The Proposal at Siesta Key (18 page)

B
y Thursday evening, Beverly had a full house. While she was glad about that, she couldn't resist thinking that she would've appreciated one or two empty rooms. As it was, she found herself running back and forth between the kitchen and the gathering rooms, the bedrooms and the office, doing her best to keep all of her guests happy and satisfied. She'd learned long ago that it only took one bad experience for a guest to elect to never return and tell their friends about it, too.

She couldn't have that.

To his credit, Eric was helping quite a bit. He had volunteered to take over the reservations and billings, and it was amazing how much her mind eased knowing that part of her business was in his capable hands.

But at the moment, with Eric wrist-deep in dough, she was beginning to fear for her bread's safety.

“Now what, Bev? Should I knead it some more?”

Eyeing the dough critically, she frowned. It looked a little too shiny, a little too smooth. Actually, it bordered on being kneaded into something resembling old gum. “
Nee!
” she called out, perhaps with a bit too much force.

When he flinched, she smiled apologetically. “Sorry. I mean, um, it's been kneaded enough. More than enough.”

Immediately, he raised his hands in surrender. “Uh-oh. Did I use too much pressure?”

She grinned. “I don't know if that's the right descriptor. It's more like you've been declared the winner in your fight with the dough.” Looking at the sad lump he'd just placed in the bowl, she teased, “It didn't stand a chance.”

He frowned. “Did I ruin it?”

“I don't think so.” Grabbing a clean white dishtowel, she flicked it open and covered the bowl, then pointed to the sink. “It should be okay. But now you should probably wash your hands. I'm afraid my kitchen won't be the same if we don't get you cleaned up.” As it was, almost every inch of the counters and floor were covered with a fine coating of flour.

Walking to the sink, he smiled at her. “Thanks for letting me in your domain today. It's been a lot of fun.”

“Eric, you don't have to thank me. It's your kitchen, too.”

“I might own the building, but we both know which of us belongs at the Orange Blossom Inn.”

His words were so sweet, she looked at him gratefully. “Thanks for saying that.”

“It's the truth.”

Their eyes met again, and suddenly something soft and sweet and dear passed through them. Maybe they were going to become friends, after all. Amazing how the Lord always seemed to make everything turn out all right.

“You know,” she began, “it sure seems as though—”

“Excuse me, Aunt Beverly,” Tricia said as she peeked through the opening of the swinging kitchen door. “But there's someone here for Eric. Have you seen him?”

Eric turned off the sink. “I'm right here, Tricia.”

“Oh! Well, yes you are. You have a visitor.”

Grabbing a handful of paper towels, he asked, “Is it John from the bank?”

“Nee.”
Looking right pleased with herself, she said, “It's Amy from Pennsylvania.”

“Amy?” Grabbing another paper towel, he rubbed it vigorously between his hands before tossing it on the counter. “Where is she?”

“I put her in the gathering room. Is that all right?”

“Perfect,” he said before flying out the door . . . and reminding Beverly that although they might be forming a friendship, there certainly wasn't going to be room for anything more.

Not that she'd been hoping for that, of course.

Unable to help herself, Beverly left the kitchen and peeked into the gathering room, making sure to keep out of sight. The last thing she wanted was for Eric to see her spying on him. Though she wasn't
spying
, exactly. She was simply interested in who this mysterious Amy was. Yes, it was simply curiosity. That was all. But the moment she caught sight of them, Beverly realized she could have strode into the center of the room and danced in circles.

She would have bet money that they wouldn't have noticed a thing.

Eric had a very pretty, very petite, brown-haired woman in his arms. The woman's arms were looped around his neck. Probably holding on for dear life, Beverly mused, because Eric was currently kissing that woman like he was a starving man and Amy's lips were all he needed for sustenance.

Beverly's cheeks flushed. She knew she should look away. They obviously thought they were alone. And though she was slightly shocked, there was nothing wrong with what they were doing, either. Eric had told her he had a girlfriend. And, well, they'd been apart for weeks now.

So there was no real reason for her to feel the things she was feeling.

Turning on her heel, she rushed to a back hallway, wishing with every step that she had never peeked into that room in the first place.

