The Amish Heart of Ice Mountain (14 page)

Chapter Twenty

“Sarah, I think there's someone at the door,” Edward muttered, still half-asleep. She frowned mutely down at him where his blond hair lay in tousled strands against the pillow he clutched.

He must be exhausted, she thought, then pushed aside the feeling of pity she had for him. Someone at the door indeed, and he should be tired after all the drinking he'd done for the past weeks, though in truth she had to admit that he'd not touched a drop since they'd been home from the hospital. Instead, he'd gently and tenderly seen to her needs with a solicitousness she found hard to ignore at times.

A knock sounded and she blinked in surprise. There was someone at the door....

She carefully folded back the quilt and was going to swing her legs over the side of the bed when Edward caught her about the waist. “Lie down, sweetheart,” he murmured. “I'll go. It's probably somebody sick.”

She did as he asked, resolutely telling herself that she didn't care if the bishop himself was ailing, then straining her ears as Edward left the bedroom, shrugging into a shirt over his low-slung pants.

He was back moments later. “Sarah—tell me what to fetch for croup. Lilly Knepp's
sohn
is sick.”

She rolled on her side and pulled her pillow over her head only to thrust it away a second later. “
Ach
,” she cried. “I can't. I cannot go forward and I cannot go back.”

Edward groaned. “Please sweet—the croup?”

“Ipecac,” she snapped. “Make him throw up the phlegm and then give him honey and lemon to soothe his throat.”

He left again and wasn't back for some time. She drifted off, only to wake to the haunting sensation of his mouth on hers, hot, damp, and longing.

She opened her eyes to find him sound asleep and she turned away, telling herself that she'd been dreaming and did not feel disappointed.

 

 

Edward was still half-asleep, aware of the fall of morning sunlight behind his eyelid but still unwilling to give in to its pull. He stretched out a hand and felt her next to him, all warmth and cuddle and more than right. He moved with languid heat, rubbing against her thigh, nuzzling her neck, and then lifting his weight until she was beneath him.

“
Ach
, Sarah, you feel so
gut
.” He kissed her with raw passion, then moved between her legs, but for some reason, she was not ready for him. He tried again, growing frantic. “Please,” he whispered.

It was a small squeak of pain that brought him fully awake and he stared down at Sarah in growing horror. He pulled back on his knees between her sprawled thighs and ran a hand through his sweat-dampened hair. “Sarah, I'm sorry—I was half-asleep. Did I hurt you?”

“Only a bit,” she said, trying to work her nightdress from beneath his knee.

He scrambled backward and covered his nakedness with the tangled sheet. “I—I'd better make my bed in front of the fire for now,” he offered, then swallowed when she gave a small nod of acceptance. Clearly, she was embarrassed and he felt like a fool.

“You were probably exhausted,” she said in quiet tones when he left the bed to hastily clamber into his pants. “I mean, after helping Lilly's
sohn
last
nacht
when I—when I wouldn't.”

He heard the anguish in her voice and sighed, then sat back down on the edge of the bed. “Wouldn't? Or couldn't, Sarah? There's a difference, you know.” He reached to touch her hand and thought hard. “That day in the ice mine, Sarah, when you found the belladonna, I found something, too.”

“What?” she sniffed.

He got up, crossed to his dresser, and pulled a folded piece of tinfoil from the top drawer, then came back to the bed.

“What is it?” she asked when he handed it to her.

“I found it in the mine. At first I thought it was a piece of trash, but then I unfolded it. It's a note from Hollie, Joseph and Priscilla's
dochder
.”

“Hollie? Why would she leave a note in the mine?” She gave him a puzzled look.

“I asked Joseph when you slept yesterday. He said it was for the angel Hollie said she thought she saw there once.” He shrugged. “You're the closest thing to an angel that I can see, Sarah. So read it.”

He watched her open the foil with hands that shook a bit and then she began to read:

“But I'm not,” she whispered, clutching the paper. “I didn't go to Lilly's
sohn
and I let Deborah . . .” She broke off, and he stared at her hard.

“Deborah? Deborah Zook?”

She nodded, tears welling up in her gray eyes.

“What happened that
nacht
with Deborah, Sarah? Tell me.”

“You'd hate me.”

“Do you really think you have the power of life and death in your hands as healer? Because she died?”

“
Nee
.” She looked him square in the eye. “Because I killed her.”

 

 

Sarah saw the incredulity on her husband's face and forced herself to continue holding his gaze.

“What?” he asked in confusion.

She reached to her bedside table and brought
Grossmuder
May's journal onto her lap. Quickly, she found the right page. “Here.” She handed the open book to Edward.

“Frau Zug's potion? What's this?”

