Ties That Bind (3 page)

“Wow.” He backed away, staring into her eyes. “That was worth waiting for.”

With her face close to his, she gazed into his eyes. “For sure and certain.”

He traced a finger down her cheek and kissed her again. “So…,” he whispered, “does this mean I can tell my parents I'm seeing someone?”

This was Rudy, no pretense that she could see. He wanted to mean more to her than any other guy she'd dated, and at times, like now, he didn't mind looking for signs of it. What was the saying—what you see is what you get? That's who Rudy was, and after the deception that turned her life upside down five years ago, she desperately needed that in anyone who wanted to get close.

“Absolutely.”

He brushed his thumb over her lips. “Denki.”

Knowing Rudy, she was confident he intended his thank-you to be all-inclusive—for the kiss and for saying she was committed to him. Her Mamm used to tell her she would never regret going slowly with a guy—not sharing too much or letting him kiss her or even hold her hand too soon. Based on the moment they'd just shared and the earnestness in Rudy's voice, Ariana knew that her Mamm had been right.

He leaned in, kissing her again. A gust of wind shoved against the rig as lightning shot across the sky. It startled her, and she pulled away from him, leaned toward the windshield, and gazed up at the sky.

Rudy placed his hand on the middle of her back. “It's a good sign.”

She glanced at him.

He chuckled. “We made the heavens rumble and the winds howl.”

Was Rudy's heart pounding like hers from the kiss? Now they had to return to behaving like normal? Was that even possible? She removed the reins from the stob and clicked her tongue for the horse to start walking.

Rudy stretched his arm across the back of the seat behind her. Until now they had each stayed on their side of the carriage. It was silly not to. What kind of needy girl couldn't sit in her own space while going down the road?

He ran his thumb up and down her shoulder. “If my parents visit, would you come to my uncle's home and meet them?”

She nibbled on the inside of her lip, thinking. Was she
that
committed to this relationship? “Ya.”

“Very cool.” His deep, soft voice indicated pleasure.

A light rain began to patter against the windshield, and she turned on the battery-powered wiper blade. Rudy seemed different than anyone else, as if he understood her true value and respected it. It'd been a long, slow journey to get beyond the betrayal by her two closest friends, but Rudy had a real shot at stealing her heart.

Most of it anyway. Or at least enough of it.

“Who's Berta again?” Rudy asked. “I mean, you're in and out of her place, helping her regularly. And you said she's in the hospital for a few days because of dehydration from a bug of some sort. But doesn't she have children who can look after her horse?”

His question caused an unwelcome ache to pierce her heart. “None that remained Amish. Or live close.”

Rain fell harder as she pulled onto Berta's driveway.

“None?”

She stared in the distance, wishing for the zillionth time she had a different answer. “None,” she whispered.

“That's sad, but at least she has you.”

The word
sad
didn't begin to explain it. Neither Berta nor Eli, her deceased husband, had family in the area. Ariana's Mamm said the couple moved here almost forty years ago, not long after they were married. They came here for an apprenticeship, which turned into a secure position for Berta's husband, but Ariana had no idea why Berta hadn't returned to her childhood home rather than living here without any relatives.

“I'll grab the mail before we pull up to the barn.” Rudy jumped out of the rig and hurried toward the mailbox.

Lightning flashed, and the perfect silhouette of a man appeared between the old homestead and the dilapidated barn. Her heart pounded. Were her eyes playing tricks?

Squinting, she stared out the window. Lightning streaked across the sky again, and the ghostlike figure now stood ten or so feet closer, staring right at her.

Rudy climbed back into the carriage, rain dripping off his straw hat. “I think it's only junk mail.”

She couldn't take a breath for staring at the hatless man in what appeared to be jeans and a white T-shirt that was plastered to him. The strobe illuminations from the lightning ceased, and the man once again became a shadowy figure before he seemingly disappeared behind the house.

After all these years had Quill Schlabach returned to check on his Mamm? The idea made the hairs on the back of her neck rise, and the sensation slowly eased down her torso and arms until she was covered in goose bumps.