Because now, that vision of Eric and Amy locked in a passionate embrace had firmly embedded itself in her brain. And for the life of her, she couldn't seem to stop replaying it.

Beverly knew why, of course.

Seeing Eric and Amy had spurred visions of her and Marvin together, back when they were mere months away from marrying. Though, never had Marvin kissed her like
that
. His kisses had been sedate. Quiet. Controlled.

She'd assumed that had been how everyone kissed, but now she realized that some key components had been missing: Passion. Desire. Yearning. It had all been missing and she hadn't even realized it.

Suddenly she understood why he had turned to Regina.

Oh, of course what they'd done was bad. They should have told her about their feelings for each other long before they did, but now, at last, Beverly could at least understand what Marvin had been searching for.

Tears pricked her eyes. This awful realization—that not only had she never experienced such passion, but she'd never imagined it could exist—was as painful a lesson as any she'd ever learned. It was also, she believed, a fairly terrible thing to come to terms with at thirty-four years of age.

As she returned to the kitchen in a daze, Tricia looked up from the casserole dish she was drying and frowned. “Aunt Bev, you okay? You look kind of like you've seen a ghost.”

Beverly forced herself to laugh. “Of course I'm fine, dear. I've never been better.”

Lying about herself, unfortunately, was something she
did
have experience with. In spades.

M
ICHAEL HAD JUST SETTLED
into one of the comfortable chairs by the kitchen when Tricia handed him a portable phone. “It's for you, Michael,” she said before returning to the kitchen, the smell of freshly baked bread wafting through the swinging door in her wake.

“Hello?” Michael asked, wondering which member of the family had decided to call this time.

“Hi! How are you feeling?” Evan asked.

“Better.”

“How much better?” he pressed.

“I'm out of bed today.”

“Really? That's
wunderbaar
.”

“I think so, too. I'm sitting in a chair just outside the kitchen. Beverly's been baking bread. It smells like heaven.”

“It sounds like heaven. I'm standing outside of tonight's amphitheater. We've got a record crowd, though half of them are rapidly turning churlish because they've already heard you aren't here in upstate New York. It's also pouring down rain.”

Glad Evan couldn't see him, Michael grinned. “The rain is a real shame, especially since you all are touring the area.”

“Yeah. I hate wearing wet clothes.”

“Don't blame you for that.” He hated it, too. “Hope Mamm and Daed are keeping warm and dry.”

“They're fine,” Evan muttered in a distracted way as he shuffled his cell phone against his cheek. “Listen, I can't talk too long, but we do need to get something settled.”

“What's that?” Though, of course, it was practically a rhetorical question, because he knew what Evan was going to ask.

“Do you have your calendar in front of you?”

Unfortunately, he'd had Tricia help him with his book and his calendar when he decided to go downstairs. So his planner
was
standing open right in front of him. As he stared at the expanse of beautiful empty squares, he swallowed back a lump of regret. “
Jah
,” he said at last. “I've got it open to May.”

“How does being in Texas in June sound?”

Too soon. Hedging a bit, he asked, “When in June?”

“June first.” Impatience settled in Evan's voice. “When do you think?”

“Hey, I'm just asking.”

“Well, I'm just asking, too. I'm getting mighty tired of disappointing your fans.”

Evan sounded beyond tired and cranky. He sounded exhausted. Guilt bit at Michael, making him realize that he'd been fooling himself to actually think he could give everything up and start a new life in Sarasota. “I'll have to double-check with the doctors but I'll let you know as soon as I can.”

“When?”

“I don't know. By the end of the week?”

“Michael, I know your stump has got to heal and all, but the rest of the world is moving forward. I've got to tell those folks in Brownsville yay or nay. They're waiting on you. We're waiting on you.”

“You all can go to Brownsville without me.”

“
Nee
, we actually can't.” Evan's voice was flat. “This group only wants to book us if you are going to be there.”

“Why don't we wait on it, then? Maybe push it back a few months?”

“Because they've promised they can bring in a big crowd if
you are there then. As much as it pains me to remind you of this, you are the main draw. The rest of us are simply filler.”

“You know that's not true.”

“No, you know that
is
true. Michael, I'm not giving you false compliments, merely saying how it is.”

“It's not exactly that way.”

