Amish Romance: The Mother's Helper (Nancy's Story Book 1) Page 6

  “Can you take Susan up to your room?” Irene asked Nancy. “I’m sure she’d like to unpack.”

  “Jah. Of course,” Nancy said. “This way.”

  Susan followed her up the steps and into their room.

  “This is the bed I’m using. The one over there is free for you. I also cleared out the top drawer for your things.”

  Susan dropped her suitcase on the floor and lowered herself to her bed. “You’re disappointed.”

  Nancy shrugged.

  “Linda was beside herself. She really wanted to come.” Susan gave a rueful laugh. “She kept insisting to Mamm that she was well enough to come, and then she would run into the bathroom to vomit.”

  “I hope she feels better soon.” Nancy perched on the edge of her bed. “She could have postponed the trip.”

  “She could have…” Susan cleared her throat. “Mamm really wanted me to come.”

  “Did she now?”

  “You know why.” Susan stared frankly at Nancy.

  Yes, Nancy did know why. Her mother never liked any friction between her daughters. Truth be told, her mother had probably considered Linda’s illness a gift from God. It created the perfect chance to foist Susan onto her.

  “You don’t want me here.”

  Nancy frowned. “You have to admit, it’s awkward.”

  “I broke up with Mark.”

  Nancy’s mouth dropped open. “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  The image of Mark’s handsome face filled Nancy’s mind. She’d spent a lot of time over the last couple years admiring him. Not only his looks, but his kind manner, and his good sense of humor. They had laughed many, many times together, enjoying each other’s company. Nancy loved the way his brown eyes gleamed when he was amused. And the way he hit his thigh when he laughed. She had loved everything about him. Thinking of him still caused her heart to squeeze painfully inside her chest.

  And Susan had stolen him from her. But now, she’d broken up with him? It didn’t make sense.

  Susan sucked in air so loudly, Nancy heard it.

  “Why? Why did you do it?” Nancy asked her.

  Susan’s eyes welled with tears. “It wasn’t worth it.”

  “What wasn’t worth it?”

  “You.”

  Nancy didn’t move. “Me?”

  Susan slowly stood and walked across the room. She sank down beside Nancy. “I know you thought I didn’t care. I know you considered me some kind of monster for what I did—what we did…” Her voice broke.

  Nancy was in such shock, she couldn’t even respond.

  “I know you don’t like me. You like Linda. You’ve always liked Linda. But me…?” Susan shuddered. “And I made it a million times worse when I did what I did…”

  Nancy swallowed and stared at her sister.

  “I didn’t mean to do it.” Susan waved her hand in the air. “I’m sure you thought I did. You probably thought I did it all on purpose or that I planned it out. But I didn’t mean to fall for Mark. He was just so appealing, and he was so attentive, and he … well, he…” She rubbed her hand over her mouth. “He liked me, too.”

  Susan’s words sliced through her. Yes. Mark liked Susan. Nancy was painfully aware of that.

  “And before I knew it, we were laughing together and growing closer, and neither of us could ignore what we felt anymore.”

  Nancy stiffened. Was all this supposed to make her feel better? To make her feel closer to Susan? The girl was crazy.

  “So, he liked you. I know. I get it—you don’t have to go on and on about it. But it doesn’t explain why you ended it.”

  Susan put her hand on Nancy’s arm. “Because I can’t stand knowing that one of my sisters hates me.”

  “I don’t hate you, Nancy.”

  “Jah, you do.”

  “I’m angry at you.”

  “So is Linda. Both my sisters can’t stand me.”

  Nancy let out her breath in a long sigh. “Maybe it goes both ways. You’ve never felt a rush of affection for us, either.”

  Susan wiped the tears from her cheeks. “I know. I’m sorry. But I do love you both.”

  Nancy sighed again. “Are you saying you broke up with Mark to mend our relationship? Yours and mine?”

  “Jah.”

  Nancy’s nostrils flared. She wondered what Mark thought of that. “And Mark?”

