Bookends (32 page)

Emilie had never seen Jonas Fielding so flustered.

And to think,
she
was the reason!

They were headed out the front door together—her floating, him stumbling—when Jonas saw his Explorer parked by the curb, gasped, and started digging for his keys, as if he’d neglected something important.

“I … uh … almost forgot. I brought you a present.” He unlocked the door, then winked over his shoulder. “For Valentine’s Day.”

“You did?”
And I didn’t get him one, thoughtless me.
“Is it that big thing in the back?”

“Yup. You’re gonna love it, I promise. Stand back and let me surprise you, okay?” Jonas blocked her view as he opened the back hatch. Grabbing something in both hands, he swung around and held it aloft with a boyish grin.

“Victor, meet Emilie. Emilie, this is Victor.”

She nearly fainted. “Jonas, you wouldn’t! You
didn’t?
”

He lifted his chin proudly. “I did.”

“What is it?” Emilie stared at the heavy cage, aghast.

“A parrot,” Jonas informed her as he carried Victor inside the house. She trailed in behind him, still in shock, as an enormous, hanging stand and a bucketful of parrot food followed.

Emilie grimaced at the instant clutter in her living room. “Rather a pricey pet, isn’t she … uh,
he?
”

“Usually, yes.” Jonas brushed off his hands and stood back to survey his newest living contribution to Emilie’s happiness. The yellow-headed bird sported bright green feathers with a few dramatic touches of black and red, a large, hooked beak and four toes—two front, two back.

“The barber that sold him was going out of business.” Jonas poured some fresh food in Victor’s dish. “Gave me the deal of the century.” He closed the door and tapped on the cage with obvious affection. “I’ve taken care of Victor all week, telling him about you, getting him ready for the big move.”

“Oh really?”
An opening.
“Perhaps you’ll miss Victor.” Her voice oozed with sympathy. “You could certainly keep him at your house. Trix wouldn’t mind, would she?”

“That’s the point.” Jonas shifted his warm gaze away from the brightly
plumed bird and toward her. “I have Trix to keep me company. Now you’ll have Victor.”

Then, for the first of many times to come, Victor spoke.
“Pretty girl!”

His full-volume squawk ruffled Emilie’s feathers. “Good heavens! How often does he talk?”

“Whenever he feels he’s not getting enough attention. Isn’t that right, Victor?”

“Pretty girl!”

Emilie shivered at the grating sound, noticing how her heavily-sprayed hair barely moved when the rest of her did. “Is there some reason this bird only says
pretty girl?
”

Jonas nodded. “While Don’s customers sat around getting a shave and a haircut, if a nice-looking woman walked by, one of them invariably commented, ‘Pretty girl.’ Victor here picked up on it, and there you have it. Besides …” Jonas’ eyebrows wiggled meaningfully. “ ‘Pretty girl’ certainly seems like an apropos thing to say in this house tonight, don’t you agree?”

She smiled, trying hard to look happy about the whole thing. “But isn’t Mavis the goldfish enough? And Clarice the guinea pig? You know how much I’m … enjoying them.” She went for an emotional pitch. “Do you think a bird is a wise addition? Mavis or Clarice
might
get jealous, you know.”

He shook his head emphatically. “You can watch a goldfish, you can talk to a guinea pig, but a bird like Victor that speaks
back?
Now,
that’s
really something.” Jonas stepped closer, sliding one hand slowly up and down her silk sleeve. “And
you
are really something, Emilie Getz. Have I mentioned that this evening?”

She found her resistance—to parrots, among other things—melting at his gentle touch. “You
did
mention it a time or two. And while we’re on the subject—” she turned toward the door—“you look pretty handsome yourself.”

Minutes later, she decided
handsome
was also the right word for the three-story brick building that housed their destination for the evening, facing the town square a short stroll from her front door. The General Sutter Inn was almost as old as Lititz itself, offering food and lodging since 1764.

But it wasn’t history Emilie had on her mind tonight. It was the clear and present danger of having Jonas Fielding seated across the table from her, wearing his striking black suit and a devilish smile.

He’d recovered, it seemed, from his initial shock at her altered appearance.
Catching a glimpse of herself now in the long windows by their corner table, even she did a double-take.

Emilie wasn’t sure she liked all the froufrou. She was quite certain she could never reproduce it. But for one night, it was grand fun watching Jonas Fielding behave like an inept adolescent on a first date.

He was trying his best not to stare at her now. Generously granting him an opportunity to look to his heart’s content, Emilie gazed out the arched doorway that led to a brick courtyard dotted with half a dozen old maples. In the warmer months, tables were strewn across the bricks and light meals served. It was almost warm enough for that this evening, another midwinter respite from the cold weather that would undoubtedly return all too soon.

“What’s on your mind, pretty lady?”

She looked back at him then, noticing how the masculine planes of his face reflected the glow of the candles gracing their table and nestled in the colonial sconces on the wall. “Pretty? Jonas, you have never called me such a thing since the day we met.”

“Shame on me. I’ll count on Victor to remind me to do so.” His dark gaze roamed over her hair and face, then seemed to settle on her neck.

Too long, too thin.
She’d never liked her neck, had always been careful to swath it in sweaters, collars, high necklines, anything to hide its endless pale expanse.
Ick.

“You realize, of course, I’ll never look like this again.”

His face was the picture of innocence. “Like what?”

“Honestly, Jonas. I haven’t the faintest idea how to make my hair poof out like this, or line my eyes, or paint my nails.” She glanced down and realized to her horror that her thumbnail had already suffered a tiny chip. “You’ll have to take me as is, I’m afraid.”

“Nothing to be afraid of there,” he said gently.

She was relieved to see his attention focused on her eyes alone. Nonetheless, she rested one hand on either side of her bare neck, a vague image of embarrassed Eve and her fig leaves springing to mind.

