The Proposal at Siesta Key (3 page)

“Of course.” She took another step backward. “Well, then. Good evening,” she said before turning away and walking quickly in the opposite direction. Closing his eyes, Michael tried to tamp down the guilt he felt. He knew better than to be so ungrateful for her concern, knew better than to send her on her way alone. But he felt like he needed some time to himself. He needed to be selfish, at least for a few minutes.

“Lord,” he murmured, “I'm sorry. I have a feeling I've disappointed You something awful, but I hope You'll understand. I'm only a man. And sometimes I'm afraid I'm as selfish as anyone.”

He breathed in, exhaled, then at last felt the burn in his knee start to ease. Deciding to take advantage of that fact, he once again started limping toward the Orange Blossom Inn.

B
everly Overholt didn't need a doctor's diagnosis to understand that her handsome guest was feeling poorly.

She could figure that out all on her own.

After watching Michael Knoxx painfully climb the first two front steps of her inn, grasping the wooden railing with all his might, then pulling himself up each step, she knew it was time to intervene. Seconds later, she was at his side, one arm securely wrapped around his waist.

“Just a few more steps, Michael,” she said in her best no-nonsense way.

“I'll be fine.”

“
Nee
, I think not.” When he stiffened, she kept her voice sure and steady—and laced it with a thorough amount of salt and vinegar, too. “Don't even try to tell me that you don't need my help. You do.”

After another second, he allowed more of his weight to press against her. “
Danke
,” he muttered, his tone hoarse. “I'd be grateful for your assistance.”

Though she was glad he gave in without further argument,
his easy acquiescence caused even more worry. From his previous visits, she knew that Michael Knoxx's pride was important to him. He toured the world, preaching God's word and sharing his stories about self-reliance. As far as she knew, Michael seldom depended on anyone for anything.

Never had she heard him complain, either—not even about things most people found annoying. Instead, he took everything in stride, whether it was the hot and humid weather, pouring rain, their incredibly busy schedule, or travel glitches. If he was not only struggling with a flight of stairs but also admitting he needed her assistance, he had to be in incredible pain.

And that concerned her very much.

After Beverly got him through the broad front door, she led him to the big overstuffed couch just off the entryway.

He collapsed against it with a sigh. “Thanks again. I was beginning to wonder how I was going to make it inside by myself.”

Her concern was growing into real fear. “Where is your family?”

“Hmm?”

She leaned down, pressed her palm against his forehead. Was he feverish? She couldn't tell if he was perspiring from the heat, his effort to climb the stairs, or an infection. “Your family, Michael,” she repeated. “Where are they?”

“Oh.” His eyes focused. “They went to someone's
haus
after our meeting.”

“Do you remember the family's name? I think it would be a good idea if I sent someone over there.”

“No need.”

“I think differently. Michael, whose house did they go to?”

As she'd hoped, her direct, firmly phrased question got results. “The Kaufmanns', I think?”

She relaxed. That was probably correct. She'd known the Kaufmann family for years. Frank Kaufmann had supervised much of the inn's renovations when she'd taken over the place. Just a few months ago, she'd become better acquainted with everyone in the family when one of her guests had fallen in love with their youngest son, Zack. “I bet it was the Kaufmanns. They're New Order Amish, so they have a phone. I'll give them a call and ask someone to let your parents know you're having some problems.”

“Please don't.”

“I think it would be best.”

“It isn't. My brother said he wasn't going to stay there too long. Besides, there's nothing they can do except listen to me whine about the pain I'm experiencing.”

“What is hurting you?”

“My knee.” Running a hand over his face, he mumbled, “where it was amputated.”

“I've never heard you complain about that before,” she said slowly. “Is this pain something new?”

He hesitated before nodding.
“Jah.”

“What can I do? Do you need a pain reliever? Ice?”

Hazel eyes met hers, full of gratitude and relief. “Yes to both.”

After ascertaining whether he wanted some Advil or some medicine of his own, she trotted off to the kitchen. “I'll be right back.”

“I'll be here.” He gave her a halfhearted smile.