“It is. What's happening in Brownsville ain't a surprise and we both know it. Everywhere we go, you are the star, not the rest of us.”

“I didn't ask for that.”

“I know, but just because you didn't ask for it doesn't mean it didn't happen. God gave you a gift, and it's being able to tell a crowd your story. There's no shame in acknowledging that.”

Staring at the blank slate of his calendar, Michael knew what he had to do. There were some things far more important than mere wants or feelings. “Tell Mamm and Daed that I'll meet everyone in Brownsville.”

“You sure?”

There was such hope in Evan's voice, Michael knew he'd be there even if his stump was not completely healed. “I'm sure.”

“Thank the Lord. Okay, then. I'll let them know. And now I'll be letting you go. See you in a couple of weeks.”

That much time had already passed?
“Jah.”

“Let me know if you want me to fly to Sarasota and help you travel. I'll be happy to.”

Michael knew that to be true. Evan would fly all night, would do whatever it took to be there for him. He'd always been there for him. “I think I'll be all right, but I'll let you know.”

“Great. See you then.”

When Michael hung up, he grimaced. As much as he might talk or act like he was ready for a change, he wasn't ready to let
his family down. He owed them too much. He loved them too much.

And that meant, of course, that he was going to have to find a way to tell Penny that he was leaving for good about a week earlier than planned. For all his big talk about proposals and living life to the fullest, it seemed dreams weren't always meant to come true.

At least, not yet.

M
r. Eric's Amy was a nice lady. Since arriving on Thursday, she'd not only made her bed but also left Penny a small tip every morning.

Penny was coming to understand that these types of thoughtful gestures were typical of Amy, who had gone out of her way to be nice to everyone she came in contact with during her long weekend at the inn.

Amy was also a talker. Hardly a minute could be spent in her company without hearing how
beautiful
Florida was, or how
adorably quaint
she found Pinecraft. She also loved the
gorgeous, fragrant flowers
, and couldn't wait to stroll on the
incredible, so-sandy beach
again, or have just one more slice of the
almost-irresistible, perfect pie
at Yoder's. Amy, it seemed, enjoyed incorporating both adjectives and alliteration into her vocabulary.

The flowery, effusive compliments amused Michael, enamored Mr. Eric, and annoyed Miss Beverly to no end. One could almost see Beverly gritting her teeth when Amy started discussing how cute and charming the Amish were when playing shuffleboard at Pinecraft Park.

Though Penny wasn't really exactly sure how the older men could be thought of as cute, she didn't mind Amy's description. It wasn't mean-spirited. Rather, it seemed to be indicative of the way she went through life: constantly commenting on everything.

There were worse ways to be, Penny figured.

Since Amy's room was the last to clean for the day, once she was done she put away her supplies in the hall closet, then joined Michael on the back patio.

Now that over a week had passed since his surgery, he was supposed to be walking as much as possible in order to get used to his new prosthesis, but instead she found him sitting on a comfy lounge chair. A cat lay curled on his lap, and both his real and metal foot were propped on an ottoman in front of him. His eyes were closed and he looked completely content—far more comfortable than he'd looked in days.

Unable to help herself, she paused in front of him and took the opportune moment to simply stare. He really was such a handsome man. But now, in repose, he seemed different. She realized it was really his personality that drew her to him. When he was nearby, everybody else in the world ceased to exist.

Just as she'd decided to let him rest, those attractive hazel eyes of his opened.

“Penny,” he said. “Hey.”

“Hi. Sorry to interrupt,” she said, then jumped back as the cat leapt off Michael's lap, hissed at Penny, then lazily sauntered away. “Looks like I upset that cat, too.”

“Oh, that was just Serena. She's Winnie Sadler's cat—Beverly told me that she has a regrettable tendency to roam the streets of Pinecraft.”

“She seemed to like you.”

He grinned at her. “I've been told I have a way with birds as well.”

She couldn't resist rolling her eyes. “Obviously. Well, um, I'll just let you go . . .”

“Please don't. I was just thinking about you.”

“I hope they were good thoughts.”

“Of course.” He smiled and gestured for her to come sit near him.

“I finished cleaning rooms, so I'll be going home soon.” But as she walked to his side, she noticed that his expression was strained.

