Lilly's Wedding Quilt (3 page)
L
illy envisioned a thousand granules of sugar quickening through a funnel to some dark, waiting center. She was sliding with them, covered in sweetness, until the rational part of her mind intruded.
Substitute
. Substitute teacher. Sarah’s substitute. She wrenched backward and Jacob made a strangled sound in his throat that jarred her senses, leaving her longing to soothe him. But she sank back to rest on her legs. Her mouth stung and her chin burned from the dark shadow of his jaw. She prayed that the Lord might forgive her for allowing such a thing. And then added her request that He also might bring someone, someday, to love her with as much passion as she felt through Jacob’s kiss.
She watched him come to himself, like a dreamer waking with reluctance. His heavy lashes lifted from his flushed cheeks and he sighed.
“I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re not,” she replied, surprised at the steadiness of her voice. “You wanted an escape; you got it.”
His green-gold eyes narrowed. “I think you got a bit of it too, Miss Schoolteacher.”
“You’re right, of course. I’ve never had the kiss of a man, only a father’s.”
A tenseness appeared around his handsome mouth at her admission, and he looked away.
“You need medical attention.”
He nodded, still concentrating on some unknown spot at the back of the barn. “
Jah
, but the only doctor around is the good Grant Williams, veterinarian at-large. And he, as you know, has other plans this morning.”
Lilly didn’t need to listen hard to hear the bitterness in his tone.
Dr. Williams was an
Englischer
who’d been baptized into the community only a few months past, but he was as accepted as one to the bonnet born. And, he was the man who had won Sarah King’s heart.
Lilly tapped her lips with her index finger as a half-formed idea began to take shape.
“What?” He swung his penetrating gaze back to her.
“If we go anywhere in town to have you treated by the
Englisch
, they’ll tell the police. Lockport is too small for the town not to know about the horse. So, you only have one person to treat you—the groom.”
“Have you lost your mind?”
She raised an eyebrow at him. Not for nothing was she a teacher, easily engaging stubborn students. “Have you lost yours? And have you stopped to think of how it will look if you don’t show up for the wedding?”
He glared at her. “What does it matter?”
“It matters because you’re not going to run away. You’re going to live here, work here, and so will the Williamses. And you also know how this place is—everyone is just waiting to see how you will react to the wedding. To not show up suggests weakness; something I’m sure is not part of your character.”
He snorted. “Really? You just got a literal taste of my weakness, Lilly Lapp. And seeing Sarah today—well, it’s something I could live without, no matter what people think.”
She shrugged. “It’s your life.”
The words hung with cunning in the chill of the air until he shifted on the bale of hay with a sigh.
“
Ach
, all right. But tell me, teacher, how do I separate the beloved groom from his beautiful bride so that he can do some stitching without her or anyone else’s notice?”
“At the
eck
, or as they’re going to be seated, I’ll create some kind of diversion.”
“A diversion? You, the schoolteacher, who’s supposed to be beyond reproach in behavior? What will the school board say? What will your
mamm
say?” He asked the right questions, but his tone provoked, as if he doubted she’d be capable of doing anything out of the ordinary.
She loved a challenge and smiled at him. “Likely, everyone will have something to say, but so what? I’m twenty-three, my own person, and I—” She swallowed; she’d almost said she cared about him even though she only really knew him from childhood and at a distance in the community. “I can do as I please—relatively.” She ignored the niggle of doubt that warned her that her widowed
mamm
would not be pleased by any diversionary wedding tactics and plowed on. “So, we’ll go back to your house and put up Granger’s horse. I’ll borrow a dress of your
mamm’s
, and we’ll go to the wedding.”
She waited to see if he’d dismiss her out of hand because she was a woman, and as her mother often pointed out, probably too decisive a woman at that.
But his own eyes narrowed in consideration and he finally grinned at her. “Lilly Lapp. Who’d have thought? But I don’t really want to get you involved in all of this.”
“
Derr Herr
involved me,” she pointed out. “The minute you opened that stable door. Sometimes things happen for a reason, Jacob.”
“I suppose there’s truth in that. All right, help me up then, Miss Independence.”
He leaned against her for just a moment as he got to his feet, and she tried not to notice the heat of his body through his cotton shirt. She helped him with his coat and hat, added her collapsed bonnet to the mess of her hair, and then they turned to the horses.
“The rain has slowed down,” he said, cocking an ear to the barn roof. “We’ll hitch Ruler to the buggy and tie the little mare behind with a lead. I’ll come back later for Thunder. Deacon Zook’ll figure I left him for shelter in the weather.”
And somehow, despite his injury and her hampering skirts, they made it back across the field with Jacob talking low and easy to the horses as if in some long-forgotten language. Lilly, only half-listening, concentrated on staying upright on shivering legs. She breathed a sigh of relief as she clambered into the buggy with the help of an undignified push from behind.
“Move over,” Jacob instructed. “I’ll drive.”
“But your arm—Ruler’s stubborn.”
“Is he now? I think he’s a lamb.”
“That’s not how he seems to me,” she complained.
Jacob glanced at her. “Is it just Ruler or are you uncomfortable around horses in general?”
“In general, I suppose. Actually, Alice Plank’s little brother, Jonah, usually comes over in the morning to help me get Ruler hitched up and ready. It was something Father arranged when he knew he was growing very ill. I really don’t care much for horses.”
“What about horse thieves?”
She sniffed. “Slightly more tolerable.”
“In that case”—he laughed—“I’ll say
danki
, Lilly, for tolerating this horse thief—for helping me.”
She nodded and he set the buggy into easy motion down the wet road.
