An Amish Man of Ice Mountain (The Amish of Ice Mountain Series Book 2) (9 page)

Chapter Fifteen

Priscilla wanted to scream so badly, she thought her blood pressure would spike through the roof. But instead she followed, outwardly calm, in Joseph’s wake as he carried Hollie and led them back to Mary’s house.

Once there, he deposited a willing Hollie into Mary’s care and stared down at Priscilla. “I’d like to talk to you—outside.”

Priscilla saw Mary look at her and Joseph with a worried expression. “Surely Priscilla can wash up first, Joseph?”

“
Nee
, she can’t.”

“Are you going to hurt my mommy?” Hollie asked solemnly, and Priscilla was glad to see the appalled look sweep his face as he gazed at the child.

He sank down on his haunches and took Hollie’s shoulders between his hands with visible gentleness. “I would never hurt your mommy,
kind
. I only want to talk.”

“Okay.” Hollie yawned and brushed at her dirty skirt. “I’m sorry about my dress, Miss Mary.”

Mary smiled. “It’s fine, Hollie.
Kumme
, we’ll see if we can wash it while your
mamm
talks with Joseph.”

Priscilla noticed that he waited until his sister had left the room before he turned and opened the front door. “Outside, Priscilla.
Sei se gut
.”

She squared her shoulders, vaguely aware that if it had been Heath, she would have been scared to death, but with Joseph, she felt only raw anger. She flounced off the porch, following him until he’d led them a good distance from the house.

“What do you want?” she finally snapped at his broad back. He stopped and turned and she stood her ground, lifting her chin, though his unusual eyes seemed to burn like golden green flames through her thin shirt.

“I want to tell you that I once thought you brave, and maybe you are on some level. But mostly, you’re only a scared little girl who would rather run than discover the truth.”

Priscilla bristled at his calm words. “The truth? You think I’m the one with truth issues here? I have trusted you, told you things I’ve never told anyone, followed you across two states, and you—you’ve been playing me all along, haven’t you, you perfectly innocent
Amisch
man?”

He tilted his head. “Innocent? Is that what you thought? Perfect? Like Edward believes?
Nee
, Priscilla. I’m far from it.”

“Well, I know that now,” she spat, unable to keep the rush of images from her mind.

He smiled grimly, as if he could read her thoughts. “So you opened my mail and you saw those pictures. No good comes to those who look for trouble.”

She took an infuriated step closer to him. “Listen, I didn’t open your mail. I was trying to bring it to you and I tripped and fell. The envelope ripped and there you were—all over the ground. I couldn’t help but see . . .” She grimaced and felt her cheeks flush at the same time.

“So what do you want to know?” he asked.

“What?”

“You must be curious.”

“I don’t want to know anything about your private life. It’s none of my business what you do in your free time and I—”

She broke off into a squeak when he closed the distance between them and bent down very close to her mouth. “Listen, you spitfire, I was sixteen years old in those pictures. Sixteen.” He drew a harsh breath and he swallowed hard. “An
Englisch
woman rented the cabin on the other side of the mountain for the summer. She was older . . . maybe in her late twenties. I don’t know—but what I did to her, I did many, many times.” He punctuated the statement by gritting his white teeth and Priscilla could feel the heat of his breath on her lips. “It was my doing, my fault . . . every caress, every kiss, every photo.” His voice had lowered and Priscilla felt her anger melt away into a simmering burn of sensation deep within her belly. She swayed nearer him, half closing her eyes, when she felt her chin caught in a firm grasp. Her eyes flew open in time to see his mocking smile. “So, remember, little spitfire—the truth burns, and I know its scars well. But the question is, Priscilla, do you?”

He released her chin and turned, stalking off through the trees, while she clutched her abdomen in mute confusion and frustration.

 

 

“Too tight?” Jude asked in what Joseph considered to be his “professor” voice. His
bruder
-in-law had been an intense student of
Amisch
studies when he came to Ice Mountain.
And that’s what got him into trouble with Mary . . . Women
, he thought, knowing he was being unfair, but not in the mood to think about what he felt about Priscilla, especially not when he still carried the bear claw necklace.

Jude wrapped another layer of bandages around Joseph’s ribs and pulled. For a moment Joseph saw stars, then swallowed hard, gripping the high dresser in his old bedroom with white-tipped fingers.

“Hollie told me about the bear and the cub,” Jude said from behind him.

“Jah,”
he managed.

“She also told me that her mother was ready to leave this afternoon.”

“She was, I guess. It was only—a misunderstanding.” When Jude finished, he drew as much of a breath of relief as he could with the tight bandage.

“You know, Mary and I had several big misunderstandings when we were starting out and—”

“Starting out?” Joseph lifted his pale blue shirt and shrugged it on with a grimace of pain. “I’m not starting out with Priscilla, Jude.”

“Uh-huh.” Jude was folding away supplies and Joseph snapped his suspenders into place in a frustrated motion.

“What do you mean, uh-huh?”

Jude looked up and peered at him over the top of his spectacles as if he was an object of study. Joseph could imagine his internal thoughts:
“Subject is in complete denial of any attraction.”

“Well, you brought her here.”