Seconds later, a waiter appeared, pen in hand, and they placed their orders. Black Angus beef for him; roasted chicken, all white meat, for her. Their meals were delicious, their conversation warm but guarded. No discussion about the property, she noticed. If it didn’t come up during dinner, she intended to pursue the subject the minute they got back to her place.

One thing needed explaining posthaste. “Are you going to tell me why you kept your … ah, advanced education a secret?”

“A secret?” He managed a blank look. “Everybody knows.”

“But
I
didn’t know.”

“You didn’t ask.” His eyes twinkled. “Until Tuesday.”

She exhaled and tamped down her mounting frustration. “Couldn’t you have mentioned it yourself?”

“And missed seeing you toss around your credentials at every turn?” He reached for the coffee cup at his elbow, obviously planning to mask a smile.

“Point taken.” She pursed her lips, considering her next question. “Is it customary for a land developer to have a master’s, let alone a Ph.D.?”

“Nope.” He put down his coffee, his expression decidedly more serious. “Most of my peers at Rutgers had designs on teaching at the university level. I’ve got enough of my dad in me, I thought I might pursue that angle, too.” His lengthy sigh spoke volumes. “After one semester in the classroom, I discovered I liked the hands-on stuff better. Working with local government. Building a community first, making money second.” He shrugged. “Guess I’m an overeducated dirt pusher who likes to help people.”

And a modest one at that. The humility was genuine, as real and honest as the man himself.

Emilie sensed her chest constricting, right near the spot where her heart rested safely.
Maybe not so safely.
Until now, Jonas had been an articulate, attractive diversion.
Try again, Em.
He hadn’t merely diverted her, he’d steered her into deeper waters than she’d ever known existed.

He was regarding her with eyes that held no more secrets. Instead they shone with sincerity and integrity and something else, something at once foreign and familiar and altogether frightening.

Jonas cared for her.

And I care for him.

It was more than that, really. More than
care for
yet not quite
love.
Such a potent word, that. Was there nothing in the middle?

“Emilie, remember the Monday after your accident, the day we sat watching the creek overflow and I told you about my father?”

She nodded solemnly. As
if I could forget.

He sighed. “It’s taken me years to wrestle through the pain of his drowning. Suddenly I was a kid without a dad. Confused at first, then angry with
everybody, but mostly with God.”

“You were mad at God?”
Could one express such a thing and survive?

“God is hardly a stranger to anger, Emilie. He knows how to handle it. Especially when it stems from a broken heart, which it usually does.”

“But you had a right to be mad.”
Didn’t he?
“And to be heartbroken.”

“Yes.” He shifted on his chair to face her more fully. “I just didn’t want to live there. I wanted someone to love me as much as my dad did, someone who could understand my anger and forgive it.”

Emilie nodded slowly. “So … did your mother fill that role?”

His chuckle caught her off guard. “My mother was a fine person, Emilie, but she could never fill my father’s shoes. Only the Lord could do that. See, it was losing my earthly father that sent me in search of a heavenly one.”

He seemed to relax at that admission. “ ’Course, I didn’t know that at the time. But since I figured it out a few years back …” He shrugged. “I guess I thought I’d share it with you.”

She slipped her hand across the table and touched the strong fingers resting on his coffee cup. “I’m honored that you did, Jonas.”
Honored? Is that the best you can do, Em?
“You mean … a lot to me.”
Better.
“It’s wonderful to know how your relationship with the Lord came about.” She felt her skin warm. “After all, you were there when my own took wing.”

He nodded, all the tension gone from his face, a wistful smile playing on his lips. “A nice way to put that, Emilie. How are you two flying along these days?”

She chewed on her lower lip, realizing her Wildfire mouth was no longer such a vivid hue. “I’ve noticed little things. My time in the
Daily Texts,
for example, has been more meaningful. More personal.”

“Good. What else?”

“I think about other people more.”
Especially you, Jonas.

He signaled the waiter for their check, then leaned forward, his eyes merry with expectation. “Anyone in particular?”

She pretended to scowl. “Are you fishing for compliments again?”

“I had beef, you had chicken—the only thing left on the menu is seafood.”

At that, they both laughed, winding down in tandem to a silent exchange of significant glances.

“So …” he began, then paused, his eyes trained on hers.

“So,” she echoed, uneasy with the direction things were going, yet just as eager to press on. The uneasiness won out and Emilie smoothly pivoted their discussion along a different vein. “Your relationship with God is solid. Are all your brothers on the same footing?”

“Two out of three.” His voice was low as he leaned sideways to pull out his credit card, the magic between them vanishing like will-o’-the-wisp.

Between Chris, Jeff, and Nathan, she was fairly certain who the prodigal son might be, though now she wished she’d let things move in a more tender direction. Perhaps later. Perhaps not.

Don’t be such a scaredy-cat, Em!

They rose to leave, winding through the dining room, drawing attention with every step. Emilie glanced back over her shoulder, then forward again, smiling to herself. Odd as it felt, they made a rather handsome couple in their black dressy attire. Scooping up complimentary mints at the front desk, they stepped out the door onto Main and found the balmy afternoon temperatures had fallen considerably.

Unprepared, Emilie gasped when the decidedly colder night air hit her neck and shoulders. Her silk-and-satin dress was no match for February’s changeable weather. “I knew I should have worn a coat,” she murmured, hurrying down the steps. Home was only one full block away, but her nonsensical shoes slowed her down, even as her pride kept her going.

They were in front of Benner’s Pharmacy when Jonas finally talked her into wearing his jacket, which quickly swallowed her up in its black folds. It held his warmth, though, and his savory scent, both of which made her forget she was wearing such ridiculous shoes.