Arms of Love (29 page)

“I will not answer,” she announced.

She did not meet his eyes. She was engaged to Isaac and forced herself to conjure up a blurry recollection of his face when the thunder came again with fierce power. She scrunched despite herself, and Adam took a step forward, his hand outstretched, then stopped.

“What you need, my sweet, is a distraction.” His voice had warmed in the moments between storm crashes, and she now felt as caught as a mouse in the applesauce as he reached outward. But he stretched over her head to pull down a small jar from the shelf behind her.

“Blueberry jam. I helped
Mamm
put it up last summer. I remember it was so hot.” His tone was lulling as he pulled off the brandy-soaked leather lid and popped the waxen seal.

Lena did not like his tone or the sensation of warmth that spread across her shoulders and down her back. She should flee . . . but the storm still rumbled. She clutched the lantern with sweaty palms; its warm glow played on the beauty of the iridescent-like glass of the jam jar and caught on the length of Adam’s tanned fingers.

“Adam . . . ,” she managed in a warning croak.

He looked at her, his eyes simmering gold in the lantern light, full of a range of emotions that did little to calm her spirit.

“What? I seek but a taste of jam. Is that so bad?”

“Ya . . . Nee. You know what I mean.”

He smiled and swiped a finger across the top of the fruity substance, then drew a long taste.

She tried to put a rein on her thoughts when the thunder came again in a terrible roll and nearly caught back a sob at the desperation of the situation.

“
Ach
, my manners,” he chided. “What about you, sweet sister-in-law? Would you care for some jam?”

She knew exactly what he thought; that she would not be having a taste. And, indeed, she knew she probably shouldn’t. But he had no call to tempt her thus when she was willing to sacrifice so much to aid his soul. She put the lantern down with a clink, and he raised a dark eyebrow in the half light. She crossed her arms and lifted her chin.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “I would love some.”

She almost laughed out loud at the half frown that formed about his handsome lips, but then he stepped forward, swiping two fingers in the jam this time. She watched him extend his hand to her and tried to focus her sensibilities. She was merely having a shared taste of jam.

She closed her eyes with determination and tried to pretend that it was a spoon he held out to her.

Adam bit the inside of his mouth until he tasted blood. He knew the game had ceased to be his when the last stain of violet blue was gone and she opened her eyes to stare up at him, cool and waiting.

The thunder crashed overhead once more, and the lantern suddenly guttered out at their feet. Adam welcomed the darkness to hide his disconcerted state, but he knew it would only worsen Lena’s fears.

“Lena,” he whispered. He bent his back and dropped his mouth, landing a half kiss on her temple when he’d meant it for her mouth.

He heard her quick indrawn breath when the storm rumbled again, and then his mouth closed unerringly upon her own. He tasted the summer-sweet weight of the berries on her lips.

He almost dropped the jam jar when he felt her withdraw from him.

“The storm is passing. Can you hear it, Adam?”

He couldn’t speak and nodded in the dark instead.

He felt her bend down and heard the clinks as she fixed the lantern, and light spread in a soft pool at his feet once more.

“Adam, thank you . . . for helping me through the storm.”

“ ’Twas nothing,” he said stiffly, feeling as though he had been used to bring momentary comfort, like a doll to a resourceful child.

She tapped the jar he’d forgotten he held, and then she picked up the lantern.

“’Twas delicious jam, Adam. The fruit of your labor captured in a

single passing moment.”

He glared at her, feeling stormy and heated and out of sorts. “The storm does indeed pass,” he said with irony. “Glad to have been of service.”

She smiled at him. “
Danki again
, Adam.”

And then she was gone, swinging the lantern, its light bouncing off the cellar walls, leaving him standing in the cool dark and longing for the storm to return.

Chapter 24

A
dam eased into his bed, resisting the urge to make sure Lena had found her way safely back to his
bruder’s
room. He sighed when he considered his behavior—so much for not forcing things in love. He turned over and thumped his pillow, knowing he should dismiss the whole incident in the
tzellar
and his blasted idea about the jam from his mind, but at the same time he longed for the luxury of dwelling on the images. He drifted off into pleasant lassitude until he started to dream . . . his nightmares of always.

