The Amish Heart of Ice Mountain (22 page)

Chapter Thirty-Four

The foliage was at its absolute peak and the reds were so rich they looked like a painting, especially where the colors were reflected in the creeks and lake, producing vibrant mirrored images. Occasionally, a still green leaf peeked out oddly under the masses of orange and yellow, but what was far more attractive to Edward was the lemony scent of Sarah's hair, drifting up to his nostrils and making him feel like she was part and parcel of nature's bounty itself. He also liked the slight bounce of her firm breasts against his arm where he held her safely upright against him, and the way her bottom nestled back to meet the juncture of his thighs each time Sunny moved.

By the time they'd decided on one of the high fields, with the tall red and brown grasses stretched out to the trees, Edward was feeling painfully aroused.
And she obviously can't tell because she's squirming like a kitten against me. . . .
He dismounted with some difficulty, then reached up and swung her down, letting her slide full against him as she hit the ground. She made a delicious
O
of surprise with her mouth, and he fell to kissing her with deft strokes of his tongue. She returned his enthusiasm with delightful skill and he managed to break away to ask the eager question. “May we have dessert first, sweet?”

“You mean peanut butter and chocolate?” she teased, running her small hands up and down his shirtfront.

“
Nee
,” he groaned, too far aroused for even wordplay. “Please, Sarah.”

“
Jah
,” she whispered.

He quickly tied Sunny, then led Sarah some distance from the horse, walking until the grasses were waist high and it was as though they waded through an ocean of soft stalks. Then he turned to her and slowly pressed her to the ground, the grasses yielding to form a pliant bed beneath and around them.

He reached down and undid the jumble of skirts then pulled down her bloomers and found the warm skin beneath her shift, damp and ready for him. She reached up and helped him with capable hands, working at his pants while he leaned back and squinted into the sun. Then he was free and she guided him home, making small breathy sounds of pleasure that caused shivers to run down his back and wrapped ribs until he could restrain himself no longer and fully gave in to the pleasure he sought, and she soon joined him in mutual ecstasy.

A few moments later, he lifted his head to look down in wonder at her when she spoke softly.

“I think I've just conceived, Edward.”

“What?”

She giggled, like a little girl with a precious secret. “I know it sounds silly, but I can feel it.” She pressed his hand against her belly, the outside of her womb. “Can you feel it?”

He shook his head, bemused but smiling. “If you want me to, sweet.”

“Some women can, you know. I've read it in
Grossmuder
May's journal. But anyway, I know it as sure as I know my own name.”

Edward thought hard. “It's your body. I suppose anything is possible with
Gott
, and I pray that you are right.”

She pulled his head down and kissed him until he felt a quickening in his blood. “
Ach
, Edward, we must
kumme
back to this spot to conceive all of our
kinner
.”

At this juncture, he would have agreed to anything. So he nodded and smiled. “
Jah
, sweet.
Jah
.”

 

 

Sarah had just laid out the little delicacies she'd packed for the picnic on the large blanket when she heard voices coming through the field. She looked over at Edward, who shrugged and stood up. He waved to someone, then put his hands on his hips, obviously waiting.

“Who is it?” she whispered.

“
Englisch
hikers. I'm afraid we'll have to share our lunch, sweet.”

Sarah groaned faintly, wanting their privacy to continue but grateful that they hadn't been interrupted a few minutes earlier. She put her hand up to make sure her
kapp
was straight, then got up to greet the hikers.

There was a man and a woman, each carrying what to Sarah seemed like massively tall backpacks. But the two people were young and looked healthy and were obviously grateful for the invitation to lunch.

“I'm Sam and this is Dolores. We're doing the Appalachian Trail but kind of got lost a little bit looking for the Pennsylvania Grand Canyon.”

“Well, you're not that far off,” Edward assured them, then looked at their map and made a brief mark on it with a pencil Sam offered.

“Gee, thanks, and thanks for lunch. Everything looks great, Miss uh . . .”

