The Amish Cowboy's Homecoming Page 20

  “Isaac!” she called as she ran toward where he’d landed facedown in the water, still unable to catch her breath. As she got to him, he rose onto his knees.

  She stared, frozen.

  He looked at her, the front of his body covered in mud. “Did I win?”

  Grace gaped down at him, her heart racing. “Are you…hurt?”

  “From that?” He made a face and waved a hand. “It was plenty deep enough, not to mention the layer of mud on the bottom. Nice, soft landing.”

  “You did that on purpose?”

  “I saw you watching.” He ran a hand over his face, then pushed his wet hair back off his forehead. “Thought it’d be funny.”

  “Funny?”

  He shrugged. “Jah.”

  Grace could only stare at him, no words coming to mind. He didn’t seem to be injured at all, just…soaked. His big smile, probably meant to assure her that he was okay, helped her heart to slow down from its racing panic.

  He stood up, shaking out his arms. “Wait.” He pointed at her. “You didn’t think it was funny?”

  “Isaac.” She stepped forward and shoved at his chest. He stumbled back, chuckling heartily, wiping his eyes. “Isaac King,” she added, crossing her arms, “you have an impressionable six-year-old daughter.”

  “She would have thought it was funny.”

  Grace shook her head, unable to stop the belly laugh from escaping. “What are we gonna do?” She gestured wildly at his clothes. “You’re completely drenched.”

  “I noticed.”

  “And all to get me to laugh?”

  “It worked, didn’t it?” After a shrug, Isaac turned his back to her, took hold of the front of his shirt, and started fanning it out, probably trying to flick the big chunks of mud off without hitting her in the face.

  When he turned back around, Grace found herself fixated.

  His white shirt, wet through but now void of mud, was stuck to Isaac’s chest, the thin material molded to the shape of his muscles, his long torso, open a bit at the throat, showing more bare skin than she’d ever seen on a man.

  Ooooh… She felt herself sway a little, lightheaded, thoroughly dazzled.

  She knew she swallowed. She tried to blink, but honestly, she was simply unable to remove her very unladylike, and most un-Amish-like gape from him.

  “You okay?”

  “Aye,” she replied, still swaying.

  “You’re not blinking.”

  Somehow, Grace was able to pull herself out of the daze and take in a sharp breath. When she could breathe normally again, she felt her heart racing, heat at the back of her neck, down her spine. She looked up into his eyes, then quickly away from him altogether.

  “And an extra ten points,” said a voice from the loud speakers, “to the gentleman who took a swan dive into the mud.” Suddenly, they were surrounded by people, some cheering, offering Isaac congratulations in both Dutch and English, others slapping him on the back.

  Then Isaac was being physically moved away by the crowd; Grace was left behind. She stood up on her toes. “Isaac? What’s going on?”

  “Jackson’s always cheating,” a man standing next to her said. “Judges saw what he did at the wall and disqualified him straight-up. They said your fella was far enough ahead of most of the other runners and declared him the winner.”

  “What?” Grace rose higher on her toes, trying to get Isaac to see her. “Isaac won?” Right then, he managed to look over his shoulder and send her a smile and a big old shrug of bewilderment. Grace couldn’t help laughing again.

  Something like that could happen only to Isaac King.

  Grace watched as he was brought all the way up to the judges’ table. They tried to give him some kind of gold statue, but Isaac waved it away good-naturedly.

  “Danke,” he said into the microphone, then gave one small, modest wave to the crowd. As he was en route to her, Isaac was sieged again, this time by a swarm of Amish men. They were all wearing matching slick black coats with two bright yellow reflective stripes encircling the arms.

  Reading Volunteer Fire Company read a logo on the back of their jackets. All were laughing, and Isaac didn’t look to be in the least bit of danger. She watched as they hustled him to what she’d thought was just a normal house on the edge of the property. As she looked closer, the same logo was on a sign on the front of the house.

  She ran after him, curious to see what would happen next.

