Chapter 17
Martin figured there were only a few moments in one’s life when every word uttered determined the future. The first time his father had asked him to tell the truth about a broken vase. The first time Kelsey had been crying in the middle of the night and he’d been the only one to sit with her.
The moment when Angie, his first girlfriend, had asked if he loved her.
This was one of those times.
He’d felt the same sense of importance when he’d interviewed for his first “real” job out of college.
He’d felt it again when he’d confessed to Beth, Jonny, and Kelsey that he was thinking about being Amish.
Also when the four of them had faced their shocked grandparents and tried to convey their feelings in true and concise ways.
All of those conversations had mattered a lot.
Now, as he stared at the woman sitting across from him, Martin knew, down to his core, that this was another one of those times.
Maybe it even mattered more than the others— because his heart was involved.
He loved Patti Coblentz and he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. No, he wanted to marry her.
But he couldn’t press her to live the rest of her life in the English world if she was going to regret it for the rest of her days. Those regrets would fester and taint their relationship. She’d grow to resent him.
And he, in turn, would feel so helpless and guilty that he’d grow bitter.
As each minute passed, the tension between them grew, reminding him of a wire on a musical instrument that was strung too tight.
“I had thought you’d have a lot to say right now,” Patti murmured.
Patti’s eyes held a splash of humor. She wasn’t mad at him. That relief allowed him to be frank. “Why? Because I’d felt like knocking that smug expression off of Willard’s face when he declared that he would be a better choice for you than me?”
Patti’s lips twitched. “Maybe. Or . . . maybe because you seem as if you have some thoughts about what he said.”
There it was. In true Patti form, she had taken the subject at hand, weighed the challenges about broaching it, and then forged ahead.
He swallowed, wishing for a little bit more time. “You are pretty brave to bring that up.”
She looked down at her feet. “Hardly that.”
Unable to resist, he carefully lifted her chin. “I happen to think differently. I like how you aren’t afraid to bring up hard subjects.”
“Some might describe that as being foolish, not brave.” Before he could comment on that, she stood up. “Would you like to come inside? I could make us some hot chocolate. Since you walked here, you’re likely feeling a bit chilled.”
“I was. Hot chocolate sounds perfect.” Following her inside, Martin realized that Patti had likely been feeling chilled, too. “Speaking of being cold, why were you two sitting out here in the first place? It’s not that warm out.”
Looking back at him over her shoulder, she smirked. “Willard didn’t want to be improper.”
“It was more proper to have you sit in the cold?”
“He’s a stickler for rules of all kinds. And, even though he’s forty, it appears he believes in chaperones.”
Martin felt like rolling his eyes. First of all, if a forty-year-old man couldn’t trust himself to respect the woman he was with, then he needed something more than a chaperone.
Secondly, Willard’s reasoning felt contrived.
Patti didn’t live in a row house in the middle of town.
Her farmhouse was surrounded by acreage.
“If he wanted to steal a kiss, I think he could’ve done it on the front porch. ”
“I suppose.” Mirth lit her eyes as they walked inside. “Willard is so very determined to be an upstanding man that he often neglects common sense. With the wind picking up, it was rather uncomfortable outside. It was obvious that no one would be here to notice where we were sitting.”
“I still don’t understand why he was here. Did he come over unannounced?”
“He came courting. And, before you ask, it was a complete surprise to me.”
“That was gutsy.” Looking off into the distance, he scowled.
“I agree.” She gestured toward the living room. “Please have a seat. I’ll be right back with our drinks.”
“I think I’ll help you instead.” Her expression was too grim. He didn’t want her to have even a minute to decide to push him away.
Or break up with him.
He followed her into the kitchen, which was as neat and clean as ever. “What do you do first for hot chocolate?”
“Get out a pan,” she said as she did just that. “Isn’t that obvious?”
“Not to someone who’s only made it with microwaved hot water and a packet from a box.”
She pressed a hand to her chest. “You are shocking me!” she exclaimed as she poured a generous amount of milk into the saucepan. “That is not making real hot chocolate. You’ll be making hot powder.”
Martin watched as she opened a cupboard and pulled out a combination of chocolate bars. “It’s still pretty good.” To be honest,he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had hot chocolate. Maybe in high school at a bonfire before a game or something?
After chopping the chocolate on a cutting board, she poured it into the pan. “I promise, my hot chocolate will make you wonder why you’ve been missing out on it for most of your life.”
If he thought that, it was because he’d been missing out on Patti. “I guess I’ll have to take your word for it.”
She handed him a plastic spoon. “Stir.”
Doing as she asked, he watched Patti open up a container filled with neatly cut marshmallows. “Did you make those?”
“Of course.”
“Of course,” he murmured. Right then and there he made a vow to himself to act as if he loved her hot chocolate, when the truth was that the drink was nothing that he would have ever craved.
“I think it’s done now, Martin. See how the chocolate has melted and the milk is steaming?”
“I do.” He turned off the gas burner and turned to her.
She was standing close. Close enough to smell a hint of lavender and vanilla on her skin.
Close enough to notice that the port-wine stain on her neck was more than one shade— and he thought it was sexy.
It reminded him of a couple of his buddies whose girlfriends had a tattoo on their shoulder.
They thought the marking made their women even more unique.
Patti didn’t need anything artificial. No, her birthmark was original and attractive. She wouldn’t be the same without it.
