Sarai remembered how her cousin Lizzie used to sigh over how handsome Arden was, and Sarai had simply rolled her eyes.
“Every man has shoulders and arms and eyes and a smile,” she’d told her cousin. “Arden is no different.”
But he was different, Sarai had to admit. There was something about Arden—some relaxed confidence that made being the woman sitting beside him feel a little safer, whether she wanted to or not. And Sarai did not want to feel this.
Arden put his full attention into navigating the roads, and they fell into silence as he drove the buggy into town. He brought them around the back of the hardware store and found one buggy parking spot right under a leafy tree, casting dappled shade for the horse.
“Perfect,” Arden said. “The horse will stay cool, at least. I imagine a lot of these people are here for the same reason—that storm was a bad one. I hope they don’t sell out of shingles.”
He sounded like he was talking to himself more than to her, and Sarai hopped out of the buggy. She glanced toward the street. An Englisher family stood on the opposite sidewalk, all with ice cream cones in their hands as they tried to eat as quickly as possible in the hot sun. A pickup truck passed, and an Englisher young man leaned forward to get a better look at her. She pointedly looked away. She was used to that outsider curiosity, and it was keener from the men her age. They thought she was pretty—she wasn’t a complete fool—but she wasn’t vain enough to take pleasure in their gawking.
Women had all the same features, too, all wrapped up in different ways. Sure, one might have bluer eyes, and one might be taller, or plumper, or thinner, but it all amounted to the same things. Arms were for hard work and warm hugs. Eyes were for needlework and laughter. The most beautiful part of any woman was her heart, and those Englishers could see nothing of that. Besides, she knew how to deal with them.
Arden waited for her to circle around the buggy before he fell into step beside her, and they headed toward the hardware store together. He walked comfortably close to her, his sleeve brushing hers.
“Do you know the man Mary is going to marry?” she asked, mostly to engage Arden in conversation. If she was busy talking with someone, those Englisher young men were more inclined to leave her alone.
“Yah, I know him,” Arden said. “His name is Marvin.”
“Was he a friend?” she guessed.
“Sort of. Not a lengthy acquaintance or anything, but he was visiting Ohio for a little while, visiting his uncle. I was friendly with him.”
“Did you know he was moving in on your girl?” she asked.
“I got the impression,” he said dryly. “I figured that if Mary really cared for me, she’d tell him to leave her alone. But she liked him better.”
“Ouch.” She winced at him. “Maybe you should have said something while you had the chance.”
“Maybe...” He shrugged. “I was of the opinion that she should have. Marvin was doing most of this behind my back. At least he and Mary will go settle in Indiana. I won’t have to face their happiness at every social gathering.”
“Small mercies,” she murmured.
They came up the side of the building, and when they emerged onto the sidewalk, she saw a group of four young Englisher men standing by the hardware store. They were drinking cans of Coke—and it did look delicious in this muggy heat—and one of them looked up and his gaze landed on Sarai. She noticed how his gaze softened, and she looked away.
Pretty girls lived their lives trying to avoid unwanted attention. Sometimes she wished Gott had created her just a little bit plainer, less noticeable at first glance. Walking down the street in Redemption on a summer day would be easier that way.
“Hi!” the Englisher called.
Sarai didn’t answer, but they’d have to pass the whole group of them to get into the hardware store. She felt Arden tense next to her.
“Just keep walking,” Arden murmured in Pennsylvania Dutch, and he touched her back, an indication that he wanted her to hurry along, and she could feel where his thumb had lingered on her spine.
“I said hi!” The Englisher was tall, lanky and blond. Not bad-looking—his smile was friendly, not leering. He wore a pair of blue jeans and sandals and a slouchy T-shirt that seemed like it had been mangled by a wringer washer, although the look of being poorly laundered was probably intentional. “I’ve seen you around before. You normally come with your grandmother, right?”
She shouldn’t encourage this, even though the question was innocent enough. So she met his gaze for a moment but didn’t answer his question.
“Yeah, I’ve seen you. I meant to say hello before this, but you run pretty fast.” He laughed, his blue eyes sparkling with good humor. “What’s your name?”
“Never mind my name,” Sarai said.
“Ha!” he said. “So she does speak!”
“Of course I speak,” she said, “when I’m with friends. Why should I talk to you?”
The other Englishers laughed. “She’s going to school you on your manners, Luke!” one of them said jokingly.
“I’m Luke,” he said, rolling his eyes.
“I gathered,” she said dryly.
“And you are...?” he prompted with a coaxing smile. “We might count as friends and then we could talk a bit.”
She knew exactly what this Luke wanted, and she couldn’t very well be keeping company with an Englisher boy. She was well past her Rumspringa. He was flirting, and she’d gotten rather good at sidestepping this sort of thing.
“Like I said, never you mind that,” she said with a short laugh.
Sarai was about to duck her head and brush past him when the young man put out a hand and touched her arm. It wasn’t a threatening move—just an attempt to get her attention—but Arden suddenly slid an arm around her waist. Arden’s touch was firm and confident, and she could feel where every single one of his fingers splayed across her side.
“Hey,” Arden said, his voice deep and firm, and he tugged Sarai against him. He was warm and solidly muscled. “She’s with me.”
Sarai’s heart sped up, and she felt heat hit her cheeks. She’d never had anyone hold her quite like this before.
“Oh—” The Englisher took a step back. “Sorry, man. No offense.”
Arden kept his arm firmly around her waist and only released her when he opened the door and nudged her inside ahead of him.
“Why were you talking to him?” Arden asked as the door shut behind them with a tinkle from the bell overhead. No one had taken notice of their entrance. A clerk was ringing up an older Amish man’s order, and she could see some Amish and Englisher customers moving around the store.
