “Edom won’t allow it.”
“I’m sorry, Elsie, but that’s not up to him.” Joshua took the porch steps two at a time. “I’m Joshua Miller, Rosemary’s stepson. Benjamin’s son.”
Phoebe turned to Joshua. “Joshua and Rosemary’s daughter Bay brought me here to fetch John-John. I’m taking him, Mam. Back to Hickory Grove.”
Her mother hesitated, then grasped her daughter’s forearm. “Hurry then. Edom’s expected back anytime.” She held open the back door that was sagging on its ill-fitting hinges. “John-John’s in the kitchen with the girls.”
Phoebe turned to Joshua, embarrassed by the condition of the house. Everywhere paint was peeling, the clapboard siding was rotting, and the porch posts were leaning, the sagging rails, on their last legs. “Wait here,” she instructed. “I’ll be just a moment.”
He didn’t seem happy with her request. “Are you sure?”
Phoebe nodded quickly and then leaned forward to whisper to him. “Watch for him. Call me if he comes up the lane. I want to see my sisters and brothers. Just to be sure they’re all right.”
The look on Joshua’s face suggested he was debating whether or not to do as she asked, but after a moment he nodded sharply. “Hurry. It would be best if we could be out of here before he returns.”
Phoebe reached out and gave his bare hand a squeeze, then followed her mother into the house. Phoebe didn’t take off her shoes even though she was tracking snow into the house. She didn’t intend to stay long enough to need to remove her shoes. They passed through the dark mudroom, where there were piles of laundry on the floor, and into the kitchen. The low-ceilinged room was lit by kerosene lanterns hanging from the exposed, smoke-stained beams overhead. It was nearly as cold inside as it was out. She glanced at the wood stove. “Mam, have you no wood?”
“We have wood,” she murmured. “But Edom has taken to doling it out. I have to save it for cooking.”
The moment they entered the kitchen, her four stepsisters and youngest stepbrother began calling her name, squealing with excitement and all talking at once, obviously happy to see her.
“Schweschder!”
“Schweschder!”
“Phoebe!” Seventeen-year-old Ephrath squealed and ran across the kitchen to throw her arms around her stepsister’s shoulders.
Phoebe hugged her tightly. “Ephrath. It’s so good to see you.”
“Did Mam tell you?” she whispered. “I’m to be married. Next month.”
“Married?” Phoebe drew back, staring at her. “But you’re so young to marry.”
“I’m going to get out of here,” her younger sister whispered in Phoebe’s ear. “His name is Noah and he lives in Ohio.” She clasped her red, chapped hands together excitedly. “I’m moving to Ohio!”
Phoebe met her gaze. “This is what you want?”
Ephrath nodded. “I’ve not yet met him, but—”
“Not met him?” Phoebe interrupted, trying to keep her shock from her voice. She turned to her mother. “You’re marrying her off to—”
“Ne, ne. I want to marry Noah,” Ephrath insisted. “We’ve been writing.” Her thin cheeks grew rosy. “He’s very kind. He’s an apprentice to a mason. He says he can build our house himself come spring.”
Phoebe sighed, letting her arms fall to her sides. She and Rosemary had had a talk the night before. Phoebe had expressed her feelings of guilt that she and John-John were escaping life with Edom, but her mother and stepsiblings were not. Rosemary had insisted that she had to concentrate on her son and herself and have faith that God would protect those she loved.
“Mam will give you my address in Hickory Grove, then,” Phoebe told her stepsister. She grasped her hands. “Write to me once you’re married.”
Ephrath bounced up and down on her toes. “Of course.”
Phoebe looked around the cold, dim kitchen. Though it was spotlessly clean, it was as in need of repair as the exterior of the house and the outbuildings. Several panes in the window above the sink were covered in cardboard, the glass broken for many years. The paint on the walls was peeling, and the beams overhead were black with smoke. “Where’s John-John?” she breathed, suddenly just wanting to grab him and run from the house.
“He was here a second ago. John-John? Where are you?” Ephrath called in Pennsylvania Deutsch.
“John-John?” Phoebe was suddenly near to tears. “It’s your mam. Where are you?”
And then she spotted him, peering out from under the wobbly kitchen table.
“Mammi?” he said in a tiny voice.
“Oh, John-John.” Phoebe crouched down, opening her arms to him.