  “Whoa there.” She was stopped by one of those Amish men outside a tall door with a high arch, where Isaac had disappeared. “No females allowed unless your spouse is inside. You’re not married to Isaac, are you?”

  Grace huffed out a breath and planted her hands on her hips. “No, but… What’s going on in there?”

  “We’re letting him shower,” he explained. “We’ve got dry clothes for him, too. He’ll be out in a minute.” He dropped his chin and laughed. “Wasn’t surprising to see him pull a stunt like that, ain’t so?”

  Grace was suddenly at attention. “You know Isaac?” she asked, pointing at the house.

  “We grew up together, our farms not half a mile apart.”

  “You’re kidding!”

  “I’m an Isaac, too,” the man said. “Isaac Hochstetler.”

  “Grace, nice to meet you.”

  “I moved my family up here two years ago,” the other Isaac said, “but I knew it was him the second he came out of that mud hole, spitting water.”

  Grace couldn’t help laughing, replaying that moment in her head. “He’s wild.”

  “Always has been. Great to see the guy again. We really missed him.”

  “After you moved here?” she asked.

  “Nay. After he got married. We didn’t see him out as much after that.”

  “Oh,” Grace said, recalling what they’d talked about in the buggy on the way to the mud sale that morning. He’d mentioned that he should’ve gotten to know Martha better before they married, and how badly he now wanted to get Sadie away from his in-laws.

  “He’s a good man—the best horse trainer I’ve ever seen,” the other Isaac added. “He can break a stallion from scratch in less than four weeks. Not that he’d ever brag about that, or anything for that matter. His humility is most likely one of the reasons he struggled building a business.”

  “Struggled?” Grace couldn’t help asking.

  “Well, maybe that’s not the right word.” He stroked his short beard and glanced toward the house. “Not my place to talk about.”

  “We’re friends,” Grace said after a moment. “And you’re right, he’s a very good man, and a very humble, wonderful father.”

  “You’ve met Sadie?”

  Grace couldn’t help smiling. “Aye. She’s lovely, good manners, just like her father.”

  The other Isaac turned to her, his eyes suddenly focused on her face. “Jah?” He tilted his head. “How did you say you know each other?”

  “Umm.” Grace’s throat got tight and her stomach pinched. “He, uh, he’s training a horse at my father’s farm in Honey Brook.”

  “He’s in Honey Brook now?”

  “Jah.”

  “And that’s where you live, too? You’re both in Honey Brook?”

  “J-just temporarily,” she quickly added. “I mean, he’s there for the job, just until the job is over.”

  “Ah. I see.”

  Grace was satisfied that she’d diffused whatever the other Isaac may have been presuming about their relationship. After all, there was nothing going on between them. They were friends, partners.

  So then why did her heart suddenly feel heavy, as well as her shoulders?

  And why hadn’t she mentioned she was training the horse, too? Why had she made such a point that he was in Honey Brook only until Cincinnati was done training? And why had she
tried so hard to downplay their friendship, how much he meant to her?

  It seemed that for the first time, Grace was grasping that fact herself.

  The other Isaac asked her what else they’d seen and done at the mud sale. They chatted for another few minutes, but Grace was stuck pondering over the day that Isaac would eventually return to Silver Springs, her shoulders feeling even heavier.

  Soon enough, Isaac—her Isaac—came outside. He was wearing black pants and a blue shirt that didn’t fit him quite right, a bit tight around the upper arms and chest. Grace blinked and looked away, whispering a prayer for strength to think of him in respectful and pious ways from now on.

  “How did I know you two would eventually meet?” Isaac said, pushing up the sleeves of his borrowed shirt.

  “Gott moves in mysterious ways,” the other Isaac said. “Bruder.” Then the two men hugged, slapping each other on their backs.

  The friends chatted, addressing Grace whenever there was the need for further explanation about a story or private joke between them. A few other Amish men joined them, all friends from Isaac’s past. He introduced her around, and only a few of them looked at her questioningly as the other Isaac had earlier, wondering why they’d come to the mud sale together.

