Shelter From The Storm. Patricia Davids
straps to go over each shoulder.
Gemma had rolled down the window and was watching him. She wore a wary expression. “Let me rephrase my question. What are you making?”
“A sled.”
“For me to ride on?”
“That’s right.”
“Will you fetch my suitcase for me?”
He shook his head. They were running out of time. “I’d rather we left it here. That way I don’t have to pull unneeded weight.”
“I understand, but there are some things I need from it before we go.”
He shrugged and grabbed it out of the back. She opened the door and took it from him. “Danki.”
He stood for a few minutes trying to decide the best way to cushion Gemma’s ride. Sitting directly on the cold metal would quickly make her uncomfortable. What he needed was a couple of quilts. Lacking those, he decided a cushion of pine boughs might do the trick. Taking Dale’s ax, he walked into the woods looking for a young white pine. Their needles were soft and flexible. He found what he was looking for and brought back an armload. He dumped it onto the overturned truck hood. It was about the best he could do for her.
He stepped up to the truck door. “We should get going. I want to reach the highway before dark.”
“I’m almost ready.”
She had her back to him. She had taken off her cloak and put on two more dresses over the one she wore. She looked as plump as the bishop’s wife. She put a second kapp over the one she was wearing and then tied her traveling bonnet over both. “Without warmer clothes, layering is the next best thing. I’m afraid I’m wearing most of the extra weight you were concerned about pulling.”
“Don’t worry about that. It’s a goot idea.” He was surprised she’d thought of it. “Do you have any gloves or mittens?”
She lifted a pair of socks from the seat beside her. “These will work as mittens.”
“Okay. Are you ready?”
She nodded. “As soon as I put on my cloak. We should take the water bottles with us.” She grabbed the plastic containers from the dash. One bottle was half-empty. The other one was full. She scooted across the seat toward him and gathered the wadded blanket to her chest.
He rubbed his gloved hands on his trouser legs. He was going to have to pick her up and carry her due to her injured ankle. He knew she understood that without him saying anything because her cheeks were already bright red. He could tell his face was a similar color. He had never held a woman in his arms. That Gemma was the first one made him doubly uncomfortable.
He slipped an arm under her knees and around her back. She curved one arm around his neck as she held the water bottles and blanket with her other hand. He lifted her out of the truck and held her against his chest. She barely weighed anything. He never imagined holding her would feel so amazing, so comfortable.
Speechless, he stood gazing at her face framed by her dark bonnet. Freckles he had never noticed before dotted her nose and cheeks. Had the Florida sunshine made them more noticeable? Her eyes remained downcast. She smelled fresh, like sun-dried linen and faintly of flowers and coconut. It had to be the shampoo she used because Amish women did not wear perfume of any kind. He wanted her to look at him. To know what she was thinking. His feet refused to move.
A gust of wind made her turn her face into his shoulder to avoid the driving snow. The desire to hold her closer and protect her from anything that threatened her surprised him.
“Are you sure this is a goot idea?” she asked.
“Maybe, maybe not.”
He quickly realized holding her in his arms for any reason wasn’t a good one for him. Emotions he’d worked hard to keep hidden were stirring just below the surface. Gemma was not the sort of woman he could care for seriously. She was flighty, and she rattled his thinking.
The wind dropped away. She raised her face to gaze at him. Her luminous green eyes, fringed with thick dark lashes, were as trusting as a child’s. “I will try not to be a burden to you.”
“You weigh about as much as a bird. You are not a burden.”
“I meant I won’t be whiny and childish.”
“You are hurt, and this isn’t going to be a fun-filled sleigh ride, shpatchen.” The name fitted her. It meant “little sparrow.” A tiny creature bold enough to attack a cat that came too close to the nest.
Her lips curved in a soft half smile. “My grandmother used to call me that when I was a child.”
It warmed his heart to see her smiling. “Don’t worry, Gemma. Everything will be fine.”
* * *
Despite her throbbing ankle and the biting cold, Gemma relaxed in Jesse’s arms. He must not think too badly of her if he could call her by a childish nickname. She didn’t remember the last time she’d felt so safe. Especially around a man.
Until this minute, she had believed any chance of friendship between them had been ruined by her impulsive actions last year. Nothing she could say would undo his opinion except to behave in a manner he expected of a humble Amish maiden. Though he didn’t care much for her, she had no doubt he would do his best to protect her and make the journey back to the highway as quickly and safely as possible.
He settled her on his pile of pine branches on the overturned hood. She scooted around until nothing was poking her unbearably and nodded. He took the blanket from her and draped it around her shoulders, pulling it tight beneath her chin. “Ready?”
“I’m ready. Should we leave a note telling Dale where we have gone in case we miss each other?”
“The road is narrow. I don’t see how we could miss each other.” He walked to the front and slipped his arms through the loops he had made from the tie-downs. He started forward and Gemma grimaced with pain at the jolt. She grabbed at the branches under her with both hands. He looked back.
“I’m fine. I’m fine,” she said quickly.
“You don’t look fine. What will make it less painful for you? I don’t know how long this walk will take, so think about that before you say fine again.”
He was right. There was no need to suffer more than she had to simply to impress him. “Maybe if I had something higher to sit on and a way to keep my foot propped up a little.”
“Will the toolbox be high enough to sit on?”
It was about a foot tall and just as wide. “I think so.”
She scooted to one side. He placed the toolbox toward the back of the hood and rearranged the pine insulation on it. Taking the ax, he cut another armful of branches and arranged them as a padded rest for her injured leg. He helped her settle onto them. “How is that?”
“Better. Now all I need is something to hang on to if the terrain gets rougher.”
“It will get rougher.” He cut another piece of webbing, fashioned it into a big loop and attached it to the front of the hood. He gave her the webbing to hang on to the way she would hold the reins of a horse.
He slipped into his harness and started walking. The seat and padding for her foot made it better but it was a far cry from comfortable. Knowing there was nothing she could do to help Jesse, Gemma gritted her teeth and held on, determined not to complain.
The snow flurries grew heavier. A layer of white soon covered her blanket and the pine needles around her. The wind sent the fresh snow snaking across the trail where breaks in the trees offered access. Jesse’s makeshift sled moved easily over the snow, but he couldn’t avoid the dips and hollows that jolted her.
They’d gone several miles before her fingers grew numb despite the socks she was using