Sandra Hill - [Jinx] (28 page)

They had been walking back toward the kitchen, but she stopped abruptly and turned to stare at him.

At least she didn’t say, “Who asked you to?” again.

“What are you trying to say, Caleb? And take a deep breath, for heaven’s sake. Your face is so red, I’m afraid you’ll have a stroke.”

Whatever it is I’m trying to say, I’m obviously not doing a good job.
He stuck his hand in the back pocket of his pants and pulled out an audio tape. “Maybe this will say it better. Tante Lulu told me to use it as a last resort.”

“A last resort for what?” Then, “You’re taking Tante Lulu’s advice?”

“Yeah, crazy, isn’t it?”

Just then she noticed the tape case he laid on the mantel. “David Cassidy? Are you kidding me? Is this typical Navy SEAL musical fare?”

Go ahead, make fun of me.
The song started to play, and she stood with her head cocked to the side, listening. Slowly, very slowly, she started to understand, especially when Cassidy belted out those cornball lyrics that could be heard at every wedding and special event ad infinitum, “I Think I Love You.”

The only problem was, Claire was crying. Big fat tears rolling down her cheeks. Little sobs.

Son of a bitch! Can’t I do anything right?
“Blame Tante Lulu. I should’ve known this wouldn’t work.”

She pulled him back when he was about to eject the tape.

“Caleb, say it,” she demanded.

Okay, ground zero. Time to plant my boots on the ground, or run. Which will it be?
“I think I love you,” he murmured.

“What? I can’t hear you.”

“I love you. Dammit. And I can’t leave here without telling you that, but you never said it again, so it’s probably a wasted effort.” He stopped himself, realizing he was babbling. “I love you.”

She made a flying leap for him, practically strangling him with her arms around his neck, kissing his hair and ears and face. Big slurpy, noisy kisses. They were kinda nice. “I love you, too.”

“Well, about time! One lousy time you said it to me, and that was sixteen days ago. All last night, I kept making love to you, hoping you would say it again, but you didn’t, and I figured I’d lost my shot.”

“You kept track of how many days since I told you that I love you.”

“What’s your point?”

“So that’s why we were engaged in that sex marathon all last night? You thought you’d screw the words out of me?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Caleb, you turned purple the first time I said it. I figured you didn’t want to hear it again.”

“I do. A lot.”

“I love you, I love you, I love you.”

His heart was so full, he thought it would burst. But he pulled away from her and set her at arm’s length. “Listen, I’m an old-fashioned guy at heart. I’ve got Amish in my blood. I can’t be like Jake and Ronnie, having a baby and not being married. I can’t be like them getting married and divorced four times, either. So . . .” He got down on one knee, took her hand in his, and said, “Will you marry me?”

She dropped down to her knees in front of him and took his face in her hands. She’d started weeping again. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Yes, I do. Will you marry me?”

“In a heartbeat, sweetheart.”

He kissed her and sat down, pulling her onto his lap. “There are some conditions, though.”

“Conditions now?” She’d arched her brows, but frankly she’d probably agree to anything right now.

“I’m going to continue working for Jinx, but this would be my home . . . our home. I’ll pay for half of it.”

She nodded.

“Only two kids.”

“I can live with that.” She looked as if he’d handed her a rainbow. “But I’ll tell you this, Caleb, if you don’t want any children, I could live with that, too. That’s how much I love you.”

That was a lot, for her. And he felt immensely blessed by that kind of love. “I want to see you grow big with my baby. Honest, I do.” He cleared the lump in his throat, then continued, “One cow max, and I’m not milkin’ it. Ever.”

“As long as I can raise chickens.”

“A deal, but only if they’re not too close to the house.”
Like on the other side of the river.
“But no pigs, goats, or peacocks. And I will never ever push a plow again in this lifetime. Or mend a fence. Or shovel manure.”

“Oooh, I like peacocks.”

“No peacocks. They’re mean and loud and smelly.”

“Okay. Can I have a horse?”

“Horses make manure.”

“Well, how about bees?”

Bees? BEES? She really is a little bit crazy.
“People eat bee shit. Isn’t that what’s in those honeycombs? Nothing to shovel there, so I’m okay with bees.”

“Good. I love honey. I know of at least twelve varieties I’d like to try.”

