“I think...” She licked her lips and dropped her gaze. “I think you’re a decent man after all, Arden.”
He felt a rush of gratitude, but then he heard the slippered footfalls of Mammi Ellen through the open window.
“Are you outside, Sarai?” Ellen called.
Color suddenly bloomed in Sarai’s cheeks, and she pulled her hand out of his. “Yah, Mammi! I’m just talking with Arden.”
Mammi came to the open window. She was dressed in a big bathrobe, a handkerchief over her hair.
“Well, Arden, I think it’s time you headed on home, don’t you? Sarai, it’s late.”
Arden didn’t need to be chased off the porch for the point to be made. And Ellen was right. It was high time he headed back to his grandfather’s house, before he did something he’d regret, like kiss Sarai out here in the soft light.
“Yah, I’ll be going.” He picked up the glass on the ground and then handed it to Sarai, and she picked up the gun and tucked it under her arm again. Then he headed for the stairs that led down to the grass. “Good night, Sarai and Ellen.”
“Good night, Arden,” Sarai said. Her hands were full with two glasses and the air rifle squeezed between her arm and her side. Her grandmother took the glasses from her, and they turned away from him.
As Arden walked away, he could make out the quiet voices of Sarai and Ellen talking to each other, then the clatter of the screen and the thump of the front door. When he looked over his shoulder, the porch was empty, the door was shut, and then the light from inside winked out.
Sarai really was an impressive woman—and it wasn’t just her way around a pellet gun, either. She was different from any other woman he’d ever known. And she thought he was downright decent. Even when he’d told her his worst... He couldn’t help grinning all the way back to his grandfather’s house.
One day he’d repay her father the full amount, and she’d know he’d kept his word. She’d probably be married to some other, much worthier man, but he wanted her to know it all the same.
Chapter Eight
The next morning, Sarai finished washing and packing the last of the eggs. Her customers came by early, picking up their orders, and she had a few more Englishers stop and ask if she had any extras for sale. There were a few, and by the time buggies started to arrive for the coop raising, laden with tools and helpful friends, the eggs were all sold, and she’d sent two hopeful customers away empty-handed.
Sarai’s mind was on Arden, though, and their time together on the porch. He’d been so open, so gentle. She’d never seen that side to him before, and she’d felt like the only person in his whole world on that porch swing.
Had he truly changed? She wasn’t sure...but she’d meant it when she told him he’d matured into a decent man. If he was so determined to pay her daet back, she couldn’t help but be swayed...
Sarai’s parents arrived first in their buggy. Job and Esther came into the house carrying supplies in bags and a big wooden crate her father held in one strong arm.
“Mamm, how are you doing?” Job asked, sliding the crate onto the table.
“Oh, just fine, Job,” Mammi replied. “We had a nice cool breeze coming through the upstairs windows last night, so we slept wonderfully.”
“Sarai, how is Arden doing?” Esther asked, piling some grocery items onto the counter. “I know he’s been back for a few days. Everyone has been talking about it.”
“Oh, he’s doing well,” Sarai said. And she felt her face warm as she remembered the feeling of his strong hand on hers.
“She’s been spending some time with him, actually,” Mammi said with a little smile.
“Have you?” Esther looked at Sarai curiously. “I suppose you have some memories together from youth group.”
“A few,” Sarai hedged.
“What’s he like now?” her mother asked.
“He’s...” Sarai frowned, wondering how to explain him. “He’s turned out to be quite decent, I think.”
“In spite of everything? I’m glad. That boy was on more than one prayer list, I can assure you.” Esther turned back to the groceries and started putting them away. “His parents did their very best, but there comes a point when every child has to choose who they’ll be.”
“I didn’t know that you parents discussed us,” Sarai said.
“Well, we weren’t about to give you kinner things to gossip over, were we?” Esther asked. “I’m sure you were on several prayer lists, too. A community prays over their young people. You are our future, after all. But Arden’s mamm often asked us to pray for her son. When he wouldn’t listen to them, she asked us to pray for someone to be placed in his path who he would listen to.”
Sarai helped her mother put away some groceries, and the conversation turned to the windstorm damage and the plans for the day. Another buggy pulled in, and Sarai went to the door and saw Verna driving up with her niece, Susie, sitting next to her in the open seat. Verna waved, and Sarai headed outside to say hello.
More folks arrived: Claire and Joel with their five-year-old son, and Adel and Jake Knussli with their toddler, too. Just as Adel and Jake drove up, Sarai saw Arden and Moe coming across the field toward them. With this many hands, the work would go fast, and Sarai was grateful for a supportive community at a time like this. But her gaze kept moving back toward Arden. He looked a little shy, hanging back a bit behind his grandfather, and she felt a pang of sympathy for him. Coming back wasn’t easy.
“Sarai!” Verna called from her seat in the buggy as she reined in the horse. “Your daet told us that the storm hit here worst.”
“Yah, it sure seemed to.” Sarai headed over, and her friend jumped down to the ground.
“You remember Susie?” Verna said.
Susie was young, plump and pretty. She smiled and put her hands on her hips, looking around. At seventeen, she was on her Rumspringa and had come from another community to stay with her aunt and grandparents.
“Hi, Susie,” Sarai said. “Thanks for coming to help.”
“Of course I’d come,” Susie said, and she looked over in the direction of Arden and Moe, who were still approaching. “Who’s he?”
“That’s our neighbor Moe,” Sarai said, “and his grandson.”
“Is he single?” Susie asked with a smile.
“Moe? Yes, but he’s got grandchildren older than you, Susie,” Verna joked. “Come on, now. You’re here to help, not flirt.”
