A Perfect Match (8 page)

Chapter Eight

Zeke gaped in horror at the ruined fabric. He'd come over here to reassure her that he wasn't going to push her into anything, and not only did his mouth get the best of him, but he destroyed something she'd worked so hard on.

“Naomi . . . I'm sorry.”

The words were weak. He expected her to yell at him, or at the very least tell him to leave. But she just rushed to the sink and ran cold water over the fabric, then poured dish detergent over it and started scrubbing. After a few moments, she shut off the water and leaned against the sink, tossing the fabric to the side.

He scrubbed his hand over his face.
Dummkopf
. A dripping sound caught his attention, and he looked down to see the Kool-Aid dribbling over the edge of the table and onto her spotless floor. He spotted the napkins in the holder in the middle of the table, snatched a few, and started mopping up the mess, trying to think of something to say to salvage the situation.

“It's all right.” She knelt beside him, paper towels in her hand. “I'll get this.” When he protested she put her hand over his, stopping him. “Let me do it.”

He let go of the napkins and stood while she finished cleaning up. “At least let me get the table.”

When she didn't answer he took that as a yes and wiped up the rest of the mess. He tossed the red-stained napkins into the trash, glancing at the now-pink quilt segment lying limply in the metal sink. He turned to face her, swallowing hard. “I'll pay for the fabric, Naomi. The thread, anything else you need.”

She shook her head. “
Nee
.” Her voice sounded thick, as if she were trying to speak through a mouthful of peanut butter. “It was an accident. I should have put the quilt away.”

“I should have been paying better attention.” The defeat in her eyes tugged at him.

“It's probably for the best,” she said, sounding a little clearer now. “I wouldn't have finished it in time for the wedding anyway. I'll have to think of another gift for them.” But while her words sounded nonchalant, he saw the strain on her face.

“I can help you with the new one,” he said, desperate for anything to cheer her up. “I don't know how to quilt, but I can help you piece it together. I can put all that bragging about my sewing skills to
gut
use.”

She gave him a half smile that quickly disappeared. “I think you should
geh
.”

“Naomi, I'm really sorry. Give me the chance to make it up to you.”

She shook her head. “You don't need to make it up to me. I meant it when I said it was okay. Accidents happen. I could have spilled the whole pitcher on it.” She paused, biting her lip. “I just think . . . we shouldn't be here alone like this.”

“That's what I came here to tell you.” He longed to move closer to her, but that would only make her more skittish. The last thing he wanted to do was make even more of a mess of things. “I shouldn't have been so straightforward with you at the Pantry. Believe me when I tell you I don't normally put my feelings out in the open like that.”

“Zeke—”

“And I want you to know I wouldn't do anything to pressure you or make you afraid.”

She didn't say anything for a long time. Instead she stared at the damp fabric, running her finger over one of the seams. Then she looked at him. “I'm not afraid of you, Zeke.” She licked her lips. “I couldn't be.”

His pulse went into overdrive. Here he was praying she wouldn't hand him his hat, and now she'd given him more hope than he deserved. “I'm glad you believe that.”

“I do.” She took a breath. “But I don't think we should see each other anymore.”

•••

The disaster of the quilt was forgotten as Naomi took in the pained look on Zeke's face. The hold he had on her emotions amazed her. Just a moment ago she'd been in near tears over the quilt being ruined, and then just as quickly ready to laugh at his offer to help her start a new one. She couldn't imagine any man being willing to do that, sewing skills or not. And at the same time that she'd told him she didn't think they should see each other, her heart spoke something else. Being here with him felt right.

But it had also felt right with David. Her feelings were unreliable, and she couldn't trust them. She forced a lie off her tongue. “I'm flattered, but I believe that's the way it has to be.”

He straightened his shoulders, but she could see doubt creeping into his eyes. “I didn't tell you my feelings to flatter you, Naomi. Or to take advantage of you.”

“I know.”

“I told you I liked you because I meant it. And I thought . . .” He sighed, his shoulders rounding. “I thought you might feel the same.”

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

“And I'll
geh
and not bother you again. But before I do . . .” His gaze bore into her, challenging her to speak the truth. “I would like to know why you think we shouldn't see each other.”

“It's not practical.”

He frowned. “Practical?”

“We barely know each other, Zeke.”

“I'd like to change that.”

She drew in a breath. “You live in Middlefield, Zeke. You have your own business. Your
familye
is there. Are you willing to leave that all behind because of some infatuation?”

He tilted his head. “I'm not infatuated. And I still don't think you're being completely honest with me.” His voice lowered. “What are you really afraid of?”

“I'm not afraid of anything.” But when he kept his gaze focused on her, she glanced away. “I'm not being unreasonable. You said yourself you don't waste time dating. I'm trying to save you from wasting your time, just to find out that we weren't meant for each other.”

