Chapter 41
Twenty. Twenty. Twenty … Somehow, his innocent but clever wife had got him thinking about kissing in terms of delicious rationing, like drops of water to a thirsting man. But he found his thirst increased with each kiss so that their spontaneous walk in the woods near the Wyse farm became fraught with exquisite tension. He felt as naerfich as a colt and struggled to concentrate on the patches of snow and exposed tree roots along the trail he’d run as a young buwe.
“So, if you weren’t getting kisses,” she asked, shooting him a smiling sidelong glance, “what would you have liked to have had as a favorite supper for your birthday?”
You. He cleared his throat and shrugged. “Pork chops, scalloped potatoes, apple butter, and fresh bread.”
“I’ll have to remember.”
“And what’s your favorite food?” he asked.
“Funnel cakes,” she answered without a pause.
“Funnel cakes? Really? Like at the fall fairs?”
“Mmm-hmmm. I love pinching off the warm dough and sliding it in the powdered sugar. I can eat a whole cake alone.”
“There’s a fun side to you that I don’t know.”
She slipped her hand into his. “Maybe there’s a lot we don’t know about each other.”
“True. But I plan to spend a lifetime discovering your secrets, Lilly Wyse.” He stopped, turned to her, raised her slender fingers to his lips. “I claim kiss number twenty.” He carefully selected her left pointer finger and popped the tip into the warmth of his mouth. He heard her gasp as he drew upon her skin gently, letting his teeth edge against her. She tasted of summer and sky. He smiled at his pleasant fancies as he released her with reluctance.
“That … that wasn’t a kiss,” she declared.
He stared down at her, then tucked her arm into his, continuing the walk. “Now that presents an interesting topic for discussion, Mrs. Wyse. What exactly constitutes a kiss in your opinion?”
“Well, not that. I’m not a piece of candy.”
He felt a delicious churning in his chest at her innocent words. “Ach, there are so many ways that I could answer that, but none are quite suitable for a lady, I’m afraid.” He watched her delicately flush with delight.
“I didn’t mean it like that.” She sniffed, a cover for the smile he could see playing about the edges of her mouth.
“No worries. But back to the issue at hand. What exactly is a kiss?” He asked the question in a calm voice but the words did something warm to him as he tried to come up with his own definition.
“Well, I’m sure it’s a question that’s been asked through the ages—”
“No fair playing teacher,” he chided.
“I’m not! Well, all right. I am.” She laughed. “When I was younger I used to practice kissing my reflection in the bureau mirror.”
“Really?”
“Jah, and I’m not going to ask how you practiced. I don’t think I want to know.”
“My wrist,” he confessed, feeling himself flush.
“What?” She stopped stock-still.
He turned his free arm over, stroking the veins and underside of his wrist, and shrugged. “It’s … it’s kind of a sensitive spot. So, I’d practice.”
“When?”
“You mean how old I was?”
“No. When would you practice?”
“Ach, when I was alone, of course.” Then he laughed out loud, remembering something.
“What?” she demanded.
He shook his head. “Too strange.”
“Now you’ve got me curious. What?”
“Well, I always practiced when I was certain to be alone— except once. I was supposed to be milking, and I was, but I had my other arm back against the cow, my mouth on my wrist, half asleep, when my daed walked in.”
She giggled and he thrilled to the delightful sound. “What did he say?”
“He laughed and I woke up all the way and fell backward off the milking stool. Then he helped me up and warned me that I’d better not leave any marks on my wrists or my mother would know what I’d been up to.”
“Marks?”
He lowered his gaze to her lips. “Yeah, you know.”
She shook her head slightly and he felt a dizzying wave of desire. “Marks—from doing it too hard,” he explained.
“Oh.” Her gaze slid away to the safety of the ground and he cupped her chin, gently forcing her to look up at him.
“Do you know what I mean?”
She wet her lips. “Wouldn’t—wouldn’t that hurt?”
He smiled. “Wonderfully. Do you want me to show you?”
“Uh … I don’t think—”
“Just watch,” he whispered. He felt her shock when he pulled from her slightly and slid his black coat sleeve up from his wrist. He turned his arm over and lowered his mouth to his own skin, feeling a curious mix of excitement and exhilaration in the knowledge that she stared at him. He watched her from lowered lashes as he drew hard against the pulse point, feeling the throb of his own blood beneath his lips. He lifted his head after a few moments, then held his arm out for her inspection.
“See?” he asked hoarsely. They both stared at the reddened mark that stood out against the tan of his skin.
She reached delicate fingertips to rub against the spot, pressing slightly against the damp imprint. “It really doesn’t hurt?”
He drew in a shaky breath and half-laughed. “Nee.”