  “He’s upset.”

  “Really.” Nancy didn’t mean to sound sarcastic, but there it was.

  Susan squared her shoulders. “I should have ignored my feelings. I should never have let it get that far. I’m sorry, Nancy. Truly, I am.”

  Nancy looked into her eyes and saw the sincerity there. Something inside her shifted, and she found herself feeling a kernel of warmth toward Susan.

  “Thank you,” she murmured. “I appreciate your apology.”

  She sat perfectly still. She was afraid to think or to move. She didn’t want to upset this new beginning between them. But still, her mind whirled. Why hadn’t Susan apologized months ago? Why was it suddenly important to apologize now? Why had she betrayed her in the first place? Nancy shook her head, shoving the questions away.

  “Are you still angry I came?” Susan asked.

  Nancy smiled, surprised to find that her smile was genuine. “Not as much.”

  Susan nodded. “That’s something, isn’t it?”

  “Jah. That’s something. But Susan…” Nancy licked her lips, forcing herself to continue. “I’ll not have you breaking off your relationship with Mark for me. I don’t want to be the cause of that. Otherwise, it’s kind of the same thing that you did to me.”

  Susan flinched. She straightened her dress over her knees. “I’ve made up my mind. Besides, I don’t think Mark ever fully got over you.”

  Nancy’s chest tightened. She backed away, scooting across the quilt until she was up against the bedpost. “Wait. Is that what this is all about? You broke up with him because he still loves me? And then, you came here pretending it was for me that you did it, and that you were sorry?”

  “Nee!” Susan cried. “Nee. Wait. That’s not it. I didn’t say it right. I mean… Well, I meant… It’s just that I think Mark feels badly about you and how it happened.”

  Nancy stood, her heart in her throat. “He should feel badly! He was cruel to me. Cruel!”

  Susan’s expression was frantic. “Wait. Don’t be mad. Nancy, it wasn’t because he still has feelings for you. Truly. It wasn’t. I ended it with him because I wanted you and me…” She stopped and couldn’t continue. She held her hand over her mouth.

  Nancy watched her, a sick feeling in her heart. She’d thought that her sister had really come to make amends. But now… Now, she didn’t know what to think. The hard truth was that she didn’t trust Susan.

  “I don’t know what to believe anymore, Susan. I really don’t.”

  Susan stood, too, and walked over to her own bed. She sat down. “I know,” she whispered.

  Nancy waited, hoping Susan would say something more. Something to assure her that her motives were pure. But Susan didn’t say something more. Not one word. She only looked at the floor and fingered the edge of her apron. Nancy felt worse than when they’d started the conversation. Her heart was in turmoil. She wanted to believe her sister. She wanted to. But Susan was so confusing. Nancy had read something once about a person who talked from both sides of her mouth. Right then, that was how she felt about her sister.

  The backs of her eyes burned as she looked at Susan. Finally, with a huge sigh, she walked over to her, waited again for another word that never came, and left the room.

  This was going to be a hard week.

  Chapter Eleven

  The rest of the day went surprisingly well. The children kept Susan occupied while Nancy spent the bulk of her time in the kitchen. Irene took advantage of the extra help inside the house, and spent her day outside working in the garden, preparing the soil for planting.

  When supper w
as over and the day was finally coming to a close, Nancy tucked both of the children into bed, went back downstairs, and stepped outside onto the front porch. She sat in the swing and pushed gently against the floor, swaying back and forth in the soft twilight air. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, smelling the freshly cut grass.

  “How are you doing?”

  Nancy’s eyes flew open, and she stared at Luke. He was leaning against one of the large square posts at the edge of the porch. He had a lazy look on his face, and she half expected him to be chewing on a piece of straw. Which he wasn’t.

  “Hello, Luke.”

  “How are you doing?” he repeated, his expression tender.

  She swallowed. He knew entirely too much about her.

  “I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  He crossed the porch and sat down on the swing with her. She squirmed, scooting to the very edge.