For a moment he hesitated, looking at her with solemn eyes that reflected his father’s. Then his rosebud mouth turned up in a smile and he crawled out from under the table on all fours.
“Oh, John-John,” Phoebe breathed, pulling her son into her arms. She closed her eyes, breathing deeply. He smelled as if he needed a good wash in the tub with a bar of soap, but he also had that scent of the child born of her own body that she would never forget. “Mam’s come to take you home,” she whispered in his ear. “Home to our new house.”
The little boy clung to her. “Mammi,” he kept saying. “Mammi.”
Phoebe hugged him for another moment and then stood, lifting him into her arms. She wiped at her eyes as she turned to her mother. As she spoke, she moved from one sister to the next and then to her little brother, hugging them all. “His coat and hat, mam? We should go now.”
“Phoebe?” Joshua called through the screen door. His voice sounded deeper and more sober than she had ever heard before. “There’s a rig coming up the lane.”
“It’s Edom!” Phoebe’s mother cried, bringing her hands to her head, which was covered in an old scarf. “Phoebe, you have to hurry.”
One of Phoebe’s little sisters began to cry, and Phoebe rushed out of the kitchen carrying John-John. “I’m coming!” she called. “Where’s his coat? It’s bitter out.”
“He shares one with Saul,” Phoebe’s mother said. She grabbed an old quilt from a pile of dirty clothes on the laundry room floor.
Unlike most Amish homes, they did not have modern appliances running off a generator or propane. Her mother still washed clothes in an old-fashioned ringer washer and hung everything to dry. In the winter, when clothes would only freeze on the line, they hung them in the attic. And because washing was so time-consuming, her mother sometimes fell behind on washing day, causing clothes to pile up.
“Wrap him up in this,” her mother told her, putting it around John-John’s shoulders.
“Not your grossmama’s quilt,” Phoebe protested. “It’s the only thing you have left of hers.”
“Go,” her mother insisted, pushing her toward the back door, where Joshua waited for them.
“Get into the van,” Joshua instructed, waving her through the door. Though his face was lined with concern, his tone was gentle. “Now, Phoebe. I’ll handle this.”
“Joshua.” Phoebe gazed up into his dark eyes. “This isn’t your fight.”
“It became mine when I met you,” he whispered in her ear as she went by.
“Will you be all right, Mammi?” Phoebe asked over her shoulder as she hurried across the porch, wobbly with its soft spots where it had rotted through.
“Go, dochtah. Don’t worry about me,” her mother fretted. “He always comes to his senses once he calms down.”
Phoebe didn’t know that she agreed with her, but what she did know was that her first responsibility was to the safety of her child, even above her mother. Most certainly above herself.
As Phoebe hurried down the steps, clutching John-John to her, covered by the quilt, the sliding door to the van flew open and Bay stood there, her arms out. “Pass him to me,” she murmured.
“I don’t know if he’ll come to you.”
“Here we go, little one,” Bay cooed in Pennsylvania Deutsch. She reached for him.
It was difficult for Phoebe to let go of her son, but Edom had just pulled up in his buggy. He had angled it so that Shorty couldn’t pull away in the van without risking startling or harming the old driving horse.
“Could you pull up a few feet?” Joshua hollered to Edom, waving at him. “We’re on our way out.”
“I will not!” Edom shouted hostilely, coming down out of the buggy. “Who are you? What are you doing here?”
Phoebe handed John to Bay, kissing the top of his head as she passed him off. “Go with Bay,” she whispered. “Mammi is coming in just a minute.” Covering his head with the quilt as if her great-grandmother’s stitching could somehow protect her son, she told Bay, “Put him into his car seat. Buckle him in. Do you know how to do it?”
Shorty owned the car seat for his Amish customers because it was Englisher law that children had to be in car seats. Phoebe had never used one.
“We’ve used them for James and Josiah,” Bay assured her.
Bay closed the sliding door and Phoebe walked around to the front of the van.
“Phoebe, please get in the van,” Joshua said, holding his hand out to stop her.
“I asked you what you were—” Edom halted in the middle of his sentence when he saw Phoebe. “You,” he said in Pennsylvania Deutsch. “You weren’t supposed to come back here! Not ever.”
“I came back for John-John,” she said. Her voice was strong despite the fact that she was shaking inside.