By the time she returned with a Ziploc bag filled with ice and two tablets, he had taken off his prosthesis, placed his leg on the couch, and rolled up his pant leg.

She'd never seen an amputated limb before. When she saw the mottled, scarred skin that the surgeons had carefully reworked
around his knee, she gasped. Not from the scars, but from the red lines extending from the area. At the very least, he had a bad infection and needed antibiotics.

“I know,” he said around a grimace. “This leg of mine—what's left of it—it's not a pretty sight. Ain't so?”

“Actually, I was thinking that it looks very painful.”

He shrugged. “Tonight it is.”

“Here, then.” She handed him a glass of water and two pills. After he'd swallowed them, she handed him the bag of ice. “How about a kitchen towel or something to put on your skin?”

“That would be
gut
.
Danke
.”

Ten minutes later, her guest was lying back against one of the armrests with his eyes closed. She walked to the kitchen in order to give him some privacy, but after a few minutes, she knew that was the wrong place to be. She was too antsy to sit in the back of the house.

All she could think was that his family was going to be concerned—and that was putting it mildly. Usually she tried not to interfere with her guests' wishes, even when they were sick or injured. But this time she knew she was going to have to make an exception. Michael needed medical attention, and it was becoming obvious that he had not been letting on just how badly he was hurting. She was going to have to tell his family everything she'd observed. In order not to disturb him in the front room, she walked out the back door and circled around the house to the front, planning to sit on the steps and wait for their return.

As minutes passed, she watched her porch lights and the solar-powered landscaping lanterns slowly illuminate like the fireflies she'd chased when she'd been a young Amish girl in Ohio. Several years ago, after a failed engagement, she'd decided
not to join her order. Instead, she joined the local Mennonite church in Pinecraft and adopted their ways. Now, as she sat in the darkness and waited for the Knoxx Family to return, she closed her eyes and prayed for guidance. The air was fragrant with the scent of orange blossoms and lilacs. Lavender and roses. The scent was heavenly.

As she heard the laughter of children in the distance and the sound of the traffic on Beneva Rd., she found herself looking to the right, at another inn.

Where Eric Wagler stayed when he was in town.

Three months ago, she'd run into Eric by chance at the library and soon discovered that he'd come to Sarasota to claim ownership of
her
bed-and-breakfast. How it came to be his was a complicated story and they'd left things unresolved. All she knew was that she'd agreed to run the Orange Blossom Inn for another couple of months while he decided what he wanted to do.

Her girlfriends thought it was foolish to be so agreeable, and she supposed she didn't blame them. Part of her ached to rage at Eric, to cry and whine and remind him that she'd put her heart and soul into the bed-and-breakfast while he'd been occupied with his own life. But time had also taught her that crying and whining didn't solve anything. Most of the time, it was better to simply try to see the other person's point of view.

This was hard, because at the moment, Eric held all the cards. She was reduced to relying on his good nature. However, she kept hoping and praying that something would work out between them. But he was supposed to return to Pinecraft by the end of the week, and this time he was planning to take a room at
her
inn.

And she was going to have to let him.

Happy chatter interrupted her thoughts, and when she saw the Knoxx foursome approaching, she got to her feet. “Hello!” she called out.

They grinned and returned her greeting, but as they got closer, it was obvious that they saw her worry. Mrs. Knoxx's smile vanished. “Beverly, is there anything wrong?”

She descended the last three steps to greet them. “I'm not sure, but I'm afraid there might be. Michael is resting on the couch just off the entryway.”

“What happened?”

“I don't want to alarm you, but he seems to be in a lot of pain. His, uh, knee is giving him trouble. Well, the part that attaches to his prosthesis. We put some ice on it, and I gave him two pain relievers from my kitchen cabinet.”

His parents exchanged worried looks.

“Thank you for looking after him, Beverly,” Mrs. Knoxx said.

“It was no trouble and I wasn't waiting out here for thanks. Instead, I was hoping to give you some warning about how badly he was feeling.”

“
Danke
,” Mrs. Knoxx said. “Even when he was young Michael never did like to ask for help. It seems that some things never change.” Looking determined, she strode inside, Evan and Molly on her heels.