“Sarah,” she replied sweetly. “I'm Edward's wife. Are you two married?”

“No,” Dolores answered. “Just living together for now.”

“Oh . . .” Sarah said, feeling at a loss as she handed out plates and things.

Sam grinned. “You're Amish, right? Not Mennonite. You probably think living together isn't that great, but it works for us.”

“We try not to judge,” Edward offered.

“Well,” Dolores said, smiling, “you two look awfully young to be married. May I ask how old you are?”

“Dolores,” Sam hushed her, but Edward gave their ages with ease.

“Oh, these pickled beets are the best,” Sam assured Sarah. “So, can you tell us how much of that TV show
Amish Cops
is actually real?”

Sarah gazed at him helplessly, but Edward laughed. “I used to work away on the Marcellus Shale gas rigs. I saw that show a few times—it's completely false. I had no idea people would go to such lengths to make up stuff about our people.”

“Oh, the Amish are big now in English culture,” Sam said. “Dolores even reads all those Amish romance books.”

“Amish—romance?” Sarah asked faintly.

“Yes.” Dolores colored a bit. “They're all perfectly clean, well, for the most part.”

“Okay,” Sarah said, not understanding as she got out the peanut butter cookies, which were received with lavish enthusiasm.

When everything had been eaten, the hikers hefted their packs once more, shook hands with Sarah and Edward, and headed back across the grass.

Sarah watched them go. “Strange,” she murmured.

“Well,” Edward said as he bent to nuzzle her neck, “we probably seem strange to them, too.”

“
Nee
, I mean the clean Amish romance thing.... I've never known an
Amischer
to be dirty as a person.”

Edward threw back his head and laughed, and she smacked him lightly in the chest. “What are you laughing about?”

He sobered quickly and cuddled her close. “I'm rejoicing in your innocence, sweet.”

She pouted, then touched his sleeve. “Well, thanks to you, I'm not that innocent.”

“And I wouldn't have it any other way.”

Chapter Thirty-Five

Edward woke to the delicious smell of boiling pumpkin and sweet spices and realized that Sarah must have chosen this day to take on the piles of pumpkins and gourds in the small barn. He glanced out the window and saw that it was a clear day, but the wind blew, sending some fresh leaves in gentle swirls to the ground. He decided it was a
gut
time to slip away to Joe's to see how Sarah's birthday spice box was coming along.

He dressed hurriedly and went into the kitchen, only to find Ernest and Clara there, already helping their big sister. “I'm sorry I overslept,” he said, moving to kiss Sarah on her temple. She nodded and smiled, clearly absorbed in her work.

“I'm going to run over to Joe's for a bit, if that's okay with you.”

“Hmm?
Ach
, fine . . . but Edward, can you stop at Ben's and pick up some more cinnamon?” she asked, stirring a big pot of pumpkin cubes.

“All right, sweet.”

He said good-bye to Ernest and Clara, then stepped out onto the porch, only to nearly slip on a large tarp spread there, filled with pumpkin guts. He shook his head as he navigated the stairs....
When Sarah does something, she goes all out . . . and I am blessed in that.

He started to whistle, going down the path, when he noticed Mahlon rather hanging around near the large oak at the foot of the hill. He called to his father-in-law, glad to see him up and around.

“Mahlon . . . how are you?”

“I be fine,
buwe
, thanks to our Sarah and the Hand of
Gott
.”

Edward nodded. “I know. Sometimes I feel that I'm fine because of her.”

But Edward sensed that there was something more the older man wanted to talk about, so he kept walking and Mahlon fell into step with him, finally giving a huge sigh like a big golden retriever.

“Edward, I've got a message for you, and ya probably will find it strange.”

Edward smiled. “Okay. Go ahead.”

Mahlon drew a deep breath. “It's from yer grandfather, Elijah King.”

The smile slipped from Edward's face and he stopped dead still. “My grandfather? He's been dead since I was a child.”

“I know, and I debated inside ta tell ya or not, but it feels right to say.”

