John felt as clumsy as a teenager as he clasped the dish of green beans that Mary had just handed him. “Danke,” he murmured, spooning up a few and tossing them on his plate.
But of course, three of the beans wobbled off the spoon before they reached their destination and flew onto the white tablecloth. Immediately, an angry blotch stained the cloth.
Right after, he felt his cheeks heat. Across from him, Abel snickered.
Now what to do—pick them up with his fingers? Pretend they weren’t decorating the space to his right?
“Just pick them up with your fingers,” Jenna whispered from his left. “Mary didn’t see. Besides, your spill doesn’t mean anything. Spills happen to everyone.”
He needed no more reassurance than that. Still reluctant to look at Mary, he set the bowl down, tossed the run-away beans onto his plate, then wiped his now oiled fingers on his napkin.
Making his cloth napkin stained well and good, too.
Inwardly, he sighed. His clumsiness with the beans was only the latest in a string of misfortunes that had happened since he’d arrived.
He’d tracked mud onto her floor, knocked over a glass of water, shattering the glass on the countertop, and had inadvertently told Mary that he wasn’t all that fond of peanuts. Just before he’d discovered she’d made a peanut butter pie for dessert.
Right away, she’d started looking for something else to serve for dessert—and he had begun to wish that he’d learned to keep his mouth shut.
As everyone around him ate silently, John’s nerves began to get the best of him. Perhaps this dinner was a worse than bad idea. Maybe they were rushing things a bit . . . eating all together like they were. At his sister-in-law’s house, he often stayed in the background, not wanting to make any waves.
Here, Mary was treating him like her honored guest . . . and Abel was treating him as an unwanted one. Obviously he had a lot to learn about family-style dining.
He glanced Mary’s way.
However, Mary didn’t do anything but smile sweetly.
After a moment, she cleared her throat. “Abel and I started something the other day that was mighty fun. We shared one good thing and one not-so-gut thing about our day. Shall we do that now?”
With a sideways glance in Jenna’s direction, Abel groaned. “Mamm, let’s not.”
“Oh, come now, Abel. When it was just the two of us, I thought it was great fun.”
Ignoring her son’s put-upon expression, she clasped her hands in front of her. “All right, then, I’ll go first. My good thing is this, dinner together. Jenna, I’m so glad you’ve come to live with us, and John, it’s a pleasure to share something besides donuts and kaffi with you!”
John couldn’t resist smiling right back. He was eager to do anything that brought the attention away from his string of mistakes. “And the not-so-good thing?” Oh, he hoped she wouldn’t say him staining her good tablecloth!
“That’s easy.” She lifted her hand, to reveal a row of three neatly applied bandages to the side of her palm. Right below her pinky finger. “I cut myself on the buggy wheel this morning.”
John leaned forward. “Mary, I didn’t even notice your hand. What happened?”
“Oh, nothing too earth-shattering. Something must have ripped at one of the wheels. When I rested my hand on one, hitching up Daisy, I scraped myself.”
“So that’s why I saw those cloths soaking in the stationary tub!” Jenna exclaimed. “I wondered what had happened. Mary, you must have bled something awful.”
“It was nothing. Truly.”
John grew concerned. “Mary, perhaps you should go to the doctor or urgent care? You might need stitches or a shot.”
Her cheeks pinkened, just as if she wasn’t used to anyone fussing over her at all. “Oh, goodness. I’m fine, John. It was nothing more than a minor inconvenience.”
“Will you at least let me look at it later?”
“Of course. I mean, if you want to . . .”
Feeling that connection between them, he nodded, though he sensed Abel glaring at him. Well, that was fine. He didn’t care. Someone needed to look after Mary, and it might as well be him. She needed someone to fuss over her!
After a brief pause, Mary looked at Jenna and Abel. “Now, who would like to go next?”
“I will,” Jenna said. “My good thing is that I think I got a job today. Ms. Donovan at the library offered me a part-time job. She said she’s been shorthanded.”
A brief moment of silence met Jenna’s pronouncement. John knew they were all thinking that the reason the library was shorthanded was because of Dorothy Zook’s passing. She used to work at the library, but then was recently killed in a buggy accident. As the uncomfortable moment lengthened, all of Jenna’s confidence dissipated in front of them. Paling, she sputtered, “I didn’t mean that how it sounded.” Biting her lip, she continued. “I mean, of course I’m sorry that Dorothy died. Even though she, ah, put Ella in danger . . .” Her voice drifted off.
