The Quilting Circle Page 7

  “But I saved him just for you. He was the best one of the litter.”

  “Can I have him?” The words jumped from Clara Rose’s lips before she had time to think them through. Her mother would probably pull her hair out if she brought the puppy home, but with all the trouble she and Obie had been having lately, having that pup in the house would be like having a piece of Obie underfoot. A piece that wouldn’t tell her that she shouldn’t marry Thomas and not give her a good reason why. That was a piece she could definitely deal with.

  Obie turned to face her for the first time since he’d come in. “Hi there, Clara Rose.”

  She gave him a small nod. “He’s a great-looking pup.”

  She hated that things were so awkward between them now. But what was a girl to do? It wasn’t every day her best friend tried to kiss her. Not every day at all. Her heart broke that things were so strained between them now. Was that her fault? Had she reacted badly to the kiss? Responded incorrectly? Was she the only one who felt that longing for more?

  What she would give to go back to a time before all this happened, maybe even back as far as when Obie first came to the sewing circle and asked her not to marry Thomas. Maybe if she had handled things differently from that day until now, she and Obie would still be friends.

  If she asked him, he would probably say that the two of them were still friends, but everything had definitely changed. It had changed so much that their relationship was hardly recognizable, and she and Thomas weren’t even married yet.

  They had three more weeks before the actual wedding. Three more weeks of cooking and freezing and ironing and last-minute preparations before they said their vows. She could only pray that things would improve after that. But judging by the distant look in his green eyes, he didn’t have a lot of hope.

  He gave a small nod. “Jah, he’s a good pup.” He swallowed hard and seemed to think about it a second. “Sure. You can have him. Consider him my wedding present.”

  Obie ducked back into the kitchen, and Clara Rose picked up Tater the pup. She held him close to her, inhaling that sweet puppy scent even as her tears fell into that soft fur. Nothing would ever be the same again.

  * * *

  “Clara Rose!” Mamm shouted. “Come get this pup!”

  Clara Rose hustled down the stairs to rescue Tater from yet another mischievous disaster. Or rather to rescue her mamm’s knitting from the ornery canine.

  She snatched him up and held him close, quickly noting that she had arrived just in time. The sweater Mamm was knitting was safe once again. At least for a time.

  Her mother shook her head and disappeared into the kitchen, her look of disapproval sticking around long after she had left.

  Clara Rose kissed the puppy on the top of his head and received a sweet puppy kiss in return.

  There were times when he reminded her so much of Obie that her heart hurt. She hadn’t seen him since he had given her the puppy. Not even at church. She had heard through the talk at the quilting circle that he had gone over to Clarita to help his cousin, but secretly she feared that he had gone off to Pinecraft with his brother. If that was the case, she wondered if he’d ever come back.

  “What does Thomas think about the dog?” Anamaria asked as she came through the house carrying a basket of towels to the upstairs bathroom.

  “He uh . . . thinks Tater is staying here.”

  Once they were married, she and Thomas were moving into the main Lapp house until they built their own house in the lot across the street.

  Anamaria looked around to see if their mother was listening in. “Does Mamm know this?”

  So far, Tater had chewed up two and a half pairs of shoes, the hallway rug, several baskets, and the lunchbox Clara Rose used when she needed to take food to work with her.

  Clara Rose shook her head. “He’s not staying here. He’s coming with me.”

  Her sister propped the basket on one hip and eyed her skeptically. “When are you going to tell Thomas?”

  She shrugged and placed the pup back on his too-big feet. “Soon, I guess.”

  Anamaria snorted. “I would hope so. The wedding is in less than five days.”

  A pain shot through her heart at the thought. In less than five days, she would be a married woman. She and Thomas would go to live in the family house until they got their own place built. Surely Thomas would get used to having Tater underfoot. Sure, the beast was an ornery puppy now, a ball of fur with entirely too much energy for such a small creature. But he wouldn’t be so small for long. And when he was a seventy-pound faithful companion and watchdog, Thomas would be thankful to have him.