“You’re not taking him!” her stepfather declared, striding toward the front of the van where Phoebe and Joshua stood.
Edom Wickey was a surprisingly handsome man with a full head of dark hair and no gray in his beard yet. He was dressed impeccably in Sunday clothes, his wool pants and coat pressed, his white shirt pristine. He wore an expensive wide-brimmed wool hat on his head and a black cashmere scarf around his neck. Phoebe knew it was cashmere because she had heard her mother and Edom arguing over the purchase the winter before when she had tried to tell him that they could have bought wool scarves for everyone in the family for what he had spent. The argument, like all of them, ended with Edom shouting and her mother crying and then retreating.
Edom drew so close to Phoebe that she had to steel herself to keep from stepping back. It was one of his methods of intimidating people. He always stood too close and spoke too loudly.
“He’s my son,” Phoebe said softly. “You have no legal right to him.”
“Legal right!” Edom exploded, sending spittle into the air. “I am your guardian, girl! I have a right to do whatever I want with you or your spawn!”
“Edom, please!” Phoebe’s mother came running down the porch steps, wearing no coat and only socks on her feet. “Let them go.”
“Get in the house, woman!” Edom barked. “I’ll deal with you later.”
“Edom,” Joshua said, his voice taking on a steely tone. “Move your rig. We’re leaving.”
“You can take her!” he spit, pointing an accusing finger at Phoebe. “But not the boy!”
Joshua turned to Phoebe. “Get in the van. Tell Shorty to start it up.” He leaned close to her and whispered in her ear, “I give you the signal, you tell Shorty to back up, pull around and head out.”
Phoebe grabbed Joshua’s arm, gazing into his eyes.
“You can pick me up at the end of the lane.” He winked at her. “I’m sure I can run faster than he can in those fancy clothes.”
Had the circumstances been any different, Phoebe might have laughed.
“Go on.” Joshua gave her a nudge.
“Hand over the boy and you can be on your way,” Edom ordered, slapping the side of the van with his gloved hand.
Phoebe’s mother caught her husband’s arm. “Let them go, Edom. They’re nothing but trouble, the both of them. You said so yourself.”
“Legally, Edom,” Joshua said, “you can’t keep this boy and you know it.”
“Are you threatening me with Englisher laws?” Edom sputtered. “Who are you, boy?”
“I’m Benjamin Miller’s son, Joshua Miller of Miller’s Harness in Hickory Grove, Delaware.”
“What business of this is yours?”
Phoebe’s mother spoke up with a trembling voice. “I think what my husband is asking is what your intention is with my daughter.”
“My intention?” Joshua leaned so close to Edom that their noses were practically touching. “My intention is to marry Phoebe. Which means, according to our ways, John will soon be my son.” Not waiting for a reply, Joshua put his hand on Phoebe’s shoulder and gently pushed her in the direction of the van.
Edom still stood there, seeming shocked that someone would stand up to him.
Joshua opened the van door for Phoebe. “You best move your rig, Edom,” he called.
Elsie left her husband’s side, hurrying toward the van door. “Take care, daughter. Know that I loved you the best I could.” Tears ran down her flushed, thin face. “And John-John. Tell him when he’s older that his grossmami loves him.”
Tears in her eyes, Phoebe turned and threw her arms around her mother. “Try to write to me.”
“Ya,” her mother responded. Although they both knew Edom would never allow any correspondence between them again. “Be happy, daughter. He’s a good man, your Joshua.”
Phoebe hugged her mother again. “Ya, he is,” she whispered. “I think he loves me, Mam.”
“And you?” she whispered in her daughter’s ear. “Do you love him?”
Phoebe was so overcome with emotion, with thankfulness for Joshua’s help, that at the moment she didn’t even know how to answer. Because what was love? There was the romantic love, of course, the kind that made your stomach flutter. But there was also the kind of love a woman felt for a man who risked his own well-being to rescue a woman’s child. She certainly felt that love for him. She also suspected she loved him romantically. But everything was in such turmoil. How could she know for sure? But when she looked in her mother’s eyes, she knew what her answer had to be. At least to leave her mother content in knowing she and John-John would be safe and cared for.
Phoebe forced a smile, peering into her mother’s face, knowing it might be the last time she ever saw her stepsiblings again. “I think I’m falling in love with him, Mam.”
