Chapter Four

Adam was finishing the fireplace when Emma showed up again. He’d found several others stones that needed repair and noticed a half dozen tiles on the large hearth with cracked grout. No one had asked him to repair those, but he couldn’t leave a job half-done. Emma had purchased the mortar. The least he could do was get her money’s worth out of it.

He remained on his knees by the hearth as he waited for her assessment of his work. She stepped up to run her hand along the repaired tiles. It was then he noticed bits of straw clinging to the back of her skirt and her dark socks.

Frowning, she gestured toward the top of the fireplace. “The repairs don’t match the rest.”

“The mortar is still damp. When it dries it will be hard to tell the old from the new. Hand me that rag and I’ll finish evening out these grout lines.”

Picking up a red cloth in a small basin behind her, she held it out. “This one?”

“Jah.” He gestured toward her skirt. “You have some straw stuck on you.”

To his surprise, her cheeks turned bright red. She brushed at it quickly. “I was seeing to our horse.”

Like many Amish who no longer found employment on the farm, she still maintained a small stable and a buggy horse to carry her and her mother to church meetings and other gatherings. He had seen their neat white house and little stable on the street behind the inn. Why was she embarrassed about a little straw on her skirt? Taking the rag from her, he began to wipe the tiles free of the excess mortar.

“You missed a spot.”

He leaned back and looked over his work. “Where?”

Taking up a second rag, she knelt beside him and began wiping at a spot he had already done. Finishing, she leaned back to study her work, then began wiping again. As she concentrated, her tongue peeked out from between her lips. How kissable she looked.

He pulled his gaze away from her face as his neck grew hot. Why on earth was he thinking about kissing her? That kind of loose thinking belonged to his past. She was a respectable Amish woman. Maybe his father was right and he couldn’t give up his English ways after so many years.

Nee, I refuse to accept that.

Returning to his Amish family was the best decision he’d ever made. It wouldn’t be easy, but it was what he believed God wanted him to do.

He concentrated on his work. When Emma followed behind him going over the same places he did, he finally stopped and sat back on his heels. “You don’t get a discount for helping me.”

She gave her spot a final swipe. “Perhaps I should.”

“If the work isn’t to your satisfaction, you may say so.” He held his breath. He really needed this job. He was determined to prove to his father that he could live Amish again. Earning a living was a first step.

“The work looks good enough,” she admitted slowly.

His hopes rose. “I can start with the shutters now, if you like.”

“Come back in the morning. And be careful taking that ladder out of here.”

“I will. I don’t want to break any of Grandma Yoder’s delicious jams,” he teased.

Folding her rag, she casually began wiping the tiles again. “You like Grandma Yoder’s products?”

“They’re the best. Especially the gooseberry jam.”

A tiny smile flashed across her face. It disappeared quickly, but not so quickly that he missed it. He had been right. It made her plain face almost pretty.