“Something to prevent pregnancy. Something I withheld from Deborah Zook. Her death was my doing.”

She watched him through her tears, staring at the old page, until he lifted his head. “So you think you're guilty of murder because Deborah was too—passionate—and because she and her beau didn't use a simple condom?” He sighed. “And sweetheart, did you ever stop to think that for her to die from a miscarriage, the pregnancy must have been somewhat advanced? I mean—I'm no healer, but suppose she was already pregnant when she came seeking that potion from you?”

A slow dawning lifted at her consciousness with her husband's words....
I didn't have time to think that
nacht
, but she must have been more advanced in the pregnancy
. . . . She stared at him. “The pregnancy was further along . . . you're right. With that much blood . . .
ach
, Edward,” she half-sobbed, feeling some relief ebb into her soul.

He squeezed her hand. “Everyone has a
Gott
-appointed time to die.”

She nodded, then thought of something else she knew she must tell him. “What would you say if you knew I thought about using Frau Zug's potion myself?”

“To prevent pregnancy?”

“
Jah
.” She felt her cheeks flush.

He shrugged. “I'd like
kinner
, but I would have been glad of some time with you alone.”

“You mean you wouldn't have been angry?” she cried.

He laid the book aside, then leaned in close to her until she was forced to lift her fingertips to his bare shoulders. “
Nee
,” he whispered, bending to brush his lips across hers. “Not angry.”

She choked on a sob and he kissed away tears, finding their tracks up and down her face, slowly enticing her to hesitantly lift her mouth to his.

 

 

He was reciting math facts in his head, trying to do anything to slow his heated body down, but he couldn't suppress a groan as she threaded her fingers through the hair at the back of his neck.

He didn't want to make love to her with her injuries so fresh and wondered why he'd started the whole process, but he hadn't expected her uninhibited responsiveness. It was as if her confession to him about the potion and Deborah had released some storm inside her, and he didn't want her to regret her actions later.

The decision was taken from him when someone knocked loudly at the door. He made a low sound in his throat, then pulled from her with reluctance. “Duty calls, sweet. You just tell me what to do if it's—whatever people get at this time of night.”

She smiled up at him sweetly, her lips red and swollen. “You go back to sleep, my husband. I will handle it.”

“As healer?”

“
Jah
.” She nodded.

He grinned. “Let's handle it together.”

Her answering kiss told him that she agreed.

Chapter Twenty-One

The next week, Sarah felt well enough to walk to Ben Kauffman's store alone. Edward had been reluctant, but then one of the Graber men had
kumme
asking for help building cold frames to satisfy a late taste for fresh salad and her husband had uneasily let her go.

She'd been glad. She had it in mind to do a certain thing that
Gott
had been pressing on her heart lately and hoped her plan would work out all right. She realized that Edward hadn't said he loved her again since the ice mine, but he'd been kindness itself to her in both word and deed. Now she felt the need to let him know her true feelings about him and not act with the anger she had when he'd spoken before. She was also hoping that her plan would move him from where he stretched his lean body before the fire each night back to their cozy bed....

As she walked, she had the sudden uneasy sense that she was being followed and spun around to find the engineer from Marcellus Shale, Jim Hanson, only a few steps behind.

“You startled me.” She laughed, putting a hand to her throat.

He gave her a nice smile. “I'm sorry—you're Edward King's wife, right? I'm Jim. I don't think we've ever formally met.” He held out a hand and she took it slowly, unfamiliar with such doings.

“I'm Sarah.”

His handshake was light and reassuring and she let him fall into step beside her as she walked.

“You're the local healer, aren't you?”

She must have looked surprised because he laughed. “I hear a lot of men talk and general gossip down at the store and in different homes.”

“
Ach
, well . . . yes, I am.”

Jim Hanson nodded, and she couldn't help but ask the question that drifted at the back of her mind.

“You've been invited to individual homes, Mr. Hanson? I mean—not that my people are closed here—my own
bruder
-in-law, Jude, was
Englisch
. But I'm surprised . . . that's all.”

“Call me Jim. . . . Of course you wonder because the Marcellus Shale business is rather a sticky topic.... Well, in fact, several families have already invested the initial fee with R and D to become shareholders in a well site. The well we'd like to drill would allow them to keep their homes and would not destroy the beauty of your mountain here.”

“Invested?” Sarah kept her voice casual, though she felt a sudden alarm in her heart. Her people were honest and trusting when it came to money and largely dealt with cash when making their payments in the world.

“Sure,” Jim went on. “Only a few thousand . . . I should have approached Edward and you about it first, I guess. But things are looking good.”