“To protect her.”

Jude shrugged. “That’s as good a reason as any. Didn’t you tell me once that there were no girls on the mountain you found attractive? If you’ll excuse my bluntness and not tell your sister, from an objective viewpoint, Priscilla is attractive.”

Joseph frowned. “I’m not denying that.”

“Okay, then.” Jude slapped him on the shoulder lightly and put his hand on the door latch. “Attraction is a
gut
place to start too, Joseph.”

“I don’t want to start anything.” He felt his temper rise and Jude laughed.

“Then you’d better learn, my friend, that Gott has a way of changing what we want into what He wants. I happen to know firsthand. Have a good night!”

Joseph rubbed his side wearily and sank down onto the old double bed he used to share with Edward. He gazed around the shadowed room, the light from the kerosene lamp on the bedside table illuminating the shelves of books and the odd wood carving that had been so much a part of his growing up. Then he reached in his pants pocket and pulled out the bear claw necklace. He thought tiredly about Jude’s words and wondered if it had been Gott’s will to send Amanda Stearn into his life. He rubbed a hand over his eyes, then stared at the beamed ceiling.
But surely I chose that sin, when I might have walked away at any time, leaving her in peace . . .
He swallowed hard as he blindly fingered the curve of the bear claw and knew that he could at least do one thing right at the moment
.I won’t sin against Priscilla. I will keep my attentions holy and pray with her until she leaves and . . .
Something deep inside hurt hard at the thought of her leaving, and he rolled on his side in misery, but admitted to himself that she belonged to a world away from Ice Mountain and him . . .

 

 

Priscilla stroked Hollie’s hair absently as they lay in the big bed they shared, taking in a deep breath of the flowered mountain night air that stole in through the screened window. She wanted to sleep, but she couldn’t get Joseph’s words out of her head—
“My doing . . . my fault.”
He’d been sexually abused and he blamed himself completely, but of course, he’d probably never talked to anyone about it—maybe only Priscilla herself. And she’d . . . She swallowed hard. She’d been too caught up in the moment to even stop and tell him that he was wrong. She thought of his broken ribs and the stallion and then the bear—twice he’d saved Hollie’s life. She owed him the chance to get free of his past and resolved to talk to him the next day, no matter how upset he might become.

Chapter Sixteen

Joseph leaned the ladder against the cabin roof and hoisted the bundle of shingles he’d shaved onto his shoulder. He ignored the warning pull in his side and climbed the ladder, glad that his
daed
had gone to the store so he couldn’t nag about the work Joseph knew he was perfectly capable of doing. He’d reached the top rung and slung the shingles over onto the roof when a feminine voice rang out in anger.

“Joseph King, what are you doing?”

He bent his head with a sigh, then turned to look down on Priscilla’s bright, unbound hair. She was wearing a white dress and her legs showed long and firm. He caught a tight hold on the ladder and forced himself to climb back down, dreading the temptation she represented.

“What are you doing here? Where’s Hollie?”

“Jude suggested taking her to school with him—I thought it was a good idea.”

Joseph nodded. “
Jah
, she’s a bright little thing; she’ll do well.” Then he arched an eyebrow, clearly wanting his other question answered.

“Um, look, Joseph—I need to talk to you about what you told me yesterday.”

He watched her toy nervously with her white belt and tried not to look at her legs. “What is there to talk about?”

“A lot,” she burst out. “A lot—especially about that—that—woman who, well, who sexually abused you when you were underage.”

He was glad the ladder was there to steady him as her words struck like a blow.
What the devil is she talking about?
His face must have registered his confusion, because she stepped forward and touched him earnestly on his bare forearm where his sleeve was rolled up.

“Joseph, I know I’m probably not handling this right, but I feel like I need to tell you—what that woman did to you was wrong. It was a crime.”

He shook off her hand, feeling trapped suddenly. “Listen, Priscilla . . . I don’t know what you mean or why I even told you, but if there is a criminal in all that happened—it’s me.”

“No, it’s not!”

He caught her arm without thinking and pulled her into the empty cabin, not wanting any stray passerby to hear their talk. “
Jah
, it is,” he insisted, releasing her arm.

“All right. Tell me how it started. The first time. The first day.” She crossed her arms and he shook his head.

“What woman wants to hear tales of this?” he asked, embarrassed.

“This one does.”

He turned his back on her for a moment as memories flooded unbidden into his consciousness.
The first time . . . the first time . . .
He stared out the cabin window at the beauty of the late spring day and remembered against his will. But his pride would not let him speak. He drew a deep, steadying breath, then faced her.

“I don’t want to talk about this,” he said slowly.

“It would be good for you.”

He smiled at her. “What would be
gut
for me would be to have less of the spitfire and more of the prayer partner
. Kumme
, let’s sit down and have some lemonade and talk about how we can pray together.”

He saw the reluctance on her face, but she finally sat down in one of the carved kitchen chairs and glared at him. He half laughed and pulled two glasses down from the open shelf, then poured lemonade from the ice box. He gave her a glass and sat opposite her at the table.

He watched her drink, her ivory throat working, then looked away.

“This tastes like Mary’s lemonade.”