Twelve? That means thousands of bees. Don’t say anything, Caleb. Keep your mouth shut.

“I have conditions, too,” she said.

“You want me to perform every night of our marriage like I did last night,” he teased.

“Definitely,” she teased back.

He pretended to wince. Hell, if he could have her as incentive, he’d try his damnedest.

“I really, really yearn for a normal family life, Caleb. And I don’t just mean the family you and I create together. Can you promise to work with your family members to bring us closer together?”

He tugged on her ponytail. “As long as I don’t have to have Sunday dinner with them every week. Jonas or Lizzie, anytime. Mam and Dat, sometimes. The rest of my siblings, please, only on rare occasions.”

“We’ll see,” she said.

And he knew they would be having the whole kit and caboodle over first chance she got.

“I’ve never made love with an engaged woman before,” he said.

“Funny you should say that. Neither have I. An engaged man, that is.”

She came easy into his arms, putting a gentle hand on his face. “I love you, Caleb. I feel as if I’ve been waiting for you all my life.”

He was choked up for a second. “I feel the same way. At first I thought this sensation of coming home was related to my family, but it’s you. Wherever you are is going to be home to me.”

“Sounds boring to me.” She pretended to pout.

“Ya think?” He grinned down at her. “Maybe you could do something exciting to rev up your image.”

And she did. Man oh man, did she ever! A half hour later they were both panting for breath. He probably had splinters in his butt, and she for sure had whisker burns on her thighs. But they’d christened their new house in the best way possible.

“Wouldn’t it be nice if we just made a baby?” she murmured against his bare chest.

Biting his bottom lip, he stifled a whimper. For the first time in forever, he hadn’t used a condom. How could he have forgotten? Maybe there
was
some celestial plan in effect here. Destiny or some other woo-woo thunderbolt crap.

He gave a mental shrug. It was out of his hands now.

They lay there, silent for several moments, just relishing this newfound joy.

She chuckled then. “I know what would look great under that window over there.”

He was suspicious, considering the chuckle.

“Your hope chest.”

He laughed. “And the St. Jude statue on the mantel.”

“Do you believe that old lady—or St. Jude—actually had anything to do with our getting together?”

Or my not using a condom?

Both of them thought they heard a voice in their heads then that said, “You’d better believe.”

Epilogue

They were married under a balmy afternoon sun in October at Hope Farm.

Ironically, for Caleb at least, the wedding took place in a barn. Yeah, it had been scrubbed and decorated, but it was still a barn. What was that Jewish expression?
Oy vey!
Yep, that’s what Caleb thought, but he wasn’t about to complain out loud. He was marrying the woman he loved. Sometimes his heart swelled and swelled, just looking at her.

Tante Lulu, that crazy Cajun dingbat, would probably say it was St. Jude at work. Her nephew, on the other hand, would probably say it was something else entirely at work, located about two feet below his heart.

What had started out as a small private wedding had somehow turned into an outdoor extravaganza with music and two hundred guests. It was a more traditional ceremony than he’d ever envisioned for himself, not that he had ever envisioned tying the knot at all. Till he met Claire.

He was wearing a tux for the first time in his life, as were Jensen, Famosa, Franklin, and LeDeux, his groomsmen. Jonas, his best man, wore a dark Mennonite suit. He’d agreed to participate in an English wedding, even stay for the reception; that was compromise enough in his Plain book.

Claire had Tante Lulu, of all people, as her maid of honor, with Ronnie, Lizzie, Laura, and Lily serving as bridesmaids. Jonas and Laura were openly dating these days; as a result, Jonas had joined him in being labeled “That wild Peachey boy!” among the Amish in Sinking Valley. Jonas’s Sarah and Fanny were flower girls.

Boner and the four cats, not to mention a pigload of Priscella’s kittens, wore lavender bows around their necks to match the bridesmaids’ gowns. He’d told Claire that lavender was a gay color for a boy dog to wear, but she’d answered that rumor said that Napoleon had a few questionable tendencies himself.

Ronnie’s pregnancy was beginning to show with a little rounded belly. The way she and Jake stared at each other, well, he could only hope he and Claire would be as happy. He wouldn’t be surprised to see these two next down the aisle. Then again, maybe not. They claimed to be happier than they’d ever been during their previous four marriages.

