Authors: Lydia Michaels
The large cast iron
skillet sat on the back burner. She lit the burner and let the pan heat. In the
ice chest there was a jar of milk and a tub of lard.
Lard.
She giggled
as she spread a heaping pad over the hot pan.
You are living with
Amish Vampyres. Weird Al couldn’t have come up with a funnier premise.
After dunking several
slices of bread in the batter she dropped them onto the skillet. They sizzled
and snapped and soon the kitchen was filled with the delicious aroma of sweet
French toast. Li wasn’t sure how a vampyre’s appetite compared to a regular
man’s, but going by the way her guy friends could clean out her fridge in one
sitting, she figured all men could eat.
She filled a large
platter with a warm stack of crispy toast and dusted the pile with sugar.
Surely Christian would have maple syrup somewhere. She went to the pantry while
the next three slices browned and crisped and dug around. Nothing was
prepackaged. Everything was jarred and fresh off the farm.
She liked cooking in
this kitchen. It was like playing in an organic market. No preservatives here.
It would be a dietitian’s wet dream, well, minus the big tub of lard and
straight from the udder cream. Yeah, maybe not.
“You are making
breakfast?”
Delilah jumped and
turned from the pantry. Christian waited, dressed, at the doorway of the
kitchen, an expression of pure shock on his face. She smiled.
Play nice.
“Yeah. I don’t do the
meat thing, you know, but I’m still a pretty decent chef. Here, have a seat. Do
you like French toast? It’s my Nanna’s recipe.”
He reluctantly let her
pull him into a chair at the table. His gaze went to the stove, the dishes
along the counter, the stack of toast on the center of the table, and to her.
“Should I worry about the ingredients? You held the arsenic, I should hope.”
Hardy har har.
She placed a plate in
front of him and a napkin. Plucking a corner off a steaming slice of toast she
popped it in her mouth. “See? All good.”
He eyed her skeptically.
Let it roll of your shoulders, Li. He’s just taken off guard.
After putting some
silverware on his napkin she removed the last three pieces from the skillet and
transferred them to the serving platter on the table. Shutting down the burner
and grabbing two glasses filled with milk, she took the seat across from him.
“If you don’t shut your
mouth you’re gonna start catching flies,” she said as she plopped three fat
pieces on his plate. “Shall we?”
Seeming to snap out of
his trance, he shook his head. Using the side of her fork Li sliced off a bite
and stabbed into it. Her mouth watered. She lifted her fork to her mouth and
stilled.
Christian had yet to
touch his silverware. His head was bowed and his eyes were closed. Delilah
didn’t know what to do. Moment of silence? Grace? Yeah, that made sense. She
stayed perfectly still and waited. He didn’t move for almost thirty seconds and
then he cleared his throat and nodded. Smiling tenderly at her he picked up his
fork.
“Thank you for this
lovely meal, Delilah. It looks quite tempting.”
She smiled at the simple
compliment and they began to eat. After working through half of her toast,
Delilah took a break from eating. “So, what are your plans today?”
He stilled. She hated
that he still had that look of skepticism in his eyes. “Well, I suppose that
depends on you, Delilah.”
Right. If she planned on
running away again.
“I meant it depended on
what you wanted to do,” he clarified.
“Oh.” Did he know she
tried to leave this morning? She was just as suspicious of him apparently.
Well, this was new territory for both of them. It was bound to take some
getting used to.
“Is there something you
would like to do today?” he asked as he helped himself to more French toast. He
liked her cooking and a strange sense of pride filled her as he dug in for
more.
“Um, the other day the
girls said something about dinner. I was thinking it would be fun to eat with
the others, maybe get to know some of the other girls a little better…” His
uncomfortable expression had her words falling away. Okay, not big on the
social things.
“The Hartzlers sup
together because they are family. Perhaps we could invite my mother for supper
one evening this week.”
“But they invited us.”
“Yes, but…I am not so
familiar with the younger Hartzler men. Ezekiel is closer to my age and serves
with me on the council. Perhaps you would—”
“Well then we can both
make friends.”
He pressed his lips
together. She didn’t think he was angry, just uncomfortable with the idea of
hanging out with the younger crowd.
“How old are Cain and
Adam?” she asked.
He thought for a moment.
“I suppose a bit under a half century. The bishop’s mate turned fifty a few
years ago. She is the oldest child.”
“Larissa?”
“Yes.”
“Wow. It’s so cool you
guys all look like you’re in your late twenties and some of you are, like,
thousands
of years old.”
He coughed and wiped his
mouth. “No one on the farm is that old, Delilah.”
“Who’s the oldest?”
“Bishop King. He is
nearing half a millennia.”
“Wow! Who’s after him?”
“The elders on the
council are the oldest males of each family. There are nine families on the
farm. However, my mother is of course older than me.”
“Are you the youngest
elder?”
“Yes. I took my seat on
the council when I was a boy of eight years.”
“Eight? And people
listened to you? You were a kid.”
“I had been reared by my
mother to take my position seriously. I am the only male Schrock and as such,
it was my duty to ensure our family was not overlooked. There are only two of
us. Well, now there are three.”
Right, the third being
her.
We’ll see.
“Did the older guys razz you?”
“Razz?”
“Yeah, pick on you for
being the little guy.”
“I do not see myself as
little.”
“Of course not.” She
smirked. “I just meant younger.”