Ruth looked up in surprise from her dawn feeding of Faith to see Lena slip inside the front door and close it firmly. The girl turned, out of breath and a bit wild-eyed.

“What’s wrong, luv?” Ruth asked, rising to settle the babe back in her cradle.

“Nothing.” Lena’s teeth chattered.

“Ye look like you’ve been chased by wolves for a good mile. Do you want some herb tea?”

“
Ya
. . . please.”

The two were soon seated in comfort round the kitchen table.

Ruth waited, sipping her tea, to see if Lena might speak of what had her so riled.

“It was quite a storm last night,” Lena offered.

“Aye, yer father said you would most likely stay the night at the Wyse farm. Said you hated storms.”

“I do hate them, but it—it was all right.”

Ruth saw an accountable blush stain the girl’s cheeks.

“You must not have stayed long for breakfast then,” she said, sliding a plate of fresh bread and the honey pot in front of the girl onto the table.

Lena met her eyes and then dropped her gaze. “
Ach
, Ruth. It was terrible . . . in some ways.”

“They did not treat you right?” Ruth asked, bristling.

“
Nee
. . . I . . . had to bundle with Isaac.”

“Oh, well, that’s all right then. Enough to make any girl feel strange.

He didn’t try anything to harm ye, did he?”

Lena shook her head. “He snored . . . and snored. And then there was the storm . . . I usually hate storms . . . Finally, when it was almost light, I left. I know it was rude. But I made my farewell to his
mamm
, who was starting breakfast. I told her that I was homesick and had to go.”

“Well, she might have wakened the snorer to bring you home. You could have been hurt coming all that way alone.”

“No, I know the forest trails. I had to escape.”

Ruth sighed. “It might not be my place, Lena, but I have to ask you if you believe in that verse you read me the one day.”

“That God is for us?
Ya
, I believe.”

“Then answer me something else. Do you truly want to marry Isaac?”

Ruth watched the struggle on the beautiful young face.

“I don’t understand what those two questions have to do with each other.”

Ruth stirred her tea. “Well, seems to me that if you believe God is on your side, then you don’t have to try to be your own god, or make your own decisions based on what you think is right, but maybe not on what He wants . . .”

“I—I am not doing that.”

“And I’m not saying that you are, but I know one thing.” Ruth looked at her directly. “Sometimes the most dangerous advice in life comes to us from those who love us the most, the people who care for us and want to protect us. Maybe they love us so much that they want to keep us from . . . what was it? Being ‘cultivated and sown’? They want to spare us that, so they give us advice that might not quite be lined up with God’s plough.”

Lena blinked. “You mean my fater, don’t you?”

Ruth shook her head. “I told you before, I’m no Bible studier as it may be, but I know this: your father loves you very, very much.”

“Ruth.” The girl leaned across the table and caught her arm. “I thank ye for your talk, but I have to—I must believe that what I am doing in marrying Isaac is right.”

“What happened between you and Adam Wyse?”

Lena sank back in her chair. “It was when my
mamm
died. He told me he was going to join the militia and start a new life. He said it was over between us.”

“Hmm. That is a heavy weight for shoulders as young as yours.

But again, God is fer you.”

“Well,
Fater
has never trusted Adam, although my
mamm
liked him.”

“Sometimes folks differ on such things, but it don’t always make one person right nor the other wrong.”

Lena smiled sadly. “I suppose not . . .”

“Whoop! Hiya!”

The two women looked up as Samuel called suddenly from the front door.

“The bishop’s come! Let us welcome him!”

Ruth squeezed Lena’s hand. “So your bishop’s here. And that means your ceremony can take place?”

Lena nodded with troubled eyes. “It must.”

Ruth sighed and rose to make more tea.

Chapter 25