Marrying Jonah Page 3

  It was no secret that she thought she had feelings for him, though he had never encouraged them. That wouldn’t have been right. He and Lorie . . . well, there was no he and Lorie. Not anymore. Not ever again.

  He turned his attention back to the girl sitting next to him. It was easier to think about her than all the mistakes he had made with another.

  “You’ve given up on me? What exactly does that mean?”

  “Exactly what it says.”

  He shook his head. “So you no longer want there to be a me and you as a couple?”

  “Nope.” She said the word with confidence, but he knew she was lying. Even through the night he could see the flush rise into her cheeks. It shouldn’t have tickled him so, but it did. She was kinda cute when she blushed. His thoughts went back to the picnic and Buddy saying how he thought she was pretty. His brother was right. She was pretty. Even though she was mad enough to spit nails.

  “There’s something different about you tonight,” he mused.

  She shook her head. “There’s nothing different about me, Jonah.”

  He didn’t believe that. Maybe he had been away too long. Or maybe he hadn’t paid enough attention to Sarah. They were almost halfway to her house, and for all her talk about expectations and rumors, he knew there was more she wasn’t saying. He could almost feel the pressure in her as she sat beside him.

  It was just a matter of time before she turned to him and said something. Said—

  “I would have never treated you that way.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  She sucked in a deep breath. “Lorie. I would have never treated you like she did.”

  “Jah?” Well, he had never expected Lorie to either.

  “You deserved better.”

  He wasn’t sure how to respond. Everyone had been saying it was God’s will and he needed to move on, find some sweet Amish girl and get married. They had been telling him that Lorie wasn’t the one for him. He needed to forgive her, forget her, and move on.

  But no one had ever told him that he deserved better. No one had ever said that they would have treated him better.

  “Jah?”

  “I cared about you, Jonah. I hated to see you hurt.”

  “That’s sweet, Sarah.” He wasn’t sure what else to say.

  “No,” she protested. “It’s not sweet. I cared about you and what happened to you. I would have been a gut friend to you, Jonah Miller.”

  She was sitting a little closer to him than she should, but he liked it. Yet it didn’t feel like friendship. She wore such a frown on her face, he didn’t think she even realized how close they were.

  She smelled sweet. And next to her, he felt strong. Stronger than he had in a long time. Lorie was tall, almost as tall as he was. But Sarah was average height, maybe even petite. And next to her he felt like a protector, provider, more than friend.

  “Why do you keep talking like it’s in the past?”

  “I told you. I gave up hope for the two of us a long time ago.” The words fell from her lips easier this time. And that surprised him that she could talk about it all so casually when he had been living it, doing everything he could to understand what had happened to his life.

  “I’m sorry about that.”

  “About what?” she asked.

  “About hurting you.”

  “No,” she said softly. “You did nothing wrong. I did all of that to myself.”

  But he could have handled it differently. He could have been easier with her, helped her over her crush and not ignored it. “I guess we both made mistakes.”

  He had made more than his share, dressing English and going to parties where he had no business being. But he had wanted to know what in the English world was so appealing to Lorie. He’d drunk a little too much lately, but tonight he was stone-cold sober and yet his thoughts were no clearer.

  But Sarah gave him hope. Like maybe he would come out of this eventually and be able to have a life again. Life after Lorie.

  He enjoyed talking to Sarah. Funny, but he had never noticed before. She was easy to talk to. Candid and sweet. She was honest to a fault and smart. Why had he never noticed?

  He inched toward her and pulled back on the reins to slow the horse’s gait. No sense getting home too soon.

  * * *

  Sarah loved the warmth of Jonah next to her, the clean fragrance on his clothes and the scent that belonged to him alone. She closed her eyes and let it all wash over her. How many times had she imagined this very scenario only to give up hope of ever having it come true?

  And that she had confessed as much to Jonah? Well, she was glad it was dark in the carriage. She had embarrassed herself enough for one night.

  “Sarah,” he whispered somewhere near her ear. His breath stirred the strands of hair that had managed to wiggle free of her bob. That was the thing about her hair. It was forever doing what it wanted. There was no hope of taming it despite the amount of baby lotion she used to smooth down the flyaways.

  “Jah?”

  “Would you like to go down to the pond and talk?”

  What she wouldn’t have given to have him say that two months ago, two years ago. But now? She needed to go home. Where she belonged. Get some sleep. Forget tonight ever happened.

  “Sure.” Who said that? Certainly not her. But it hadn’t been Jonah either. The words must have tripped from her mouth.

  The last thing she needed to do was to be alone with Jonah. Or to talk with him.

  She shook it off. Who cared? She wasn’t in love with him. What was the harm? It wasn’t like she would do something totally stupid. They could go down to the pond and talk for a while, then she could go home.

  Besides, she enjoyed his company. All those years she had thought she was in love with him, she never really knew him. Tonight she got to see a glimpse of the real Jonah Miller. And she liked what she saw. He was caring and funny. Well, she already knew that. But he was also sweet and gentlemanly.

  They could be friends. And she had a feeling that was what Jonah Miller needed right now. A real good friend.

