A Wedding at the Orange Blossom Inn (22 page)

And just last year, she'd teased Lukas, saying that it was a shame that they no longer raised sheep because she would have enjoyed the sight of him holding a day-old lamb like it was the most precious thing on earth.

He stuffed his hands in his back pockets. “We should stop by the Millers' soon. You know they won't mind us visiting the lambs.”

Just like they used to do.

Darla looked at the door longingly, wishing another customer would enter, and Lukas would move on instead of forcing her to remember how close they used to be. And how differently they were now treated by everyone else. Without a doubt, Lukas would be welcomed with a pleased smile at the Millers' farm. As for an appearance by her? She had a feeling she would be barely tolerated.

Knowing that made her sad. But since there was literally nothing she could do to change the town's perception of her, she forced herself to act uninterested. “I don't have time to visit lambs. With my new job, I am pretty busy, you know. Now, how may I help you?”

“Shouldn't I be asking you that?” he asked as he stepped a little closer.

His softly spoken question, laced with just the slightest bit of affection, made her flinch. She raised her guard. If she didn't keep herself firmly in check she was liable to weaken and say something she would regret.

“Lukas, if you don't need anything, I need to get back to work. I have a lot to do.”

“I understand,” he said quietly. “Fine. Give me a sheet of stamps.”

She moved around the counter, thankful to have a barrier between them. Feeling as if she were helping a random customer instead of someone she'd known for most of her life, Darla, placed the four choices on the counter. “Which design?”

He looked frustrated. “It don't matter,” he said with obvious impatience.

Why hadn't she simply handed him a sheet and taken his money like she had with Mary? He would be gone by now.

Lukas leaned forward slightly, bringing with him the faint scent of oranges. Lukas had always been exceptionally fond of oranges. He lifted his eyes to meet her gaze. “You choose. What do you think I should purchase?”

Again, it felt as if he was asking her things she didn't know the answer to. Feeling awkward, she glanced at the four choices. One showed hearts, another had a rose design—this year's wedding stamp. The third featured birds, and the final offering was the American flag.

“I . . . I don't know which one you want.”

“I bet you do.” His voice turned teasing. Almost as if they were friends again. “Come on, tell me the truth, Darla. Don't ya try to match the designs to the person buying them? I would.”

He was standing too close. She could smell the soap on his skin, feel the warm knot of interest that always formed in her belly whenever he was near.

She tamped it down and kept her voice polite and crisp.

“They're simply stamps, Lukas. Just something to put on one's bills.”

He stood up straight again, giving her space. “I suppose you're right.” Staring at her intently, he added, “Some things just don't matter like they used to, do they?”

Nothing did, but she didn't dare go down that path. Some evenings it took everything she had to simply walk in her front door, bracing herself for Aaron's anger and her parents' absence. “That will be nine dollars and eight cents.”

He handed her a bill. “So, which ones did you decide to give me?”

She couldn't play his game. It was simply too painful. She missed him, missed their friendship. But, try as she might, she couldn't figure out how to move beyond the hurt. Unable to look at him directly in the eye, she pushed forward the birds. “Enjoy your day.”

A muscle jumped in his cheek. “Darla, what time do you get off today?”

“Four. Why?”

“I'd like to walk you home.”

Spending thirty minutes by his side was a bad idea. “
Nee
.”

“Come on,” he coaxed. “We could talk. Catch up.”

“Lukas, you came in here for stamps. Now you have them.”

“I don't care about stamps.” He frowned at the sheet before him. “Plus, you know how much I hate birds.”

Against her will, some of the ice around her heart melted. “You are a man of superlatives. You always either love or hate things.”

Looking relieved that she was no longer glaring at him, he said, “If you don't want me walking you home, how about I stop by tonight?”

Part of her hoped he would come over, but she was sure it would only open up another can of worms. “You canna do that.”

After shooting her a contemplative look, he fussed with the page of stamps resting on the counter. Far more hesitantly, he said, “You know, Darla, I thought it might do us both some good if we spent some time together. You know, like we used to do. It might help our families start to heal, too.”

She thought of her brothers and sisters. Thought of how stunned they would be to see Lukas, and how angry Aaron would be if he imagined Darla was renewing their friendship again.

“I don't think you coming over is a good idea.”

A muscle in his cheek twitched. “I've told you—and everyone else—time and again. Our family doesn't blame John for the accident.”

She knew that wasn't exactly true. “Even Levi?” His brother had made no secret of his suspicions.

He brushed the lock of hair that had fallen across his brow away impatiently. “You know his temper. Levi is looking for someone to blame.”

She did know his temper. And though she wasn't afraid he'd actually hurt her, she was pretty sure his words would be just as painful. “He ain't looking for someone, Lukas. He's found one.”

