Breath of Spring (5 page)

Oh, but his low tone brought to mind long, slow kisses . . . lessons only an older man could teach . . . sweet whispered words that had made her feel special.
Beautiful.
Good enough to become Luke Hooley’s wife—or had she been fooling herself all along? His thoughts on staying single, to escape responsibility and commitment, had come out loud and clear when Bishop Tom had talked about picking a new preacher.

But Annie Mae didn’t want to miss this chance to fetch the sewing machine. She didn’t have a buggy at her disposal—couldn’t possibly lift the awkward treadle machine by herself. She didn’t really want to bother Ben for help, either, although he’d told her he’d do anything she needed.

“What’ll you get in return?” she echoed, hoping to maintain Luke’s playful interest. “I guess we’ll find out, ain’t so?”

Luke chuckled low in his throat. “Now
there
’s the Annie Mae I know,” he murmured. “I’m glad she hasn’t disappeared. I’ve missed her.”

Why did figuring out what guys really meant have to be so complicated? Once again Annie Mae felt silence might serve her best . . . and it would keep Luke guessing, at least long enough to go inside the house. As they rode along the rising road, past the Wagler place, her
dat
’s big barn and the familiar white house came into view.

The moonlight and the snow created an ethereal glow around the place—or did it seem ghostly? Part of her was spooked about going inside, yet her heart longed to be in those rooms again, among the comfortable furnishings and the mementos her
mamm
and step
mamm
had left behind when they’d died.
Or am I settin’ myself up for a big heartache? What if those rooms are empty now, and they echo with our footsteps?

But it was too late to back out. Luke was urging his horse under the arched Bishop’s Ridge sign, into the driveway that circled in front of the tall white house where her heart still belonged. The horse had to slow down, as the pavement hadn’t been cleared—and the untouched snow told her no one had been here within the last few weeks.

We’re making tracks. Will folks wonder who’s been here and why? Maybe you should’ve thought this through before you
—

“Do you suppose your
dat
locked up?” Luke’s voice broke the silence. “If he figured he wasn’t going to live here anymore—”

“We can try the back way, into the kitchen,” she murmured. “And if the doors are locked, that’s just the way of it. I’m not breakin’ any windows, or—”

Luke pulled the horse to a halt and then gently laid a finger upon her lips. “No reason to sweat this, Annie Mae. We’re gonna fetch your sewing machine. It’s a simple in and out.”

Was anything simple anymore? Annie Mae nodded, eager to go in yet just as eager to get this over with before someone caught her—even though she didn’t believe she was doing anything wrong. It was so confusing, when her emotions kicked in from all directions on top of the conflicting remarks Luke had made that day.

When she got to the back door and turned the knob, she was surprised it opened. Steeling herself to handle whatever she might—or might not—find inside, Annie Mae reached for the lantern and matches on the little shelf beside the door. She shivered with the cold and her fingers trembled so badly she could barely light the wick.

“Let me take that,” Luke murmured as he reached around from behind her. “Don’t want you dropping the lamp and setting fire to—”

Annie Mae sucked in her breath and then wished she hadn’t. The house felt chilly but the propane heaters had been left on a low setting . . . so the stench of rotting chicken and vegetables made her recent meal rise up into her throat. Their Second Christmas dinner still covered the table, along with their dirty dishes. Nothing had been moved since she and Nellie and the rest of them had walked out on Dat when he’d expected them to join him in Higher Ground. The gravy, stuffing, and mashed potatoes were fuzzy with white and green mold. The cobbler and cookies on the side counter showed signs that mice—or
something
—had been in here eating the pastry and berries . . . tracking fruit filling along the countertop.

“Ohhhhh,” she moaned as she clutched herself. How she hated the sight of such a mess in her kitchen, yet she couldn’t look away. She didn’t want to think about why the creamed corn seemed to be moving in the bowl....

“I can’t believe somebody didn’t clean this up,” Luke muttered.

“That would be women’s work, and all of us left Dat to clean up the mess he’d made,” Annie Mae reminded him as she fought back tears. “We need to get a garbage can and throw away this rotten food, and wash the dishes and—”

“No way,” Luke stated. “Show me where the sewing machine is, and then we’re outta here.”

With a shuddery sigh, Annie Mae pointed toward the front room. Much as she hated to leave the spoiled food on the table—knowing she would see it in her mind forever—she couldn’t ignore Luke’s order. “It’s in the spare bedroom at the back of the house,” she said, walking ahead of him.

