The Heart's Journey: Stitches in Time Series #2 (16 page)

“I’ve been faithful to you, John,” she said quietly. “In Pennsylvania and here.”

He looked at her for a long moment and then he seemed to relax.

She glanced over his shoulder and saw the bus filling up. If they talked anymore he wouldn’t get on and then who knew
how much longer he’d be here? The bus didn’t run on a daily basis back and forth to the north.

“John, you need to get on the bus. We’ll talk when I get back home.”

His eyes were dark and troubled as he stared at her. “
Ya
, we’ll talk.”

She frowned. The way he said it, it didn’t sound like a promise that such a talk might work out the differences between them.

It sounded more like a threat.

Then he clapped his hat back on his head and strode toward the bus. She watched him go, troubled, yet not knowing what else to do. Just before he reached the front of the bus he was hailed by someone, a young Amish man, and the two of them stood talking.

Naomi frowned as she tried to catch a better look at the man. She didn’t know John knew anyone here and yet he seemed to be talking to the man as if he were a friend.

She shielded her eyes from the bright sun, trying to see better. Just then, a cloud passed over the sun, and as the glare went away she recognized him. She’d seen him around several times, walking up and down the street and in a restaurant when they were eating.

The man slapped John on the back in a friendly fashion and strolled off, and John got on the bus.

She watched him walk to the rear of the bus and find a seat. He looked out the window and raised a hand to wave at her. The remaining passengers boarded after stowing their luggage and their various boxes and totes and carry-ons. Quite a number of mesh bags of Florida oranges and grapefruit were going home with them.

The plain wooden coffin that Naomi had seen off-loaded wasn’t traveling back up north. At least not on this trip.

Finally, the driver climbed aboard, shut the door, and started the bus. He drove out of the lot and his passengers and the people seeing them off waved good-byes.

Naomi searched the row of windows, looking for John as the bus passed her. She didn’t see him and her breath caught. For a moment, she thought he’d somehow gotten off the bus without her seeing him and he’d pop up in front of her.

Then she saw him staring at her through the third to last window. She waved and he waved back, but he wasn’t smiling. And neither was she.

The crowd that had come to send off their family and friends walked away slowly, as if reluctant to lose sight of the bus.

But Naomi’s steps were brisk as she walked back to the rental cottage. She flung open the door and saw her grandmother look up from her sewing, surprised.

“He’s gone. I saw him off on the bus myself!”

Someone stood and Naomi realized that it was Nick. He’d been sitting there opposite her grandmother and he’d not only heard what she’d said—he’d heard the lift in her voice.

Naomi sat on the beach, writing letters and postcards while Nick dove in and out of the waves like a dolphin.

“
Wish you were here
,” she wrote Mary Katherine and Anna, and she meant it. “
I’m sitting on the beach in Florida. In the middle of winter. And I’m not even wearing a sweater. Nick is swimming right now. He says he’ll take some photos to bring back.”

She paused and chewed on the plastic cap of her pen. Then she began writing again.
“We’ve had a great time.
Grossmudder
has been spending a lot of time with her friend and we’ve both been quilting a lot. There are many women here who have some time to rest and enjoy themselves after all the gardening and harvesting of
summer and fall, and they’re enjoying some time off. Of course, they find lots to do. You know how Amish women stay busy.”

A little boy ran past, kicking up sand on her skirt and the quilt she sat on, too absorbed in having fun to see what he’d done. His mother chased after him, slowing a little to apologize to Naomi, and then picked up speed, catching him and swinging him around, both of them giggling.

Naomi just smiled and brushed it off. She continued,
“Tomorrow Nick’s driving us to several quilt shops and then we’re taking a drive around Sarasota. We’ve done some things I never thought I’d do here: eaten alligator (yes, it does taste like chicken), which was much better than being chased by one—more on that later—attended the big Haiti auction, and best of all, walked on this beach.”

Some not-so-good things had happened since the last time she’d written her cousins and talked with them on Nick’s cell phone. She almost wrote, “
John came to see me and I asked him to leave.”

But it didn’t seem right to talk about John like that. It felt … disloyal. If she wanted to share that, she’d do it later, in person, with her cousins.

A few drops of water fell on her. Startled, she glanced up and saw that Nick had walked up and was shaking his wet hair on her. She hadn’t heard him approach on the soft sand.

She flicked away the drops and turned the letter over so he couldn’t see what she was writing.

“Water’s great,” he said, shaking his head so more drops flew.

“Stop that!” she cried. “What are you, a puppy?”

He grabbed up his towel and scrubbed his hair with it, then ran it over his chest.

His chest. She felt a blush creep up her neck and wash over her face. When he’d shed his shirt earlier, her mouth had gone
dry. Beneath it was a muscled chest with a dusting of curling brown hair on it. The loose white dress shirts he wore for work, sometimes with a tie, and the polo shirts he’d worn here on vacation—well, they’d never really hinted at the toned muscles beneath.

Was that because the shirts had been loose and that’s why she hadn’t ever noticed? Or was it because something had changed between them? The enforced closeness in the car, being thrown together as he drove her and her grandmother around doing fun things?

She had been attracted to John or she never would have accepted his proposal. But now, she was realizing that she felt much more physically aware of Nick than she should.

The thought disturbed her. She frowned as she tried not to look at him and flipped over the letter to finish it. After adding a few more lines, she signed the letter, folded it, and stuffed it into an envelope. She sealed it, found a stamp and affixed it, then put the envelope and her pen in her purse.

The water was such a beautiful clear blue today. Time was flying by and there wouldn’t be that much more time to enjoy this, to feel free of all cares.

