Rebecca Kertz - Her Amish Christmas Sweetheart

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Meg stiffened. It felt as if he was poking fun at her near fall earlier. “I don’t need your help or a scolding, Peter Zook.”

“Meg, I didn’t mean—”

When they were inside the entryway, he came around the wheelchair to face her. She was offended by what he’d said. And she thought they could start over and work together on the party?

“Danki, Peter. I can manage from here,” she said in a tight, dismissive voice. She grabbed hold of her chair’s wheels and rolled forward, nearly hitting Peter, who instinctively jumped out of the way. He stared at her, and she flushed with guilt.

“Meg.”

She stopped and waited for him to reach her.

Peter sighed. “Are you this difficult with everyone?” he asked. “Or just me?”

Meg refused to answer him. She alternately fumed and fought embarrassment as she wheeled herself into her aunt Katie’s kitchen. She was aware that Peter Zook followed closely behind her. She bit her lip to keep herself from telling him to leave her alone. Perhaps she was overreacting. In fact, she probably was, but she was tired, in pain, and wanted nothing more than to go home.

As she rolled her chair into the bright kitchen, where food filled the table and countertops, she felt confused and ill. She shouldn’t have come. She should have insisted that her family attend without her. It was too soon after her hospital stay for her to be out and about. She could have been napping or gazing silently out the window at home. Instead, she was aware of Peter behind her, a man who didn’t like her. But he’d been thoughtful despite how he felt about her, she realized. Sometimes it seemed as if he could read her mind and gauge exactly how she was feeling.

She sighed. And she’d been rude to him. Again. She’d promised to be a better person. Please, Lord, help me to be thoughtful and kind to everyone, especially to Peter Zook.

“Meg.” Her mother approached. “I’ll fix you a plate.”

“Danki, but nay. I can manage.” She was determined to prove that she was fine. As soon as everyone left the room and couldn’t watch her, she’d stand up and get some food. Her head and bruises hurt, and her leg throbbed. She looked around but saw no sign of her father or any of the older men. “Where’s Dat?”

“In the barn,” Mae King said. “Most everyone has moved out there.”

Meg glanced at the older woman, who was a close friend and neighbor of her aunt’s. “They’ve set up tables?”

“Ja,” Mam said. “Samuel brought in a heater to take away the chill.” She settled her gaze on someone behind Meg and smiled. “Peter, here’s a plate.”

“Danki, Missy,” he said as he accepted it.

Meg rolled her chair into the corner, out of the way. Refusing to watch Peter while he selected food, she stared at her lap. The quilt that her cousin had gotten for her was done in pretty shades of green and yellow. She was glad it hid her heavy cast. Every time she saw it, she felt helpless and a little afraid.

“Peter.” Agnes entered the room and swept past her. Meg watched as the young woman took his plate, then proceeded to fill it for him, with selections from every available cold meat platter, salad and dessert. “Do you want iced tea?”

Meg stared as Peter bent and murmured something in Agnes’s ear. She heard her chuckle before Agnes turned toward Meg’s aunt with an amused expression.

“Katie,” she heard Agnes say, “got any Pepsi?”

“In the back room. Help yourself.”

Meg watched as Agnes left. She couldn’t keep her gaze from Peter, who had moved into her focus. He stared back, his dark gray eyes unreadable, and she quickly glanced away.

Agnes returned with the glass of cola. “Here you go.”

“Missy,” Mae King called, “come see what Katie has done to the quilt we’ve been making.”

Her mother slipped from the room. Meg watched Peter and Agnes. The two were smiling, sometimes laughing, clearly enjoying each other’s company. Meg blinked back tears. She didn’t know why she had the sudden urge to cry. She realized that it had been a long time since she’d felt that free and joyful.

“Meg?”

Startled, she glanced up into Agnes’s face. “Hallo, Agnes.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Sore, but I’ll live.”

“I’m sorry you were hurt.”

Agnes’s sharp perusal made her squirm. She didn’t want or need the girl’s pity. “I’m fine.” Meg glanced at Peter, who waited patiently next to Agnes. He eyed Meg intensely, as if he was debating whether or not to say something to her. She looked away.

“Do you need anything?” Agnes asked.

Meg managed a smile. “Danki, but nay. I appreciate the offer, though.”

Her cousin Isaac opened the door and peeked into the room. “Peter, Agnes, are you coming out to the barn?”

“We’ll be there soon,” Agnes said airily. “Have everything you need, Peter?”

“Ja, danki,” he told her warmly.

Agnes gave Meg a sympathetic look. “Take care of yourself.”

“I will.” Meg watched the couple leave the house. For a moment, she was alone, which was a relief. She should get up and fill a plate, but she wasn’t really hungry. She leaned back and closed her eyes.

“Meg.”

She gasped and opened her eyes to see a plate of food being thrust in her direction. Peter. He was eyeing her with concern. Something warmed inside her. She grew flustered as she realized he’d picked all her favorite foods. “Danki,” she whispered. Heart thundering in her chest, she wheeled herself closer to the table.

“Did you want to join us in the barn?”

“I... Nay. I think it will be better if I just stay here.” She saw him nod, then watched the dark-haired, gray-eyed man depart to rejoin the others. Peter had been thoughtful enough to fill her a plate. The thought made her experience a strange myriad of emotions she couldn’t understand. Her face felt warm as she stared at her food. She picked up a fried chicken drumstick and took a bite. It tasted delicious, and suddenly her appetite was back.

She thought of Peter’s kindness as she ate every bite of her meal. The man confused and fascinated her. But did he still think as badly of her as he had years before? And if he did, why was he being so nice to her now?

Chapter Four

Peter sat with Agnes on a bench behind a table that Samuel Lapp had constructed using plywood on sawhorses. The girl beside him was chatting with her sister Alice and Meg’s sisters Ellie and Charlie. He listened with half an ear, and only fully tuned in when picking up Meg’s name during the conversation.

“She’s oll recht?” Agnes asked, her expression filled with concern.

“Meg’s tough,” Ellie said. “She’ll be fine in a week or so.”

“She looks bad, though, doesn’t she?” Meg’s youngest sister, Charlie, added.

“Ja, poor dear.”

Peter frowned, disturbed that Meg was the topic of conversation. Why weren’t her sisters inside keeping her company? He felt a sharp kick to his innards. Why hadn’t he stayed awhile to talk with her?

But he knew the answer—because he needed to get over her. Which had been harder for him to do since the day he’d found her floating in the water after the accident.

The girls switched to another subject, and the pain in his stomach eased. He turned his attention elsewhere. Directly across the table from him sat Eli and Jacob Lapp, with their wives, Martha and Annie. Annie held EJ in her lap, while Jacob had his arms filled with their daughter, Susanna. He studied them, glad his sister was happy with a man she loved and two beautiful children. He shifted his gaze from his little niece and found Annie eyeing him closely.

He arched his eyebrows. “What?”

His sister shrugged. “I guess you know what you’re doing.”