For a whole other reason, John felt himself growing uncomfortable. Until he’d made his choice, he’d also been seeing Jayne. While he wasn’t sure just how much Mary knew about that, he would have rather not talked about Jayne at all.
John cleared his throat.
Again, Abel snickered, but it sounded forced, like he was struggling to stay aloof and snarky.
Tears pricked Jenna’s eyes. “John, I didn’t mean to offend. I know Ella is your sister-in-law . . .”
“You didn’t offend me at all. It’s all right, Jenna,” John said. Hoping that God would give him the words to help her and to make the tense subject lighter. “I know what you meant. I’m glad you got a job offer. I’m sure you’ll be good at it.”
After sending a pointed look Abel’s way, Mary folded her hands on the table. “Do you have a not-so-good thing, Jenna?”
A faint blush appeared on her cheeks. “My dresses are starting to get snug. I’m going to have to see if I can let some of them out.”
“I can help you with that,” Mary offered kindly.
John’s heart expanded as he yet again thought about what a wonderfully kind and generous woman Mary was. Here she not only had taken in Jenna, but now she was offering to help her with her alterations.
Looking briefly at Abel, who was using his fork to spin a lone green bean in circles on his plate, John cleared his throat. “I’ll go next. My not-so-good part was spilling food on your tablecloth, Mary. I hate having to cause you more work.”
“Cleaning a tablecloth is no trouble.”
He thought it probably was, but instead of stewing on it, he tried to think of something good to share. Finally, he brought up the little girl who’d stolen his heart. “My good thing is that Katie has agreed to let me take her ice skating next weekend.”
Abel turned his way. “Do you think it really will be cold enough for them to open the pond?”
“I think so. We’ve had twelve days below freezing now. That pond isn’t too deep. At least that’s what the rumor mill announced this morning at the Kaffi House.”
Jenna whistled low. “You’re a brave man, Mr. Weaver, to take that little Katie anywhere. She’s quick to run off.”
“She is, but I love her,” John said. “That little girl has enough spunk for several people.”
Mary’s eyes warmed as she looked toward Abel. “Your turn.”
After darting another glance at Jenna, Abel sat up. “All right. My gut news is hearing about the skating pond. And my not-so-good news is that I failed today’s spelling test.”
Mary gazed at her son with sadness. “That’s okay, Abel. I know you studied.”
“Not that it did any good.”
Jenna leaned forward. “I could help you, if you want.”
“I don’t see how. No matter how many times I write the words down, I still forget their spelling.” Pure pain entered his features. “I don’t know why I’m so bad at school. I just am.”
“Now, Abel—”
“I used to not be a good speller, too,” Jenna said quickly. “I learned tricks to help. It’s worth a try, right? I mean, if you want some help.”
John noticed that Abel’s shoulders straightened again and silently blessed Jenna. Only a teenage girl would remember how sensitive a teenage boy could be.
“Sure,” Abel said after a pause. “Danke.”
“You’re welcome.”
Mary looked as pleased as John had ever seen her when she stood up. “This was such a nice conversation, Jenna and Abel, that I’m giving you both the night off from the dishes.”
Abel’s eyes widened. “Truly?”
“Truly.” Her gaze softened on John. Feeling just like a caress. “I mean, you were going to look at my finger, right?”
“I haven’t forgotten.”
“And then you could help me for a bit?”
“I don’t mind at all,” he murmured.
Jenna met John’s gaze; then, with a small smile, he walked to Abel’s side. “Why don’t you go show me your words?”
“Now?”
“Oh, yes. Now,” she said with a wink John’s way as she ushered Abel out of the room.
John picked up two plates and followed Mary to the kitchen. “I think that Jenna might end up being a blessing to you,” he said. “She’s sure helping tonight.”
Mary tilted her head up to look at him. “I think she’s going to be a blessing for me in many ways. I’m sorry that she’s disappointed her family so much, but I can’t help but be grateful for her help and company here.”
“I’m grateful she’s letting us have some time alone.” He looked at Mary’s hand. “Now, come over here by the overhead light,” he said, motioning to a gas-powered light in the center of the table. “Let’s see just how bad that cut is.”
“It’s not all that bad . . .”