He moved toward her. “But you were willing to let me waste my time with Margaret,
ya
?”

“I thought . . . I thought you two might be
gut
for each other.” But she thought about everything that had gone wrong with Margaret and Zeke, while she and Zeke got along from the very beginning, even easier than she had with David. Was God trying to tell them all something? The practical side of her dismissed it. “I still think you should give her a chance.”

“Even though you won't give me one?” He sighed. “Naomi, I don't know why you're so determined to hand me off to Margaret, when I can see—
nee
, I can feel—that you like me. But maybe you're right. If you don't trust me enough to tell me the truth, then this won't work.”

She was tempted to tell him about David, only to remember all she'd tried to forget over the past three years. David had said the same things Zeke did. He'd cared for her. Thought she was special. That she was the one God had made for him.

Then he left and never came back. There was no guarantee Zeke wouldn't do the same. She couldn't glue her heart together again if he did.

He let out a breath, and the pain in his hazel eyes slashed at her. “I think I've got my answer.”

She turned around, unable to speak. With each thud of his boots against the wood floor as he left, she blinked back the tears.

•••

Zeke climbed into the buggy, whipped off his hat, and slammed it against the seat. He leaned forward and let his head drop into his cupped hands.
Was
I
wrong, Lord? Did I let my feelings cloud my thoughts and Your will?
If he'd asked those questions before seeing Naomi tonight, he would have answered no. But now he wasn't sure.

The sun had already disappeared behind the horizon, bringing on the chill of the night. He couldn't sit in Naomi's driveway trying to figure things out. He picked up the reins and made his way back to Chester's house, trying to calm his rocked feelings. He wasn't an immature kid who didn't know his own heart. He'd felt loneliness before. Even physical attraction, which he'd always made sure not to act on. And now, an attraction that ran deeper than the physical, deeper than anything he'd known before. But he'd never experienced this kind of rejection before, and it was like someone put his heart in a vise and tightened the screws. A big part of him wished he hadn't taken the risk in the first place.

Risk
. He pulled up on the reins, slowing the horse to a near stop. A beam of headlights shone in his face, but he barely noticed. That had to be what she was afraid of. She'd been hurt in the past, he was almost sure of it. Why else would she be so reluctant to trust him? He had to reassure her that he wouldn't hurt her. If he waited much longer she would be too caught up in the wedding preparations to see him. Or she would use that as an excuse. Naomi King had no shortage of those.

A car whizzed by, honking its horn, and he realized he was going slow, even for a buggy. He spurred the horse to a trot, paying more attention to the road. But in the back of his mind he prayed.
How
can
I
reach
her, Lord? Please, tell me—

He stopped midprayer, realizing this wasn't about him. He'd lived his life striving to obey the Lord, to do His will. “Do you want me to reach her, Lord?” he said aloud. “If so, show me how.”

Chapter Nine

“Zeke, there's someone here to see you.”

Zeke looked up from the book he was reading in the guest bedroom and looked at his uncle. Who in Paradise would be coming to see him on a Sunday night? Then his heart gave a little flip.
Naomi
. Maybe she'd changed her mind about talking to him. “Tell her I'll be right down.”

“I didn't say who it was,”
Onkel
Emmanuel said, frowning. “How did you know?”

“Had a feeling.” Zeke grinned.

When his uncle shut the door, Zeke turned back to the mirror, smoothed down his hair, and pulled up his suspenders. Then he took a deep breath and rubbed his hand over his clean-shaven chin. He bounded down the stairs two at a time, then skidded to a stop before walking into the living room.
Slow
down
.
No
need
to
pounce
on
the
maedel
. I'm trying to woo her, not terrify her
.

With measured steps he walked into the living room. But he couldn't help the grin that appeared in anticipation of seeing Naomi again.

“Hello, Zeke.”

Zeke halted, disappointment slamming into him. He kept the smile plastered on his face. “Hi, Margaret.”

She twisted the end of the
kapp
ribbon between her thumb and forefinger as she stared at the ground. Her face was flushed, but he couldn't tell if it was from shyness or if she was still ill. He also couldn't figure out what she was doing here. When she didn't say anything for a moment he said, “Would you like to sit down?”

“Ya.”
She nodded a little too briskly and made her way to the chair. Her foot caught on the wooden stool in front of it, and she pitched forward.

Zeke grabbed her arm to keep her from falling. When she looked at him this time, her cheeks were the color of pickled beets.

“Sorry.” Her voice was barely audible. She sat in the chair and smoothed out the gray skirt of her dress.

“It's okay. I've tripped over that thing a couple of times.” He sat down on the couch across from her and ran his hands over the tops of his pants. “What brings you by, Margaret?”

She finally met his gaze, and the brightness in her blue eyes took him aback. Had Naomi convinced her to try their date again? He wouldn't put it past her. But Zeke had no intention of leading Margaret on. He opened his mouth to say as much when she suddenly spoke again.