Even in the glow of the lantern’s light, even though she’d crossed the front room hundreds of times—and Luke was right behind her—Annie Mae wrapped her arms around herself and didn’t look at anything too closely. She was sick at heart and sick to her stomach. All she could focus on was fetching the treadle machine . . . the fabric and thread and pins she would need from the shelves....

Adam left a message on Micah’s shop phone, saying he could start working at Andy Leitner’s building on Wednesday. Meanwhile, Matthias had unhitched Herbert and filled the troughs with water. “You can put out the hay while I take our cooler in,” his brother said. Then he laughed. “And how will ya answer Hiram, about hirin’ on at Higher Ground—for triple your usual wage?”

“Like I’d really do that,” Adam retorted. “Might as well sell my soul to the Devil.”

Matthias slapped him playfully on the shoulder. “At least ya can tell him you’ve got jobs lined up for the next several weeks. Can’t get to his finishin’ work as soon as he needs it done.”

“
Jah,
I’ll get back to him soon. I sure don’t want him to keep calling.” Adam yanked the twine from around a couple of square hay bales and divided the fresh-smelling feed among the stalls where their horses stood waiting for it.

As he closed up the barn for the night, Adam looked over toward the Knepp place, once again wondering what was going on with their former bishop. Then he frowned. Why would a light be bobbing in that downstairs window at the back of the house?

His first thought was that Hiram had returned to fetch some things—
at this time of the evening? And does that mean he’s coming here next, expecting you to sign on with him?

An uneasy feeling twitched inside him. What if it
wasn’t
Hiram, or any of the Knepps, for that matter? What if an intruder was helping himself to whatever was left in the house?

When the light came to rest in the window, Adam jogged down the lane toward the road. Maybe it wasn’t smart to go to an abandoned house alone, but he felt compelled to let this visitor know that the neighbors here watched out for each other. He would never forgive himself if someone stole the Knepps’ belongings—or worse yet, accidentally set fire to the place—while he’d been aware of their presence. Adam ran faster, noting that the lantern remained at the window. As he sprinted under the arched Bishop’s Ridge sign and into the snow-covered driveway, he prayed for God to watch over him, just in case this after-dark visitor was up to no good.

Instinct told him to go around back. He was relieved to see a horse and buggy there even if he didn’t know who owned it. Adam paused outside the back door to catch his breath, planning how he would handle this situation.

He slipped inside, entering the kitchen where he’d visited occasionally throughout his life. His hand flew to his mouth and nose, and as his eyes adjusted to the dimness, he gaped at the long table covered with dishes of moldering, spoiled food. But there was no time to deal with that mess. He heard voices—

“Are ya tellin’ me ya don’t know where you’re gonna put this?” an impatient male demanded. “How do ya think I’ll heft this up the stairs to your apartment?”

“Never mind about where I’ll put it. I’ll ask Miriam—”

That’s Annie Mae—and Luke Hooley’s with her,
Adam realized as he strained to hear her faltering voice.
What’s she want that’s got him so bent out of shape?

“Ya mean to tell me ya haven’t told her you’re bringin’ this—
really?
” Luke demanded. “I don’t want any part of goin’ back to Miriam and Ben’s today. Maybe—”

“All right,
forget
it!” Annie Mae retorted, but she sounded really upset. “Maybe this wasn’t my best idea, but I thought I could sew up some clothes for Nellie—”

Adam snapped. He had no desire to get caught in the middle of this argument, but he should reveal his presence. Rapid-fire footsteps were coming through the dark front room, without benefit of that lantern he’d seen earlier. “Is everything all right?” he called out. “I saw the light in the—”

Annie Mae screamed and something—several things—hit the hardwood floor just outside the kitchen.

“Who’s that? Who’s in here?” Luke demanded from farther behind her. Something else landed heavily on the front room floor as Adam stepped cautiously toward the doorway.

“It’s Adam Wagler,” he explained quickly. “Didn’t think it looked right that somebody was in the house—”

“And why would that be any of
your
business?” Luke challenged as he steered Annie Mae into the shadowy kitchen ahead of him.