Tearing his gaze away from her neck, he lifted his head.
And saw tears in her eyes.
“Patti, what’s wrong?”
“You were staring at my neck.”
“I know.” He smiled at her. “I couldn’t help it.”
But instead of making her feel better, he’d done the opposite. One of the tears fell. Slid down her cheek. He reached out to brush it away. “What did I do that upset you?”
“You know.”
“Mmm, I don’t.”
“Martin. You know I can’t help my birthmark.”
“I don’t want you to help it. I love it.”
Two more tears escaped. “Don’t tease.”
He swallowed. It looked like it was time for some honest words—even if they were inappropriate and probably shocking. “I’m not teasing.” Lowering his voice, he continued. “Do you really want to know what I was thinking about just now?”
When she nodded, he ran a finger along the line of her neck.
“I was thinking how much I would like to one day kiss every inch of that mark.” He lowered his voice.
“I want to taste your skin. I want to discover if the nape of your neck tastes as sweet as your lips. I want to hold you close and run my hand along your body. I want to find out if you can get chill bumps in other places besides your arms. If the scent of lavender and vanilla smells just as strong at your neck as it does on other parts of you.”
Her mouth opened. Shut.
He knew he should feel regret. No, he knew he should apologize and take a step backward. But he wasn’t a kid and he wasn’t going to pretend his feelings for her weren’t real. “Patti, that is how I was feeling. That is what I was thinking.”
“Oh.”
“‘Oh’ is right. I think you’re sweet and pretty. I think you’re smart. I think you’re a hard worker, too.” He paused, then added, “I also happen to think that you’re attractive and sexy as all get out.”
“You mean it, don’t you?”
Her words were soft spoken. Filled with wonder, making his heart soften. “I mean every word. Please, don’t ever hide from me. I . . . I love every bit of you.”
“You love me.”
He leaned over and kissed her forehead. A spot right under where her hairline ended. Then, because the spark of interest that he’d been waiting for flared in her eyes, he wrapped his hands around her middle, pulled her in close, and kissed her.
It wasn’t their first kiss. The first one had happened over a year ago.
But as sweet as it had been, it wasn’t like this. Now, there was a new sense of awareness for each other. A new awareness of how meaningful their relationship was—and how precarious it was. It would crush him if he had to break things off with her.
No, it would come very close to killing him. Patti Coblentz was it for him. He knew it. He knew it down deep inside of him and with the certainty that had come with his need to take his driver’s license test, to take care of his siblings whenever they needed him.
When he used to pull an all-nighter in college in order to get an A on the exam instead of just a B.
When she pulled away, he released her instantly. She was panting, like he’d taken her breath away.
Martin had to force himself not to apologize for the kiss. Because he couldn’t do it. He wasn’t sorry.
When seconds passed and she didn’t say a word, only stared at him, he broke the silence. “Patti, I’ve been coaching myself for the last minute about what to do next. About what to say.”
“And?”
“I don’t think there’s anything more that I can tell you or do. You know how I feel about you. And, I think it’s also obvious about how much I desire you, too.”
“You . . . you come here at night and say all this. On the heels of Willard’s visit.” Her cheeks pinkened as she continued. “It’s hard to believe.”
“What do you want to believe? What do you want to happen between us?”
She blinked. Seemed to wage war with herself about what to say. “What I want isn’t the same thing as what is possible,” she said at last.
“Are you sure about that?”
“Martin, I . . . I would love nothing more than to be your girlfriend. To share more kisses like the ones we just shared. To stay by your side and plan a future together.”
“But . . .”
“But I can’t promise you a life together.”
“Because you got baptized.”
“Jah.”
Had he ever felt so torn? He doubted it.
“Patti, God knows how much I wanted to be able to change my life and become Amish. I wanted to honor my grandparents. I want to feel close to the Lord and live simply. Now that Kelsey and Jonny have been baptized, I feel as if there’s an invisible wedge between us. I’d love to remove it. But I can’t.”
“I know.”
“I’m . . . It turns out that I can love my family very much but still need to be myself. I belong in my regular world. I’m good at it. I’m successful at it.”
“It makes you happy.”
“Yes, but a better way to describe it is that it fits me. Trying to fit in here felt like I was walking around in shoes on the wrong feet. I could do it, but it wasn’t comfortable, I could never go very far, and it hurt.”
“Your parents jumped the fence.”
“I know.”
“And you are expecting me to leave.”
He shook his head. “No. I’m not expecting you to do anything.” Taking a fortifying breath, he added, “But what I am saying is that I want to mean so much to you that you’d be willing to break an earlier vow in order to be happy.”
“You mean an awful lot to me, Martin.”
“Do you love me?”
She inhaled. Averted her eyes. And didn’t say what he’d hoped she would.
And it hit him hard. Smack in the middle of his body. For a moment, he was afraid he wasn’t going to be able to breathe.
But then he could.
It enabled him to stand up. To take the drink she’d so care fully made him and put it on the counter. Most of it was left.
“I think it’s time I left, don’t you?”
Tears were back in her eyes. “Jah.”
It hurt to look at her. He couldn’t do it. So, he turned away and walked to the door. Grabbed his coat with one hand and the door handle with the other.
And then two minutes later, he was walking back down Patti’s driveway. Clouds had come in, covering up a lot of the stars in the sky. It was hard to see anything beyond a few feet in front of him.
But that was okay. After all, he was alone.