Edward swallowed. “Can you start at the beginning?”

Mahlon ran a hand under his hat, then looked Edward square in the eye. “It's like this . . . I wuz dyin', I think, and I started to see folks who'd gone on before . . . my
mamm
, a doctor, folks like that. But then there came a man I didn't know but who looked like you—a big fella. He said his name was Elijah King, and ta tell you to answer this one question. . . .”

Edward waited impatiently while Mahlon took out a blue checkered hankie and ponderously blew his nose.

“And then?” Edward prompted.

“The question was—how do you forgive yourself? He said if ya could answer that, then you'd be free.”

Edward puzzled over the words, then felt a familiar sinking sickness pulsing in his chest and knew he was having another panic attack.
Just great . . . I go two weeks without panic and then my dead grandfather, who gave me my first drink, shows up to make me miserable....

Mahlon must have sensed that Edward was feeling ill and shook his head. “'Tis sorry I am to give you such words. Maybe they're foolishness,
sohn
, the ramblings of a fever dream—even though they sure felt real.”

Edward reached out and patted the other man's sleeve, trying to pace his breathing. “It's all right. I appreciate that you gave me the message and I will think about it.”
A lot. Like forever, and never come to an answer . . .

Mahlon gave him a bone-crunching hug and they parted ways at Ben's store. Edward decided to go inside to seek some cinnamon and some advice.

Canning pumpkin was supposed to be relatively easy, but
Grossmuder
May had had a bumper crop and Sarah began to think that there would be no end to the pumpkins Edward kept hauling from the smaller barn.

They finally got some sort of system down. Clara sat outside on the tarp with a rubber apron on and cut the pumpkins in half from top to bottom. Then she'd scrape out the seeds and pulp, leaving the flesh clean. Then Ernest would bring the readied pumpkin into the
haus
and they'd slice it into one-inch-wide wedges and cut it into one-inch cubes. Then Sarah would boil it for two minutes, add spices, and transfer the whole thing into sterilized quart jars, pouring water from the pot over the cubes to cover them.

Then the entire routine had to be repeated again.

“I'm sure glad for your help,” Sarah told Ernest and Clara while she stepped out of the steamy kitchen to catch a breath of cool air on the front porch.

“
Ach
, we love to help,” Clara declared, and Ernest gave a mumbling assent.

“You don't know how nice it'll be to add my own canning to
Grossmuder
May's in the root cellar. It feels like I'm really a
hausfrau
now or something.” Sarah laughed.

“Because of pumpkin?” Ernest snorted.

But Sarah saw Clara lift her eyes to meet hers in gentle mutual understanding, and she was very glad she had a sister at that moment.

Edward entered Ben's store and completely forgot about the cinnamon. He walked the length of the place, going to the back where Ben worked his second job as a bootmaker. The jolly man was at it now, his large apron tied about his hulking frame as he carefully pounded on an upside-down boot set on a form.

“
Ach
, Edward . . .
gut
to see ya. You
kumme
wanting more dress material for your wife?” Ben teased.

“Nee.”
Edward helped himself to a black licorice whip from the jar on the counter. “I actually need some advice.”

“Advice?” Ben looked pleased and put down his hammer. “Well, then, you've
kumme
to the right place, Edward. Tell me all about it.”

“Well—” Edward drew a deep breath. “Do you believe in ghosts, Ben?”

“Ghosts?
Nee
. . . why, do you know one?” There was an expression of complete seriousness on Ben's face and Edward almost laughed, but then he remembered his own panic.

“
Nee
, I don't know one but I've had sort of a message from one and I . . .”

Ben picked up his hammer and started to pound. “Can't really stop to talk now, Edward. I'm sure everything will be all right. Perfectly fine.”

Edward sighed, sucking on his licorice. Clearly Ben was of the superstitious sort, as many of the Mountain
Amisch
were, but Edward had never suspected it of the hulking store owner.

Edward waved good-bye and headed out, deciding he might as well check on the spice box as he'd intended.