  She shook her head at her own thoughts. Maybe then Thomas wouldn’t care that it was her last and final gift from Obie. She didn’t know if she would ever see Obie again. Tater was her last piece of her best friend.

  “Clara Rose?”

  She shifted her attention from the floor to her sister.

  “Are you all right?”

  Clara Rose nodded. “Jah, I’m fine. Just nerves,” she said, but she and Anamaria both knew that it was not the truth. Yet she had said it so many times in the last two weeks, she had almost started to believe it.

  “Is Thomas coming to pick you up soon?”

  “Huh?” she asked.

  “Isn’t it buddy bunch night?”

  “Jah, of course.” Clara Rose shifted in place and immediately ran through the list of things she needed to do to get ready to play cards with her friends.

  Anamaria took a deep breath and immediately Clara Rose knew. “He deserves better, you know.”

  “I love Thomas,” she said. And she did. What was not to love? He was just about perfect in every way, and she was the luckiest girl alive to be marrying him next week.

  “He needs someone who won’t forget they have a date with him and will give all their attention to him.”

  “Are you saying I shouldn’t marry him?” Clara Rose’s throat clogged with unshed tears. She had made her share of mistakes in the last few weeks, but she would do right by Thomas. Always and forever, she would do right by him.

  “No, just appreciate him,” Anamaria advised before tromping upstairs to finish her chores.

  A knock sounded on the door. Clara Rose jumped, and Tater let out a vicious bark. Well, a vicious puppy bark. He growled like a big dog, all the while wagging his tail.

  Clara Rose let out a chuckle at the puppy’s antics and went to answer the door.

  “Hi. Sorry I’m late. Are you ready to go?” Thomas asked.

  One hand flew to her prayer kapp. “Can I have a few minutes? I got sidetracked with the puppy.”

  “Jah, jah.”

  She stepped aside for him to enter. “Make yourself at home and I’ll be right back down.”

  “Try to hurry,” Thomas said as he removed his hat. “We’re already running behind.”

  “Okay,” she said, then flew up the stairs to change her dress.

  “What are you doing?” Anamaria asked as Clara Rose rushed into their bedroom, barely waiting until she had cleared the threshold before unpinning her prayer kapp and shucking off her apron.

  “Gotta . . .” she started, her words muffled by the fabric of her dress. “Gotta change.” In more ways than one. She had been out of sorts lately. She had let Obie’s worries get to her. She had let his kiss affect her even more. Too many nights, she had stared at the ceiling, reliving every minute of his lips on hers, when she should have been sleeping.

  Well, no more.

  She was marrying Thomas in just a few more days. He deserved her entire attention, all of her love, everything. And that was exactly what he’d be getting from her from here on out.

  She pulled her favorite purple dress over her head and tied on a clean apron. As quickly as possible, she smoothed her hair down using a dab of baby lotion and the palms of her hands. She didn’t have time to brush it out and put it back up so that would have to do. She pinned her hair back into place and gave her reflection a
last once-over.

  “You look good,” Anamaria said.

  “I was going for amazing.”

  “Then you look amazing,” Anamaria corrected with a smile.

  Clara Rose crossed the room in a heartbeat and wrapped her sister in a tight hug. “Thanks,” she whispered.

  “What for?” Anamaria asked returning the embrace.

  “For helping me see the truth.”

  Clara Rose released her sister and raced back down the stairs to where Thomas waited.

  Chapter Eight

  “What’s gotten into you tonight, Clara Rose?”

  She sighed from her perch next to him on the tractor seat. “Nothing. I’m just happy.”

  Thomas smiled. “I can see that.”

