The Survivor (13 page)

“Oh, stop being so prudish. Men and women kiss sometimes, Graham. Even when they aren’t married. Sometimes even when they’re not engaged. Sometimes things happen.” More softly, she said, “Sometimes emotions take control and push all reasoning aside.”

“And I suppose something has happened between the two of you?” Even though he knew his voice sounded harsh, he asked again, “Has he kissed you?”

“It’s none of your business.”

“Mattie. Just tell me.”

“Not yet,” she said finally. “But I’m hopeful.”

He couldn’t help it, he reached for her. Held her shoulder, held her so Mattie couldn’t turn away and make some stupid flippant remark. “You had better not let him.”

“I haven’t yet. Of course I haven’t.”

“
Gut
. You have to worry about your reputation, you know.”

“You’re worried about my reputation? I’m not the one who is accused of getting Jenna Yoder pregnant, Graham.”

Even the mention of Jenna made his stomach clench—like he was receiving a fist in his gut. “I told you that nothing happened between us.”

Oh, but he was so tired of everyone thinking he had done something he hadn’t. Of being blamed for something when he’d been trying so hard to be the man his father was. The type of man his brothers were.

“I know you say that, and I want to believe you. I do! But I can’t help but wonder what did happen. Now, stop ordering me about—” She stopped, hands on her hips. “And you can drop your hand, too.”

Stop ordering her around? Stop touching her?

Instead of dropping his hand, he curved it farther around, cupping the small of her back. His breath caught as he waited for her to push him away.

Instead of pushing, she dropped her arms. Instead of stiffening, Mattie sighed. Relaxed. Her body moved slightly closer. Their eyes met.

And that was all he needed. Before he thought things through, before he pushed himself away, he leaned forward and did what Mattie said she wanted. He let his emotions take charge instead of his brain.

He finally gave into temptation and kissed her. Carefully. Like she was made of spun glass, even though that was exactly what she wasn’t.

Oh, her lips were as soft as he’d always imagined. He lifted his lips, half afraid he’d scared her.

But instead of pulling back, Mattie sighed and leaned into the kiss.

Giving him the invitation to kiss her again. He cupped his palms around Mattie’s jaw and held her still and pressed his lips to hers. Again. Just to make sure they both knew it hadn’t been a mistake. Eyes closed, he breathed in her scent. The faint combination of lemons and spice that was Mattie.

Desire spun forward. Making him imagine things he shouldn’t. Shocked, he broke away, breathing hard. Knowing he should apologize.

But he couldn’t. She glowed in the dim light of the burning embers of the fireplace. Her beautiful dark eyes were gazing at him with awe, her lips slightly parted in surprise. After a split second, she opened her mouth, then closed it.

Then opened her mouth again. Obviously searching for the right thing to say to him, but coming up at a loss.

If he had been able to, he would have smiled. For once in her life, Mattie Lapp was at a loss for words.

Well, so was he. “I should go,” he said. Because he couldn’t help himself, he brushed his lips against hers one more time. Then he turned, grabbed his gloves, scarf, and hat.

He opened the front door and stomped down her steps, putting on his hat, wrapping the wool scarf around his neck, and thrusting his fingers into the gloves as he did.

After finding the flashlight he’d left by the oak tree, he turned it on and began his long journey home.

The wind was cold against his skin, and the air was so silent he could hear the ground crunch under his feet.

Nothing was resolved. Everything was even more confused than ever before.

He shouldn’t have kissed Mattie.

He certainly shouldn’t have kissed her more than once.

But when he recalled how she’d felt in his arms. How her eyes had shone when he’d lifted his head . . . how perfectly right holding her felt . . . Graham smiled.

His heart was full and his spirits were high. All the worries that had been plaguing him all evening had dissipated.

As he shone the light in front of him, guiding his way, Graham began to whistle.

Chapter Sixteen

T
he moment Graham left the house, Mattie ran to her room. Closing the door swiftly behind her, she rushed to her bed and crawled inside the thick layers of sheets.

“Mattie?” her father called out. “Is everything all right?”

“It’s fine!” she called right back. Then burrowed deeper under her covers. As the darkness of the room eased her mind and the down comforter and quilts soothed and warmed her skin, she sighed deeply.

Graham had kissed her!