Something flashed in those beguiling silver eyes of his, something that looked suspiciously like a combination of agreement and embarrassment. Neither made her feel any better.

“I'm sure he doesn't really think your father
meant
to do anything wrong,” he said at last.

That was the crux of it, wasn't it? Her father
had
caused the fire. But her family, especially her brother Aaron, wondered if some standard safety practices had been ignored.

Aaron thought that the Kinsingers had been negligent in making sure the warehouse was kept clean and clear of debris. He wondered if, perhaps, they hadn't been monitoring what was being thrown out into the Dumpsters. He said that the workers hadn't been thoroughly trained about the dangers of the stain and paint thinner, but Darla thought this was a bit much. Their father had been a careful and hard worker at the mill for decades. Whatever had happened hadn't been because he'd needed proper training from Lukas Kinsinger.

“I am so glad you, personally, aren't blaming my father,” she said sarcastically. “Don't you think we ever wonder how everyone in the mill is so sure that it was
my daed
who caused the accident?”

He drew back, standing tall and strong, staring down at her from his six-foot height. “What are you saying, Darla? That someone else tossed the rag into the Dumpster?”

“Of course not.”

“Then what are you saying?”

Why was he asking her that? All the optimism she'd been feeling vanished. “Why couldn't he be only partially responsible? The Dumpster was too close to the building. And someone had discarded pine scraps inside it instead of following proper procedure.”

“You have no idea what you are talking about.”

“All I'm saying is that maybe—just maybe—my father wasn't the
only
man responsible for five people's deaths.”

“I've practically grown up in that mill,” he stated, his voice now as cold as his glare. “I run it now. That isn't how things work there. We take care of the buildings and the men and the machinery. Everyone who works there is considered family.”

“My
daed
loved that mill, too. He wouldn't have done anything foolhardy without reason.”

The skin around Lukas's lips turned white. “You know, I came over here because I missed you. These last few weeks have been hard, really hard, for me.”

“For me, too.” Though, truly, “hard” didn't begin to describe how devastated she was.

“I had hoped that we could move on. You and I have been friends for years. For most of our lives.”

“I haven't forgotten. But we can't erase what has happened. We simply can't be friends now.”

He grabbed hold of the stamps and stuffed them in his jacket pocket, no doubt wrinkling them. “It was a mistake to come in here today. It was a mistake to feel sorry for you.”

So he hadn't wanted to see her as a friend . . . he felt sorry for her.

Undoubtedly, he was thinking of his family's reputation. The Kinsinger family was everything to a lot of people in Charm. They not only paid hundreds of people's salaries but they had also somehow become models for proper behavior.

Now Darla knew that Lukas had come to find her because he'd wanted to do the right thing so the biddies sitting in the back of the church could whisper to each other how wonderful he was. Not only was he taking care of his family and the lumberyard, but he was good enough to reach out to the daughter of the man who'd caused so much pain and suffering.

Her heart was breaking, but she had to stay tough. If she didn't, they were both going to say more hurtful words to each other and she didn't know if she could handle that. It was hard enough coming to terms with the fact that she and Lukas couldn't ever be close friends again. “Next time you need stamps, you should probably send in someone else.”

The look he gave her was so cold, it could have frozen her to the spot.

When the door closed behind him with the faint jingling of bells, Darla closed her eyes and tried to erase the pain. But just like the glory of the day's sunrise, it was unstoppable. There were some things that were simply destined to happen, no matter what.

T
hat girl. That, that . . .
woman!

As he strode down Main Street toward the Kinsinger Lumber Mill's main office, Lukas felt like throwing his hat on the ground and stomping on it. And then turning right back around, yanking open the glass door of the post offic,e and marching in to tell Darla Kurtz exactly what he thought of her snide suspicions.

While he was at it, he would go ahead and tell her exactly what he thought about her standing on the other side of that worn counter and shoving an awful sheet of bird stamps at him without so much as a smile.

And then, well, he would tell her how much he missed her. How much he'd needed her over the last three months. She was the only person with whom he didn't have to act confident and sure. He could just be Luke.

Not the son who'd stood at his father's grave and vowed to always look after the people who depended on him. Not Lukas Kinsinger, who ran the biggest business in Charm and was now responsible for hundreds of men's livelihoods.

Not the eldest brother whom his sisters and younger brother now depended on.

But whether she'd pushed him away in order to rile him up or because she didn't care about him anymore, he didn't know. He'd been disappointed when he'd realized that she wasn't as eager to mend things between them. She was wrong to think that keeping away from each other was going to help their grief or heal their families' heartache.

