Chapter 6
I ’m hungry, Mamm .” Malachi tugged at the skirt of Phoebe’s dress. “Is it lunchtime yet?”
She needed to answer him, but the words wouldn’t come.
She couldn’t keep her eyes off Jalon, and she couldn’t stem the dread filling her.
She’d known it was him the moment she saw him.
It was the kindness in his brown eyes. For a moment she thought she saw something else flicker across his expression, tugging at an emotion deep inside her.
Then he froze. Glanced at her and Malachi again. The emotion disappeared, along with the kindness. Now the handsome man who stood in front of her looked completely expressionless.
The dread churned like the ocean during a storm. This was the worst possible way for him to find out about Malachi.
“ Mamm? I’m hungry. I want hot chocolate and food.” Malachi tugged on her skirt again.
“ Geh inside and take off yer coat and boots, then wash up,” she said, her gaze remaining locked with Jalon’s, willing him not to leave, not until she had the chance to explain. Malachi scampered into the house, but Jalon didn’t move, to her great relief.
She also couldn’t stop looking at him. He’d said he was average, and he’d been wrong.
So very, very wrong. Handsome didn’t begin to describe him.
He was tall—he’d been right about that—and even from this distance she could see the freckles dotting his face, which gave him a bit of a boyish look, making him appear a little younger than twenty-five.
His curly brown hair stuck out from beneath his straw hat, and his mouth .
.. she had to rein in her thoughts about that part of him.
She met his eyes again, and the confusion she saw there brought her to her senses. At least he hadn’t bolted.
She heard a crash inside the house. Forgetting about Jalon, she ran inside to the kitchen.
Malachi was on the floor, still in his outdoor clothing, one of the chairs toppled over.
“Are you all right?” she asked, kneeling next to him.
She checked him over, saw that he was fine, then frowned.
“What were you doing?” Realizing she sounded snappish, she softened her tone.
“I told you to take off yer things and wash up.”
“I was trying to get that,” he said, pointing to the top of the fridge.
Surprised, she said, “How did you know I had cookies up there?”
“I didn’t. But you always hide them up there.”
She’d have to come up with a better hiding place, because if Malachi knew where her secret cookie stash was, Aunt Bertha would soon find out. “Next time, ask, don’t guess. And don’t use a chair to climb up without permission. Now do as I say and wash up.”
“Then can I have hot chocolate and a cookie?”
“Since you’re so hungry, we’ll have an early lunch first.” She could tell he was about to talk back. He was eroding her patience, which was nothing new—except now she didn’t want Jalon witnessing it. “Malachi, don’t argue.”
“Fine.” Malachi pulled off his coat, scarf, hat, and boots, then slunk off, leaving them all on the floor.
She’d have him pick them up later, but now she had to face Jalon.
She turned around and jumped. He was right behind her, standing in the doorway of the kitchen.
Not only did she realize she hadn’t invited him in, but she also hadn’t heard him come inside.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to be rude.
Do you want some cookies?” Her babbling sounded ridiculous, but she couldn’t stop herself.
She took down a plate covered with foil from the top of the fridge.
“They’re only sugar cookies. I can’t keep chocolate chips here.
Well, I could, but I’d have to hide them. ”
“Another secret, then?”
She cringed. His words were calm, his expression unreadable. “ Ya .” It was all she could think to say.
Another drawn-out pause stretched between them. “Should I leave?” he finally said.
The words hung in the air. The fact that he was still here spoke volumes.
She’d lied by omission—and it was a huge lie.
He had every right to leave, and she didn’t have the right to ask him not to.
But she didn’t want him to go. Not when he was finally here.
“Stay,” she said, barely hearing herself say the word. “Please, stay.”
Malachi came bounding back into the kitchen, full of energy and hunger. She turned to him, setting the plate of cookies on the counter. “Malachi, put your things in the mudroom, then be seated and wait until I make lunch for you and our friend Jalon.”
“Friend?” Malachi asked, his blond brows lifting in awed surprise as he stared at their guest.
“ Ya ,” she said, turning back to Jalon. “Will you join us for lunch?”
He delayed his response, looking at her with the same blank expression he’d had almost from the moment they recognized each other. Then he set his duffle bag on the floor near the table and sat down.
She spun around, took what she needed from the fridge and cabinets, poured glasses of milk, and quickly prepared their food.