She hated feeling any kind of hope when it came to him and Frieda. Well…she hoped they were happy and safe, but she wanted her emotions rooted firmly in reality where Berta was concerned.

If Quill was here, Ariana couldn't imagine how to make herself speak to him. He put his Mamm and her in such an awful position. Was he worthy of tossing even a crumb of bread to? But she knew that was sheer anger, and God asked people to treat others as He would treat them. So how would He treat Quill in this situation? Seemed to her that God had the perfect chance to strike the man with lightning, but He hadn't.

“Rudy, would you tend to the horses? I…I need to check on the cat.”

Rudy touched her shoulder. “You okay?”

She could hardly breathe for the anger stirring to life again. Rudy put his hand on her back, and the gentle query relaxed her. “Ya.” She wiped the foggy windshield with her hand, trying to catch another glimpse of the figure. “Would you mind climbing into the haymow and tossing down enough hay to last a few days?” That should keep Rudy busy for a few extra minutes.

If Quill was here, he wasn't likely to risk Rudy seeing him on his mother's property. It could cause more trouble for Berta, and regardless of Quill's lack of character, Ariana was positive he wouldn't do anything that might hurt his Mamm worse than he already had.

He was a dishonest, shady person who seemed to have limits on how low he would go.

“I don't mind a bit.” Rudy pulled the rig up to the sidewalk that led to the side entry of the porch. “I didn't bring an umbrella.”

“I won't melt.”

“Once you hop out, I'll drive the rig into the barn to get the horse out of the rain for a bit.”

“Okay.” Did he notice that her voice sounded hollow and distant? Her mouth was dry as she forced herself to get a key out of her purse before leaving the carriage. Cold, prickly rain doused her. By the time she ran up the sidewalk and climbed the porch stairs, she was drenched.

She walked to the back of the wraparound porch. Wet footprints led to an open window in Quill's former bedroom. It wasn't a burglar. There hadn't been a break-in around these parts for as far back as she could remember. The so-called Amish Nightcrawler did the only thievery around here, and he took willing Amish folk like Quill and Frieda, not items found in a widow-woman's home.

Shaking all over, she returned to the side door and let herself in. After locating the matches on the old laminate countertop, she struck one, illuminating the kitchen as she held the flame to the wick of a candle. Goose bumps covered her again as she carried the old metal candlestick holder down the hallway toward the bedroom at the end, the one with the open window. “Quill?”

Eerie silence followed. She supposed it could be one of his four older brothers, but she was certain it wasn't.

“I know you're here.” She could feel it. Hadn't she felt this same weird, pinprickly, hair-raising thing several times over the last five years?

If he'd come to check on his Mamm and she hadn't been here for a few days, he would be confused. “Your Mamm is fine.” Would a man who'd broken his mother's heart and embarrassed her in front of everyone care enough to keep checking on her?

The cat meowed from inside Quill's room, but it didn't run to her as usual. She'd forgotten that it had been Quill's cat at one time.

Still seeing no one, she chose to press on—out of respect for the love Berta had for Quill more than anything else. Of Berta's five children, who had left the Amish at different times, Quill, her youngest, had given no forewarning. He hadn't argued with his Mamm about it or whispered to Ariana about it. When he'd taken off at twenty years old, he'd taken more than Ariana's heart. He'd taken with him a teen girl, the daughter of Berta's closest friend. The betrayal seemed unforgiveable to Ariana, but Berta still spoke of Quill as if he'd done nothing wrong.

Ariana stopped a few feet from his room. “Your Mamm was really sick with a virus of some sort, and she needed to spend a few days in the hospital.” She spoke into the dark as if she could see him “That's all. She's expected to come home in a day or two.” She felt silly talking like this, and with every second that passed, anger grew—anger at Quill, at herself, and at the fact that the grass outside the Amish community looked greener for far too many.

She'd told him plenty, perhaps more than he deserved, so she headed for the kitchen. When she reached the end of the hallway and had the front door in sight, she heard the floor creak behind her. After stopping short, she waited.

