Suddenly the sound of a man clearing his throat reached her ears. She turned away from her husband to see his twin, Gabriel, standing before them. Eli must have discreetly disappeared, for there was no sign of him nearby.
“Congratulations,
bruder
.” Gabe extended his hand to Levi, who grasped it immediately and shook it with enthusiasm.
“Thanks, Gabe.” Levi gently pushed Moriah forward. “Why don’t you welcome your
schwei
into the family, your new sister-in-law?”
Moriah faced Gabe, the mirror image of her husband. His black hat was pulled low on his head, covering much of his sandy brown hair. Like Levi, he had broad shoulders and a barrel-like chest that tapered to a narrow waist. His cheeks were smooth, indicative of a single man. When their gaze met, she thought she saw something flicker in his brown eyes, eyes that were so similar to Levi’s. Regret? She wasn’t sure.
Yet while Levi always had a playful spark in his eyes, Gabriel’s reflected his somber demeanor. He kept his feelings wrapped up tight, which made the brief dash of emotion in his expression even more puzzling. But as quickly as it had appeared, it left, and his stoic mask returned, firmly in place.
“
Daed
and I are looking forward to you and Levi visiting us soon.”
“It won’t be long before we will,” she said. “Saturday for sure. We’ll be staying with my parents until then.”
Gabe nodded, then glanced away. “Saturday it is.”
“Is that the best you can do?” Levi shook his head, grinning. “Give her a hug, Gabe. She’s family now.”
Gabriel hesitated, but finally he extended his arms to her and gave her a slight embrace. “
Willkum
,” he said, then quickly released her, as if her touch burned him. He turned on his heel and made his way to a table with an empty seat next to his father.
Moriah tried to hide a frown. Why was he so reluctant to be near her? “Something wrong with Gabriel?” she asked.
Levi smirked, then gave her a knowing look. “No, nothing’s wrong with him. Gabe’s just being Gabe.”
“I suppose.” She cast Gabriel another glance, but he was involved in a conversation with a young woman who had sat down next to him. As far as Moriah knew, Gabriel hadn’t actively courted anyone, and she always wondered about that, since there were many available, and interested, young women in their community. Maybe that one had piqued his interest.
“You know how my brother is,” Levi continued. “Hard to figure out what’s going on in that head of his. Heck, I’m his twin and half the time I don’t know what he’s thinking.” He leaned in close, his breath warm in her ear. “I can promise you this—he’s just fine with you joining the family. Everyone is, can’t you tell?”
Levi was right. The last person to object to Moriah would be Gabriel. He had plenty of time to get used to the idea of his brother’s marriage, since he’d been the first person they told they were getting married. He’d found out by accident, walking in on them when they were in the Miller’s barn minutes after Levi had proposed. If Gabriel thought their union a bad idea, he’d had more than enough time to speak up.
But why was she concerned about what Gabe thought in the first place? She didn’t need his permission or approval to marry his brother. Still, she wished their relationship could have been the way it was when they were younger. While Gabriel was more reserved and pensive than Levi, he could be just as charming and witty as his brother when he wanted to.
Levi glanced around the room. “Looks like everyone’s happy,” he said in a satisfied tone.
She looked up at him, forgetting about Gabriel. “Are you happy, Levi?” A tiny knot of apprehension formed inside her belly. All she wanted was his happiness.
He gave her a wink. “Of course I am. I’m married to you, aren’t I?”
Moriah let out a relaxing breath. A tiny flutter swirled around in her belly as she gave him a loving smile. She was the luckiest woman in the world.
Turning her attention back to her guests, she saw them digging into their meals. Her stomach growled as the smell of the wedding dinner filtered through the air. When
Mami
brought out another huge basket of yeasty rolls, steaming hot from the oven, she couldn’t resist any longer. “I’m starving,” she whispered to Levi.
“You and me both. Let’s eat.”
With Levi taking the lead, Moriah followed him to one of the head tables, where her younger sister Elisabeth brought them two heaping plates and two large glasses of lemonade. Elisabeth leaned forward and whispered in Moriah’s ear.
“Tomorrow morning, I want details.” She wiggled her eyebrows.
Heat crept up Moriah’s face. “Details?” she said, feigning ignorance. She loved her romance-crazed sister, but she could be nosy—and inappropriate—at times.
“You know what I mean.” Moving back, Elisabeth winked at her sister, then handed a glass of lemonade to the next guest at the table.
“What did Elisabeth say?” Levi asked.
“Nothing.” She hoped her husband didn’t notice her blushing. Her sister might want “details,” but she wouldn’t get them. Moriah wasn’t about to discuss her wedding night with Elisabeth. Five years separated them, but despite the age gap, they had shared nearly everything with each other. However, her wedding night with Levi was private, and it would stay that way.
The calm she’d experienced moments before evaporated, replaced by a new worry that tapped on her nerves. Would she disappoint him? She couldn’t bear the thought of that.
Beside her, Levi talked with guests, grinning and laughing, unaware of the sudden turmoil churning inside her. Moriah stared at her food, her appetite gone.
Suddenly she felt Levi reach for her hand under the table and give it a squeeze, as if he had sensed the chaos in her mind. She tilted her head toward him and smiled. He grinned in return.
