CHAPTER 8
“Can you peel back the rag while I check out how deep the cut is?”
Clara stared at her older sister in dismay. Sarah knew how weak-stomached she usually was when it came to blood—and here was Daniel bleeding all over the place. But then she looked at the slight pallor of his handsome face as he sat at the kitchen table with Blinks at his knee and she strengthened her resolve.
“Ach, all right. Let me wash my hands.”
“Of course,” Sarah said, stepping back from the pump at the sink.
Clara didn’t know how her sister could work in the chaos of the confines of the cabin. Elijah, her nephew of five, was in and out of everything and his little sister, Anne, was right behind him. But Sarah and Edward acted as if the constant babbling and tumult was of no special concern. Born parents, Clara thought ruefully as she scrubbed her hands. I wish I had gotten the chance to parent someone other than a goat, but Seth died before I could—we could . . . She flushed as she turned from the sink and found Daniel’s keen emerald eyes on her. It’s almost like he can tell what I’m thinking. . . . Then she told herself that she was being ridiculous and moved resolutely to the table.
Daniel was seated sideways to the table, his bent legs sprawled, and she found that she had to move between his knees in order to reach his arm properly while Edward held up a lantern. Was it her imagination, or did Daniel move his knees ever so slightly to press against the length of her skirts so that she felt caught in a wicked flash of delight, wondering what his bare skin would feel like in such a position. She knew her cheeks flamed, but then she lifted the rag and revealed the deep gash in his arm. She swallowed hard as Sarah considered and probed, then felt herself grow weak and faint.
“I’m sorry, Sarah, I—”
“Just sit down right here,” Daniel whispered low and she found herself seated on his knee like some child preparing for a bedtime tuck up. “It’s a nasty cut and my own fault. I don’t want you to faint over it, though.”
“I—I’m fine.” She struggled a bit to rise but found herself inexorably trapped with the pressure of his muscular thigh beneath the curve of her bottom as his free arm cuddled her firmly in cozy proximity.
“You are indeed fine,” he purred close to the shell of her ear and she blew out a held breath, amazed that he would risk such talk even beneath the clamor of the children playing at banging wooden spoons against upturned pots.
“Daniel . . .” she gasped.
But then she saw the muscles in his fine jaw tighten and glanced back to the table in time to see Sarah begin to stitch his skin with a whiskey-soaked piece of thread and a sharp needle. Clara thought she might faint, but then her queasiness fell away in a rush of intimate concern for Daniel’s pain. The noise of the children and the presence of Sarah and Edward seemed to fade away in her consciousness as she instinctively looped an arm around Daniel’s broad shoulders.
She felt him shiver at her touch and leaned closer to him in concern. “Is it very bad, Daniel?” she whispered.
“Very,” he said tightly, not looking at her.
She ran a finger around the curve of his ear and watched him close his eyes in what she thought was abject misery.
“Ach, Daniel . . .”
* * *
He was miserable, consumed with raw, aching desire and frozen in a situation where he could do absolutely nothing to assuage his want. Was Clara Loftus really sitting on his knee, leaning close enough so that he could feel her light breath in his ear? Was she making tiny circular patterns around the back of his neck with slender fingers that seemed to touch him in perfect strokes until he felt like he wanted to scream?
He squeezed his eyes shut and tried doing multiplication tables backward in his head. “Are you all right, Daniel?” Sarah’s clear voice broke through the haze in his brain. “I’ve finished. Five neat stitches, if I do say so myself.”
He almost cried out when Clara got up from his knee; he was utterly bereft and had forgotten completely about the pain of having his skin stitched.
“Yeah.” He swallowed, drinking in Clara’s every movement with his eyes. “Uh, danki, Sarah. What do I owe you?”
“A sled ride with my baby sister,” Sarah said brightly.
Daniel smiled slowly, ignoring Clara’s mingled expression of both surprise and ready denial. “You know,” he said casually. “A gut sled ride might help me forget the pain of my arm.”
Blinks bleated loudly, adding to the tumult of the room, and Daniel watched in fascination as Clara hesitated, then nodded her kapped head. “If it’ll help your arm,” she had to half yell. “I guess one ride wouldn’t hurt.”