“Before you go, I need to tell you something.” His chin lifted then, as if he was focusing on a spot just above her head instead of looking her in the eyes. “I've decided to leave at the end of the month. Probably on the twenty-ninth or so.”

She didn't even try to hide her dismay. “But that's so soon.”

“I know.”

“You won't have even stayed here a month!”

“I don't have much of a choice. I talked to my
bruder
and he needs me.”

“But . . . but what of everything we talked about? About you taking a step back? About you doing what you wanted?” Of course, what she wanted to ask was
What about me?

“I meant what I said, Penny, but I can't live with my head in the sand at Siesta Key. I need to do what is expected of me.”

“What about us?” she blurted before thinking better of it.

“Us?” Pain filled his eyes before he deliberately pulled himself together again. “We can still be friends, of course.”

She realized then that he was determined to gloss over his wants in order to save them both further pain. But what he might not realize was that their separation was going to hurt no matter what they said or how they acted. Therefore, wouldn't it
be better for them to at least be honest? One of them was going to have to be brave enough to mention what was obviously occurring between them.

“Michael, I may be shy and a little unworldly, but even I know that what we have is more than just friendship.”

“You know what? You're exactly right.” Meeting her gaze again, he stared hard. “Why don't you come with me?”

That was the last thing she'd expected him to say. “I couldn't.”

“Why not? It would be perfectly fine.” His voice turning more enthusiastic, he added, “I don't know why we haven't thought about this before. You can share a room with Molly. It will be great. She'd love the company.”

For a split second, his eagerness infected her. It would be so exciting! She'd be traveling the world, meeting crowds of people out to see the Knoxx Family. She could make friends with his sister and brother and his parents. But best of all, she'd get to be near Michael all the time.

It would be everything she had imagined when she'd daydreamed about him.

It would be everything she'd been yearning for when she'd wished to live life to the fullest. No, it would be
more
than anything she'd ever imagined. It would be fantastic.

But it would also . . . absolutely scare her to death.

After all, she was just now learning how to have a job and do things with friends. No matter how much she might want to travel or experience new things this was just too much.

“Michael, thank you for the offer. It's
wunderbaar.
Truly. But, well, I simply can't.”

His frown deepened. “Why not?”

She picked the easiest excuse. “I can't leave my parents.”

He frowned. “You're not a child. And they'd get used to you being gone.”

“I don't think they would. Actually, I fear it might break them.”

“Penny,” he said gently, “they'll get used to it. People adapt and change. After all, look at my family. Until I lost my leg, we were just a normal Amish family.”

She wondered if that was ever really the case. Michael, at least, had such a magnetic personality, she couldn't imagine him ever being “normal”—at least not in the way she thought of the word.

Definitely not in the way she was normal.

Or maybe she'd just stumbled onto the truth. He was “normal,” but she wasn't. She would never look at crowds or strangers the same way everyone else did. She couldn't; she'd lived for over a decade being afraid to even step outside of her house alone. She was too scarred by Lissy's abduction and death to ever be
completely
like everyone else.

In many ways she was still learning to cope with this reality by working at the Orange Blossom Inn, and here she had Miss Beverly, Mr. Eric, and even Tricia for support. How would she ever overcome those limitations when she was out on tour with the Knoxx Family?

Choosing her words carefully, she ventured, “Michael, I'm not ready for your life, either. I wish I was. But it's a big world out there and I'm still learning to do things here in Pinecraft by myself.” She tried to smile in order to hide her embarrassment. Unfortunately, her lip was quivering so much, she was very likely making a parody of it.

“You wouldn't be figuring it out alone. I'd be with you and so would my family.”

“But I don't know them. And we've known each other less than a month. Barely that.”

He flinched. “That might be how long it's been on the calendar, but I think we both know that what we've shared has made our relationship far stronger than the date reflects.”

She agreed and she knew he was right. However, she still didn't want to risk disappointing him when he saw just how awkward and weak she might very well be. “Perhaps, but I still must say no.”

“I see.”

“You can't blame me, Michael. You're the one who is rushing off.”

“I don't have a choice. My family depends on me.”

“Well, my parents depend on me to be there for them.”