Adam stopped, wishing he hadn’t gotten involved—yet Hooley’s attitude was rubbing him the wrong way. “If this were
my
house sitting empty, I’d appreciate my neighbors checking it out if they saw somebody inside,” he replied firmly. Then he softened. “I didn’t mean to scare you, Annie Mae. Can I help you with something?”

“Yeah,” Luke retorted. “You can help me haul that stupid, awkward sewing machine out to—”

“Forget it, I told ya!” Annie Mae rasped. “If you’re gonna be so testy about—”

“I’ve carried it this far,” Luke argued as he turned to face her. “I didn’t come all the way out here to—”

“Then leave.
Now
.” Annie Mae’s voice and stance toughened up as she crossed her arms at her chest. “Whatever ya saw in me has obviously worn off. Don’t let the doorknob hit ya in the butt,
got
it?”

“Loud and clear.” Hooley strode out of the kitchen and slammed the door so hard, its glass rattled.

Releasing the breath he’d been holding, Adam searched for the right thing to say. Annie Mae’s shoulders slumped and she covered her face with her hands. “Oh, but I’ve made such a—a mess of things,” she said in a voice that finally surrendered to tears.

Adam stood still for a moment. Crying women baffled him, but Annie Mae clearly didn’t deserve to be treated so harshly. Cautiously he stepped forward. She was tall enough that putting his arms around her shoulders seemed awkward, so he placed his hands lightly at the sides of her waist. “From what I overheard, you came after your sewing machine?”

“
Jah
. I thought—oh, never mind what I thought,” she muttered as she swiped at her eyes. “I’m out here without a ride back, and I’ve gotten ya mixed up in—”

“I came to check on things,” Adam reminded her quietly. “Seems like a small favor, asking Luke to fetch your sewing machine so you and Nellie can—”

“And when I saw that—that awful
mess
still on the table—”

When Annie Mae crumpled and lurched forward, there was nothing for Adam to do but catch her . . . wrap his arms around her, even as he sensed he was getting in deeper than he wanted to. She felt slender and firm, and she was more distraught than he’d ever seen her. As he lightly rubbed her shaking back, her tears wet his neck. What could he say to help this situation without getting himself too entangled? “That moldy food’s a magnet for animals,” he murmured. “So how about if we get it out of here and wash those nasty dishes?”

Annie Mae raised her head, blinking at him. “You’d help me with that?”

“Sure I would. I don’t know what your
dat
was thinking, leaving that food to rot—but it doesn’t matter now,” he added quickly when he saw her lips quivering again. “Won’t take us long to clean it up. Then I’ll get my wagon, and load your sewing machine into it, and take you back to your apartment. Okay?”

A smile flitted across Annie Mae’s face even though she wasn’t yet finished crying. “That would be ever so nice of ya.”

Adam eased away from her. “You’d help me if
I
was in a bind, I’m pretty sure.”

“
Jah. Jah,
I would.” With a loud sniffle, Annie Mae straightened to her full height. “I’ll fetch the lantern. There’s a trash barrel in the mudroom—”

“I’ll go get it. Don’t you worry about a thing.”

Adam went into the small room off to the side of the door he’d come in. Why had he assured Annie Mae that this crisis was resolved? Instinct told him that cleaning up the messy table and then taking her home with her sewing machine wasn’t nearly as simple as he’d made it out to be . . . not the way his heart was thumping, and the way he noticed her clean scent lingering on his jacket. He hadn’t held a girl in years—hadn’t dated much after his
mamm
died—and all manner of red flags were flapping in his mind.

Oh, get real. What else were you supposed to do after Hooley gave her such a hard time? She’s the girl next door. More like a sister than . . .

When he returned to the kitchen with the trash barrel, Annie Mae was setting the lantern on the counter alongside the sink, where its glow illuminated the table as well. “I’m wonderin’ how long the propane’ll hold out so the pipes won’t freeze,” she murmured as she began running dishwater.

“I’ll check your outside tank gauge tomorrow, in the daylight,” Adam replied. “And I’ll set some mousetraps. No sense in letting the critters overrun this place until—”

“
Denki
so much, Adam.”

He set the trash barrel beside the table and looked over at her.
Big mistake.
With the lantern glow surrounding her like a halo and the steam rising in the sink behind her, Annie Mae could well be somebody’s wife—
his
wife—gazing at him with those big blue eyes and that grateful expression on her face. She looked ready to hug him again, so Adam picked up the platter with the disgustingly moldy chicken on it.