  Grace couldn’t help wondering the same thing. If her father had been at home instead of at the hospital, would she have been allowed to go?

  Since there was nothing either of them could do about that now, Grace stood back and watched Isaac interact with his friends. She could easily see how much they liked, respected, and probably missed him. More than a few asked after Sadie and offered condolences about Martha—which Grace found strange. Had his friends from Silver Springs really not seen him in two years?

  “I promised Grace we’d stop by the crafts tent before they close,” Isaac said. “Wonderful to see everyone. Please give my regards to Bishop Lambright and his family.”

  More hugs were exchanged, and Grace’s cheeks were starting to ache from all the smiling. She’d had such an eventful day, and she owed it all to Isaac.

  “What’s that for?” he asked her as they stood in line to get one last funnel cake.

  “What’s what?”

  “You’re looking at me funny,” Isaac said.

  Grace pushed out her bottom lip and shrugged innocently, even though her eyes had been glued on him for a very long moment. “It was fun watching you with your friends.”

  Isaac chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. “They’re good people,” he said. “Some I’ve known my whole life.”

  Grace dropped her gaze to the ground and shifted her feet. “I supposed you’re pretty anxious, then, to get back to Silver Springs, jah?”

  Isaac didn’t reply, and when she lifted her chin, he was looking at her, a dent forming between his brows. “I…” he began then stopped, rubbing his neck again.

  His hazel eyes were soft as they settled on her, but there was a curious intensity behind them, almost as if he were seeing her for the first time, or in a different way. She felt a fluttering in her stomach and a tingling on her lips that was becoming common whenever he looked at her. She tried swallowing to wash it away, but the feelings grew only stronger.

  “I hadn’t thought about that,” he finally said, running a fist across his forehead. “I’ve been focused so much on…on the horse—Cincinnati.”

  His answer surprised her. “Cincinnati?”

  “Jah. Uh, do you want strawberries or syrup on top?” he added as they moved down the funnel cake line.

  Grace knew she was about as inexperienced as a toddler when it came to relations between men and women, but she also knew something had just changed, because from the way he’d been looking at her, she’d never believe that Isaac King was thinking about a horse.

  “Strawberries,” she said, and for the life of her, she couldn’t keep from smiling, gazing up at him like she was seeing him for the first time, too.

  As thoughts filled her head, memories of his laugh, his touch, the way she felt when he looked at her, she knew her breaths were coming fast, making her shoulders go up and down. All in response to a sensation that was brand new, and oh, so welcome.

  Chapter Thirty

  Isaac wanted to start back before it got too late in the afternoon. The roads would be busy with various modes of transportation, so after they finished their funnel cakes, and made sure all of their purchases of the day were secure in back, they climbed aboard the buggy and began the long trip back to Honey Brook.

  A little sunburned and a bit worn out, he settled into his seat, enjoying the beautiful scenery. After the third time he heard Grace softly chuckle to herself, he turned her way. Her eyes were closed but a little smile sat on her lips, chin tipped up toward the arching sun. Her upper body shook as, again, she laughed to herself.

  “What’s so funny?” he finally asked when he knew he’d enjoyed watching her for too long.

  “Mmm.” Her eyes remained closed, but her smile grew. “I was just thinking about today.”

  “You had a good time?”

  Her eyes popped open. “The best. I can’t believe I’ve never been—” She cut herself off and turned to him. “Thank you for bringing me, Isaac. I’ll never forget this day as long as I live.”

  Isaac had hoped to show her a good time at the mud sale, so he mentally gave himself a humble nod of congratulations, and a simple prayer thanking Gott for inspiring him.

  “Remember all those tomato plants in the gardening tent?” she said. “There must’ve been a hundred this morning.”

  “Most were gone by the time we left,” he said. “But it was sad to see all the okra that was left. I suppose folks who like that have already planted their own crop.”

