“Ouch,” she said.
“Come here.” He went over to the sink and turned on the cold water, then beckoned her over. He took her wrist and plunged her hand under the cold flow. He could feel her pulse fluttering in her wrist under his fingers, and her breath came quick and shallow.
“Better?” he asked.
“Getting there...”
Holding her wrist the way he was, he was right next to her, and while he knew she was quite capable of holding her hand under water without his assistance, he found he didn’t want to move. Somehow, he felt like he was helping. A little ridiculous, he knew, but not enough to make him move first.
“That was silly of me,” she said, her face turned away from him. “I’m not usually that scatterbrained.”
“Looks like it hurts,” he murmured.
“Yah...” Her voice was soft.
For a moment they stood together, Delia close enough that her shoulder pressed into his chest. She was the perfect height for him, he realized—and she smelled good, like cinnamon from her baking. Not that he should be thinking these things... But she was lovely—her eyes looked like they were always ready to smile, although now she was wincing against the pain. Her hair was thick and filled up her kapp to the brim with her bun. He liked that, especially...
Delia pulled her hand out of the water and took a step away from him. He found himself disappointed that the moment was over, but he released her immediately. The angry red welt on her hand would need some attention. They both looked down at it.
“That’s going to be painful,” he said.
“Yah. I know. These things happen,” she replied. She cast him a sidelong look. “I suppose it’s been a while since I’ve baked a pie for a man.”
Wait—that had been for him?
“You mean you made it for me...especially?” he asked.
“Yah.” She looked up at him then, her gaze completely guileless, and he felt a rush of tenderness toward her. She’d baked for him. It wasn’t like other women hadn’t brought him baked goods after his wife passed away, but somehow Delia’s pie felt special.
“Well...danke,” he said. “But you don’t really have to impress me, do you?”
“Maybe I’m practicing on you a little bit, too.” A smile tickled her lips. “You know, for when it’s the real thing and I have to show a suitor what I bring to the table. I’m not exactly known for my wonderful baking, I’m afraid.”
Elias chuckled. He was doing the same thing—he couldn’t help it. Under different circumstances, Delia would be a lovely woman to get to know. If his daughter were ready for that kind of step—and right now Violet wasn’t.
“You bring plenty to the table, Delia,” he said, taking another step back.
“Being single is challenging,” she said. “It’s been twenty years since I was last dating. And back then, I was a sweet young thing with a trim little waist and her whole life ahead of her. It’s different now.”
He remembered her from those years. She’d been pretty and sweet, and she’d had a gaggle of girlfriends she went everywhere with. He remembered Zeke pining after her from afar before he finally got up the nerve to ask her home from singing. That was how most couples got together if they met during their youth group years. It had been the same for Elias and Wanda.
“I knew you back then,” Elias said. “And you’re even more beautiful now.”
Delia blinked at him, and color touched her cheeks. Had he said too much? Probably. He dropped his gaze. But she was more beautiful. Age had given her more depth in those dark eyes, more wisdom and a knowing way of meeting his gaze that made him talk when he knew he’d be wiser to keep his mouth shut. Even the faint lines in her face and around her eyes betrayed years of more smiles than frowns. But it was more than that. Her face and figure had matured into the kind of lasting beauty that would change forms over the years, but would never fade.
“Well, I now have four boys, all the worries that come with them and limited time to keep up my own home. That’s a little harder to match now,” she said.
He had a teenage daughter who was a bit of a challenge.
“Yah, I know,” he said. “My daughter makes a match a little more complicated, too. Not many women see an angry teenage girl and think they’d like to help in raising her.”
Delia laughed sympathetically. “If only our kinner appreciated how much we prioritize them.”
Delia spun around, then pulled open a drawer. Inside he spotted some first aid supplies. She took out a tube of medication.
“Burn cream,” she explained. “This isn’t the first time I’ve burned myself on a pie plate.”
While Delia applied cream to her hand, Elias washed the knife in the sink, grabbed a dish towel to protect his own hand and headed over to the pie on the top of the stove.
It smelled delicious—the tang of apples and light scent of cinnamon. Gooey pie filling bubbled up as he sliced into the flaky crust. He dished up a piece onto a plate.
“I can’t make you do that,” Delia said.
“You aren’t making me do anything,” he replied. “I’ve been married before, remember? I know how a kitchen works.”
She chuckled. “That’s true.”
“Before a man gets married, he’s led to believe that he’ll be waited on hand and foot by an adoring and beautiful woman,” he said. “I mean, it’s a nice fantasy for some, but it’s not realistic. Marriage isn’t about being waited on, or having a woman to take care of the house chores. It’s a partnership—two people who love each other and pull together to build a life. And sometimes when the wife isn’t feeling well, a man is in the kitchen cooking for the family. Sometimes when a husband is sick, his wife is outside mucking out stalls.”
“That’s the honest truth,” Delia replied. “I’ve done the outdoor work by myself more than once when the boys were little and Zeke was sick.”
“See?” Elias shot her a smile, dished up a second piece of pie and then carried the plates to the table. “I think the way your boys help out in the house is excellent preparation for real married life.”
“That’s a relief, because I feel like I’m failing half the time. I can’t be both a mamm and a daet. And I can’t keep up with all the work by myself, either. It’s been hard. But I can’t get married just to get help around here, either, can I?”
“Can’t you?”
Their gazes met, and he saw her consider for a moment.
