His Amish Choice. Leigh Bale
already done the milking too. It appeared he was taking his promise to the bishop very seriously.
“Have you eaten?” she asked, feeling obligated to use good manners.
“Ja, my mudder fixed a big meal for Daed and me. I’ll have the horse hitched up in just a few minutes, then I’ll drive you to church,” he said.
He didn’t look at her while he put the collar on the horse. Ginger stood perfectly still, knowing this routine by heart.
“That won’t be necessary. You’re very kind, but I can drive the maed myself,” Lizzie said.
He paused, holding the saddle lacings in his big hands. “I...I don’t think that’s a good idea. You were nearly killed just a few days ago and I...I assured the bishop that I’d look after all of you.”
His voice caught on the words and he turned away, but not before Lizzie saw his trembling hands. Or had she imagined that? Why did he seem so upset by the accident?
“Ne, you told him you’d look after the farm. That’s not the same as driving us to church,” she said.
He nodded, accepting her logic. “Still, I feel responsible for you. I don’t want to have to tell Jeremiah that I was derelict in my duty.”
Hmm. Maybe he was right. The horror of the accident came rushing back and she realized she wasn’t eager to climb into a buggy again. If her fear distracted her while she was driving, it could put her sisters in danger. Perhaps it would be better to let Eli drive them for a time. But she hated feeling like a burden almost as much as she hated to depend on him.
“You needn’t feel obligated. I’ve driven a buggy many times before,” she argued half-heartedly.
“I know that. You’re a capable, strong-minded woman, but I’d feel better if you’d let me drive today. Just until Jeremiah is out of the hospital.” His gaze brushed over the clean gauze she had taped over her forehead. She hated wearing a bandage and would be glad when the wound healed enough to remove the three tiny stitches. No doubt, they’d leave a small scar to remind her that Gott had saved her familye’s lives.
“Komm on, let me drive you,” he said, his voice coaxing.
Oh, she knew that look of his. The calm demeanor. The slightly narrowed eyes. The softly spoken words and stubborn tilt that said he was going to do what he wanted one way or the other. Some things never changed.
But she had changed. Those soft feelings for Eli had been put away, and she wouldn’t fall back into old habits, like smiling at him when he behaved this way. It was time for this conversation to end.
“All right, you can drive today. I’ll go get the kinder.” She picked up a canister of milk and lugged it across the yard toward the well house. Fed by a cold mountain stream coming out of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains, the stone bath had been built by Daed when the familye first moved to Colorado.
Once inside, Lizzie set the heavy can into the chilled water and realized her hands were shaking from her exertions. When she turned, she found Eli right behind her with the second can.
“They’re too heavy for you to carry,” he said.
Yes, they were, but she could manage. With her father gone, she’d do whatever she must. Feeling suddenly awkward, she scooted out of Eli’s way as he placed the second canister into the water bath.
“Danke,” she said before hurrying to the house.
The girls were standing on the front porch waiting, their kapps, dresses and aprons neatly in place. They smiled, looking so sweet and innocent that a feeling of overwhelming love filled Lizzie’s chest.
“We even washed the breakfast dishes,” Annie said with a big smile, handing Lizzie the basket they would take with them.
“You did? You’re so helpful.” Lizzie smiled back, wiping a smudge of strawberry jam away from the girl’s upper lip.
The clatter of hooves caused them all to turn. Eli drove the buggy toward them, his straw hat, vest and jacket now in place. Inwardly, Lizzie took a deep, startled breath. He looked more handsome than a man had a right to be and it pierced her to the core.
As he pulled Ginger to a halt and hopped out of the buggy, Annie scurried behind Lizzie, as if to hide.
“Ne, I don’t want to ride in the buggy. Can’t we walk today?” the child asked, gripping folds of Lizzie’s dress as she peeked around her legs with caution.
“Ja, I would rather walk today too.” Marty’s eyes were also creased with fear as she sidled up against Lizzie.
Taking both girls’ hands in her own, Lizzie knelt in front of them to meet their eyes. “It’s too far to walk, bopplin. We’ll have to ride. But I will be with you and the Lord will make sure we are safe.”
Annie shook her head, her breathing coming fast, as though she’d been running. Lizzie knew a panic attack when she saw one. She pulled both girls into her arms and gave them a reassuring hug.
Eli stepped up onto the porch, removed his straw hat and crouched down so he could meet Annie’s gaze. “Ginger is an old, gentle horse and she can’t go very fast. You like her, don’t you?”
“Ja.” Annie nodded.
“And you trust me, right?”
A pause, then another nod.
“Then I promise to pull far over onto the shoulder of the road and drive extra careful so we don’t have another accident. If I hear a car coming up fast behind us, I’ll pull completely off the road until they have passed us by. I’ll take good care of all of us, this I promise,” he said.
A long silence followed as Annie drew her eyebrows together, signaling that she was thinking it over. Lizzie didn’t know what she’d do if her sisters refused to get into the buggy. It was eight miles to the Geingeriches’ farm—and eight miles they’d have to travel back. If they walked, they would arrive late, sweaty and tired. And the evenings were too chilly to walk home late at night. But she hated Eli’s word choice. There had been a time not so long ago when she had trusted him and he had made promises to her too. Promises she’d naively believed with all her heart...until he’d broken them.
“All right. We will ride,” Annie finally said in a tone of resignation.
Eli smiled wide, placed his hat back on his head, then picked the girl up. Taking Marty’s hand, he walked with them to the buggy and set them gently inside. Lizzie was right behind them. Watching his tenderness with her sisters brought a poignant ache to her heart. Without Lizzie asking, he helped her into the carriage too, holding on to her forearm a bit longer than necessary. The warmth of his hand tingled over her skin and she pulled away as quickly as possible.
When he was settled in the driver’s seat, he took the leather reins and slapped them against the palomino’s back.
“Schritt,” he called.
The horse walked forward, settling into an easy trot.
Sitting stiffly in her seat, Lizzie adjusted her long skirts and scrunched her knees as far away from Eli’s as possible. She thought about her discussion with him the day before. He’d said he wanted to stay in Riverton. That he wanted to live the Amish way of life. But what if he changed his mind? She told herself she didn’t care. He meant nothing to her now except that he was a member of the Gmay. So why did the thought of him leaving again make her feel so sad and empty inside?
* * *
Eli turned off the pavement and headed down the dirt road leading to the Geingeriches’ farm. Another buggy and horse were right in front of them, with several more following behind in a short convoy. Eli followed their pace. Each familye waved and greeted one another like the best of friends. A faint mist had settled across the valley, but he knew the morning sun would soon