  “Maybe.” Her eyes fluttered closed again. “Lunch was so good. My pork sandwich was delicious.”

  “You didn’t share one bite with me,” Isaac said.

  She turned to him again. “Because you ordered three hot dogs just for yourself.”

  He snickered under his breath. “They were small.”

  Grace chuckled along with him. “I’ll never forget it.” She put a hand over her mouth as her laugh increased. “You coming up from the mud like that.”

  “And what about you standing there on one leg holding a goat?”

  “It was to help my circulation.”

  “So was the mud.” Isaac pressed his lips together, but it wasn’t long before they both broke into a fit of happy belly laughs so irreverent that the buggy started to shake.

  “Gracious,” Grace said, wiping the bottoms of her eyelids. “What a day.”

  “Did I tell you about my first mud sale?” Isaac asked. When Grace shook her head, he went on. “I was around ten, and my father brought the whole family. Two of my sisters hadn’t been born yet, but it was still a pretty full carriage. It rained the day before, so the ground was soft, puddles everywhere. Even though my mother reminded me more than once, I forgot to bring my rubber boots. By noon, I’d lost my shoes in the mud somewhere. Had to spend the rest of the day barefoot. Not like that wasn’t how I spent most of my time at that age, anyway.”

  “You and mud.” Grace clicked her tongue. “Some boys never grow up all the way.”

  He chuckled. “My brothers joshed me about it for years. I’d find muddy boots under my bed or behind a chair. Once my sister molded my mashed potatoes into the shape of a boot.”

  Grace was an engrossed audience, prompting him to tell her about the time Daniel got sick from eating a whole crate of apples, and when Lucy slept in the barn for a week, and Daed helping him train his first pony.

  “Your family sounds fun,” Grace said, handing him a granola bar from her backpack. “I can’t wait to meet—” She cut herself off by taking a bite of her own granola bar and glancing away.

  “I like your family, too,” Isaac said. “I don’t
know them all very well yet, but what I know, I like.” He chuckled to himself. “Though I might never look at a glass of lemonade the same again.”

  He’d meant it as a joke, but when Grace didn’t laugh, he looked over at her. His stomach dropped when he saw she was silently crying.

  “Grace?” He put his hand behind her seat. “Are you okay? Did I say something wrong?”

  “Nay,” she said, though she didn’t stop weeping. “I’m…I’m fine.”

  She obviously wasn’t fine because the tears kept coming. And, since Isaac couldn’t just sit there, he pulled the buggy over onto the wide shoulder.

  “Grace,” he said, rotating in his seat so they were face-to-face. Seeing her like that, eyes clenched tight, mouth slightly open, letting out a quiet, agonized sob, broke his heart right down the middle.

  “Please,” he said. “Do you not feel well? Are you hurt?”

  “I wanted to help, I tried to help,” she said, finally speaking. “Maybe I tried too late, or tried wrong, or it wasn’t my place to try at all—even Maam said so.” She was speaking rapidly as she covered one eye with the heel of her hand. “I thought I’d actually gotten through to her once, but I was wrong.” She lowered her hand and looked at him. “You saw her the other night. Both of them.” Another heartbreaking sob shook her shoulders.

  “Amos and Sarah?”

  Grace pressed her lips together and nodded, fresh tears trickling down her cheeks. “You talked about getting away from the negative atmosphere of your in-laws’ house. Mine is no better, is it?”

  “Grace…”

  “There’s always tension, no matter how cheerful the rest of us are, no matter how hard I pray for peace. I keep thinking that if I’m more righteous, Gott will help me with Sarah and Amos, bless me to know what to say. But sometimes I’m not sure if I’m doing anything that Gott intends for me. Like, I love working with horses, but even I know it’s not traditional.”

  She was talking faster now, jumping subjects, as if she wasn’t thinking about what she was saying.

  “Maybe I’ve already messed up.”

  “Messed up what?” he asked when she paused to take a breath.