The Christmas Quilt. Patricia Davids
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dropped to her knees and began searching with her hands, letting her fingers glide over the thick pile. The carpeting was a concession to the English guests that stayed at the inn. Amish homes held no such fanciness. A plain plank floor or simple linoleum was all anyone needed.
The sound of a door opening across the hall sent a rush of embarrassed heat to her cheeks. A second later the door closed.
She knew who it was. She recognized the spicy scent of his aftershave. Her heartbeat skittered and took off like a nervous colt at a wild gallop.
The silence stretched on until she thought she must have been mistaken. He didn’t move, didn’t speak. She cocked her head to the side. “Is someone there?”
“Can I help?” His raspy voice was a mere whisper.
It was Booker. God had given her another chance to spend time with him. “You have already helped a great deal. The price you paid for my quilt was outrageous.”
“Some works of art are priceless, but what are you doing on the floor?”
“I dropped my room key.”
“Ah. I see it.” A second later he grasped her hand and pressed the cool metal key into her palm, then gently closed her fingers over it.
Waves of awareness raced up her arm and sent shivers dancing across her nerve endings. She didn’t trust her voice to speak as he cupped her elbows and drew her to her feet. The warmth from his hands spread through her body, making it difficult to breathe.
She’d known this dizzying sensation only once before. The first and only time Gideon Troyer had kissed her. Would this man’s kiss light up her soul the way Gideon’s had?
Shame rushed in on the heels of her disgraceful thought. What was the matter with her? This man was Englisch. He was forbidden, and she was foolish to place herself in such a situation.
She was inches away from him. Gideon’s pulse pounded in his ears like a drum as he studied Rebecca’s face, her lips, the curve of her cheek. Behind her tinted glasses he saw the way her full lashes lay dark and smoky against her fair skin. The long ribbons of her white kapp drew his attention to the faint pulse beating at the side of her neck just where he wanted to press a kiss.
She was everything he remembered and so much more. The girl he once loved had matured into a beautiful woman. He longed to pull her into his arms and kiss her. To see if those lush lips tasted as sweet as they did in his memory.
His grip tightened. Suddenly, she grew tense in his grasp and tried to pull away.
He was frightening her. This wasn’t a romantic interlude from their past for her. To her he was a stranger. He released her, took a step back and tried to put her at ease. “Would you like me to open the door for you?”
“No. I can manage.” She retreated until her back was against the wood.
She didn’t look frightened, only flustered. A pretty blush added color to her cheeks. Adam must have known she was staying at the inn. It would have helped if his cousin had given him a heads-up.
Gideon said, “It was nice talking to you. Perhaps we’ll see each other later since the ice is going to keep me here for a day. Wait, should I use the word see, or is that being insensitive?”
“I beg your pardon?” Her flustered look changed to confusion.
“I don’t know how to address a blind person. You’re the first one I’ve met. Can you give me a few pointers so I don’t stick my foot in my mouth?”
Her charming smile twitched at the corner of her mouth. “There isn’t a special way to address us, and you don’t have to be concerned about using the word see. I use it all the time.”
“Good, because I’m thinking it would be hard to have a conversation with you if I constantly had to think up a way to replace every word that relates to sight.”
She nodded slowly. “I see what you mean.”
“Right!”
Chuckling, she said, “I’m sure we’ll run into each other if you’re staying here for a while. The inn isn’t very big.”
“I’d call it cozy.”
“I don’t find it so.”
“Why not?” Was she uncomfortable because he was here?
She shrugged. “It’s not important.”
“Of course it is.”
Following a moment of hesitation, she said, “I feel lost when I’m downstairs. The ceiling is so high that sounds echo differently. It’s that way in this long hall, too. I’m used to my aunt’s small farmhouse. I know where everything is. I can move about freely.”
“You’re comfortable there.”
She smiled. “That’s right. You do see what I mean.”
“If you need help navigating your way around, just ask me.”
Her smile faded. “I’m not asking for your help. I can manage quite well on my own.”
“Ouch. The lady is touchy.”
Her mouth dropped open in surprise. “I am not.”
“Could have fooled me. That’s not very Amish of you.”
Her mouth snapped shut. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“The Amish are humble folks. Humble people accept help when it’s offered.”
Torn between scolding him and turning the other cheek, as she knew she should, Rebecca pressed her lips closed on her comment. He was baiting her. She didn’t have to respond.
“I’m right. Let me hear you admit it.”
She said, “The Amish strive to be humble before God.”
“Gets hard to do sometimes, doesn’t it?”
She blew out a long breath. “Yes, sometimes it is hard. Anything worthwhile is often hard to obtain. That is why we must depend on God to aid us.”
“Sorry if I offended you.”
“You did, but you are forgiven. My aunt often tells me I am too proud and I must seek humility.”
“It’s a foolish person who doesn’t heed goot advice.”
Hearing her own words tossed back at her made Rebecca smile. “I do need to work on that.”
Downstairs she heard the grandfather clock chiming the quarter hour and realized her headache had disappeared. Conversing with Booker was interesting to say the least. No one had ever asked if talking about her blindness made her uncomfortable. Usually they stammered apologies or sought to avoid mentioning it all together.
“What kind of work do you do?” she asked.
“I own a small airplane charter service.”
“You are a pilot?”
“Yes.”
Sadness settled over her. “I once knew a young Amish man who wanted to fly. Is it wonderful to soar above the earth like a bird?”
“It has its moments. What happened to him?”
She grasped the key so tightly her fingers ached and she fought back tears. “The lure of the world pulled him away from our faith and he never came back.”
After a long pause, he asked, “Were the two of you close?”
“Ja, very close.” Why was she sharing this with a stranger? Perhaps, because in some odd way he reminded her of Gideon.
“Did you ever think about going with him?”
She smiled sadly. “I didn’t believe he would leave.