His expression turned carefully blank. “It seems there is nothing left to say, then.”

Feeling as if he'd just pushed her away from him, she jumped to her feet. Yet still, like a desperate, love-sick fool, she paused, hoping against hope that he would change his mind and ask her again. Push a little harder. If he did that, she might even give in and say she'd try touring with him.

But he didn't.

So she rushed back inside the inn. With any luck, she would be able to tell Beverly good-bye and be on her way home in mere minutes. Then, and only then, would she be able to let herself dwell on what she needed to do.

And what she'd just given up.

M
ICHAEL SAT STIFFLY UNTIL
Penny was out of sight. Then he hung his head and called himself the world's biggest jerk.

He'd known her past.

He'd known how timid she was and how each step forward into independence took tremendous courage. Yet with his demands, he'd made her accomplishments seem completely inconsequential.

The crux of it was that her viewpoint made perfect sense, too. No gently bred Amish girl was going to go travel around the
world with a man who'd made her no promises and a family who were virtual strangers. Why had he been so eager to ignore that?

“Because you're a selfish fool,” he told himself. “Because, yet again, you were putting yourself first. Thinking only of what you wanted.”

“That sounds pretty serious.”

He gritted his teeth as he recognized the voice behind him. This hour kept getting worse and worse. Turning her way, he said, “How much did you see and hear, Tricia?”

She stumbled. “I saw Penny leaving, then heard you mumbling to yourself. Sorry. I was only coming out here because my aunt wondered if you'd like any pie or cake left over from afternoon tea.”

“
Danke
, but I'm not hungry.”

She backed up a step. “All right . . .”

“Look, I'm sorry for snapping at you,” he said quickly, before he managed to act like a jerk to two women in two minutes. “I, uh, just had a difficult conversation with Penny.”

After gazing at him a moment, she stepped forward. “Did you two get in a fight?”

“Not that, exactly. I had to tell her that I'm leaving pretty soon.”

She glanced at his leg and frowned. “Really?”

“It's time.” The right decision was probably to stop talking, but he continued. It seemed he was destined to be a regular chatterbox this afternoon. “I was hoping she would come with me. You know, stay with my sister and travel with us.”

“Why?” she asked as she sat down.

“Why?” He'd thought it was obvious.

She shrugged, as if she was making perfect sense, and he was not. “Well,
jah
. Why, exactly, do you want her to go on tour with you?” Looking at his prosthesis, she said, “Do you want her there to take care of you?”

“Of course not.” He'd been hoping to take care of her for a change. To show her that she could do anything because he'd be there to make sure she was safe.

“Then why do you want her to be there?”

“Because I care about her.” And because, otherwise, he felt like he would be leaving part of himself behind in Pinecraft.

She met his gaze. “Do you love her?”

Her question caught him off guard. “You're being awfully personal,” he chided, mainly to give himself an extra minute or two to regain his composure. Did he love her? Or did he simply admire her very much?

“You don't have to answer. I was only asking.”

“Well, I know that I'm going to miss her.” And that he liked her a lot.

“That's it?”

He supposed she had a point. “I am developing strong feelings for her, too,” he added, inwardly wincing at how, well, full of himself he sounded.

“I'm so glad we got that straight,” she teased. “I'm sure she'll be glad to hear that you're developing those strong feelings.”

“Fine. I like her. A lot.” And the moment he heard those words, he felt better. Lighter. Amazing how being honest with oneself did that.

Seeing that Tricia was now smiling, too, he said, “Enough about me. How are you doing?”

“I'm actually doing a lot better. I like working for Aunt Beverly, and my family has forgiven me for not doing what they wanted.”

Her words struck something in him. “They did?”

“Yep. I didn't think it was going to happen at first, but when I started telling them how unhappy I was and how I needed to do something for me, they understood. I'm relieved.”

“
Jah
. I bet so.” He got to his feet. “You know what? A slice of pie sounds mighty
gut
after all. What kind did Beverly serve today?”

“Butterscotch.”

“Oh, yum.”

She chuckled. “Beverly's pies would make anyone reconsider ever leaving this place.”

“I hope there's some left,” he murmured, though he knew there was something far more tempting than pie calling him back to Pinecraft.