She wasn’t sure whether she was pleased by it or just plain shocked.

No, that wasn’t true, she realized as she felt her cheeks heat. That kiss had been like everything she’d ever imagined it would be, back when she’d been twelve or thirteen and had still thought she and Graham would have a chance together.

Graham’s embrace had been tender and sweet . . . but not too sweet. He’d treated her like a girl he liked—not as someone who was just a cancer survivor.

Of course, given the way he ran out of the house, there was no telling what he thought about what had happened.

Maybe he regretted it? Or maybe . . . just maybe . . . he had felt that certain something between them, too?

As her eyelids grew heavy, Mattie sighed and snuggled deeper into her pillow. And, for the first time in a long time, thought about weddings and wedding nights . . . and more kisses from Graham.

“C
ouldn’t stay away, hmm?” John asked.

“I needed coffee,” Mary countered as she entered the Kaffi Haus.

“And here I thought you were only coming here for my sparkling personality.”

Well, John’s eyes were sparkling, that was true. In addition, there was a new playfulness in his expression that made her feel like there were a hundred little special feelings between them that couldn’t be denied.

But even taking all of that into account, she surely wasn’t going to let him know her thoughts! “That most definitely is not the case. I’m only here because your coffee is almost as good as mine.”

He paused. “Almost?”

“Almost,” she returned with a smile. “But I have to admit to always appreciating your conversation.”

“Well, I’ll take that.” His voice warmed as he looked at her like he always seemed to—as if he was genuinely glad to see her. “Have a seat and I’ll pour you a cup.”

As she watched him open up a clear glass-fronted cabinet and pull out a white mug, Mary cautioned herself to keep her expression serene and not too interested in his every move.

That was harder than she imagined, because he made her so happy. In fact, John Weaver made her feel younger than she had felt in a terribly long time. It was a gift she couldn’t ignore.

As he handed her the mug, she caught a whiff of his scent. Ah. Fresh soap and leather and coffee and donuts—for her, a terribly appealing combination.

Eager to put even more distance between them, she said, “I’m rather hungry, too. Perhaps you could give me a donut as well?”

“I thought you were giving them up,” he teased as he went to the case, pulled out a glazed one and slipped it onto a plate. “Though, if you’re hungry, you probably need more than one.”

“One is enough. I did say I was cutting back.” She would’ve said something more, something more interesting than her need for food and drink—but the door chimed, signaling more customers.

John winked at her before turning back behind the counter.

Mary glanced at the new arrivals, then felt herself blushing when she saw it was her neighbor, Ruth. Ruth was older by twenty years and had never failed to give her opinion on most anything.

“
Gut matin,
Ruth,” Mary said politely. “Lovely day for November, wouldn’t you say?”

But instead of coming right over to chat for a spell, Ruth only looked down her nose at her. “Mary. I must say that I’m surprised to see you here.”

A feeling of unease rushed through her. “And why is that?”

“I would’ve thought you would be far too busy with your houseguest to leave, let alone be sitting here like this. Eating pastries and sipping coffee.”

Mary didn’t like busybodies. Especially not busybodies who seemed to find problems in even the tamest of activities. “How kind of you to be thinking of me,” she said, letting a hint of sarcasm tinge her tone.

If Ruth was taken aback or embarrassed, she didn’t let on. “Yes, from what we’ve heard, that girl is keeping you plenty busy.”

Mary didn’t miss Ruth’s use of “we’ve” to signal that Mary had been a topic of conversation for some. “Jenna is no trouble at all. Actually, she is a wonderful-
gut
houseguest.”

Ruth narrowed her eyes over the rims of her glasses. “Even if that is the case, I must say I’m surprised you took her in.”

“I don’t know why. Jenna is a mighty nice girl.”

Ruth pursed her lips. “She was. Now, though, I would worry.”

To Mary’s relief, John entered the conversation. Pretending to wipe the counter near them, he said, “And why is that?”

“Don’t tell me you haven’t heard about her and Graham Weaver.”

John folded his arms across his chest. “I’ve heard malicious gossip—but I, for one, know that Graham did nothing untoward with Jenna.”

“So he says . . .”

“So I
know
.”

John’s voice was so hard and unforgiving, even Mary was taken aback.