When only she and Mr. Knoxx remained, he looked at Beverly with solemn eyes. “There's a chance we're going to have to get him to the hospital tonight. Would you help us arrange transportation?”

“Of course. One of my neighbors drives for the Amish. I'm sure he wouldn't mind taking you if that's what you decide you need to do.”

“I hope I am wrong, but unfortunately his doctors have told
me that he might need surgery again. That time might have come.”

When the door opened and Mrs. Knoxx peeked her head out, Beverly realized that he was probably right. The expression on Mrs. Knoxx's face told Beverly everything she needed to know.

To the rest of the world, Michael Knoxx might be a symbol of invincibility, capable of withstanding pain and all kinds of human frailties. Beverly now knew better, however. He put on a good face, but at the moment, he was just as susceptible to aches and pains as anyone. And actually, what he really needed now was someone who didn't see him as anything but a man in great need of a friendly, helping hand.

Thank the good Lord that she still had two good ones.

T
welve hours later, Penny was still feeling the sting of Michael Knoxx's cool brush-off.

Oh, she hadn't expected him to want to chat with her for hours. Or even be especially excited to learn that he had a new fan in Sarasota.

Actually, if she was being completely honest, she'd never imagined that a man like him would feel like paying much attention to her anyway. After all, he was Michael Knoxx, the most famous member of the Knoxx Family, a mighty renowned group.

She, on the other hand? Well, she was Penny Troyer. A girl who was a bit mousey, a whole lot of an introvert, and until very recently, practically a prisoner in her own home.

But even taking all that into consideration, she had assumed he would have recognized her sincere attempt to help him, accepting that even girls in small towns like Pinecraft were capable of offering a helping hand.

At the very least, she'd thought he would be kind.

He definitely had not been.

Instead of thanking her for her stopping to ask about him, he'd hardly looked her in the eye. Instead of thanking her for her praises about his speech, he'd looked irritated. His tone of voice had been clipped and cool, nothing at all like the smooth, almost melodic words she'd heard floating down from the loudspeaker in the pavilion.

In short, meeting him had been a disappointment. And it would have been even if it hadn't been obvious that he'd thought she was some kind of creepy, adoring fan.

And while she had been a fan—and okay, for a few minutes, she'd been rather close to adoring him—she had
never
been creepy. Besides, pretty much every girl there had been gazing at him the same way she had.

Surely there was nothing wrong with admiring a man who was fit and healthy and sported dark blond hair and striking hazel eyes with golden flecks?

No doubt even the Lord himself would have admired His handiwork in Michael Knoxx.

Still, she had not stopped for him because she'd thought he was special. Instead, she'd been worried about him. He had looked like he was in pain. She'd stopped for him the way she would have for anyone, whether they'd recently been on a stage sharing their incredible story of survival or merely sitting in the audience.

She was still stewing over their brief conversation the next morning after she finished her chores and went into the kitchen to have breakfast with her parents.

As usual, her mother had made a platter of pancakes, scrambled eggs, sausage, and bacon accompanied by a big bowl of sliced fruit. It was always delicious and always too much for the three of them. Her mother just couldn't seem to prepare anything for less than four people, and her father still couldn't bear
to invite anyone over. Neither seemed able to admit that they'd been a family of three for a long time now.

After they said grace silently, Penny dug in. Once again, her mother's pancakes were light and fluffy and the tropical syrup she made from scratch was the perfect combination of sweet citrus and tang.

“Mamm, everything is
wunderbaar
,” she said, thinking once again that it really was a shame no one else ever got to try her mother's
wonderful-gut
pancakes.

“
Danke
. It is
gut
to see you eating. I'm glad you joined us.”

Holding a forkful of sliced oranges, Penny paused. “What do you mean by that? I always enjoy your Saturday breakfasts.” She was also always home.

Well, except for last night.

“We thought maybe you were going to change your mind about eating breakfast here.”

“Why?”

“Because you seem so intent on getting away from us.”