I
f he found it odd that he’d chosen to steal a horse, survived a gunshot wound, and then decided to escort a soaked schoolteacher back to his home after he’d forced a kiss from her novice mouth, it could be no stranger than his automatic actions over the past few months. He’d become more and more restless as Sarah’s wedding date approached. There was no sense denying it—when he’d realized he’d lost Sarah, that in truth he’d never had her, it had devastated him. And there seemed no reason to pretend otherwise. So he’d mentally agonized through the summer and fall, trying to pray, trying to work, and generally feeling more and more despondent as winter set in.
He gave a sidelong glance at Lilly Lapp as she hugged her arms across her chest and shivered, her lips visibly blue—lips he’d deliberately warmed with his own. It had never occurred to him that it might be her first kiss. Now he had to push away a wave of chagrin when he thought about his behavior. Lilly Lapp was someone who’d never even registered in his passing vision let alone his thoughts. Of course, he’d gone to school with her and seen her occasionally about the Lapp farm, often in the shadow of her father. Old Dr. Lapp had been the local veterinarian since Jacob was a child, and he’d learned much about horses and their care from the cheerful Amish man. But Dr. Lapp had passed away, leaving behind a grieving wife, and Lilly, his only child. More than that, Jacob’s mind whispered, the death of Dr. Lapp had made room for Dr. Grant Williams to appear and nothing had been the same since. There was no use dwelling on it. The Lord knew he’d spent long enough doing that these past months.
“Come over here,” he said, indicating the small distance between them in the buggy.
“
Nee
. I’m fine.”
He sighed. “If we’re going to be coconspirators, I can’t let you freeze to death before we can accomplish our plan. I promise I mean you no impropriety.” He choked on a sudden laugh at his formality after the brazen kiss in the barn.
She threw him a wry look that suggested she knew what he was thinking but scooted a bit closer under his outstretched arm anyway. He enclosed her cloaked shoulder in his big hand, sliding her firmly up against his side. He felt her quaking even through the thick wool of his coat and frowned.
“We’re almost there,” he soothed kindly, raising his chin toward the large Wyse horse farm and barns visible over the next rise in the road. “I just don’t want to make the mare go too fast.”
“It looks like her right side took the brunt of the lashings.”
“
Jah
,” he agreed, his jaw squaring when he thought of Granger. “Those will soon heal well enough. The two on her rump are the deepest. I’m most worried about those—and her spirit.”
“Are you going to take her back?”
He looked down at her. “Are you asking if I’m going to come clean with Granger? Yes, teacher, right after today’s big doings, but I need to get through the wedding first.” He watched her lips part on a sigh, revealing perfect white teeth, and went on.
“Perhaps I could let money talk to Granger. He might overlook the theft if I offer a more-than-fair price for the mare.”
She looked back at him, understanding dawning in her eyes. “You’ve thought that all along, haven’t you? Even when you took her? Then why didn’t you just buy her outright? Why go to all this trouble? And what did you think would happen when you did steal her—especially if Granger caught sight of you? That he would merrily wave you off?”
He shrugged. “It’s not like I asked to be shot.” He gave her a wry smile. “I was wrong—that’s it. I have no excuse. I was mad and I gave in to the sin of anger. I wanted to do violence to Granger. I wanted to … to break something. The hold he held on the mare, maybe.”
“Just like a fairy tale,” she remarked.
“A what?”
“Rescuing the damsel in distress—only this one happens to be a horse.”
He felt baffled. What did a fairy tale have to do with anything?
“Too bad it wasn’t Sarah you rescued, eh?”
He could feel the heat rising in his cheeks. “Are you comparing Sarah to a horse?” he tried to quip, hoping to change the direction of the conversation.
“No.”
He pursed his lips. “Well, let’s just say that you’ve got quite the imagination, but I guess you need it to work with children. Here we are.”
He swung the buggy down the narrow lane and avoided the palpable sensation of her stare.
I
‘ll take the mare into the barn and tend to her a bit. Go on in. My
mamm
and
daed’s
room is the first door off the sitting area. Help yourself to whatever you can find to wear, although
Mamm’s
clothes may be a bit short on you.”
She looked away from his measuring gaze and tried hard to forget about the sensation of his fervent kiss. Taking his offered hand, she stepped from the buggy, hastened past him, and took the steps up to the porch. She glanced back to watch him lead the mare to a nearby barn, then slipped through the unlocked door.
Lilly had only been to the Wyse home for Meeting, and then it was always so crowded that she’d never really had a chance to look around the beautiful downstairs with its detailed woodworking, comfortable-looking chairs, and pristine kitchen with wild winter roses growing from a watering can on the bright windowsill.
It was such a contrast to her own home where heavy, dark furniture blocked the windows of most rooms and the stinging scent of pine oil often permeated the air. Her
mamm
had so changed since the death of her
daed
that she now seemed to hide from the sunlight. The Wyses’ home, on the other hand, gleamed with light and smelled like a combination of fresh baking and starched linen, presenting quite an inviting atmosphere.
Despite Jacob’s invitation to be bold, she slipped off her shoes and tiptoed into the bedroom, turning up a kerosene lamp on a lovely cherry bedside table. She removed her ruined bonnet and soaked prayer
kapp
and then pulled as many hairpins as she could find from the tangled mass of her dark hair. Then she caught sight of the walls and her lips parted in surprise and wonder.
She pivoted on wet, stockinged feet to stare with amazement at the paintings that decorated the light wood. She drew a deep breath at myriad striking watercolors portraying Amish life in bright detail.
Kinner
and men with long beards, planting and harvest, all seasons of life and earth seemed to be represented by the artist’s brush. She marveled at the irresistible beauty of the images. She knew that some Old Order Amish communities eschewed art as being impractical, but the local bishop encouraged the use of the Lord’s given talents. And these paintings certainly seemed purposeful in capturing the life and vitality of her people.