Yes, everything was difficult right now—beyond difficult, and painful, too—but that was how he knew they should be reaching out to each other, not pushing away. Not only did it make sense, but it was the best thing for the lumber mill and maybe even the town itself. Everyone knew that there was a lot of tension between their families and it was causing a lot of talk.

There was no reason on earth that the two of them couldn't continue their friendship. They'd survived so much already: the summer they'd both gotten ringworm and neither had wanted to appear in public, Lukas's brief infatuation with Molly Miller and her alluring curves, and that one awful, hormonal-crazed year when Darla had turned thirteen and cried almost every day.

Still, recalling the afternoon he'd teased her about her moodiness, he winced. Darla had gotten so tired of his playful comments and jibes, she'd announced very loudly that it was her time of the month—much to his dismay and her embarrassment. He was sure he'd blushed every single time he saw her for a whole year afterward.

If they could survive all of that, plus a whole bunch of other catastrophes and minor arguments, he imagined that they could help each other get through almost anything.

Even the deaths of their fathers.

Lukas had hoped that they'd reached a point in their lives where they could ignore the rest of the world, reach out to each other, and offer comfort and care. Wasn't that why God had given them years and years of opportunities to gain each other's trust and affection? Only such a foundation would help them get through this year. After all, what was the point of a friendship surviving fifteen-plus years if not to have each other at times like this?

He didn't know. Worse, he didn't think Darla knew either. If only she would give him some time to talk to her, Lukas was sure they could finally,
finally
reach a point where the awful ache resting deep inside his chest would ease. If that happened, he'd be able to breathe easier and do everything he'd promised his father.

And if that happened, everything else that was worrying him would fall into place, too.

But until Darla stopped being so obstinate, he was going to have to give her a wide berth. And now, he was practically banned from the post office!

He kicked at a rock in his path. How could something he'd taken for granted for years now suddenly feel like it was the most important thing in his life? And for that matter, why did repairing the damage between them now feel as impossible as turning back time?

Frustrated beyond measure, he kicked at the rock again. This time, instead of merely skittering to a stop in front of him, it veered to the right, narrowly missing a pair of children.

Their mother glared at him.

“Sorry!” he called out before grumbling to himself again.

He needed Darla back in his life. He needed her friendship and she needed to understand that what had happened to their fathers—indeed, to all the men—had been a terrible accident. The fire hadn't been her father's fault and it certainly hadn't been his father's fault. It had been caused by spontaneous combustion—according to the fire marshal.

Lukas preferred to simply consider it an accident. An act of God, much like a lightning strike or a tornado. And because of that, he understood that it made no sense. But they didn't need for it to make sense. One day He would help them understand.

Lukas hoped so, anyway.

Still annoyed, he kicked another pebble blocking in his path, earning him another glare from a pair of
kinner.

“Ack, Lukas, stop with the rocks!”

Only his brother, Levi, talked to him that way.

Drawing to a halt, he turned as Levi approached, his brown eyes contrasting with his dark blond hair curling wildly under the brim of his straw hat. As usual, Levi walked like a runner; his thin, wiry body moving in a constant fluid motion. “Hey, Levi.”

“Hey, yourself,” his brother snapped. “Did you see that you almost hit those
kinner
with that rock?”

“It wasn't even close.”

Levi pulled his hat off and brushed back a chunk of hair from his forehead before slapping the hat back on. “What is wrong with you? Who burned your toast today?”

Lukas refrained from rolling his eyes, but just barely. “I canna believe you brought that up.”

Levi slowly grinned. “Couldn't help myself.”

His brother was referring to an episode when Lukas was eight, when he'd yelled and griped at everyone one morning on the way to church. When their mother had finally had enough of his surly attitude, she'd asked what had happened to set him off so badly. And because he couldn't really think of a reason why he was grumpy, he'd said the phrase of which he was now reminded with irritating regularity: that his toast had been burnt.

Oh, but his family had had a time with that! Now, whenever he wore a frown, they brought it up with a teasing smile. Unfortunately, he didn't get as much entertainment from the constant reminder as the rest of them did.

“I'm never going to live that down, am I?”

Levi's lips twitched. “Nope. Especially when you're stomping down public sidewalks, scaring women and children by kicking debris in your path.”

“I didn't mean to scare anyone. And the rock was in my way.”

“They always are. Ain't so?”

Lukas refrained from saying a word about that, but it took some effort. That was the kind of response their father had liked, short quips that got to the heart of the matter. Like their
daed,
Levi was a master at it.

Himself? Not so much.

Leaning against the side of a brick building, Levi looked him over before he raised his eyebrows. “So, what has got you in such a lather? Did something happen at the mill today that I wasn't aware of?”