“You’re welcome,” he murmured as he dumped it in the barrel. Then he gagged and coughed. “Maybe you’d better stay there at the sink until I get this food off the plates, because it’s kicking up a real stink now that I’m messing with it.”

“I’ll pick up the fabric and thread I dropped when ya scared me half to death. But I really was glad to see ya, Adam,” she added quickly as she headed for the front room. “I have no idea what’s makin’ Luke so snippy—not that you’d care about that.”

But he did care. He’d gotten more riled about Hooley’s tone than he wanted to admit, so it was just as well that Annie Mae was leaving the kitchen . . . just as well that he was dealing with bowls of putrid food covered in fuzzy green and white mold. Holding his breath, Adam dumped mashed potatoes, creamed corn, stuffing, cranberry sauce . . . what a feast they’d had here, and what a shame that the situation with Hiram had blown up in their faces while they’d been eating it. Ira and Luke had mentioned the scene their former bishop had made, and how every last person around the table had refused to join him in Higher Ground—

And what’ll Hiram do if he finds out you’ve been in his house, helping his daughter take that sewing machine?

Adam decided he couldn’t be concerned about that right now. He slid the empty serving dishes into the hot, soapy water to soak, and then scraped the plates . . . keeping himself too busy to consider the consequences of this unexpected evening alone with Annie Mae. He was relieved when she set a box filled with fabric near the back door and then went right to the sink to wash the dishes. No chitchat to get him further involved with her . . . no eye contact to distract him as he dumped the desserts into the barrel and gradually stacked the rest of the dishes and glasses beside her. It seemed like a pretty good system as they worked together in a companionable silence—until Annie Mae flashed him a tremulous smile.

“This is a big load off my mind, gettin’ rid of this mess,” she said softly. “I’d be havin’ nightmares about mice and maybe even rats gettin’ in here to eat this stuff. You’re a
gut
man, Adam. A real
gut
friend . . . Short Stack.”

As she turned back toward the sink, her giggle made his heart skip like a stone across a pond—
jah, and it’ll sink right to the bottom, too,
he warned himself. Her nickname should have galled him, yet he fought a smile as he carried the last double handful of silverware to the sink. “Nice of you to remind me of my
short
comings, Annie Mae. Sets me straight about where I stand.”

The gurgle of draining water accompanied her look of utter dismay as she gazed down at him. “Oh, Adam, I never meant to make ya feel bad about—”

“Not a chance,” he insisted as he took up a dish towel. “I
am
short, compared to you—and most every girl I know. We Amish are to strive for humility, so my height’s a built-in reminder that I’ll always be a lesser man than—”

“I did
not
mean it that way!” Annie Mae placed her wet hands on his shoulders and shook him firmly. “You can stop puttin’ yourself down right this minute, too. There’s a difference between humility and whinin’—and I won’t tolerate your whinin’. Get over yourself.”

As she gazed directly into his eyes, Adam knew it was time to be quiet—not that he could think of a single comeback. He hadn’t meant to whine. He was just stating the obvious—most girls looked right over his head and never really saw him.

But though there was no escaping Annie Mae’s meaning, he didn’t intend to let her have the last word, either. Matthias’s wife had ruled the roost with her opinions and emotional outbursts, and Adam wasn’t going to fall into that same trap. “While I’m getting over myself, you can get over me, too, Annie Mae,” he said quietly. “If you think you can pick up with me where you left off with Hooley, think again.”

Her mouth formed a perfect little
O
, and she looked like she might cry again. But then she took her hands off him and began to run fresh dishwater. “Fair enough. Guess I got my licks in and so did you. Not that I’m keepin’ score.”

Adam chortled at the way Annie Mae kept coming at him without missing a beat. His chuckle escalated into full-scale laughter when Annie Mae began laughing, too. “Makes us even-up, then. But you women
do
keep score—”

“
Jah,
and Luke Hooley’s a loser, no matter how ya look at it,” she said in a more serious tone. “Time for me to move on . . . to concentrate on takin’ care of Nellie and me instead of fallin’ for his come-ons. The way I used to.”

Adam considered this as he stood beside her, drying plates. Instead of bemoaning her responsibilities, Annie Mae was facing them—and for a girl who wasn’t yet eighteen, she’d acquired more than her share. It was the only decent thing to do, helping her tonight. He was just being a friend when she needed one.