“It is,” he told her. “My sister insists on hauling it over for Daed and me, though I tell her we’re perfectly fine.”

“She loves you very much.”

“
Jah
. I am blessed with that.” He took a long pull of his drink then put it down, folding his hands together. “So, how can I pray for you, Priscilla Allen?”

He noticed the look of discomfort that crossed her face. “You can’t.”

“And why is that?”

She shrugged. “My father was abusive, my husband was abusive.” She gave a bitter laugh, which sounded more like a sob. “It was my father who actually urged Heath to ‘control his wife’ in the proper manner.”

Joseph stared at her. “You mean your father knew that—that your husband was beating you?” He felt rage unfurl inside him at the absurdity of the situation and reached out without thinking to touch her hand.

“My father encouraged Heath, even after the divorce and custody hearings. I—think he’s sick, as sick as Heath in some ways.”

Joseph thumbed his way across her fingers, wondering what he could say to her unimaginable revelation.
Please, Derr Herr, help me.
“You came here today seeking to help me, but I know it’s you who needs the lo—” He paused to correct himself, startled at his train of thought. “The support.”

She curled her fingers slightly into his, and his breath caught.
She just told you that her father was a monster, you idiot. Settle down.

“I’m used to doing without support,” she admitted, lifting her gaze to his.

“I know that, but here you don’t have to . . .”

She smiled sadly. “Maybe. But I can’t stay here forever, Joseph.”

“I know that.”
But I don’t know it, and I want you to stay—to stay and stay and stay . . .

Priscilla couldn’t help but notice his green-gold eyes darken in intensity. He looked as though he was struggling with something deep inside and she felt guilty for sharing her own problems when it was he that she had wanted to help. She drew a deep breath and clung a bit tighter to his hand.

“Joseph, do you think it was my fault that Heath hit me, that my father knew and even—even encouraged it?”

“What?
Nee
, Priscilla, you must not believe such a thing.” His big body tensed, his eyes registering shock.

“Then why do you believe that what happened to you was your fault?”

He dropped his gaze, his thick dark lashes fanning against his high cheekbones as he shifted in his chair.

“It’s not the same.”

She gently rubbed the calluses on his large palm. “How can I pray for you, Joseph King?”

She watched him carefully, instinctively understanding that he’d encased his true self in a barrier of ice for years.
But ice could melt with enough warmth . . .
She remembered kissing him in the ER and how good it felt, but now she understood why he had blamed himself and not her for that torrid meeting of mouths and hands . . .

“I—I worry for my fater’s health,” he said finally.

She nodded. “I will pray for him.”

She sensed his restlessness and knew that the quiet moment between them would soon pass if she didn’t do something to lengthen it.

“I haven’t thanked you properly, Joseph, for saving Hollie and me yesterday.” She lifted his hand and brought it close to her mouth. She heard his breath catch. “And what you said—about me always running . . .” She leaned forward a bit more and let the long strands of her hair brush his hand. “I think you might be right, Joseph.” Then she brushed her lips across his knuckles, moving back and forth until her teeth grazed his tanned skin and she heard him gasp.

“Priscilla . . .”

His tone held warning and desire, and she pulled away only a bit to quickly begin speaking. “Dear God, please bless Joseph’s
daed
. Bless him and bring to light anything that might be wrong with his health. Give Joseph time and peace with his
fater
. Amen.” She slowly eased his hand down to rest against the table, sliding her own hands away with reluctance. Then she peered up at him, awaiting his reaction.

He was breathing deeply, as if he’d run long and hard through a sodden field. He brought his hand to his mouth as if trying to recreate the sensation of her touching him. She felt her heart begin to thump wildly in her chest in response and had to resist the urge to squirm in her chair.

“Priscilla . . .” he murmured against his own skin and she felt as if he was touching her, heating her, so that she shivered in delight, struggling to focus. “Priscilla . . . mmm . . . what you can do to me, reduce me to . . . I don’t . . . I can’t . . .”

The moment was shattered by the banging of the front door. Abner came in carrying a heavy bag, breathing hard. Joseph rose immediately to take the parcel from his father and steered him toward a kitchen chair.

“Sit down, Daed. Are you all right?”

Priscilla was alarmed by the grayish hue of the older man’s skin and looked quickly to Joseph. “I think we should take him to a hospital.”

“I’m fine,” Abner huffed.

Priscilla watched Joseph consider her words then put the bag down with a decisive thump as his father labored to breathe. “Daed, Priscilla’s right. We’re going to Coudersport to see Doctor McCully. We’ll get you down the mountain to Mr. Ellis’s home and call an ambulance from there.”

“Take me to Grossmudder May—she’ll know what to do.” Abner gasped the name of the community’s healer, whom Mary had told Priscilla about in passing.

“Nee.”
Joseph spoke with calm authority though Priscilla could see his pulse beat in his neck. “Jude says you’ve seen her thrice. I will not lose you, Daed. I’ve only now
kumme
home.”

Priscilla sensed the desperation of the situation and remembered her mother’s unexpected passing. “I think we should hurry,” she said low to Joseph, and he nodded in quick, sober agreement.