Elsie hugged her daughter one last time and then pushed her none too gently. “Go.”
Joshua was right behind Phoebe as she got into the van.
“Fine!” Edom shouted. “Take her! Take them both! But don’t ever bring them back here. A jezebel like her—”
Joshua jumped into the van and slammed the sliding door shut, muffling Edom’s words until they were unintelligible. He leaned between the two front seats. “Can you get around him?” he asked the driver.
“Sure can. Just have to back up a little,” Shorty told him.
Joshua turned to Phoebe. “Get your seat belt on.” He slid into the front passenger seat as Shorty threw the van into Reverse. “Bay?” he called.
“All buckled up. John-John, too,” she called from the back.
Tears rolling down her cheeks, Phoebe reached for her son’s chubby hand. His eyes were round with fear and confusion, but he wasn’t making a peep.
“What a brave boy,” Phoebe whispered. The van rocked violently as Shorty shifted into gear and they lurched forward. “We’re going home. To your new home in Hickory Grove.” She smiled at him, squeezing his warm little hand. “You’re going to like it there, sohn.”
By the lights along the highway, Phoebe studied Joshua in the front seat of the van. She had barely recognized him back at her stepfather’s farm. He’d seemed so much older than his years. So mature and masculine in a way she hadn’t seen him before. She had never thought she wanted to marry so she could have a man to protect her or care for her. She had been looking for those things for John, but hearing Joshua speak up that way to Edom had given her a new appreciation for the idea of having someone to care for her. And for her to have someone to care for besides children.
Joshua spotted her looking at him and he smiled. She glanced away, embarrassed to be caught woolgathering that way.
It was almost ten at night and they had just crossed the state line into Delaware. In a little more than an hour, they would be safely home. Shorty was a good driver. He didn’t speed, but he kept to the timetable they had laid out that morning. There had been plenty of rest stops, though they hadn’t lingered. Shorty seemed to be as eager to return to Kent County as they were.
Phoebe glanced at Bay in the back. She was lying across the seat, buckled in, using her black wool cloak for a blanket. Next Phoebe’s gaze moved to her son. John-John was sound asleep in the car seat, his head tilted back, his mouth slightly open. Occasionally, he moved his lips as if suckling. She smiled and lifted the corner of the quilt her mother had given her to cover him with, tucking it over his shoulder. She’d used it to wrap him up to take him into the rest stops to use the bathroom. He was only just potty trained so she was relieved he had no accidents, otherwise, he would have been wearing nothing but the quilt. She knew she should have been concerned as to what he would wear once they arrived, but she wasn’t. Rosemary would find something for him until Phoebe had a chance to make him some shirts and pants. And Bay said Rosemary kept a whole box of hand-me-down boots and shoes, and she was sure something in there would fit John’s feet.
Phoebe glanced at Joshua again. This time he was watching her. For a moment, they just sat there, gazing into each other’s eyes.
He had told Edom that he intended to marry her. But he’d said nothing to her on the matter on the long ride home, and suddenly she felt like she needed to talk about it. Had he said it just to satisfy her mother or anger Edom? Or was he now having second thoughts after seeing what she had come from? Compared to the life he had led with his father, the life he led now in Hickory Grove, their upbringing was very different. Maybe he wanted someone from a similar background to him.
Phoebe heard a seat belt click and Joshua got up. “Okay if I sit there with you?” he asked quietly.
She nodded, scooting over a little. There were three seat belts across the middle row, though with the car seat it was tight. She looked up at Joshua as he took the seat beside her.
He had removed his Sunday hat hours ago and was now wearing the knit watch cap Rosemary had made for him pulled down over his ears. He’d also taken off his good long wool coat and laid it across the back of the van and replaced it with the gray hoodie he liked to wear. Dressed this way, he seemed more like the Joshua she knew than the one she had seen confront Edom back in New Wilmington.
He settled into the spot beside her, leaving her between him and John’s car seat. His body was warm against hers and she had to fight the urge to rest her head on his shoulder.
He fastened his seat belt and took her hand in his.
Phoebe knew she should pull her hand away, but the warmth and strength of his touch felt so good. She nodded, looking up at him. She needed to ask him about what he had said to Edom and her mother about marrying her, but a part of her was afraid to do it. Her mother had put him in an uncomfortable position. What could Joshua have said, considering the circumstances? Phoebe knew it wouldn’t be fair to hold him to it.