Since their
daed
passed, he and Levi had divided up their shifts. Now Lukas arrived around five in the morning and left in the early afternoon. Levi came in around eleven and worked until five or six. Their sister Rebecca managed the mill office from nine to four. That way Levi could help their sister Amelia, with the majority of the farm work in the morning and Lukas and Rebecca could help with the evening chores. None of them wanted their twenty-two-year-old sister to feel like she was stuck caring for the big property their family had lived on for generations by herself.

“Everything is fine at the mill.” After debating whether to tell the truth or not, Lukas forged ahead, figuring he had nothing to lose. “I just got in a small argument with Darla.”

All traces of amusement vanished from Levi's expression. “Why were you even talking to her?”

“I was in the post office. That's where she works.”

Levi rolled his eyes. “There are a dozen people who could have run that errand for you. Even Rebecca. You need to keep your distance, brother.”

That was the problem, Lukas realized. While there were a lot of people who could have run to get a sheet of stamps that he hadn't actually needed, he couldn't be assured that any of them would treat her as kindly as he had. Even Rebecca was keeping Darla and her family at arm's length, and that was saying a lot because at one time they'd been almost as close as he and Darla.

“I wanted to reach out to her. Mend some fences.”

“For what? For her father causing the worst disaster in our mill's history? For killing our daed?”

Lukas winced. Levi's temper was still running hot. Lukas usually tried to calm Levi, to be the voice of reason, but at the moment, he just wasn't up to the task. He felt too raw, too vulnerable after being rejected by Darla.

“I even asked if I could stop by and see her tonight. She refused.”

“Don't know why she would have done that. I'm sure Aaron would have loved to see you.”

Again, there was Levi's heavy dose of sarcasm. Aaron was known for having a volatile temper. “I wasn't concerned about Aaron.”

“You should be. He hasn't tried to curb his tongue at all when it comes to talking about us. Micah confided in me that Aaron has even been stirring up trouble in his department at the mill.”

“Save your warnings, okay? She didn't want me to come over. Matter of fact, Darla pretty much told me that we needed to stay away from each other.”

“Maybe she's more than just a pretty face after all.”

“She's always been more than just a pretty face.”

“Maybe.” Almost grudgingly, Levi said, “Still, I never thought one grown woman could remain so petite.”

“She's five feet, two inches. She is small, but not unusually so.”

“What do you think she weighs? Even a hundred pounds?” Levi asked.

“Maybe a hundred pounds wet.” In spite of his irritation, Lukas smiled. “She only seems small because you're tall.”

“Hey, you're six-foot-two, too.”

“I know. We could practically be twins.”

“Not hardly. No one would mistake your red hair for mine.”

“It's not red. It's strawberry blond.”

“It's red, Lukas.”

“Whatever.”

Those brown eyes that had flashed irritation just moments earlier now studied him carefully. “Hey, I am sorry about how

things are going with Darla. I know you're upset about how she wants to keep her distance, but it really is for the best.”

“Maybe.” He understood his brother's reasoning but he wasn't eager to lose another person in his life. He'd already lost his parents.

“I know she once meant something to ya, but you need to let her go,
bruder.
Her father was not only responsible for Daed's death, but he killed three other men. And caused thousands and thousands of dollars in damages. No matter how you might yearn to excuse him, John Kurtz nearly burned our legacy down.”

“Even if he did such a thing, it's not Darla's fault.”

“I agree. But no one in her family has ever even apologized. That's all I want.”

“Why should they?” They started walking toward the mill.

“You are seriously asking me that? We all bear responsibility for each other's actions, don't you think?”

“Not necessarily.”

“We're family, Lukas.”

“Is that what you think it's only going to take, Levi? An apology?”

“Of course.” He looked disgruntled. “It's our way to grant forgiveness.”

Lukas nodded, but he had already forgiven John Kurtz publicly. Privately, too. Well, he'd tried to. After all, the man was dead. There was no greater price to pay. But for some reason he wasn't sure if that simple act was going to be enough for any of them. Actually, he was beginning to think it was going to be far harder to forgive than he'd ever thought possible. “It's our duty to grant forgiveness, whether the person asks for forgiveness or not.”

“That is true. And maybe one day I'll actually be able to do that, but not yet.” Before Lukas could comment, Levi clasped him on the shoulder. “Before I head home to help Amelia, I'll remind you of something Daed always used to say.”

“What was that?”

“We can forgive a man because that's the right thing to do. But the Bible never said a word about forgetting.”

Feeling like that statement was rather prophetic, Lukas opened the front door of the mill with a bit of relief. As he turned the corner, he spied his good friend Roman sipping a bottle of water and chatting with a couple of workers on his team.

After greeting the other men, Lukas smiled at his friend. “It's good to see you. How are you?”