* * *
Before they could bundle up and go outside, little Elijah insisted on being able to break the Shatter Candy with his sister, Anne.
“Very well,” Clara agreed, smiling down at her niece and nephew. They really are dears, she thought as she placed the cookie sheet on the cleaned kitchen table. “Use the bottom of the wooden spoons,” she instructed as the kinner scrambled close. “All right . . . Geh!”
The pounding of the spoons quickly shattered the candy into a myriad of shapes and sizes. Clara redusted the lot with powdered sugar and then allowed everyone to select a piece. She watched Daniel take a large sliver, his white bandage readily apparent on his tanned skin.
“Mmmm—mmm,” he approved and she had to look away from watching his throat work as he sucked at the sweet.
She took her own small piece, then let Sarah put the candy up for later.
“Now”—Sarah clapped her hands—“we need to bundle up for sled-riding. And, Daniel, you’ve got to be careful of that arm.”
“Jah,” he agreed.
“Ach, and Clara, I’ve got a surprise for you!”
Oh boy . . . Clara thought, not liking the secretive smile playing about her sister’s pretty lips.
“Edward’s frozen over the back field, and we’re going to have a bonfire and ice-skating tonight!”
“But—I’ve got to get home,” Clara cried in dismay, not liking the feeling of being cornered.
“I’ll take you home—if you really want to geh.” Daniel spoke softly, but something in his face, perhaps a lingering trace of pain, made her slowly shake her head.
“Nee, danki, Daniel. I—if Sarah’s planned such a treat, I wouldn’t want to disappoint everyone. I’ll stay over nacht here.”
She couldn’t miss the look of pure pleasure on his face and was glad when Sarah grabbed her hands in excitement.
“Ach, Clara, Edward can sleep in front of the fireplace and we’ll share the bed and talk like auld times. And perhaps you’ll geh to church with us in the morning?”
“Uh . . .” Clara paused, then looked around at the happy, expectant faces surrounding her. Gott has blessed me with family who loves me, and Daniel lo—likes me as well, I suppose. Just as a friend. Surely it wouldn’t dishonor Seth’s memory to spend some time in his best friend’s company. . . . “Jah, I’ll go to church.”
Everyone cheered boisterously, and Clara felt her cheeks redden, but she met Daniel’s approving gaze and knew peace inside for the moment.
* * *
Daniel loved the feel of her as she sat between his legs, her skirts tucked protectively around her, her spine straight. They were on the large runner sled at the top of the snowy pasture hill behind Sarah and Edward’s haus.
“Relax,” he chided cheerfully, jostling her a bit with his arms as he held the lead rope.
“I can’t,” he heard her bite out.
“Why?”
“Because you—you’re all around me and I’m rather scared of going fast.”
He felt her sigh at the admission, and he eased back on the rope. “It’s all right,” he soothed. “I won’t let us go too fast, and you can imagine that you’re on the sled alone, okay? Just enjoy the ride.”
“Jah,” she said, sounding resigned.
He smiled, determined to make it the most unforgettable sled ride of her life.
“Lemme give you a push, Aenti Clara!”
Daniel felt Elijah’s small but strong hands on his back as the sturdy child threw all of his weight against the sleigh. They were off, tipping then sliding down the high hill. Daniel gained control of the sled and rode the brake so that gumdrop-like snow mounds passed leisurely by and the wind blew softly on their faces. They were about halfway down when Clara gasped, then cried out.
“Ach, no!”
“What?” Daniel glanced around and tried to see if she’d been hurt in some way. “What is it?”
“Blinks—dead-ahead!” she screamed.
“We’ll turn,” he promised, then felt the sudden, jarring impact as they plowed into a snowbank.
Clara groaned, and Daniel saw Blinks standing to their left, completely unscathed. He felt Clara shaking while Blinks bleated a rapid song.
“Clara, are you all right?” Her shoulders still shook against him, and he anxiously ran his hands up and down her arms.
“I’m—fine,” she gurgled. “I’m just laughing, that’s all.”
“Ach . . .” He relaxed and reached to pet Blinks’s head. “I’m glad.” Then, at the unfamiliar sound of her melodic laughter, he found himself joining in, full of amazing good cheer on account of a wonderful woman and a pain-in-the-neck goat.