  “Ach,” he said, his voice sharp. “I’ve done it again, haven’t I? Violated our ways. It wouldn’t do for me to be seen sitting with you here, now would it?”

  “Not really.”

  “Of course, the fact that it’s nearly dark and that no one from the road can see us and that it’s only Irene and Philip and your sister inside, would make no difference, would it?” In the shadows, the look he gave her was a challenge.

  “What do you want me to say? Things are as things are.”

  “They don’t have to be.”

  She gazed at him. “And that’s the whole issue, isn’t it?”

  “What do you mean, the whole issue?”

  “Here. This. Right now. The reason you don’t know whether to join church.”

  He tilted his head and regarded her. Then he smiled and shook his head. “Ah, Nancy Slagel. You are getting to know me too well.”

  She gave a start at that. He’d just stated the very thing she had thought about him knowing her too well. She bit her lip, trying to decide if he was teasing her or if he was being dead serious.

  He put his hand on her arm, and she felt his warmth shoot through her. She sucked in her breath and stared at his fingers.

  He shook his head and removed his hand from her arm. “And there it is again. Another mistake.”

  “I didn’t say it was a mistake,” she uttered and then went cold. What in the world was she saying? He would think her forward.

  He looked at her with more interest. “It’s getting too dark out here,” he said. “I can’t see your face well enough.”

  Which was a good thing, because Nancy was quite sure her cheeks were flaming red.

  “I’m sorry the wrong sister came,” he said softly. “I could feel the tension at supper.”

  “You could?” Nancy was genuinely surprised. She’d thought she’d covered it quite well.

  “Thick as a bucket of mud.”

  She laughed. “Perhaps.”

  “You going to survive the visit?”

  “Of course.” She wanted him to touch her again. Wanted to feel his comfort, his compassion. Instead, she stood. “Good night, Luke.”

  He uttered a grumbling sound, and then he cleared his throat. “Good night, Nancy Slagel.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Luke crept down the hallway to his room at the far end of the second floor. After the debacle of sleeping in the opposite bed in Nancy’s room and then camping out on the couch, he had asked Irene if he could clear out one of the spare bedrooms. She was more in favor of him using the daadi haus out back, but Philip said he wanted to paint the inside before anyone stayed in there again. Considering that they were moving into planting season, painting the daadi haus wasn’t going to happen any time soon. But the room at the end of the hall suited Luke fine. He just wished he wasn’t so aware of Nancy’s presence every time he passed her room to get to his own.

  More often than not, he chuckled lightly under his breath as he went by, remembering her indignation at his presence in there that night. It would make such a good story to tell. But of course, he would never tell it. Nancy would be horrified.

  He liked her. She was enjoyable to talk to, and she seemed to understand him without getting all judgmental. And truth be told, that was hard to come by in their community.

  He’d visited his mother again the day before. She’d been glad to see him, and although awkward, he’d stayed for nearly an hour chatting with her about nothing in particular. Neither one of them mentioned the possibility of him visiting his dad out in the fields. In any case, he wouldn’t have gone out there. To what purpose? He’d just have to listen to his father’s bitter disappointment in him. Again.

  Luke hated it. But he didn’t know what to do about it.

  He wished he could see Ariel. She’d make it into a joke and have him laughing within minutes. She had a way of doing that, and he appreciated it. No need to get all heavy and pensive with her. He shut the door to his room quietly. He didn’t bother with the lantern, just felt his way to the bed and sat down. He closed his eyes and imagined Ariel’s sweet face, and the way she always cocked one eyebrow and grinned at him.

  A heaviness moved over him. He missed her. And he knew she missed him, too. They’d spent so much time together before he left.

  Had he led her on? No, he’d been upfront with her. But still, she never believed that he’d really leave and return to his home. For quite a while, he didn’t believe it either. But there he was, sitting on a spare bed in Irene’s house, excruciatingly aware of Nancy Slagel just down the hall.

