CHAPTER 6
J onny’s question about her interests outside of work had hit a nerve. She hated that she’d drawn a blank. That was why, she supposed, Treva found herself analyzing her life and likes whenever she had a moment to spare.
While it was awkward at first, she’d soon gotten the hang of things and was almost enjoying the experience.
There were many things she enjoyed about running the Trailside Café. Too many to list, she reckoned. But if she had to pick her very favorite parts, they involved working behind the counters, making coffees, baking breakfast treats, and interacting with a variety of people. Though each took a lot of effort in order to do well, none of them seemed like work. She truly enjoyed owning her own business and making her childhood dream of owning a cute café a reality.
Unfortunately, she was learning the best thing about her job was also the worst. The problem about having a job she loved was that she didn’t want to ever leave. Ever.
She enjoyed visiting with her customers. She enjoyed working on the baked goods and organizing the little sacks she’d recently bought to put them in for customers wanting treats to go. She found satisfaction when some of her patrons didn’t choose to take their coffee and run but decided to relax in the small seating area.
She even loved doing the dishes and making sure everything looked picture-perfect before she locked the door late each afternoon.
The drawback of all that was that her aunt and mother seemed to fear that she was substituting a vibrant, fulfilling business for a good life.
She used to find that a little offensive. Couldn’t they be the same thing? And if they weren’t, what was wrong with her choices?
After all, if she were a man who showed so much care to his office or place of business, she didn’t think anyone would think a thing about it—except to maybe pat him on the back and tell him good job.
Right?
But after visiting with Emma Jane, as well, Treva had begun to believe that her mamm and Aunt Ruth weren’t foolish after all. Maybe she had given the Trailside Café not only all her time but also her heart. Maybe she had been so upset about Reuben that she’d substituted a thriving business for him.
Instead of attempting to form a good relationship with another man.
That was why Aunt Ruth was currently making cappuccinos and lattes and Treva was riding her old, rickety bike down the bike path near her family’s farm.
Okay. She supposed that even if she wasn’t willing to confess all her thoughts to either Emma Jane or her family, she needed to be honest with herself at the very least.
There was something about Jonny that she couldn’t stop thinking about. She was sure it had something to do with his looks. He was handsome in a way that was impossible to ignore. Every time he’d entered her café, he’d drawn admiring glances from women of all ages and backgrounds.
Treva knew she’d be lying if she pretended that she hadn’t done the same thing.
But there was something else about him that was more interesting and special than just a good jaw and physique. Maybe it was his story—the way not just him but also his brother and two sisters were all experimenting with living Amish. That took a determination and a way of thinking that not everyone had. It was hard to dream of a different path when one was surrounded by folks who were delighted to never drift too far from either the left or right.
But what she thought was making her heart beat a little bit quicker was the faintly bleak look in his eyes. Something in his life had been hard, and he was doing a good bit of work attempting to either forget or come to terms with it.
Kind of like the way she was with Reuben.
Maybe Jonny wasn’t suffering from a broken heart, but she kind of thought that something worrying was on his mind.
Treva didn’t want to pry into his business or private life, but her sympathetic nature did want to try to help him in some way. Probably because she knew what it was like to have all her dreams shatter. She knew better than most that not every broken shard was picked up easily. Sometimes there were still tiny slivers of glass that poked into one’s skin from time to time, causing an unexpected twinge or making one bleed.
As she’d hoped, the Landen Bicycle Shop was open. Parking her bike outside, she forced herself to walk inside the shop, even though she wasn’t exactly sure what she was going to say she needed from Jonny.
It was a bad plan, but that couldn’t be helped. She’d always been good at math and businesslike concerns. Not long-term relationship goals.
Opening the door, she stepped in with a smile.
But was brought up short by the scowl on his face.
“That’s not what I said, Beth,” he said.
She froze, looked around, then realized he was talking on his cell phone.
When he saw her, he sighed. “Hold on,” he said into the phone before raising his chin. “Hi, Treva.” He flashed a quick smile. “It’s good to see you.”
“Hi. Um, do you want me to come back?”
“No.”