The home seemed to fill with their voices and laughter from years ago. She and Quill had been buds of sorts—she the tomboy little sister of Quill's friend, and Quill the daredevil who schemed to find new ways to endanger his life.

But the laughter had stopped when his Daed died unexpectedly. She'd been almost fourteen, and their games and hilarity ended like a match thrown into a sink of water. After that, she would sit with him in an empty hay wagon or on the porch steps or in the tree house or on a rock by the creek and listen as he shared memory after memory of his Daed and him—the good and the difficult. She'd thought she knew Quill.

Later she realized that because he was nearly five years older than she was, he'd had the upper hand. He knew her well, but she'd known only whatever he let her know. Then he'd used her feelings for him to get what he wanted—a way to hide that he and Frieda were planning to leave the Amish.

“You're good to her.” His voice was deeper than it'd been when he'd left here at barely twenty, and his accent was closer to the Englisch. “Even better than I'd hoped.”

Fresh chills ran over her skin, and her eyes pricked with tears. The memory of their last hour together flashed in her mind. She and Frieda had been camping out near the creek. Ariana used to love camping out, but she'd not been since that night. When she'd awakened the next morning, Frieda was gone. A note addressed to Ariana lay on Frieda's sleeping bag, saying she and Quill had left the Amish and she was sorry to hurt Ariana like this.

After reading it Ariana had barreled out of the tent in a panic. Quill was sitting on a nearby rock, waiting for her. His deep-blue eyes, the color of a cloudless summer sky, were filled with understanding and maybe remorse for what he was about to put her through.

He'd known she would panic, so he'd taken Frieda somewhere safe, a place where the Amish couldn't find her. Then he'd returned to calm and reassure Ariana that Frieda was indeed safe and that even though it was upsetting that he and Frieda were leaving, it was for the best. He'd handed her an envelope, saying it contained a letter from him, and that when she was calmer, it would help her understand a little better. He'd been so gentle and kind during that time it'd taken Ariana weeks to realize he'd used her. They both had. The camping trip was nothing more than a deceitful ploy so Quill could take Frieda far away while all the adults thought the two girls were sleeping in a tent at their favorite spot by the creek.

Until that day she hadn't had a clue that he and seventeen-year-old Frieda were in love. Or that either wanted to leave the Amish. Ariana had thought Quill cared for
her
and that one day the wild, adventurous Quill would want to marry her.

He cleared his throat, dispersing her memories. “Ari, I…I appreciate what you do for my mother far more than you can imagine.”

She turned. Quill was still hardly visible inside his room at the end of the hallway, but she could imagine his blue eyes staring into her soul. The thought angered her. “I don't do it for you.” That was completely true, but should she feel bad about how mean it sounded? She didn't. What she wanted to do was tell him what she really thought.

“Still…” He moved out of the shadows. She couldn't see his face well, but his frame was apparent, and she realized he'd hardly been a man at all when he'd left here. Now he had broad, thick shoulders and stood a few inches taller. “I am indebted to you.”

“That and several dollars would get me a cup of coffee, wouldn't it?”

He gave a solemn nod. “Anyway, I'm glad you saw me and came inside. I needed to tell you—”

The side door opened, and Rudy stepped inside. “Your chariot awaits, my lady.”

The kitchen and walled hallway ran parallel to each other, so she was thankful he couldn't see down the hall. But what did Quill need to tell her? Was Frieda okay? Ariana clutched the candleholder with both hands, trying to stop it from shaking. “I'll be there in a minute.”

“You need help with something?” Rudy started toward her.

“Nee!” She thrust her hand up. “Please.”

He froze in place.

This secret wasn't like when she'd told him of her dream to buy the café. Quill was a bad secret. She needed to tell Rudy about him but not like this. “Rudy, would you wait for me in the carriage?”

He angled his head. “What's going on?”

“Trust me?”

He studied her, the seriousness in his eyes melting into tenderness. “Ya, with no reservations.”

The warmth of his respect enveloped her. “Denki.” She was able to take a full breath again. “I'm fine, and I'll be out shortly. Okay?”