  Luke slapped the cow on her rump and stood up from the milking stool. He carefully slid the full bucket out from under the creature and carried it to the edge of the barn. He glanced out the door and up to the sky. It was going to be another beautiful spring day—warm, too. He heard a door slam from the main house and knew Philip was probably heading out to the fields. He’d get in an hour of work before breakfast was even announced.

  Well, he needed to get the milk inside before Nancy wondered where it was. He grinned, looking forward to seeing her. Sometimes, he paused at the side door of the big house listening before going inside. If he was lucky, he could hear her humming as she scurried about the kitchen making breakfast. Other times, he’d hear her talking softly to Zeke.

  Today, he only heard pots and pans banging around. He went inside, careful not to drip any of the milk. He stopped at the doorway, surprised that it wasn’t Nancy in there at all. It was Susan.

  “Gut morning,” he said, offering her the bucket.

  She looked frazzled. She pushed a wisp of hair off her forehead, making an attempt to tuck it under her kapp. “Oh. Luke. Gut morning.”

  She took the milk and set it on the counter. “Breakfast might be a little late.”

  He shrugged. “We’ll survive.”

  She frowned. “Well, I know that.”

  Hmm, a bit of sassiness must run in the family, he thought.

  “I’ll leave you to it,” he said and turned to go.

  “Wait,” she said. “I’m sorry. I think I’ve been rude. Thank you for bringing in the milk.”

  “You’re welcome.” He stood for a moment, and their eyes locked. He tried to read what she was thinking, but he couldn’t. With another shrug, he left the room, nearly knocking into Nancy.

  “Ach, sorry.” Nancy put her hand on her chest. “Gut morning.”

  “Back at you,” he said with a smile. She looked lovely, her face slightly flushed as if she were in a hurry. Her hair was smooth and shiny, all tucked away neatly under her kapp. Not that he could see much of it. He wondered if it was as soft as it looked, and he stifled the urge to reach up and touch it.

  She was giving him a funny look, as if she could read his thoughts. He coughed and stepped out of her way.

  “I’m going to feed the chickens,” she said. “Susan told me that she’d fix breakfast.”

  “I’ll help you,” he said, glad for an excuse to be with her.

  Again, she gave him a funny look, but she didn’t protest. Together, they walked outside an
d into the barn to the sack of chicken feed. Nancy scooped up a panful, and they headed to the coop.

  “Did you sleep well?” he asked, trying to make conversation.

  “Well enough,” Nancy replied.

  He walked too closely to her, and he knew it. But he couldn’t make himself give her more space. She moved quickly as if trying to get the task over with. He was spooking her, and he was just perverse enough to enjoy it. Oh, he liked her. And he liked to set her a bit off-balance.

  She stopped abruptly. “What are you doing?”

  He raised his hands in mock innocence. “Me? What do you mean?”

  Her brows drew down over her eyes in a frown. “You know full well what I mean.”

  “Okay. You caught me. I’m helping you feed the chickens.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Nee. That’s not what you’re doing. You’re trying to trip me or something. Why are you walking so close?”

  He nearly laughed. “Trip you? Nee. I’m innocent of that.”

  She lowered her voice. “Then what are you guilty of?”

  At this, he did laugh. “I never said I was guilty of anything. You’re the one accusing me.”

  She puckered her lips into an adorable pout. “Fine,” she said and marched off.

  He hurried to catch up, maintaining his closeness. She stopped again. “Quit it!”

  “Quit what?”

  She hesitated, and then her eyes danced, and she bit her lip. He could see she was trying not to laugh. He leaned closer still.

  “Am I making you nervous again?”

  She straightened her spine. “Never. Why do you always think you’re making me nervous?”

  “Because I’m trying to make you nervous, Nancy Slagel.”

  She laughed. “Well, stop it. You’re being ridiculous.”

  He nodded. “Jah. But you have to admit, it’s fun.”

  She stared at him and didn’t look about to admit anything.

  “And now, you’re in a better mood, aren’t you?” he teased.

  Her expression sobered. “I was in a fine mood before.”