She knew she needed to talk to John when she returned. When she and her grandmother talked before they came on the trip, her grandmother had said she needed to break off the engagement. Naomi knew she was right. But just the thought of doing so made her head ache. She felt like such a failure, such an utter, utter failure.

She didn’t want to deal with it, but she wasn’t willing to stay with him rather than make the break. As her grandmother had told her, men like John didn’t change.

“You okay?”

Naomi nodded. “I was just thinking we don’t have that much time left.”

He didn’t need to know that it wasn’t just that she’d miss this place and the time she’d had here. What she needed to do about her relationship with John was their business and no one else’s.

She glanced over at the e-reader in his hands. “What are you reading?”

He held it out for her to see. “I found this cool book. Look at what sand looks like under a microscope.”

“That’s sand?” she asked, leaning closer to look at the screen.

A surprising array of dozens of multicolored shapes appeared on the screen—a mixture of crystals, shells, and volcanic rock combined to make the sand.

Like snowflakes, each was too tiny to see how unique it was. Like snowflakes, they formed a bigger whole.

“I never met anyone who loves to read as much as you.”

Nick laid the e-reader down on the quilt. “I’ve been like this since I was a little kid. I loved climbing up on the top bunk of our bunk bed and reading. I was hiding out, too. Sisters can drive a guy nuts.”

“I was the youngest,” she told him. “Apparently I drove my two sisters crazy. They were in their teens when I was born. The last thing they wanted was a baby sister.”

“I thought the Amish loved children.”

She smiled. “Kids are kids wherever they are. I was constantly in their things. As the only two girls in the family I think they were hoping that there wouldn’t be another girl sharing their room by the time they got to be teenagers.”

“You don’t talk much about your family—your parents and your siblings.”

Thoughtful, Naomi scooped up a handful of sand and let it drift through her fingers. “My
mamm
died several years ago
and I’m not close to my
daed’s
new wife. And my brothers and sisters are much older than me.”

She looked up at him and shrugged. “That’s probably why I feel closer to Mary Katherine and Anna. We were all born within a few months of one another. We’ve always felt more like sisters.”

She sighed. Lately, she’d been feeling guilty that she’d neglected her family to spend more time with John. She’d neglected some of her friends, too. He had a way of drawing her away by saying she wasn’t with him enough.

Aware that he was watching her, she glanced up and smiled. “It’ll be nice to get home.”

“But …”

“But?”

“It sounds like you’d like to stay longer.”

He was doing it again, that way he had of seeming to know what she was thinking.

“No, it’ll be nice to be back in Paradise.”

He gestured at the ocean. “So you didn’t think this was paradise, huh?”

She pulled her legs up, wrapping her arms around her knees. “It’s felt a little unreal. I know people live here full time but I guess it seems too far removed from what I’m used to. Besides, I love my work at the shop. And my friends and family. I’ll be happy to go back.”

Except for seeing one certain person, she thought, but kept her expression neutral.

“You’re getting freckles!” he said, sounding surprised.

“I am not!” But she reached into her purse and withdrew a small mirror to check.

Sure enough, there was a scattering of them across her nose. “Oh no!”

“I think they’re kinda cute,” he said, leaning closer and studying them. “They’re kind of like little flakes of gold.”

“You’re getting fanciful,” she told him. “Maybe you’ve been reading too much fiction.” But she felt a funny little catch in her chest when her eyes met his.

“I know you’re not supposed to think about looks. Vanity and all that. But you’ve grown prettier since we’ve been here.”

Her—pretty? She didn’t know what to say to that. Oh, John had complimented her now and then. Particularly in the beginning. But he’d never said something like this. It flustered her a little, made her face feel warm—and it wasn’t from the sun.

“You’ve got a tan now and you glow,” he said. “But I don’t think it’s just the sun you’ve gotten since we got here. You’re more relaxed. You were getting a little stressed-looking there at the end, before we left Pennsylvania.”

She wasn’t surprised to hear that. After all, she’d finally broken down and talked to her grandmother about John.

The breeze toyed with her hair and tugged a strand free. Before Naomi could raise her hand, Nick reached over and tucked it behind her ear. Her breath caught and her skin tingled as his fingers slid down her jawline.

He leaned forward and she felt herself doing the same, drawn wordlessly to him, entranced. She focused on his mouth, wondering what it would be like to kiss him. His touch was gentle, irresistible, his fingers stroking her cheek, luring her closer until their breath merged. Her eyes closed and she felt his lips touch hers, tentative at first, and then with growing passion.

A gull shrieked overhead, startling her into drawing back. She touched her fingers to her lips, feeling them tingle from his kiss.

Nick looked stunned. He shoved a hand in his hair. “I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I have no business kissing you. I—”

“It’s not all your fault,” she finally managed to say. “I kissed you back.”

He stared at her for a long moment and she felt her face grow warmer and warmer.

“Yes, you did,” he said. “Why?”

10

N
aomi glanced around nervously. What if someone she knew had witnessed the kiss? It didn’t even have to be someone she knew. If any of the Amish or Mennonites in the community had seen it, they’d know that Naomi shouldn’t be kissing an
Englischer
.

“Relax,” he told her. “No one was looking.”

The beach was nearly deserted. The lone woman who sat on a nearby blanket looked engrossed in a book.

“I know why I kissed you,” Nick told her. “Why did you kiss me?”

“What kind of question is that?” She stuffed her sketchbook into her tote bag and looked around for her pencil. When she couldn’t find it, she gave it up for lost and stood.

“What’s your hurry? I’m not going to kiss you again.”

“Well, good.”

“Ouch. You still didn’t answer my question.”

“It was just a—What do you call it? A spontaneous reaction, that’s all.”