He walked over, got a couple of paper towels, and picked up the Band-Aid box she’d left on the counter, too. “If it’s not that bad, this will be quick, then.”
Looking put upon, she held out her hand to his.
He stepped closer and carefully peeled the bandage from her finger. As he did so, John was amazed at how soft and creamy-looking her skin was. How did Mary keep her hands so smooth? Most other women he knew had far rougher skin, or at least a few calluses.
But then he saw the cut, and whistled low. “Mary. This is pretty deep. You should have gone to the hospital.”
Her eyes widened. “Truly? I didn’t think it was that bad . . .”
Though it wasn’t swollen, it did look red and angry. When he tilted her hand, she winced. Mindful of her pain, he said, “How about I take you to the hospital now?”
“Certainly not.”
She attempted to pull her hand from his, but he held it firm in between his own. “I bet it needs at least three or four stitches,” he protested. “If you don’t get those, it will leave a scar.”
“I don’t mind a scar.”
“Mary, I think you’re being silly.” Wondering if she was avoiding the English doctors, he said, “I promise that I’ll stay with you the whole time.”
“That wouldn’t be necessary. Besides, it’s just a cut.”
“It’s more than that.”
“If it gets worse, I’ll go to the doctor. But it’s fine. Now let’s do the dishes.”
After bandaging back up her finger, he let go of her hand with some reluctance. “All right. But I’m going to wash. You can dry.”
“Of course I can’t let you do that.”
Looking over her lovely brown hair, neatly twisted and pinned under her kapp, and the way her dark red dress illuminated the creaminess of her skin, John was sure he’d never seen a prettier woman. Or a woman more stubborn. “Of course you can. Mary, I think you really hurt your hand. As soon as these dishes are done, you’re going to take a break and sit down for a bit.”
To his amusement, she hid her hand in her skirts. Just as if he couldn’t see it, he wouldn’t remember the cut. “That’s not necessary . . .”
“But it would be yet another ‘good’ part of my day. Don’t deny me, Mary. I know you fussed all day to prepare this delicious dinner. And it was delicious, in spite of my clumsiness with the beans.”
“I hardly noticed.”
He knew she was lying. But he didn’t care. “I’m glad,” he said. “Now, let’s get these dishes done so I can have a few minutes to just sit with you.” Lowering his voice, he said, “That’s why I came over here, you know. I’ve been wanting to spend time with you and catch up. Just the two of us.”
Her mouth popped into a little Oh, just as if his words shocked her. Then she swallowed. “John, the things you say.”
Secretly, he thought she hadn’t heard anything yet. More and more, he found himself biding his time with her. Trying to be patient. To not scare her or spook her with too many touches or long looks.
But he was a grown man, and all this waiting was getting old. There were lots of things to tell her. Things about how pretty he thought her skin was, and how he hated the idea of it getting scarred or damaged. And how he was entranced by her personality. By her sweet manner with Abel.
And by the sadness that seemed to constantly shroud her. The veil was thin and he could tell that she ached to put her grief behind her.
All he wanted to do was make her happy.
Since they were alone, and he was tired of hiding, he reached out and ran his hand down her arm. He felt a tremor from his touch.
One glance told him that she wasn’t afraid. On the contrary, she was feeling a lot of the same things he did. Encouraged, he linked his fingers through hers and rubbed her knuckle with his thumb.
With a smile full of whimsy, she turned and faced him. “John, what are you up to?”
“Nothing. Just trying to get a little closer.”
An eyebrow arched. “Because?”
“Because I want to kiss you. Just once.”
Instead of looking shocked, he was pleased to see true amusement enter her gaze. “Only once?”
Now it was his turn to feel flustered. Of course he wanted to kiss her more than once. But he would make do with what he said. “Just once right now,” he amended, then leaned close and brushed his lips against her slightly parted ones. Unable to stop himself, he wrapped his arms loosely around her and kissed her again, pleased when she kissed him back.
Perhaps the whole thing lasted one second.
Maybe one minute.
Whatever it was, it was over far too quickly. But it had been nice.
Being with Mary was nice. Peaceful. Perfect.
With reluctance, he stepped away and rolled up his sleeves. He squirted some dish soap into the sink and started the faucet. “Mary, please go fetch me some dishes, if you would.”
After a pause, she answered. “I’ll be right back,” she promised, scurrying from the room, making John think that this was just about the sweetest moment he’d had in a terribly long time.