She was relieved Jalon had decided to stay, and annoyed that she didn’t have anything tastier to serve than peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, celery sticks, and milk.
At least Malachi would eat the sandwich, and maybe a celery stick with a little coaxing.
“Tell me more about the pirates,” Malachi piped up.
Phoebe glanced over her shoulder. “Pirates?” The topic was so random she couldn’t help but ask.
“We were digging for treasure outside,” Malachi said, as if that explained everything. “Do you know about pirates, Mamm ?”
“Only from books I’ve read.”
“So you and Jalon read the same books?”
“I’m not sure.” She put a sandwich in front of Jalon. “Sorry. This is all I have right now. Mei aenti went to the grocery store.”
“She never lets Mamm geh shopping,” Malachi said.
“Malachi, hush.” Phoebe sat down, ignoring Jalon’s questioning glance.
“Close yer eyes and pray.” Instantly Phoebe put her hand on Malachi’s, knowing that his idea of praying was to blink his eyes and either attack the food or, more often, push it away.
After a few seconds and not nearly long enough to praise God, Phoebe opened her eyes.
Malachi was willing to eat for once, and she didn’t want to make him wait any longer.
Jalon picked up the sandwich, took a small bite, then set it down.
He was being polite. Of course, that didn’t surprise her. He remained silent as he glanced at Malachi, then at her, then back at the uneaten sandwich.
She wanted to fade away right there, and not just because Jalon now knew her secret. All her talk in her letters about cooking, and his first meal from her was a child’s sandwich. He probably doubted every word she’d ever written.
“ Aenti Bertha never lets Mamm do anything,” Malachi said, his mouth full of peanut butter and bread. “She’s meanth.”
“Malachi, I said be quiet.”
Malachi took a drink of milk. “You said not to tell lies, and I’m not telling lies.”
“Don’t talk about our business in front of strangers.”
Malachi looked confused. “But you said Jalon is a friend. If you know him, he can’t be a stranger.”
Phoebe drew in a breath. Normally she appreciated his precociousness, but not right now. “I know him, but he doesn’t know Aenti Bertha. Besides, it’s not nice to talk behind someone’s back. That’s called gossip.”
“ Aenti Bertha gossips all the time. She and Bessie Eicher were talking about you the other day. They didn’t know I was listening.”
Jalon took a sip of his milk, staying silent.
“They said you were foolish. What does foolish mean, Mamm ?”
“Finish yer sandwich, Malachi,” Jalon suddenly interjected. “Now.”
His authoritative tone had an effect, because Malachi finished the rest of his sandwich without saying another word.
Phoebe wasn’t sure what was worse—the revelation that she was being gossiped about, the silence that filled the kitchen, or the fact that her son would listen to Jalon but not to her.
Malachi gulped the last of his milk and turned to Jalon. “May I be excused?”
Phoebe gaped. Aunt Bertha had been trying to get him to say that since they arrived.
“That’s up to yer ... mamm .” Jalon looked at her again. The confusion wasn’t as strong as before, and now suspicion entered his eyes.
“Can I, Mamm ?”
“ Ya. ” Pulling her gaze away from Jalon, she forced a smile at her son. “You may be excused.”
“Can I geh outside again?”
“It’s too cold out.”
“Not for me.” He looked up at her with eyes she could never resist. “I want to dig for more treasure. Like a pirate.”
Unable to dim his optimism and tell him there was no such thing as Amish pirates, and still stunned at his sudden use of good manners, Phoebe nodded.
As he dashed out of the room, she stood, giving Jalon a wavering glance.
“I have to help him get dressed for the snow,” she explained, twisting her fingers together. “Or else he’ll geh out there barefoot.”
He nodded, his eyes not leaving hers, his body completely still.
In the mudroom, she made sure Malachi was dressed warmly for treasure hunting and sent him outside. “Twenty minutes,” she said, opening the back door. A blast of frigid air hit her, chilling her to her bones. “Then you have to come inside.”
Malachi ignored her and ran out into the snow. She shut the door and leaned her forehead against it. Jalon was waiting for her and she had no idea what to say. Coward. That’s what she was, plain and simple. She prayed for courage, then went back to the kitchen.
Jalon stood near the table, his back to her and his food and drink barely touched. As she neared, he turned around. There was no confusion in his eyes now. Only betrayal edged with anger. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he demanded.
Unable to meet the accusation in his gaze, she stared at her feet. “I was going to—”