His eyes wandered and
focused elsewhere for a moment. “There was a time,” he said quietly, looking
somewhere over her shoulder. “That a few of them referred to me as Bastard
Schrock. My mother was mated, but left her mate. It has been somewhat of an
embarrassment over the years.”
Something protective
snapped to life inside of her at his confession, but the rest of his statement
voided her sympathy. “I thought mates couldn’t leave each other.”
“They can’t, but leave
it to my mother to disprove a belief thousands of years old.”
Interesting.
“Why’d she leave him?”
His gaze returned to
hers and appeared guarded. “I do not know. She never speaks of him, nor do I
care. I do not know who my father is and I likely never will. I am no longer an
insecure boy who lets such sentimental nonsense bother him.”
Delilah lowered in her
seat and let the conversation drop. No matter what Christian claimed, there was
still a trace of hurt in his words.
This wasn’t like the
modern world. Over half of Delilah’s friends came from broken families and had
divorced parents, but here, family seemed to be the backbone of every home. It
must’ve been terribly difficult for Christian to be the only male without a
father.
She felt for him in that
moment and understood a bit more about why he always tended to be so serious.
If he was expected to be a man at eight years old, he likely never had much of
a chance to be a boy.
She pulled back from the
table. “I’ll do the dishes.”
Gathering the plates,
she tried to make the best sense out of the pump and jarred soap. Would it be
too much to get some
Dawn?
She couldn’t imagine God smiting them for a
squeeze bottle of detergent.
Oh God, laundry.
She shivered. Li didn’t
even like doing laundry at the Laundromat. Imagining beating clothes on a rock
or scrubbing them over a washboard was terrifying.
Wait! What the hell are
you worried about? You won’t be here come laundry day.
As she dried the last
dish she turned. Christian was watching her with a peculiar look on his face.
“What?”
“You surprise me,
Delilah. That is all.”
She shrugged. “I told
you I’m nice.”
“I never doubted it.”
The room pulsed with an
energy that hadn’t been there earlier. She wanted to go to him, touch him,
perhaps even kiss him. Their momentary truce made the situation easier.
He leaned back in his
chair and opened his mouth. “I want—”
There was a knock on the
front door. They both stilled and turned to the hall. The soft knock sounded
again. Delilah looked down at her chemise. She probably should’ve put back on
the ugly green dress again. “Should I wait upstairs?”
He turned to her,
clearly surprised at her acquiescence to remain properly attired in front of
others. He shook his head. “It is only Abigail. You need not worry about how
she sees you.”
Abigail? Who the fuck is
Abigail, coming to knock on Christian’s door bright and early?
The drag of his chair
along the wood floor had her snapping out of her head and reaching for
something. For some reason she wanted to look busy and capable. She picked up a
dishrag and began drying an already dry plate from breakfast.
Christian went to the
door and she craned her neck to see this so called Abigail. Unfortunately
Delilah could only make out their voices from the kitchen.
“Good morning, Abigail.”
“Good morning,
Christian. My father sent me with the notes from the meeting you missed. He
assumed you would be interested in reading over them.”
“Thank you. Have you
eaten? Would you like some breakfast?”
“Oh, no thank you. I’m
still quite full from first meal. I’ve been up since four.”
Well pin a rose on her
nose.
The
girl sounded a bit too bubbly for Delilah’s liking.
“And where will you be
going after here, dear Abby?”
She giggled. “Where
else? Home of course.”
“Your father no doubt
has a dozen needless tasks you must be present for.”
She hummed. “If he
didn’t, I would assume I was lost in a dream.”
Christian laughed.
Delilah didn’t get the joke.
“Speaking of which,” the
girl said, lowering her voice. “I heard your mate has arrived.”
“She has.”
“Oh,” her voice turned
soft, almost sad. “Then I am very happy for you, Christian.”
There was a heavy moment
of silence. Delilah frowned.
“Your time will come as
well, Abby. Do not think this is all there will ever be for you. I believe He
has planned someone special to love you.”
“How am I supposed to
ever meet him if I never leave the house except to come here? And now you have
your mate. I assume our visits will become less and less.”
Visits?
Delilah wrung the cloth
over her fists.
“Do not fret, sweet
Abigail. He will find you.”
“I hope so. Well, I had
better be returning home before Abraham loses patience.”
“Please stop by again
soon,” Christian said.
The door closed and
Delilah quickly turned to put away the dishes. He came into the kitchen and
hovered behind her. Close behind her. She moved as if she hadn’t noticed his
proximity.
Heavy hands settled on
her hips and she stilled. He pressed his lips to the back of her shoulders and
her breasts drew tight under her chemise. There was no way he was gonna be all
sweet and touchy feely with her after his little trollop got him all worked up.
She tried to shrug him off.
“We are blessed,
Delilah.”
A million other words
popped into her head, better suited to describe them. Blessed was not one of
them.
“That was Abigail.”
“I heard,” she said
dryly.
“I feel for her.”
Delilah stiffened.
“She never is permitted
to leave her home except to occasionally come here. Her father is very
overprotective since losing Mary on the voyage over. Mary was Abraham’s mate.
He has never been the same since losing her. I doubt he will ever be whole
again.”
His arms tightened
around her waist, but Delilah wasn’t in the mood for being held. She waited for
him to release her. When he didn’t, she said, “Well, I assume good old Abs will
have to find someone else to
visit
now that I’m here.”
The soft perusal of his
fingers along her belly stilled. “Why? I was hoping the two of you could become
great friends. Abigail does not have many friends.”