The Forgiven (21 page)

Simon came toward her with his lanky stride, still moving as if he was getting used to having a man's body instead of a boy's. The reflection produced a twinge in her heart. Simon was trying so hard, but he was too young to have so much responsibility thrust on him, wasn't he?

And he certainly was too young to be thinking of marriage to Mary Ann or anyone else, in her opinion, although she didn't suppose he'd agree.

“I have some ideas for things I can do with the guests when they come tomorrow.” Simon spoke as soon as he was within earshot. “I've been thinking about it since last weekend, and Daad had some suggestions, too.”

Rebecca was momentarily sidetracked by the mention of their father. “He's not fretting about it, is he? Mammi doesn't want him worrying.”

Simon grinned, pushing his straw hat back farther on his head. “I don't think she can stop him from being involved, ain't so? He always thinks none of us kids can do anything without him standing right there watching.”

“Ach, Simon, you know that's not true. Daad has to trust you with so much just now, and you're not letting him down.”

He shrugged. “It's just the same things I always do, and the young ones are more help than you'd expect. Johnny keeps telling me he doesn't want to be a farmer, but he's so gut with the animals I think he'd be a dummy to do anything else.”

“Maybe he'll see that for himself as he gets older.” Johnny had a bright, inquiring mind, and she'd often wondered what he'd settle to in the end. “But I wanted to talk to you about . . .” She gestured, palms up. “. . . well, everything. You've been doing so much between running the farms and taking over for Daad, and now you're putting in so much time helping me, as well.” She thought of Mary Ann's complaint. “And I'm not even paying you. It's not fair.”

Simon just stared at her for a moment, his blue eyes very wide. “What are you talking about?”

He honestly didn't seem to understand.

“You, putting in so many hours helping me run the farm-stay. It was one thing for Paul to do it, because it was his business, but I shouldn't be depending on you—”

“Who else would you be depending on?” Anger edged his voice and made his face suddenly older, surprising her. “You're my sister. Of course I am helping you. What would make you think I would have it any other way?”

“I just don't think I should take up so much of your time.” She went on doggedly. “You're young. You should be enjoying your running-around time, not stuck here working every minute.”

“Who put that idea in your head?” He stared at her as if waiting for an answer.

She didn't speak. She couldn't.

Simon's cheeks flushed slightly. “Anyway, it's crazy. We're family. We help each other. Who would we be if we didn't?” He slung an arm around her shoulder in a rare, awkward caress. “Ach, Becky, you've got a bee in your bonnet for nothing. Anyway, I like working with your visitors.”

“You're sure?” She searched his face and was comforted by what she saw there.

“Positive. The Englischers are all different, and that makes it interesting. Like the old man last weekend—he said it made him feel like a boy on his father's farm to help me. But his son-in-law couldn't figure out one end of a pitchfork from the other and didn't want to try.”

“You really do enjoy it, don't you?” She sighed, perplexed and relieved. “You and Barbie both. And I'm always worried to death I'm going to say the wrong thing, or they're going to ask me something I can't answer, or—”

“Borrowing trouble.” He gave her shoulder a final squeeze and let go. “You just keep them well fed, and let Barbie and me do our parts.”

“All right.”

“And don't worry,” he said.

She smiled. “I promise.” It seemed to her that Mary Ann had come up with the wrong idea. If she didn't know Simon better than that, it probably didn't bode well for their future happiness.

Don't interfere,
she reminded herself. Besides, it seemed to her that Simon might have guessed who'd put the idea in her head. He wouldn't want to admit it, of course.

She started to turn back toward the house, but Simon touched her arm. He was frowning a little, not meeting her eyes.

“One thing I wanted you to know.” He said the words reluctantly.

“Ja?” She stiffened, trying to be ready for anything.

“I talked to Matt. I told him I was sorry for how I acted with him.”

“I'm glad,” she said, relieved. It wasn't easy for Simon to admit his fault, but he'd done the right thing. “Matt has been very kind to me and the kinder.” She would not let herself blush. “I'd hate to think you were on the outs with him.”