  Even though it seemed every time she had seen him since Lorie had gotten married, he was surrounded by a group of men, as if they were there to protect him from the world. But those times hadn’t been often. She supposed he could use a friend right now. Maybe someone who wouldn’t pass judgment and would just sit and listen. She could be that for him.

  * * *

  Neither one of them said a word as he drove them back to his family’s land and to the pond that was a popular hangout when the sun was shining. No one would be there after dark, and he and Sarah could sit and talk as long as they wanted without being disturbed. He wanted to talk to her more. Wanted to find out why she could get through the numbness when no one else had been able to. He needed to discover the hows and the whys so he could correct that missing part and move on.

  He tethered the horse at the edge of the field, making sure that beast and carriage were far enough off the road to protect them from any oncoming traffic.

  Sarah climbed out of the buggy first. Jonah reached behind the seat and found the blanket he kept there for the winter months. They would need someplace to sit besides that dusty old log that had been there for ages.

  He grabbed the blanket and a flashlight, then hopped down from the buggy.

  “Are you coming?” he asked Sarah.

  She looked to be a little starstruck. At least that’s what the English called it. He wasn’t sure exactly what that meant, but he figured it had something to do with freezing up from excitement. Or maybe it was nerves.

  “Jah, jah.”

  She set her feet in motion and together they walked through the small thicket of trees and bramble that surrounded the pond. There were enough visitors to the pond each year that the path never grew up. Still, a person had to be careful in the dark.

  Jonah shined the flashlight onto the ground ahead of them. “I know there’s a hole up here somewhere. Be careful, we
wouldn’t want you to sprain your ankle.”

  She smiled at him and picked her way carefully along.

  The pond looked so different at night, the water black. Something rippled the surface and he couldn’t tell if it was a snake or a turtle. He hoped a turtle, or their conversation would be cut short before it had even begun.

  The banks seemed different, empty, washed in moonlight.

  He held part of the blanket out to her. “Help me spread this out.”

  She grabbed one end of it and draped it over the fallen log. He had left it doubled so the extra thickness cushioned his back as he settled down on the ground in front of the log.

  Sarah seemed hesitant. Then she knelt down beside him. “It’s a beautiful night, jah?” she asked.

  “I believe we determined that.” His words were without malice.

  “Maybe it’s so beautiful it deserves to be said twice.”

  He studied her for a moment in the shadows. “Why are you here, Sarah?”

  “I thought you wanted to talk.”

  “No, really.”

  She shifted uncomfortably, then finally turned to face him. “I hate to see you hurting like this, Jonah.”

  “It wasn’t like I couldn’t see it coming.”

  “That doesn’t make it right.”

  “No, I don’t suppose it does.” But getting angry and hating the world was only going to hurt him in the long run. Still, he wasn’t quite ready to forgive and forget.

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  He shook his head. He didn’t want to rehash it all. Every time he told the story, it never changed. And that was what he needed, more than anything: a new ending.

  “You can, you know. Talk to me. All I’ve ever wanted to be was a friend to you, Jonah.”

  But that wasn’t true. Everyone in Wells Landing knew that Sarah had a crush on him. “I could use a friend, Sarah Yoder.” He took her hand into his, lacing their fingers together.

  Night birds called and katydids sang as they sat there on the banks. The world seemed suspended, as if they were the last two people on the Earth. He could almost close his eyes and imagine it so. Just the two of them all alone. No Lorie. No Zach Calhoun. No church. No censure.

  Her hand was warm in his. He could feel every breath she took as he sat next to her, their backs braced against the old fallen log. In that moment it was easy to imagine that it was just the two of them, and nothing existed outside their warm cocoon there by the pond.

  How easy it would be to kiss her, pretend that it was only the two of them. No one existed anywhere else in the world.

  He was just so tired of fighting, struggling, wanting things he couldn’t have. And there was Sarah sitting beside him. Sweet, warm, loving Sarah. Sarah who once upon a time had loved him beyond measure. He could use some of that right now, to be loved without question. Had anyone ever loved him like that? He didn’t think so. And he needed it. Oh, how he needed it.

  He didn’t think, didn’t allow himself anything other than to feel. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to her lips.

  Chapter Three

  She was such a fool.

  Sarah stood off to one side pretending to listen to Libby, Julie, and Mandy talk about canning and such. She was watching Jonah. It was Sunday afternoon. A bright fall day in Oklahoma. It had been a month. A month and a half, since she and Jonah had gone to the pond. What a mistake.

  “What do you think, Sarah?”

  She jerked her head up as her name registered through her thoughts. “What?”

  “I asked you about those new jars. Have you seen them? They’re in colors. I mean, who wants to look at their food all changed like that?” Libby shook her head. “I don’t know. I just think it’s weird. Purple, blue, and green.”

  Sarah’s attention drifted back to Jonah. “Weren’t original Mason jars blue?” she asked absently.

  Libby started to reply, but once again, Sarah stopped listening. She had tried to talk to Jonah so many times since that night. She thought they had shared something special. How wrong she had been. There had been no sharing that night. She had given, and he had taken and walked away. He looked up and caught her staring at him. She lifted her chin, unwilling to look away in embarrassment. She was not going to be embarrassed by what happened between them; she thought it meant something. It wasn’t her fault if it meant nothing to him.