They'd nearly reached the store when Sarah knew she had to go home to talk to Edward immediately about the money folks had given to Jim Hanson.

“Uh, if you'll excuse me—Jim. I just thought of something . . .”

She told herself that she was imagining the speculation in his glance, but he gave her a polite nod and a kind farewell, leaving her to hurry back along the path home.

 

 

Edward closed the lid on the burgeoning cold frame garden with satisfaction. Emmet Graber had
kumme
over, wanting to see this technique that would extend the growing season for many plants far into the next year.

“You've got an ongoing salad garden and then some growing there,” Emmet said with a grin. “You plan on cultivating those back fields next year?”

Edward nodded. “I can't wait to get my hands on that
auld
plow in the barn.”

“Well, truth to tell, I'd be glad to pay you to
kumme
over to my place to help me set up a few of these cold frames.... The missus would be right grateful to have fresh vegetables for the
kinner
throughout the winter.”

“I'd be glad to, Emmet. How about on . . .” Edward broke off when he saw Sarah hurrying up the path. “Uh, excuse me . . . my wife.”

Emmet smiled faintly. “You go on now. I remember what it was to be first married.”

Edward smiled, wishing Sarah hurried to him for a
gut
reason, and went to meet her.

 

 

“Several thousand dollars?” Edward repeated the phrase as he sat at the kitchen table, his head bowed.

Sarah watched him sorrowfully, knowing he was in pain but unsure how to make it right. “Edward, we all sin. But maybe, as my
daed
said the bishop mentioned,
Gott
will turn that letter you wrote into
gut
somehow.”

He shook his head. “Not if it's going to cost my people their savings . . . I . . . I made so many mistakes because of drinking. I don't know how to fix . . .” He broke off when she moved to stand next to him, pressing her belly into his arm, and he leaned his head back to look up at her. She bent and boldly pressed her mouth to his, kissing him hard and deep, until she felt the tension ease and change in him. He broke away with a gasp. “Sarah—what?”

She smiled. “Do you know why I hurried back here, Edward King?”

“To tell me about Jim Hanson?” he whispered.

She shook her head, moving even closer to him, until she could feel his arm press hard against her.

“
Nee
, because there was no one else I wanted to
kumme
to with my trouble but you. . . . I trust you. I love you, Edward.”

She watched the expression of mingled joy and disbelief on his handsome face and felt a tingle down her spine. Impulsively, she tugged on the fabric of his cream-colored shirt until he turned, the
auld
chair making a faintly screeching noise against the floor. He moved to stand, but she pushed his shoulders back lightly, then let her capable fingers find the pins in his shirt, moving to undo each one with relative haste. She eased his suspenders down and pushed the fabric off his broad shoulders, revealing the taut skin beneath. She touched him as she'd always wanted to, running her hands down his arms, finding each superbly lined muscle, then back up to let her hands rest on the pulse of his throat for a moment, reveling in the galloping beat she felt there. Then she leaned close to his mouth again and said the words she'd sworn never to say—“Edward King, my husband, my life, will you make love to me?”

 

 

He stood, his arms still hampered by his shirt, then arched his neck in pleasure when her small, clever fingers found his nipples on his chest, gently pulling and squeezing. He groaned, then shrugged out of the shirt and bent to kiss her, his tongue delving into the dark softness of her mouth as he lifted her easily into his arms.

He walked into the bedroom, not breaking the kiss, and lay her gently on the bed. Almost everything in him wanted things to go fast and hard, but he also realized what a gift it was to truly be with the woman he loved, and his frantic breathing slowed as he began to undress her. He banished her apron and infernal gray dress to the floor, promising himself that one day soon he'd buy her colored fabric for new dresses, a new life . . . and then he paused, hanging over her on outstretched arms.

“Sarah . . . do you want . . . how long does Frau Zug's potion take to work?”

And then he was lost when she smiled tenderly and reached her uncasted arm up to encircle his neck. “Nothing would please me more than to be filled with your
boppli
, my love.”

He kissed her then, lifting her so that his big hands spanned her small waist, and she parted her legs for him; a sweet, open homecoming, begging him for entry.

He bit his lip until he tasted blood, moving gently against her hidden barrier, then backing away, wanting her pain to be minimal.

“Edward . . .” She wiped the blood from his mouth, then stroked his cheek. “I want you so much. . . .” She lifted her hips and he heard a choked sound come from the back of his throat, half sob, half groan, and then he plunged forward into a tight storm, trying to keep his eye open so he might see her pleasure, but he was helpless when she began to move with him, all fire and tenderness until the moment burst into fluid movement and he collapsed, replete with the knowledge of mutual sustenance, on the bare fullness of her breast.