If she had been alone, Penny would have closed her eyes and groaned in frustration. Her mother's ability to heap on the guilt was alive and well. “Just because I went to the gathering with friends last night doesn't mean I've changed.”

“Did you enjoy yourself?” her father asked with a pointed glare. “Did you like being out among so many strangers?”

Irritation rode up her spine. The way her
daed
was eyeing her was making her more than a little uneasy. “I did have a good time.”

“And how was the Knoxx Family's latest performance? Did you get your fill of staring at the illustrious Michael Knoxx?”

Though her cheeks were no doubt turning red, she protested his description. “Daed, it wasn't a performance. You know the Knoxx Family would never describe their testimony like that.”

“They sing.”

“The daughter does. She sang ‘Amazing Grace,' which many people in the audience sang along with. But mainly it was the men talking about their walk with the Lord. And Michael Knoxx told his tale about being stuck alone in a ravine for days.”

Her father rolled his eyes. “Oh, I'm sure he told all about his adventure. In detail.”

“It was hardly an adventure, Daed. Michael lost part of a leg.”

“
Jah
. I know how he lost his leg. A person would have to be deaf not to hear about it.” With a grunt, her father put down his fork. “They use one event that happened to them years ago for their own personal glory.”

Penny hated how her father was reducing Michael's story to a mere publicity-seeking stunt. “Did you go to see them last night, too?”

“You know I did not.”

“Have you heard them speak before?”

“Of course not. But I have heard accounts about the Knoxx Family and the way they promote themselves.”

“If you had heard Michael Knoxx speak for yourself, I think you would feel differently about his message, Daed. At least I certainly hope you would!”

Her mother gasped at her raised voice, just as if Penny had stood up and yelled at them. “Penny, you will show your father respect.”

Knowing that protesting would do no good, Penny simply cut another bite of pancake.

“Since we're discussing your behavior, I think I should mention that you came home later than expected,” her father continued.

She was now completely miffed. “
Nee
, I came home earlier than I had thought I would,” she corrected. “A lot of people were going to each other's houses to play cards or talk but I decided to come home instead.”

Her parents exchanged looks. “Thank goodness you showed that little bit of sense at least,” her mother said before taking a fortifying breath. “So, today I thought we would get a head start on some Christmas projects.”

“Mamm, it is April.”

“
Jah
, but with so many of your cousins having
bopplis
, we've got a lot of baby quilts to make.”

The unintentional reminder of how the other girls in their extended family were living their lives dissolved the last of Penny's appetite.

And just like that, she knew she was going to have to keep pressing for more freedom and independence. It was becoming obvious that her parents intended to treat her evening out as a one-time thing. Since she'd not even had her
rumspringa
, Penny knew it was past time.

She was going to need to push a little harder for independence, and do it immediately.

Pushing her plate away, she said, “Mamm, I enjoy quilting with you, and I want to help you make Christmas presents. But I have other plans for today.”

“What is that?” her father asked.

Penny took a breath, prayed for courage, and then blurted, “I'm going to go find a job.”

“What?” Her mother gasped for at least the third time that morning. “Why in the world do you need a job? We give you everything you need.”

No, they had given her everything they'd
thought
she needed. And while her material needs might have been met, Penny was
certain that she needed more for herself. Getting out last night had made her realize just how sheltered she'd become. And after she got over the sting of Michael Knoxx's brush-off, Penny had come to realize that she not only needed to leave the house more, but she needed to get to know more people her age. She needed friends, men and women, with whom to try new experiences. And to fund those things, she was going to need money.

However, she wasn't quite ready to be completely honest and up-front. “I want to do something on my own,” she said slowly. “I want to meet other people. I want to feel good about myself.”

Her father glared. “All you are doing is setting yourself up for disappointment.”

Though she'd imagined that they would do everything possible to dissuade her, the comment took her by surprise. “Why is that?”

“Jobs are hard to come by and you have no qualifications.”

His harsh words felt like a slap in the face. More than that, really. “I was good in school,” she pointed out. But even to her ears her statement seemed woefully inadequate.

“You have no experience. And at your age, people will expect that you should.”