  But what a fool she had been to think that she could go and sit next to Jonah Miller and just talk for hours on end.

  “I’m just saying I think they’re weird,” Libby said.

  It took everything Sarah had to stay in place. How badly she wanted to confront him in front of his friends, ask him why he was avoiding her. But she knew. He had taken what he wanted, knowing that she, in her adoration of him, would give it. They had sinned in the eyes of the Lord, the church, their families, and the community. And yet he stood over there like he didn’t even know her name. She was such a fool.

  “I think that would be fine,” Julie said. “Sarah? Are you listening?”

  Sarah turned her gaze away from Jonah and turned back to her cousin. “Yes. Of course. What?”

  “I told you she wasn’t listening,” Mandy added.

  “Let’s all go down to Millers’ Pond. This is probably the last day we will even be able to think about getting in the water.”

  It was early October, and before long the water would cool off and it would be too cold to get in the pond. They would still hang out there from time to time, but Julie was right. It was probably their last chance to go swimming.

  Yet the last thing Sarah wanted to do was put herself in Jonah Miller’s vision. In fact, she would rather avoid him like the plague than sit and watch him go through the motions of living while pining away for a woman he couldn’t have. It was heartbreaking. “I don’t think I’ll go,” she said.

  “You have to come,” Mandy said.

  She didn’t have to do anything.

  “Please go with us.” Julie squeezed her arm in encouragement.

  “It wouldn’t be the same without you,” Libby added.

  What could Sarah do but agree?

  * * *

  Jonah watched as Sarah looked away. He hated that shadow in her eyes, that ghost of betrayal and sadness. He didn’t need her gaze on him to know that he had messed up. Really messed up. He didn’t need her anger or her consternation. He knew.

  “Are you going with us?” Obie asked.

  Jonah dragged his attention back to the matter at hand. What to do after church. It was a question they had been asking themselves for years, ever since they were old enough to go to a singing. But things had changed. He looked at the faces of his friends standing around him. They were all married or engaged. All but him.

  And Sarah.

  “Jah,” he said. Of course he would go. That was expected of him. That was what he was supposed to do. But he was just going through the motions until . . . until something happened.

  It had been almost four months since Lorie had gotten married. He felt as if he were treading water, climbing uphill, walking through peanut butter. They were all inadequate descriptions. But he was growing weary, and there was no end in sight.

  The conversation around him turned to who was driving, who was going, and what their wives were going to think.

  His gaze drifted back over to Sarah. He wasn’t really avoiding her, not for the reason she thought. The truth was, he was ashamed. He hadn’t been thinking clearly that night. That was his only excuse, the only one he had, anyway.

  They dispersed, each man going to get his wife, and to Jonah’s dismay, the second he was alone, Sarah broke away from the women and started in his direction. “Hi, Sarah.”

  “Can I talk to you for a second?”

  He blinked. The last thing he wanted to do was talk to her, but how could he tell her no? “Jah. Of course.” After all, what could she say to him in the middle of the Burk-holders’ yard with the entire church district milling around in one
spot or another? The afternoon meal was over, and the sun was shining. It wasn’t like she could pin him to the wall with questions he couldn’t answer. Not with everyone watching.

  “I thought you were my friend.”

  Maybe she could.

  “Friends?”

  “You heard me.” She crossed her arms and shifted her weight. She was acting as uncomfortable as he felt. So why have this conversation at all?

  “Jah. We’re friends.”

  “And friends consistently ignore other friends?”

  “I’m not ignoring you.”

  She laughed, though there was no humor in the sound. “Lying is a sin, Jonah Miller.”

  “I just don’t want you to get the wrong impression.”

  “And what impression is that?” He squirmed under her steady stare. He could see the shame in her gaze, the pain and embarrassment, but she didn’t look away. And he didn’t know what to say.

  She shook her head as she waited for him to answer. “I thought you were different,” she finally said. “I thought you were a better person than that.” Her shoulders were stiff and her chin trembled, but she held her head high as she turned on her heel and walked away.

  He watched her retreating back, but had no words to say in his defense. She thought he was different? He had too. It seemed they were both wrong.

  * * *

  Sarah sat down on the edge of her bed and unpinned her hair. She had to admit it was her favorite part of the day. Sometimes her bob gave her a headache. She had to pull her wayward hair so tight to keep it under control, and she always looked forward to bedtime when she could let it down, brush it out, and release some of the tension on her scalp. She tossed the pins into the little dish she had sitting beside her bed, pulled the ponytail holder free, and began to brush out the tresses.

  It had been three days since she had talked to Jonah after church. Tried to talk to Jonah. Her days were filled with teaching her classes and righting all the mistakes she had made last year. But at night, like now, her mind wasn’t as occupied and thoughts of Jonah crept in.

  Her sister Annie bounded in from the other room, in a flash of white nightgown and flowing blond hair. Annie hopped onto the bed, eyes sparkling. “Can you go to town with me tomorrow?”