“I came by to apologize.” She started twirling the ribbon again, then stopped and glanced away.

“Apologize? What for?”

“For running out on you during supper after I choked. I shouldn't have done that, especially after you saved my life.”

Zeke shook his head and shifted on the seat. “It's okay.”

She shook her head. “
Nee
, it's not. I didn't even thank you properly.” She sighed. “I don't know what's wrong with me. I always turn into a klutz when I'm nervous.”

He couldn't help but smile a little. “You're not a klutz, Margaret.”

“And you're being nice.” She looked at him, her shoulders relaxing a bit.

“Well, maybe you're a little klutzy, but we all are at times.”

“I've seen you working on the roof. I have a hard time believing you're klutzy.”

“On roofs,
nee
. But I've taken my fair share of spills.” He leaned forward. “You don't have anything to apologize for. Or to thank me for. I'm the one who's thankful, that I was there to help.”

Margaret stared at him, then sighed. “Why is it all of the
gut
ones are taken?”

He furrowed his brow. “I don't know what you mean. I'm not taken.”

“Not yet. But you will be. Soon, I hope.” Margaret stood. “When I saw you and Naomi together, I knew there wasn't a chance for me. I saw the way you looked at her. The way she looked at you.” She sniffed and brought out a tissue she held in her hand. “You two are meant for each other.”

Zeke popped up from the couch and went to her. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. I didn't even know about the supper the other night. I thought I was having dinner with—”

“Naomi. I know.” Margaret wiped her nose. Her eyes started watering. “We kind of tricked you, a little.” She brushed away the tears with the back of her hand.

He had no idea how to comfort her. “Margaret, I feel really bad about this. Please don't cry.”

“Cry?” Margaret looked at him, frowning. “I'm not crying.” Then she looked at the tissue in her hand. “Oh, this. I'm still nursing this cold. Can you believe I got one on top of the stomach flu?”

Zeke moved a few inches away from her.

She chuckled. “I don't blame you for not wanting to get sick. Although I feel better today than I have in a while.” She smiled. “I'm not upset, and my feelings aren't hurt. Naomi deserves a
gut
mann
, Zeke. I think you've proved more than once that you are one.”

Zeke cleared his throat, embarrassed by the compliment. He stepped away from Margaret to gather his thoughts. He thought he'd dreamed that he'd seen something special in Naomi's eyes when she looked at him, but now Margaret confirmed it. “I'm glad you think Naomi and I should be together. I happen to agree with you. But she's determined to push me away.”

Margaret nodded. “That doesn't surprise me. We've been
freinds
for a few years, and she's headstrong sometimes. I don't think she realizes how stubborn she can be. But don't give up on her.”

“I don't plan to. But right now I don't know what to do.”

Margaret tapped her finger on her chin. Then her brow lifted. “I think I do.”

Zeke listened to Margaret's plan. “Do you think it will work?”

“
Ya
. I think it will. As long as we give her a little bit of time before we do anything. The question is, are you willing to do it?”

He nodded, despite a few doubts. But he couldn't be choosy right now. “I'll do anything to get her to talk to me again.”

•••

Naomi opened her eyes to the sunlight streaming through the window. Sunlight! She sat up in bed and looked at her alarm clock. Nearly seven o'clock. How could she have overslept? But she knew the reason why—she'd tossed and turned the night before, wondering if sending Zeke away had been a mistake. She hadn't seen him for days. She missed him.

Then she remembered David's abandonment and convinced herself she'd made the right decision. She remembered a quote she'd read long ago.
Better
to
have
loved
and
lost
than
never
have
loved
at
all
. But she had loved and lost, and she couldn't go through that again. Yet today her soul wasn't any more at peace than it had been last night.

The rest of the day everything seemed off balance. She burned the peach turnovers and miscounted a customer's change. At the end of the day she went to her parents' house, not wanting to be alone with her thoughts. She hadn't seen much of her mother and father this week. She followed the smell of fresh baked bread back to the kitchen.

When she walked inside, Sarah Mae jumped into her arms. “Naomi!”

“
Gut
to see you too, little one.” She kissed Sarah Mae's cheek and set her down, her sister's exuberant greeting just what she needed to hear. Sarah Mae ran over to the table where she was helping Priscilla peel apples. Naomi set down her book satchel on the corner of the kitchen counter and joined her sisters.

“You look tired,” Priscilla said, quickly winding a paring knife around a ruby red apple.

“I am.” She looked at her sister, who seemed pretty calm considering she liked things to be on schedule and under control. Naomi saw Sarah Mae struggle with the apple peeler. She settled the child in her lap, put her arms around her and her hands over the peeler, and guided her.

It wasn't long before Sarah Mae got bored. She wiggled out of Naomi's lap and landed on the floor. “I'm going to find
Mamm
,” she said and flew out of the kitchen.