“No. I mean, we're not.” It was Simon's turn to flush, the tips of his ears reddening as he seemed to force himself to go on. “But I still . . . Well, I can't help worrying that you're getting too close to him.”

What could she say?
I'm not
? But that wouldn't be true. “You don't need to worry about me.”

He gave her a look. “I'm your bruder, ain't so? I'm supposed to worry.”

“I think I'm a little old to need your advice on this subject.” She tried to put a hint of warning in her voice.

“I know.” The stubborn set to his jaw said he wasn't finished. “I'm wonderful glad to see you getting interested in living. I want you to be happy. But Matt— I'm just afraid Matt will end up hurting you.” He looked as if he expected to have his head bitten off, but she was too touched by his obvious concern to be angry.

She patted his hand. “I'll be careful,” she said.

But even as she said it, she knew it was too late for caution. Her feelings were already too strong to back away and pretend there was nothing between them. And given Matt's determination that he couldn't be involved with anyone, she had already been hurt.

•   •   •

What
had possessed him to tell Rebecca the one thing he never talked about? Matt didn't understand himself, and he hated the feeling. Even at his worst, when he'd been living Englisch, drinking too much, hanging out with the wrong people, he'd at least known what he was doing. Now . . . well, now he didn't.

He leaned against the workbench, frowning at what was meant to become a bookcase. This was still his chosen work—the kind of creation that brought a sense of satisfaction. And he could hardly back out of the agreement he'd made to rent the building from Rebecca. That would be a dirty trick when she was obviously counting on the money.

But the safest course for both of them was probably to stay as far apart as possible under the circumstances. He shouldn't have to worry about that where Rebecca was concerned. After what he'd told her yesterday, she wouldn't want to have anything to do with him.

He told himself that was the best solution. Unfortunately, his heart seemed to require a little more convincing.

He heard voices outside, and a moment later two small tornadoes swept through the door.

“You're finally here.” Joshua rushed over to the workbench to see what he was doing. “You were late today.”

“We were afraid you weren't coming.” Katie skipped to his side. “Tomorrow our guests are going to be here, so we'll be busy.”

“We wanted to ask if we could have a couple of pieces of wood to make a little shelf in our tree house.” Josh looked up at him, blue eyes very serious. “But only pieces you don't need.”

Matt couldn't help smiling. “I think I can find something. But does your mammi know you're here?” Hard to imagine that Rebecca would want her kinder anywhere near him.

“Mammi said it was okay, but we were supposed to say that if you're busy, just tell us to leave and we will.” Katie's forehead crinkled. “Oops. I think we were supposed to say that first.”

“You're not too busy, are you?” Josh tugged on Matt's sleeve.

“I could sweep up for you,” Katie offered. “I always help Mammi.”

Matt didn't quite know what to make of Rebecca's attitude. Maybe she didn't want to make an issue out of forbidding them to come here. If so, she was being kinder than he had any reason to expect. If she had kept the children away from him, word would inevitably get around the community that he must have done something to cause such a thing.

“I'll have some pieces left over that should be just the right size once I finish cutting the shelves for the bookcase I'm making. Okay?”

They nodded vigorously, and Katie ran to grab the broom that leaned against the wall. “You help me, Josh. You can hold the dustpan.”

Josh didn't argue with her bossing him, and Matt continued to measure and cut to the accompaniment of their light voices chattering happily.

By the time the children were getting restless, he had the pieces of pine cut for them to make a small box. Joshua looked ready to object to the suggestion until Matt explained.

“See, if you put it together this way, you can set it on its side for a shelf or use it as a box or turn it over and make it a table, ain't so?”

“I see.” Katie's face lit up.

Josh nodded vigorously. “Can I hammer?”

“You can take turns,” he said.

Their enthusiastic hammering must have drowned out the sound of her approach. Matt didn't realize Rebecca was there until she touched his shoulder. He swung around to find her smiling at him.