He knew by instinct what she was going to do before she ever dipped her head, and the knowledge jolted through him so hard that he felt like his heart would stop. She kissed his wrist and he closed his eyes against the wet stinging movement of her novice mouth. She drew back after a few seconds and he forced himself to open his eyes. She stared up at him uncertainly and he smiled at her with dazed warmth.
“Was that … all right?”
“Jah,” he breathed. “More than all right. I’ll never forget.”
She smiled shyly. “Was that nineteen?”
“That might have to count for more than just one.”
“So, that was a kiss, then?”
“If that’s your definition of a kiss, Lilly, I’d say we couldn’t agree more.” He caught her hand and eased up her sleeve. “But what about your poor neglected wrist, my fraa?”
He watched her breathing increase as he encircled her delicate bones with his thumb and forefinger. “Have you ever heard of snow kissing?” he asked with husky interest and she shook her head.
“Noooo.”
“Do you want to learn how?”
“To kiss the snow? Are you going to dump me in a snowbank?”
“Snow kissing has to be done just right before the snow melts.” He stooped to scoop up a palmful of clean snow. “Let me see your wrist.”
She offered her arm hesitantly, and he laid a finger full of cold snow across the delicate veins so clear beneath her pale skin. Then he bent his head, hovering near the wrist she’d reached to support with her other hand. “See,” he murmured. “The cold of the snow against the heat of your skin … mmmm … makes it start to melt, but then I put my mouth over the snow …” He broke off to do as he’d explained and heard her startled gasp as he lapped the snow from her wrist then kissed the warm-cold spot with gentle pressure. He lifted his head to stare into her transfixed blue eyes, then placed a drop of snow against her parted lips. He meant to go slow, to entice as well as to teach, but one touch of the melting liquid cold giving way to the warmth of her lips and he lost all track of rational thought. He kissed her with such intensity that they both moved until her back was against a wide tree. His fingers dug into the bark of their own accord, heedless of the melting snow in his palm.
He broke away once to catch his breath. “Lilly … I think … do you want …” And then she stretched to encircle her arms about his neck and he was lost. One kiss followed another in mindless succession until he was sure he’d gone past the bounds of his birthday gift to something even more tantalizingly special.
But a sudden crashing through the undergrowth along the path followed by a strong whistling warned him that they were no longer alone, and he almost groaned aloud in frustration. He lifted his head and gently lowered her arms, pulling her to steadiness against his side.
Then Seth’s tall form came around a bend in the trail.
Lilly automatically ducked her head and clung to her husband’s side and wanted to cover her cheeks with her cloak. She felt feverish and confused by her own intimate behavior and desire, and by the dazzling replay of images behind her eyes of Jacob’s mouth against his own skin and then against her lips. Then she realized Seth was not alone. The presence of Abel walking along the path did much to help her regain her composure.
“Jacob. Lilly. I’m surprised to see you.” Seth’s voice was cheerful.
“And what are you doing here?” Jacob asked in a rough tone, reaching out to ruffle Abel’s hair.
“Well, I saw Abel walking along the property alone, and I just thought he might need some company.”
“Wait,” Lilly exclaimed softly. “Abel, you were alone? Does your mamm know that you were going for a walk?”
The buwe shook his head thoughtfully. “You let us out early. She wasn’t at home. So I just went for a walk.”
Lilly glanced at her husband, trying to conceal her dismay. “Jacob, Seth, I’m sure Mrs. Beiler is bound to be concerned if she finds that Abel’s not at school or at home. We’d better get him back quickly.”
“No!” Abel said. “No. I’m getting my mamm presents for Valentine’s Day.” He opened a grubby palm and held three perfectly capped acorns up for their inspection. “I just need one more to have four.”
“Well, three seems just as good,” Seth remarked.
Abel shook his head, beginning to get upset. “I need four. It has to be even.”
Lilly looked at the two brothers and shook her head slightly. She knew from classroom experience of Abel’s need for the number of items to be even. “Abel likes things to be even when they can be—it comforts him somehow. Why don’t I cut over to Mrs. Beiler’s and let her know that Abel’s all right, and you two help Abel find another acorn and bring him along when he’s done.”
“Here’s an acorn—right as rain,” Jacob exclaimed, scooping up an uncapped acorn from the snowy ground.
Abel turned his pug nose up in disgust and shook his head. “No cap.”
“Oh.” Jacob inspected it. “You’re right.” He tossed the offending acorn into the woods.
“They’ve all got to be the same,” Lilly explained.
“Well, gut luck to us, then, finding a perfect acorn in the snow. The squirrels and chipmunks have probably gotten them all.” Seth scuffed a foot at the ground, peering at it as though it might magically produce the right acorn.
“I found three,” Abel pointed out.
“All right.” Jacob gave Lilly a tight squeeze. “You go on to Mrs. Beiler’s. We’ll be back with you shortly.”
“Jah,” Lilly muttered, still warm from his kisses. She nodded to Seth and hurried up the path.