Priscilla chuckled. “I'm surprised she stayed here this long. At least she got one apple peeled.”

“What are these for?” Naomi picked up the discarded peeler and an apple and started peeling with quick, practiced movements.

“Applesauce. We thought we'd make a couple extra batches beyond what's needed at the wedding.”

Naomi frowned. “I didn't know you were all getting together.”

Priscilla put down the finished apple. “It was a last-minute thing. Plus you'll be busy with your class tomorrow.”

Naomi shook her head and picked up another apple. “I canceled my classes for the next couple of weeks. I thought you knew that.”

Priscilla looked at her. “Oh
nee
. I can't believe I forgot to tell you. Margaret called for you last night.”

“What did she need?”

“She called about your cooking class, and she asked if you could do her a favor.”

“Sure.” Naomi moved to get up. “I'll go outside to the call box and give her a call.”

Priscilla put her hand on Naomi's arm, keeping her in place. “You don't have to do that. She already gave me the message. She has a special friend who wants to take your class tomorrow.”

“But she knows I've canceled my classes until after the wedding.”

Priscilla nodded. “That's why she needs the favor. She said her friend is leaving in a couple of weeks and won't be able to take another lesson.”

Naomi frowned. “Is this friend
Englisch
?” She had to be. Naomi couldn't imagine an Amish woman desperately needing a cooking lesson.

“Margaret didn't say.” Priscilla leaned back in the chair and crossed her arms over her chest, covering the thin white ribbons of her prayer
kapp
. “What if it is their only trip to Paradise?”

Naomi considered this. Some of her cooking students traveled from as far as the West Coast to Amish Country. She hated the idea of disappointing someone, and Margaret wouldn't have asked her for a favor if she really didn't need one. This friend must be very special. “Maybe I can teach one of my shorter lessons.”

“What about strudel?” Priscilla uncrossed her arms and gestured to the white-handled paper bags of apples on the table. “We have plenty of apples. All you would need would be the ingredients for the pastry.”

Naomi nodded. She always kept plenty of pantry staples on hand. Then she frowned. “But what about tomorrow? Are you sure you and
Mamm
won't need my help?”

Priscilla shook her head vigorously, her bright expression the exact opposite of what it had been a moment ago. “Hannah will be here. Between the three of us we can handle it.” She grinned. “
Danki
, Naomi.”

“Why are you thanking me?” Then she paused. “Do you know the student?”

“
Nee
, of course not.” Priscilla snatched an apple and began peeling it, keeping her head down. “I just appreciate you not being upset with me for forgetting to tell you Margaret called.” She hesitated and looked at Naomi. “It seems like everything has been going wrong lately. I'm a little worried about the wedding.”

“Don't be. Everything will be fine.” She smiled. “Just think, if you and Chester can get through this, you can get through everything.”

“I hope you're right. About getting through it, that is.”

Naomi's smile dimmed, wishing she could say something that would give her sister confidence. There had been a cloud of bad luck surrounding them lately. Besides the accident with the quilt and Abe breaking his wrist, progress on the house was much slower than expected. But despite the catastrophes happening around them, Chester and Priscilla loved each other. That was what really mattered.

Later that night Naomi went home. She'd intended to start over on the quilt this evening, but instead she had to prepare for her unexpected student tomorrow. She hoped the woman would be a quick study and that the lesson wouldn't last too long. But she wouldn't shortchange her. As Naomi prepared the ingredients, Zeke came to mind again. How he'd offered to help her with the quilt. The way she felt when their hands accidentally touched as they washed dishes. The rejection in his eyes when she told him to leave.

She sighed and plopped down on the kitchen chair. Why couldn't she stop thinking about him? At least she didn't have to worry about seeing him again. Until the wedding. But even then she could avoid him by making sure she was busy in the kitchen or serving the wedding guests. Then he would go back to Middlefield, and she would never have to see him again. Or think about him. Which relieved her. Or so she tried to tell herself.

•••

Naomi set out the mixing bowl on the table and stood back. She had everything ready for her lesson, including an index card with the recipe neatly written on it attached to the gift bag she usually gave her students—a long-handled wooden spoon, a metal eggbeater, a handcrafted potholder, and a collection of her favorite recipes written on cards and bound with a silver ring. She glanced at the clock on the wall above the table. Nine forty-five. Her classes started promptly at nine thirty. Maybe the student changed her mind. Naomi had to admit she wouldn't mind if that were the case. It wouldn't take her much time to clean up everything and get started on the quilt, which was weighing on her mind.

She heard a knock at the back kitchen door. On Saturdays she put a sign on her front door instructing her students to enter through the kitchen. She smoothed her apron, said a quick silent prayer that the lesson would go well, and answered the door. “Oh. Zeke.”