“It looks as if you've let these two talk you into helping them instead of getting on with your work.”

He shrugged, taking a careful step away from her. “It was no problem.”
Keep it brief,
he reminded himself.

Rebecca's eyes clouded at his curtness. “It was kind,” she said, and glanced at the children. “Supper's ready now. You can finish up tomorrow.” Then she turned back to Matt. “We'd be pleased if you'd have supper with us.” The words seemed a bit hesitant.

Because she was unsure of herself? Or because she was hoping he'd refuse?

“I have plenty to do here. Denke.”

The children were already scrambling for the door, but she paused for a moment longer. “You really are wilkom, Matt.”

Whatever he could have answered was interrupted by a call from Katie, just outside the door.

“Mammi, there's a car pulling up at the house. I thought the guests weren't coming until tomorrow.”

“They aren't.” Rebecca shook her head slightly. “It must be someone else.”

“They're getting out suitcases,” Joshua said.

Something that might have been panic seemed to freeze Rebecca, eyes wide and frightened.

Matt could hardly ignore what seemed a plea for help. “Maybe we'd better go and find out.” He touched her arm lightly, but even that brush of his fingertips on her sleeve sent his awareness of her shimmering.

Rebecca spun and hurried to the door. “It can't be,” she protested. “They aren't due until tomorrow.”

But when they got outside, it was only too clear that Rebecca's guests had arrived. Two men were taking suitcases from the car's trunk while their wives looked around, clearly expecting to be welcomed.

“They can't be here.” Rebecca's words were edged with fear. “We're not ready.”

Matt tried to think of something comforting to say and couldn't think of anything. “I guess you'd better go and speak to them.”

She jerked a nod and walked toward the group by the car, her movements stiff. Matt hesitated a moment and then followed her. There was no point in telling himself that he shouldn't get involved when Rebecca so obviously needed help.

“Here we are.” One of the middle-aged women was thin and nervous-looking; the other was chubby and placid. It was, predictably, the nervous one who spoke. “We're the Thompsons and the Bidlemans.”

Rebecca seemed to struggle to produce a smile. “We did not expect you until tomorrow.”

“No, no, today.” The woman reached into her oversized bag and rummaged. “Today. The fifth, see?” She waved a piece of paper triumphantly.

Her three companions stared at her for a moment. One of the men shook his head, a rueful expression touching his face. “Doris, honey, today is the fourth.”

“It is?” She looked inclined to argue, but in the face of a unanimous agreement that it was the fourth, she shrugged, laughing a little. “Well, if that isn't the silliest thing. I had it set in my mind that it was Friday, of course, and I never even went back and looked at the date.” She turned back to Rebecca. “Well, it doesn't matter, does it? If you don't have any other guests, surely we can stay.”

Everyone looked at Rebecca, including Matt. He wasn't sure what the others saw, but he knew what he saw. Rebecca was paralyzed.

He nudged her. “Can you show them to their rooms? They'll understand if the beds aren't made up yet.”

Rebecca's gaze fastened on his. “But . . . the meals, Barbie, Simon—”

“We don't expect you to fix supper for us this late.” The man who was apparently Doris's husband stepped in. “I'm sorry about the mix-up. If you can direct us to a restaurant, we'll go get some supper and give you a chance to get ready for us.”

“I can do that, of course.” Matt spoke, since it seemed Rebecca couldn't. “Why don't you set your bags on the porch, and we'll take them up later.”

The man nodded. “Come on, let's get unloaded and we'll go eat.”

As the unexpected guests began carting their things onto the porch, Matt took Rebecca's arm. “Rebecca, snap out of it. This is going to be all right. I'll call Barbie and tell her to get over here. The kinder can run and let Simon know what's happening.”

Rebecca gulped in a breath, the color returning to her face. “Ja, of course. I'm sorry. I just—I couldn't think what to do.” Seeming to collect herself, she turned to the children. “Katie and Josh, run over to Grossmammi's house and tell her and Onkel Simon what happened.”