And, by the look of Ruth’s flushed cheeks, the woman finally had decided to back down. “All I meant to tell Mary was that she should be careful, given that Jenna Yoder has quite a reputation now.”

“Perhaps,” Mary allowed. “But I think we all have a reputation of one sort or another.” No longer caring about being rude, Mary glared at Ruth.

Ruth continued to flush, but lifted her chin. “All the same, you might want to watch her around your son.”

“Abel?”

“Of course. She could be a Jezebel, don’t you know.” Her voice rising, she added, “In fact, she could very well threaten every good thing you’ve done for that boy. If they’re ever alone together, he might get in trouble.”

Mary stared at Ruth, stunned. They’d known each other for years. Ruth had even organized dinners for Mary and Abel when her husband had passed. Though they’d never been especially close, Mary had never imagined the woman could think such venomous things. “I don’t think so.”

“Still . . . you never know . . .”

“I would know. Even though Jenna has made some mistakes, she still has a good heart. I think we could all name many instances when Jenna has either helped us cook or quilt, or helped watch our
kinner
.” Did the other woman really imagine that a lifetime of good choices could really be unraveled with just one houseguest?

“If you don’t wish to heed my warnings, that is your business. I just felt that I would say my piece.”

“I’m glad you did,” John said. “Now, may I help you with your order?”

“I need a dozen donuts.”

Though Ruth had turned her back on Mary and was now looking in the case of donuts, Mary felt like she needed to defend Jenna.

“Ruth, though I respect your opinion, I have to tell you that I think Jenna needs all of our prayers and support. The book of Matthew says that ‘God blesses those who are merciful, for they will be shown mercy.’ ”

Ruth’s lips thinned. “Indeed, she does need our prayers. And she needs to repent.”

“Her family put her out. She had nowhere to live.”

“That is her consequence,” Ruth said primly over her shoulder.

Mary’s hands shook with anger as she sipped her hot coffee and watched John quietly fill a bakery box with a dozen donuts, then take Ruth’s money.

Once Ruth left the shop, John walked to Mary’s side. “Are you okay?” he asked. To her surprise, he put a hand on her shoulder, offering comfort.

It took everything she had not to grip his hand with hers and hold him close. “Of course.”

“I’m sorry about the things she said. She was pretty harsh.” Sliding onto the stool next to her, he added, “Don’t let her get to you. I’ve never had much patience with narrow-minded people.”

As she gazed into his eyes, Mary’s stomach did a summersault. Suddenly, the donut looked like the absolutely worst thing she could imagine eating. With two fingers, she pushed it a few more inches away from her.

John noticed. Slowly, he got to his feet and took two steps back. “Not hungry anymore?”

“Nee.”

“You’re not actually giving her insinuations credence, are you? Abel is a good boy and is on his way to becoming a good man. Even if I worried about Jenna’s reputation—which I do not—I wouldn’t worry about your son.”

His words were so good to hear. “Thank you, John. You’re right. Abel is most definitely a good boy.” But even Mary heard the strain in her voice.

No, she wasn’t worried about Abel, but suddenly, she was worried about herself. Leaning too much on John was dangerous. Though she liked John’s conversation, he wasn’t Amish. Not yet.

Abruptly, she got to her feet. “I think I’ll go now.”

“You don’t even want to stay for my very good, very fresh coffee?” Lines formed around his eyes, drawing her attention to his handsome face again.

For a moment she yearned to sit back down and not think about the future . . . but she didn’t dare. “The day has gotten away from me. I should really get home to do my chores.”

“How about I come by tonight?”

“Oh, John . . .”

“Tomorrow night? Thursday?”

“
Nee.
Thursday
will be a busy day.”

“Mary, I know things are crazy, what with Jenna there . . . but I want to see more of you. I thought you felt the same way.”

“I did.”

“Then don’t shut me out.”

With some surprise, she realized John was exactly right. She’d been pushing him away. Pushing all her feelings away, just like she used to do right after her husband had died.

She’d thought she was stronger by now.

“Mary? Please?”

“All right. This weekend.”

His gaze softened. “I’ll see you this weekend, then. Goodbye, Mary.”

She walked away before she spoke. Before she was tempted to say something silly. Before she was tempted to tell John that she’d look forward to seeing him again very much.

Most likely, too much.