“How are you doing?” he asked softly.
“Okay,” she breathed.
He looked past her to where John-John was snoring softly in the car seat. He smiled. “He seems okay. Happy to be with his mam again.”
“He was a little afraid at first,” she said, gazing at her son’s beautiful sleeping face. “He’s never been in a car seat before. Or a car.”
“Never been in a car?” Joshua’s brow furrowed. “How is that possible. All the Amish I know use drivers for doctor’s appointments and visiting at any distance.”
“He’s never been anywhere but our farm and the neighbors’ for church services,” she explained. “He was born in that farmhouse.” She pressed her lips together. “Edom liked to keep the children nearby.”
Joshua shook his head, seeming to be trying to wrap his head around the idea. “Doctor’s appointments? Immunizations?”
“The county sent someone out. Edom doesn’t approve of such things, but I insisted. I called and they sent out a nurse.”
“That’s good,” he told her. “Because in Dover all our children are immunized, the same as Englisher children. We’ve heard of Amish communities where they don’t follow the same guidelines and there have been illnesses.”
“I know,” she said quietly. She didn’t want to wake John or Bay. She needed these minutes of privacy with Joshua. “Whooping cough was a problem in our area.”
He sighed, looking away, then back at her, still holding her hand. “You don’t have to worry about any of that now. John-John’s safe with you. Safe with us.” He squeezed her hand.
“Joshua.” She looked up at him. “What you said when we were leaving.” She had to stop for a moment as emotion welled up in her throat. She waited until it passed and then went on, “You were put in a bad position. I want you to know I won’t hold you to it.”
“Hold me to what?”
She groaned. She hated that he was going to make her say it. He always wanted that—for things to be said outright. But a part of her liked it. She had loved John, but they hadn’t talked a lot. Not about important things. And there had been misunderstandings. And tears on her part because of them.
“You told my mother and Edom that you were going to marry me. You don’t have to do that.”
“Of course I do,” he said, raising his voice.
She glanced over her shoulder. Bay was still asleep. As was John-John. And Shorty seemed to be paying them no mind. “You don’t,” she repeated, lowering her voice and hoping he would do the same.
“I do,” he argued, letting go of her hand. “I have to marry you because I love you.”
Before she could stop him, he went on, “Phoebe, I know you loved John and I can never be him. And I know you don’t love me.” He took her hand again. “But I think... No, I have faith that in time you’ll come to love me, too.” He hesitated. “Do you think you could ever love me?”
She reached up and brushed his cheek with her hand. She really hadn’t thought she could ever love again. The feelings welling up inside were very different from the ones she had felt for John. But in many ways, looking back, those feelings for John seemed girlish and immature. These feelings she had for Joshua were... She wasn’t exactly sure what they were but she had an idea she had told her mother the truth. That she was falling in love with Joshua. And every fiber of her being wanted to tell him so. She wanted to tell him that she would marry him.
The only thing that made her hold back was her son sleeping beside her. Her first responsibility was to John-John. “I do want to marry you,” she whispered cautiously. “But I’m not ready to say yes.”
“You want to marry me? Really?” He sounded like a little boy so much that it made her smile.
“I do. But I want you to get to know John-John first. You need to be sure you’re ready, not just to be my husband, but also his father.”
“But we could still be betrothed?” he said hopefully.
“I want to wait. Just a little longer,” she assured him. “Because I want you to be sure. And...” She hesitated. “When we do become betrothed, I want to go ahead and set a date with the bishop for the marriage. A woman my age with a child—there should be no long engagement.”
He was quiet for a long moment, so long that she feared she’d pushed him too far. But at last he nodded ever so slightly. “I know how I feel, Phoebe. About you. About the boy. But I also understand your hesitation. We’ll wait to announce our betrothal.”
“We’ll wait to talk about becoming betrothed,” she corrected.
“We’ll wait to announce it,” he repeated.
She couldn’t resist a smile. “We’ll wait,” she agreed.
He leaned closer to her, presenting his cheek. “You think I could get a kiss to seal the deal?” he asked playfully.
She plucked her hand from his and crossed her arms over her chest. “I already told you, Joshua Miller. You’ll not get a kiss from me until our wedding day.”