He didn’t sound like he meant it. Or maybe he just sounded angry? She wasn’t sure. “Um, okay.”
Hearing her hesitant response, he gritted his teeth. “I meant, please don’t leave. I’ll be right with you.”
She nodded and smiled, but she really wasn’t too happy. How could she be? So far, her impromptu visit was turning out like nothing she’d imagined.
Now, though, it would seem rude to leave. So, she loitered around the door.
Returning his attention back to whomever was on the other side of the phone line, Jonny said, “I’ve got a customer here. I’ve got to go.” After another pause, he grunted. “I hear what you’re saying, but you don’t know the whole story, and now isn’t the time to talk about it.”
Treva tried to look interested in the collection of bike helmets on the shelf in front of her, but it was impossible to ignore Jonny’s strong, clear voice.
“Uh huh. Okay. Yep. I know, Beth. Okay, fine. Love you, too. Bye.”
He was in love? Now she was even more embarrassed.
She turned back to him just as he tossed his phone on the counter. When his blue eyes met hers, she blurted, “Tough phone call?”
“Yeah.” Running a hand along his face, he groaned. “I’m sorry you had to hear that.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry for. It was your business, not mine.”
“I get that, but I would still rather not have the world hear me arguing with my sister.”
Beth was his sister. Suddenly, things were looking better again. “Older or younger?”
“Older.” He grunted. “I’m the youngest of four, which means I’m always the youngest.”
“I’m guessing that also means that they like to tell you what to do?”
“Yep. It can be annoying. No matter which of the three I’m talking to, they think they know better.”
“That sounds frustrating.”
“It is.” Leaving the phone on the counter, he stepped closer. “Do you have older or younger siblings?”
“My situation is worse than that. I have none. I’m an only child.”
“Oh, I’m sorry . . . Unless you’re glad about it?”
“I don’t have any feelings one way or the other,” she said. “It’s just how it is.”
“That’s a good attitude. I need to think more like that.”
“Maybe look at the bright side? They’ll hit fifty before you,” she said, teasing him.
He stared at her, then grinned. “True that.” Walking toward her, he rubbed his hands down the sides of his jean-covered thighs. “It’s nice to see you in here. I was beginning to think you’d never take me up on my invitation to come see me.”
“I’ve been busy. I decided it was time to take a break.”
“What can I help you with?”
“I’m not sure. I just wanted to peek inside.”
“I’m glad you did.” Gesturing to the cluster of bicycles in the back corner, he said, “This is just a small portion of the bicycles we have for sale. If you are interested in any style in particular, I can pull out some others.”
“Oh, I don’t think I’m going to be needing a new bike.”
“Yours is in pretty good shape?”
Thinking of its condition, she winced. “It’s fine, but I wouldn’t exactly say that it’s in good shape.”
Looking concerned, he asked, “What’s wrong with it?”
Everything. “Nothing. I mean, it works.” Barely.
“That’s not telling me much, Treva. Where is it? Or did you walk?”
“I rode it. It’s parked outside.”
Before she could stop him, he opened the door and stepped outside. Then turned right back to her as he started laughing. “Treva, you can’t be serious.”
“About what?”
“You know what. This bike of yours must be fifteen years old.”
He was calling out to her from outside. Walking to the door, which was propped open, she folded her arms across her chest. “It is old. But, like I said, it still works.” And why was she sticking up for this bike she’d never much cared for riding?
“That’s a miracle because the tires look like they’re about to disintegrate any moment. Where have you been keeping it? Hooked to a tree outside?”
“I’m starting to get a little offended. Don’t you think you’re being kind of rude?”
“Honey, sorry, but your bicycle doesn’t have feelings. And you can’t be that attached to it, can you?”
Honey? Feeling flustered, she sputtered, “Why not?”
“Because it’s a mess. There’s rust on the frame and the seat is cracked.” Standing straighter, he looked her way again. “It couldn’t be a comfortable ride.”
It wasn’t. Which was one of the reasons she didn’t ride it much. The other was that she was always either serving customers coffee or baking treats to serve them.