  She gave a shrug and a toss of her head. She felt carefree and alive, not weighed down by her doubts and fears of the future. This was what she wanted. To get married, be Thomas’s wife, raise kids and corn, and live happily ever after, as the Englisch fairytales said. She was still concerned about Obie, and she hoped that he was taking care of himself wherever he was. She said a little prayer for his safety and turned her attention back to the man at her side. “I know I’ve been out of sorts lately, but I’m getting back to my old self,” she said.

  “I’m glad.” He smiled at her from his place in the driver’s seat, and Clara Rose knew in that instant it was all going to be okay. Regardless of stolen kisses and the concerns of her friends, she and Thomas were meant to be together. God had sent Thomas to be her one true love. And she would spend the rest of her life thanking Him for such a wonderful gift. All of her dreams were about to come true.

  * * *

  “Are you ready?” Emily Riehl asked from the doorway of Clara Rose’s bedroom.

  Clara Rose ran her hands down her white apron one last time and looked in the mirror to straighten her already perfect white cape. Underneath, she wore a dress of soft dusty blue. It wasn’t the color she would have chosen herself, but Thomas’s mother had gone with her that day to pick out material for the wedding party. Margaret Lapp had suggested the color for its rich undertones and sophisticated appearance. The Lapps were definitely “fancy Amish,” and Clara Rose knew that Margaret Lapp had more knowledge about trends and what was popular in other communities as well as the Englisch world. If Margaret thought the color becoming for a wedding, then who was she to say otherwise?

  But even as Clara Rose tugged on the sleeves of her dress, the aqua-blue material she had been about to buy rose to her mind. It was a loud color, a little flashy, and reminded her of the swimming pool at the rec center.

  “Clara Rose?” Emily prompted.

  She nodded. “Just about.” But in truth there was nothing left to do. She looked around the room. Her sister was dressed, looking as beautiful as ever in the same shade of dusty blue. The color set off her dark hair to perfection and made her gray eyes, so like Clara Rose’s own, deepen to the color of smoke.

  “You’ve got a few more minutes if you need some time.”

  She would have liked a place to sit and quietly pray. Her good feelings from the weekend had faded as the wedding day drew near with no sign that Obie was returning. She had even gone out to his house the day before and talked to his father a while. Paul Brenneman had assured her that Obie was only in Clarita, that he had not picked up and completely left town. If he had plans to come to the wedding, Paul hadn’t known.

  There were close to two hundred people in her mother’s living room, and the one person who she wanted to be there above all else was nowhere to be found.

  “Just give me a minute,” she said. Just another minute to collect her thoughts.

  Emily gave her a knowing look, then motioned for Anamaria and the other bridesmaids to leave the room. Her cousins, Sophie and Jessica, smiled sympathetically as they passed.

  Suddenly, Clara Rose was alone. It seemed as if she hadn’t been by herself in a long, long time. Despite the sounds floating up from downstairs, the room was quiet, and Clara Rose closed her eyes and let it wash over her.

  A soft knock sounded at the door. “Rosie?”

  “Obie?” She spun around to face him, praying the whole while that he wasn’t a figment of her imagination. “You came.”

  He stepped into the room, his gaze darting around as if testing to see if they were really alone. “Of course, I came. You are my best friend.”

  She rushed to his side and clasped his hands into her own. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

  “Me too,” he said, but his voice sounded strained. She was about to ask him what the matter was, but he spoke, cutting off her question before she could ask it. “What are you wearing?”

  She looked down at herself. “My wedding dress.”

  “I know that, but the color.” She started to respond, but he continued before she could say the words. “It’s a nice color,” he amended.

  “But?” she asked.

  “It doesn’t look like something you would pick out.”

  She looked down at herself. “Margaret helped me.”

  He gave an understanding nod, but didn’t comment further.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” she said again, and realized that the time was drawing nearer. “I guess I should go now.” She released his hands and made her way to the door.

  “Don’t go out there,” Obie quietly beseeched her.

  She turned to face him, trying to read through his expression to the truth underneath. “I have to. It’s almost time.”