A semblance of peace washed over her, and for that she was grateful. With the smallest of gestures, Levi had calmed her down. She was thankful to the Almighty for Levi’s love. He would be a fine husband and father. She knew of a couple of women in the community whose husbands treated them badly, and she pitied them. But with Levi, she wouldn’t have that worry. He was kind, trustworthy, and loyal. They would be there for each other, through the good times and the bad.
T
obias Byler could pinpoint the precise moment he had noticed Rachel Detweiler had become a woman. Last year, at a Sunday night singing in late May. She had just turned nineteen. Before that night he had thought of her as the biggest thorn in his side, a bratty, boyish-looking girl who acted way too big for her britches. Fiercely competitive, she often nagged him into sporting contests—usually fishing, volleyball, or softball. Lately she’d also become an expert corntoss player, tossing the corn bag easily into the hole of the wooden platform. He hated that she won their matches on a regular basis, and she never missed an opportunity to rub it in his face.
But that night six months ago, when he saw her at the singing, his attitude had changed. She was still a pest, but now he thought her a beautiful one. The plain, light-green dress she had worn that night, one that left everything to the imagination, accented her womanly figure. Until then he had never noticed how smooth her cheeks were, or how her bright blue eyes were framed by long, silky, light-brown lashes. He’d also never noticed how sweet her smile was, but that was probably due to her genuinely smiling at everyone but him. Usually he received a smirk or a haughty frown. Yet that spring night at the Yoder’s, he would have done anything to have her grin at him the same way she had smiled at Christian Weaver.
Of course she didn’t, and Christian had taken her home in his buggy after the singing. The two of them had never become an item, though. That had surprised everyone, including Tobias. Probably Christian too, even though he’d never said anything about it. Since then Rachel had allowed nearly every young man in the community to take her home after social events, save for him. Ordinarily this would have given her a loose reputation, except all the fellows knew Rachel wasn’t interested in them like that. She was their pal, friendly to everyone, with one exception: him.
Of course, just because he thought Rachel was pretty didn’t mean he liked her. How could he like a girl who kept showing him up in front of his friends? He had no choice but to put up with it. His father had always taught him to be a gentleman, to respect women and to treat them well. Not all the men in the community did that, but Tobias honored his father’s wise edict. He hoped to emulate his parents’ wonderful marriage.
But not—
definitely
not—with Rachel Detweiler. For some reason being friends with Rachel, much less having any other kind of relationship, was like searching for a rainbow in the middle of a thunderstorm. While wearing a blindfold. In other words,
impossible
.
Right now he was annoyed with her for joining their game. She had taken off her cloak, clearly warmed from the combination of the strong sunlight and the exertion of playing during his sister’s wedding dinner. He and his friends had discarded their black overcoats as well, and Christian had already rolled up his sleeves. At least they were on opposite teams.
He picked up his old wooden bat, one his father had made many years ago. Despite the nicks and chips accumulated from years of use, it still had a nice sweet spot. The handle had been worn down so that it matched his grip perfectly. He’d hit many a home run with this simple stick of wood, and he intended to take another trip around the makeshift bases today.
Stepping up to the flat rock that served as home plate, he stared her down. Rachel was rolling the grimy ball around in her right hand, not caring that her palm had turned black from the sticky mud or that her dress was smudged with it. He’d never admit it out loud, but she was a good pitcher too, which made him hot under the collar. No way would he let her strike him out. Not again.
“You don’t scare me,” she said, giving him a cool glare. “You couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn.”
Considering they’d moved their game from the Byler’s front yard to the field behind the house, where the barn was in plain view, he now had the prime opportunity to make her eat her words. But before he could get set up in the batter’s box, a fastball whizzed past him.
“Strike!”
Tobias glared at his younger brother Stephen, questioning the wisdom of having a thirteen-year-old referee their game. However, since Stephen was a stickler for rules, he had been everyone’s unanimous choice for umpire.
“I wasn’t ready,” Tobias groused.
“You’re in the box, you’re ready.” Always serious, Stephen pulled his black hat low over his brow and bent at the waist behind the home plate rock. “Play ball.”
Tobias adjusted his grip on the bat. This time he wouldn’t miss. He swung at the next pitch.
“Stee-rike two!”
Rachel smirked.
Ach
, he hated when she did that. But he was just warming up. Now he would hit the broad side of
his
barn, and he couldn’t wait to rub it in
her
face for once. When the third pitch flew by, he connected with a crack of the bat.
But instead of hitting the whitewashed wood structure a hundred yards away, the ball plowed right into Rachel’s shin. Tobias watched in horror as she crumpled into a heap on the grassy ground, clutching her leg, her forehead touching the top of her knee.
“What’d you do that for?” Stephen hollered.
Tobias ignored him and threw down the bat. He sprinted toward Rachel, reaching her before anyone else. He knelt down beside her. “Are you all
recht
?”
She looked up at him with watery eyes, her teeth biting down on her plump bottom lip. He noticed her cheeks were rosy from the cold and exertion, and now probably from the intense pain. Without giving him answer, she folded herself into a tight ball and put her head down.
Tobias felt as if he’d taken a boot in the gut. He looked up at his friends—Christian, David Yoder, Isaac Stutzer, and his two younger brothers, Lukas and Stephen. Their expressions were filled with concern and . . . blame. More blame than concern, truth be told.
“I didn’t do it on purpose,” Tobias exclaimed.
“No one said you did.” Christian hunkered down and put his arm around Rachel’s small shoulders in a friendly, but somewhat intimate, gesture. “Rachel, can you stand?”