To everyone’s amazement, his father gave Claire away. Dat was bending in ways Caleb never would have expected. Oh, he maintained his Amish ways, albeit as a Mennonite now, but he’d opened up his heart and his mind to new ways. Mam had electricity and a brand-new washing machine now; you’d have thought it was a pot of gold. Dat tried not to be too prideful driving his new, shiny red John Deere tractor. Dat had even taken Caleb and his brothers fly fishing last week, while the women worked with Claire, completing her bride quilt. That and all the crap Tante Lulu had sent was causing his hope chest to overflow. Bottom line: Claire was getting the family she’d always wanted, in spades.

He should have felt claustrophobic, having been a loner for so long. But he didn’t, as long as he maintained his distance. Unlike Claire, he could take his family only in small doses.

He stood now, leaning back against a tree, a longneck dangling from one hand, on a small rise overlooking the farmyard festivities. Claire came huffing up the hill after him, her gown bunched in both hands up to her knees to avoid it dragging in the dirt.

When he held an arm out for her, she dropped her gown and snuggled up against him, smelling like the sweet outdoors. Fresh. Flowery. Sexy as hell.

She’d gone traditional for her wedding attire, as well. He’d half expected her to show up in some Indian maiden outfit, but instead she wore this frothy white concoction that made her appear good enough to eat. Literally.

“Are you having second thoughts?” she asked in a small voice against his chest.

“Never.” He kissed the top of her head. “I just needed a breather.”

“How about that poker-playing friend of Jake’s, Angel Sabato, showing up here? In a skull and crossbones T-shirt. With all those tattoos. On a Harley. Whoo-ee! I thought your Dat would have a heart attack.”

“Save your whoo-ee’s for me, sweetheart.”

She smiled. “Jealous?”

“Hell, yes.”

“I heard him ask Jake if he could give him a job with Jinx, that he was ready to ditch the poker circuit. Do you have any objection to that?”

He shrugged. “It’s not my call.”

“Is it true that he posed for
Playgirl
magazine one time . . . in the nude?”

He just laughed. “You want nude, I’ll give you all the nude you want.”

“I’m going to hold you to that promise.”

They both remained silent after that, just savoring being alone for the first time that day.

“I know you didn’t want all this,” she said, waving a hand to indicate all the activity below. “Somehow it got out of hand.”

There was sort of an invisible dividing line down below between those open to music, dancing, and booze, and those who shunned the entertainments as worldly. Actually, there were quite a few English on that side, too, which surprised Caleb.

“That’s okay, babe. There’s still the honeymoon to look forward to.”

“Which one?” She laughed and reached up to give him a quick kiss.

He grabbed hold of her on the rebound and pulled her in for a real kiss. Only then did he say, “The second one. In Barbados.”

He, Claire, and a whole contingent of family and friends were headed for Philadelphia tomorrow morning to give moral support to Lizzie, who had made it through to the top twenty-four of auditions for
American Idol.
He and Claire laughingly referred to it as their first honeymoon. It would be memorable, that was for sure. Lizzie—who billed herself as J-Lo meets an Amish Faith Hill—would be performing her first solo as a finalist.

Tante Lulu was going to be her chaperone. How that came about was a story in itself. Wait till Simon Cowell collided with the Cajun bulldozer.
American Idol
would never be the same. René LeDeux had been coaching Lizzie musically. In fact, his band, the Swamp Rats, was performing right now.

Lizzie would be singing the Rascal Flatts hit “I Melt” for her introduction to the public. To his embarrassment, Mam had asked him last week, “What does that mean, Caleb? She melts. How? Like an ice cube?” Dat had whispered in Mam’s ear then, and she’d swatted his arm, saying, “Oh, you! Nobody would sing about
that.
”

“I do have a surprise for you, honey,” Claire said, raising her face to look at him.

Uh-oh!
“I like surprises.”
Not!

“We’re going to have our own special wedding night.”

Special
being the key word. I hope.
“With all these people around?”

“I found a private place.”

Better and better.
“Dare I hope it’s a Marriott with a heart-shaped jacuzzi and complimentary champagne?”

“Well, there will be champagne, and candles, and fur rugs.”

Hoo-yah!
“Sounds good to me.”

“I built us a wigwam up on the ridge.”