Two hours later the sun began to sink in the afternoon sky, and the late winter day seemed damp and gloomy in the deep of the woods. They’d long left the trail in search of the perfect acorn. A fox skirted in front of them and darted into some dark evergreens. Jacob shook his head. “Abel, it’s going to get dark soon. We’ve got to go back. Your mamm will be worried.”
“No!” the boy yelled and darted off in the direction of the fox.
“Great, Jacob,” Seth said. “Now we have to find an acorn and the kid.”
“Come on. Quit whining. We have to move quickly. Not only can that boy outrun both of us, but I don’t know this side of the mountain as well as I might.”
They took off at a jog through the snow, calling the child’s name as they went, looking for his footprints. In the places where the snowmelt left bigger patches of dirt than snow, and the footsteps disappeared, Seth stopped to catch his breath. “Wait. We’d better split up. The light’s going to fade fast, and I don’t need another reason for his mother not to like me by getting him home after dark.”
Jacob raised a brow with a half smile. “Another reason?”
Seth shrugged. “All right. She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever set eyes on, but I somehow have given her reason to hate me. Avoids me at all costs.”
“You’re imagining it.” Jacob waved away his words. He started diagonally to the left. “Come on. We’d better move. I’ll go this way.”
“I wish we had a light,” Seth complained, then began trotting off to the right.
“Abel!” Jacob’s voice echoed hollowly through the trees.
I should go out and look myself.” Grace Beiler stared out the kitchen window at the deepening dusk, and Lilly tried desperately to think of something else to distract the anxious mother.
She’d already run through every possible topic of conversation that she could come up with and truthfully had no explanation as to where the men and buwe could be. She, too, had expected them back by now. She stifled anxious thoughts of her own and glanced over the quilt top Grace was working on—one of many—that she sold to a distributor in Lancaster. It was laborious, tiring work, or so Lilly thought, and didn’t seem to suit the delicacy of Grace Beiler’s petite frame. Although she needed the work to support herself and her son, Lilly still considered that a woman like Grace should be cherished like fine porcelain by someone.
She dragged her wandering thoughts back to the moment. “Let’s make something to eat for when they get here. Did I tell you it’s Jacob’s birthday?”
Grace gestured lamely to the pantry. “I have a bread pudding shaped like a heart I was going to surprise Abel with—he loves the raisins.” Her voice caught for a moment. “Mrs. Wyse—Lilly. You needn’t wait with me. I know your own mamm is at home. Won’t she worry?”
“Anxious for me to be gone so that you can head out into the woods alone?”
The two women smiled at each other briefly.
“How did you know?” Grace asked.
“Teaching for a while. You get used to reading thoughts.”
Grace nodded and sank down to take up anxious rocking in a bentwood chair.
They were both silent when the quiet was suddenly broken by the deep voices of men outside. Grace flew to the kitchen door and flung it open to let Jacob and Seth enter. Seth was carrying Abel in his arms.
“What’s wrong? What happened to him?” Her voice was frantic as she tried to feel the child through the bulk of Seth’s arms.
“Played out. That’s all. Played us out too. He led us a merry chase up Keating Mountain. I thought we—”
“Put him down in here, in my bed, please.” She cut Seth off and hurried to open a door off the kitchen.
“All right.” There was a faint irony in Seth’s voice that made Lilly raise questioning eyes to Jacob’s face, but he just shrugged. Seth soon joined them and then Mrs. Beiler gently closed the door behind her.
“I must thank you.” Her voice was unsteady and she kept her eyes on Jacob’s face. She opened her palm and held it out for them to see. “He roused long enough to give me my Valentine—four acorns.”
“That’s four—an even number, with caps,” Seth noted lightly.
Grace skimmed a blank gaze over his face and then returned her look to Jacob and Lilly.
“Again. Thank you and thank you, Lilly. I couldn’t have waited without you. If … if you all don’t mind, I think I should go and sit by him in case he wakes or catches a chill.”
“Not at all. Please have a gut night.” Lilly smiled and embraced the woman, then caught up her cloak. Jacob reached to settle it about her shoulders.
Mrs. Beiler opened the back door. “Gut night.” The door closed with a quiet click.
Lilly surveyed Seth’s downturned mouth in the half light from the kitchen window.
“What did you do to her?” Jacob asked his brother, settling an arm around Lilly’s shoulders in the evening cold.
“I told you. Nothing.”
“I’m sure we’re all just tired,” Lilly said briskly, as if her point would explain Grace Beiler’s undoubted coldness toward Seth.
Seth shrugged. “Yeah, right. Let’s just go home.”
Lilly snuggled beneath her husband’s arm, flanked on her other side by Seth until they saw him off at the Wyse farm. She was sleepy but glad when the lights of home shown clear and bright across the fields.