“At my age?” This was something new. She was twenty-four, not forty-four. Surely no one expected someone in their twenties to have loads of experience.

“Most girls your age have been doing all sorts of things,” her father replied. “Amish girls leave school at fourteen. Most have had ten years' experience at something or another by now.”

“I realize that.” The years had passed in a haze of grief for her sister and the fear of the unknown. Though she'd been intent on obeying her parents, she'd also allowed herself to become a recluse. But at last, she'd summoned the courage to finally do something different. It was time to start stretching herself, to take responsibility for her life.

“Lissy would most likely have already done all sorts of things by now,” her father added somewhat desperately.

Penny was so hurt, she could barely get out her next words. “Lissy would have?”

“Lissy was special.”

Penny knew that. Penny had always known that.

But while she would never have her sister's beauty, independent nature, easy smile, or even her beautiful, oh-so-feminine name, Penny had thought her parents would one day notice her worth, too. Actually, a small part of her had felt sure her parents would agree it was time she spread her wings—once they got their heads around the idea of her being more independent.

But now, her parents' point of view was starting to look mighty clear. Her parents had been keeping her close to them on purpose. They hadn't wanted her to have lots of other options. They kept her nearby for their own selfish reasons, so that she would never get away. But it wasn't because they especially wanted her near. No, to them she would always be a poor substitute for her sister.

And while she still wasn't prepared to think the worst of them, she couldn't bear to imagine that they'd kept such a tight hold on her for any reason other than the fear of losing her. It was now plain, to her at least, that they'd hoped that she would always be dependent on them.

Which was terribly unfair.

A temper that she'd never known she possessed filled her just then. Suddenly, all she knew was that she couldn't stay in this kitchen, pretending to have a meaningful, caring conversation about her future for another minute.

“I need to leave.” With a jerk, she stood up so abruptly that her chair scraped the floor.

Her mother blinked in confusion. “Penny, what in the world has gotten into you?”

“Everything,” she said, thinking that just about summed it up. Everything had finally gotten into her. A backbone. Goals. Even the Lord's caring whispers that she wasn't leading the life He had given her. Instead, she'd merely been in some kind of holding pattern.

Lost without even knowing it.

Her mother was now staring at her as if she were a foundling who'd come calling unannounced and uninvited. “‘Everything' is certainly no kind of answer.”

“I would explain myself, but I'm fairly sure you wouldn't like the answer.”

Her father glowered. “Penny, you must apologize for your behavior.”

“I will when you will,” she retorted.

“What have I done?”

“What have you not? I am sorry for scraping the floor, but it is perfectly fine.” Pointing to the tile underneath her feet, she realized that she was just like it. Far more durable than she looked, yet deceptively fragile. Hard to keep in perfect condition, but no worse for the wear even after a couple of hard scrapes.

“See? It is just fine,” she repeated.

Her mother looked on the verge of tears. “Penny, what is wrong with you?”

“Not a thing.” Not a thing, not anymore. As she carried her breakfast dishes to the counter, she knew that, at least, was the honest truth. For once she was becoming the type of person she used to dream she would be. She was making plans. If she made mistakes, they would be hers, too. “I'll help you with the breakfast dishes, and then I'll be on my way.”

“If you're going to act like such an ungrateful girl, don't bother with the dishes,” her father warned. “You just might as well leave.”

His words sounded so final, she looked at him carefully. “I can go right now.”

“Oh, Penny, why are you doing this to us? You can't go. Not like this,” her mother pleaded. “This is your home.”

After taking one last long look at her parents and seeing the combined dismay and anger lurking in their eyes, Penny realized that everything between them was now forever changed.

She'd refuted their decisions. Past events and hurts that they'd all carefully kept buried for years were now out in the open, and in some ways just as painful now as they had been then. She couldn't go back to how things were even if she'd wanted to. And she didn't want to do that. Not at all.

Therefore, she did the only thing she could do. She went upstairs to bide her time.

In two days, at a quarter to ten on Monday morning, she would open the front door and walk outside.

All in order to find herself—even if she wasn't exactly sure which road to take . . . or where it might lead.