  “Please.”

  Clara Rose stopped. “Obie, you’re my best friend and I would do almost anything for you. But I have to go now.”

  “I don’t want to be your friend.”

  “Obie Brenneman, what a thing to say. Isn’t that what we’ve always been, the best of friends?”

  “Yeah. We’ve always been friends. And at first I thought that was going to be enough. I can hang out with you, see you every day, touch your hand from time to time, but that would never be enough. And now . . .”

  Clara Rose waited patiently for him to continue. When he didn’t, she prompted, “And now what?”

  “You can’t marry Thomas,” he said, stopping her. She had one hand on the doorknob and didn’t turn around as he said the words.

  “I thought we had covered this,” she said, exasperation tainting her tone.

  “I want you to marry me.”

  “What?” She spun around to face him.

  “You can’t marry Thomas because you’re supposed to marry me.”

  His words simply took her breath away. She couldn’t marry Thomas because she was supposed to marry Obie?

  She burst out laughing, only controlling her mirth long enough to say, “Obie, you had me going there for a minute. Too funny.” She continued to laugh but stopped when she realized that he was not laughing with her. She wiped the tears from her eyes and cleared her throat. “Why aren’t you laughing?”

  Obie shook his head, his jaw tense. “Because I’m not joking. This is not funny. I’ve let you announce your engagement. I’ve watched you prepare, thinking that all my feelings for you were something different. But I realize now. I truly love you. And I don’t want you to marry Thomas because I want to marry you myself.”

  She shook her head again. “I don’t know what to say.”

  Obie shoved his hands in his front pockets. “All the way back here from Clarita, I practiced what I was going to say. And this is the part where you tell me that you love me too and you want to marry me and not Thomas Lapp.”

  Her heart constricted in her chest. Her breath caught, and for a moment she thought she might pass out from it all. “I can’t,” she whispered as tears rose into her eyes.

  Suddenly everything was clear. She loved Obie. She always had. He had been her rock, her best friend, her everything for so long that she hadn’t noticed how much he had started to mean to her. She had no idea when she’d fallen in love with him. Or maybe there had been no fall involved. Maybe she’d simply g
rown into love with him from all the years of being by his side.

  “I love you.”

  Tears spilled down her cheeks. Why was it now, when she was set to marry another, that he came along and declared his feelings for her?

  She shook her head and dashed the tears away with the back of one hand. “I wish you had told me this that day behind your aunt’s house.”

  “Would that have changed things between us?”

  Clara Rose shook her head. “No,” she quietly admitted. He needed to have confessed his love long ago, before Thomas had called for her hand. “I’ve already promised to marry another man.” A man who had declared his love for her long ago.

  “I know.”

  “There are people out there who have come to see—” She broke off, unwilling to say more. “It’s not possible,” she said, her heart breaking in two.

  “Clara Rose?” Anamaria peeked her head through the door. “Everyone is waiting.”

  “Jah, okay.” She sniffed, struggling to keep her tears from falling.

  “Are you crying?” Her sister looked around to see what could be causing her such distress. “Obie?”

  “I was just leaving.” He pushed past Anamaria and out the door.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Where’s Thomas?” Clara Rose asked.

  “In the barn with the other men. Why?” Anamaria shook her head. “You aren’t going to—”

  “I need to talk to him. Now.”

  “Now?”

  “Right now.”

  “But,” Anamaria started as Clara Rose pushed past her and down the hallway. “You’re not going to do anything stupid, are you?”

  “I just want to talk to him for a minute.” She continued down the stairs and somehow managed to make it through the crush of people and out the door.

  She sprinted across the yard, mindless of the cold and the dust and the dirt. She had to talk to him. Immediately.

  She raced to the barn door and went inside, the men all stopping as she entered.

  “Has anyone seen Thomas?” Her gaze lighted on an individual face, then on to the next. She had no time for dallying.