But there was no way she was going to tell Jonny that. It made her seem too pathetic, like she didn’t have any social life.
Okay, so she didn’t, but he didn’t need to know that!
“It’s not too bad.”
Walking inside, he looked like he was about to say something but abruptly changed his mind. “Hey.” In a soft tone, he continued, “Treva, I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings. I didn’t mean to do that.”
“I came over here to check on you. Not have you check out my bicycle—and make fun of it.”
He pursed his lips. “I’m sorry if you thought that’s what I was doing. I didn’t mean to be mean. I . . . well, as far as bicycles go, yours is pretty bad.”
She would have been offended if she didn’t agree. “I know.”
“Do you want to look at some of the new ones? You could give one a test ride . . . just to see the difference?”
“ Nee .”
“Oh. All right.”
Had she just inadvertently hurt his feelings? “All my money is going into my business right now.”
“Of course.” He ran a hand through his hair as he walked back to the counter. When he stood on the other side of it, she felt his loss.
He cleared his throat. “Why are you checking up on me?”
“Emma Jane reminded me that you’re one of the Schrock siblings intending to become Amish. I wondered if you needed any help.”
His brow wrinkled. “Help with what?”
“You know.” She waved a hand. “Being Amish.”
After a moment’s pause, he asked, “Who’s Emma Jane?”
He didn’t remember Emma Jane! The question shouldn’t have made her as happy as it did. “She’s mei friend. She was walking in when you were walking out the other morning. You two spoke for a bit.”
He frowned, then his expression cleared. “Oh. I had forgotten about meeting her.” Pressing his palms on the counter’s surface, he said, “So my family has become a source of gossip?”
“Well, there’s been talk. But not in a bad way.”
“Gossip.” He frowned. “What do you think about what we’re doing?”
“About becoming Amish?” When he nodded, she said, “If you want the truth, I think it sounds really hard. Deciding to be baptized in the faith isn’t an easy decision, even for someone raised in an Amish home.”
Yet again, their conversation seemed to be going at cross-purposes. “Jonny, I’m sorry, but once again the words I say seem to be coming across in ways I never intended. I didn’t mean to say I thought what you were doing was wrong. I only wanted to help.”
“How? Do you think I need advice about how to be a better Amish person?”
“Of course not.”
His sarcastic tone continued. “Or maybe you don’t think my grandparents are good enough role models?”
He wasn’t letting it go—and seemed to be intentionally twisting and turning her words around. It wasn’t fair, and she didn’t think it was very nice, either. “I meant nothing of the kind.”
“Or what about my new preacher brother-in-law? Is Richard Miller lacking in some way that you know of?”
She stepped backward. It felt as if all the anger and sarcasm that was shooting out of his mouth was taking a physical form and slicing her skin.
Or maybe it was simply her heart?
All she did know was that it was time to get away from him. His words were hurting her.
“I’m going to leave.”
He raised his eyebrows. “What’s your hurry? You could probably give me an Amish lesson now. There’s no one in the shop.”
She was near tears. Near tears and feeling as if her heart was breaking. “You know, Jonny Schrock, you might not need any advice about being Amish, but you could sure use some help when it comes to being a good person. I can’t believe you just attacked me for offering my friendship.”
He stared at her for a long moment. Seemed to be mentally weighing what she had said.
Then, unbelievably, he acted like she’d just made that up. “That isn’t what just happened.”
“No, that’s exactly what just happened.” Backing up toward the door, she said, “Don’t worry, I won’t make that mistake again.”
“Hold on.” Reaching across the counter, he said, “You’re really upset.”
She backed away. “Of course I am. You’ve been horrible.”
“Hey, wait—”
But she didn’t wait. There was no way she was going to do that. She didn’t want to hear one more awful word he had to say.
So she turned and hurried to her bicycle. Halfway back to the farm, the front tire burst. It caused her to fall and scrape her hands and arm on the path.
Then, to make matters worse, she had to walk the bicycle for most of a mile, all the way home.
She had a feeling the Lord had made that happen for a reason, but she wasn’t quite ready to face that.
She didn’t think she could take one more thing.