He racked his brain, then looked up in surprise. “Little Sadie-Mae?”
She’d been one of the kids when he was a teenager—well beneath his age or notice.
“Yah. I’m sixteen now,” she said.
“Well, hello,” he said. “Tell your brother I said hello, too.”
“Yah...” The girl blushed furiously. “I will.”
Sadie-Mae put the items into bags and handed them over. He glanced over at Sarai, and she pulled out some small bills from her purse. Sadie-Mae told them the total, and Sarai passed over sixty dollars in twenties, but the total was far above that. He suppressed a sigh as he pulled out his debit card. He’d have to take care of the rest himself.
“Oh, no,” Sarai said, with a quick shake of her head. “Sorry, Arden, I should have been clearer.” Then she turned to Sadie-Mae. “Put that on my daet’s tab, okay?”
“Yah, of course.” Sadie-Mae pulled out a book and a nub of pencil and hunched over it, writing carefully.
“Your daet’s tab?” That wriggle of worry had started to thrash. “No, that’s not right. I’ll take care of it.”
“It’s for my grandmother’s home,” Sarai said. “You don’t need to pay for that. This is how we do things.” Sadie-Mae looked up, hesitant. “Go on and put it on his tab.”
Sadie-Mae passed the notebook over for Sarai to see. No wonder Sarai was so free and easy with adding to the cart—her egg money didn’t cover half of their needs. Her daet paid for the rest. He shouldn’t be surprised, of course, and it was a relief that the financial burden wouldn’t be his for this particular shopping trip, but it did explain a lot.
“Yah, that looks right,” Sarai said. “Danke, Sadie-Mae.”
“You’re welcome. See you Sunday for service.”
“See you.”
Sarai turned to give him a smile. “Sorry about that, Arden. I can’t imagine what you were thinking with me filling up the cart like that. I wouldn’t do that to you!”
He smiled faintly. “It would have been fine. It’s okay.”
He couldn’t exactly admit that it would have been a hardship, could he? But Sarai was obviously a young woman who was used to a comfortable life. She bought what she needed and didn’t seem to even consider the total at the end of the trip. But then, her daet’s farm was large by Amish standards, and they were very comfortable.
“Well, Mammi Ellen would have schooled me for an hour if I’d done that to you,” Sarai said. “I saved myself a lecture.”
“’Bye, Arden,” Sadie-Mae said, then after a beat, “and ’bye, Sarai.”
“’Bye.” Arden shot the girl a smile, and her blush only deepened. It made him chuckle as he turned away, but then he looked at Sarai hesitantly.
“Do I get smacked for that?” he asked.
“No, that couldn’t be helped,” Sarai said, looking over her shoulder. “But Sadie-Mae might need a word of wisdom or two.”
To warn her about men like him? That stung. Arden regretted his choices back then, but he hardly thought he was bad enough to warrant that. Maybe he had been. Maybe he’d caused more damage than he’d realized...
They headed for the door, Arden carrying two heavy bags in one hand, a roll of tar paper under his arm and a bag of chicken feed under the other arm. Sarai carried a single bag with her knitting cotton. He could see the Englisher young men still outside, their laughter and chatting voices just loud enough to be heard.
Sarai had made it clear that she didn’t want his interference, and this time he wasn’t going to say a thing. But he could see an uncertain look on her face as they approached the door, and as they stepped outside, she took the roll of tar paper out from under his arm—it was heavy, but she managed it—and slipped her hand around his bicep. It felt nice.
The Englishers stopped talking as they came out, but they didn’t say anything, and Arden and Sarai carried on past them and headed toward the side of the building to go to the back parking lot. When they’d turned the corner, she released his arm.
“What was that?” he asked with a small smile.
“What?” But there was color in her cheeks.
“You held my arm,” he said. “I daresay you pretended that you were with me.”
“It was easier than dealing with them nagging me,” she replied. “Maybe you had a point about that.”
“And you don’t think taking my arm like that was maybe sending me the wrong message?” He was teasing her now, but he couldn’t help it. She’d made him feel about as foolish as a five-year-old back there. “What if I got the impression that you wanted me to court you?”
“I hardly think—”
“I might need to warn the young men about you,” he countered jokingly.
She swatted his arm, and he laughed.
“A woman as pretty as you had better be careful,” he said. “A man is apt to get the wrong impression and think he has a chance.”
“Well, you don’t,” she said, but there was laughter in her eyes now. “And don’t you forget it.”
But he had liked the way it felt when she took his arm that way. He’d felt strong, capable...like he was her protector. And if that Englisher—Luke, was it?—had started up again, he would have postured a bit to make sure the message was abundantly clear. He hadn’t been joking about the effect she had on men...on him. She made him want to be a bit bigger, a bit stronger and worthy of her trust when she walked through a crowd of interested Englishers.
Sarai hoisted herself up into the buggy, and Arden went around to put the supplies into the back. Then he pulled himself up and settled next to her. The horse took a couple of steps backward, eager to get moving again.
“Can I ask you something?” he said as the horse pulled them through the parking lot toward the road.
“Sure,” she replied.
