Will MacIntosh, but he would not mention his name to Rosie. She had been swayed by Will’s handsome looks and lavish spending. Ezra had been caught in the deception of the world as well and had yearned for material possessions and the money to buy them.
He did not blame Rosie for leaving the Amish way for a time, but he did blame Will for taking advantage of her innocence.
Rosie woke before dawn and prepared to leave her house earlier than usual. She worried Ezra would forget his offer to give her a ride. If so, she would be forced to walk to town.
“You should stay home,” her mother insisted.
“I am scheduled to work. Plus, it is payday. I must get my check.”
“And what will they say about the cuts and scrapes to your face and hands?”
“I will tell them I fell from my bike just as I told you.”
“Your father could take you in the buggy,” her mother suggested.
Rosie shook her head. Datt would not agree to making the trip to town just so his daughter—a daughter he still had trouble accepting back into the family—could pick up her paycheck at an Englisch nursing home. Much as her father wanted Rosie to contribute to the financial needs of the family, he also struggled with her recent decision to seek employment in town.
“Another Englischer will catch her eye,” her father had grumbled to her mother, and Rosie had overheard.
Forgiveness was the Amish way. Unfortunately, his daughter’s mistakes were too hard to forgive.
She grabbed her black cape from the peg near the door, and after kissing Joseph, she hurried outside. Her father stood in the door of the barn and peered questioningly at her as she walked briskly toward the road.
Brave though she wanted to be, her heart pounded rapidly in her chest. If Ezra did not soon appear, she would have to make the trip on foot and would need to be on guard as she traveled along the roadway. Thankfully, the sound of horses’ hooves alerted her to an approaching buggy. Her heart lurched. Not from fear but from a sense of thankfulness as she spied Bessie rounding the bend. Good to his word, Ezra had come to fetch her this morning.
Rosie stood at the edge of the pavement and waved as his buggy approached.
“Have you been waiting long?” he asked as he pulled the buggy to a stop.
“I just came from my house. Your timing is perfect.”
Ezra reached for her hand and helped her into the seat next to him. The warmth from his body drove away the chill of the morning air.
“Your cape is not thick enough for such a cold day,” he said.
Just as before, he reached for the blanket and wrapped it around her.
“Thank you, Ezra, for the blanket and for the ride, although I hate to take you from your farm.”
“I need to be at the blacksmith’s today and do some other errands in town. So you have not taken me from what I had already planned to do.”
Rosie had half hoped he was making a special trip to see her, but that thought would be prideful and would play into the comments her father sometimes muttered about her haughty heart. Datt did not realize being locked in a root cellar had left her anything but proud.
“You did not see the man again?” Ezra flicked the reins and hurried his mare along the road. The sun was rising, and the morning light cast a surreal glow over the mountain.
“I pray I do not see him again,” Rosie stated as she tucked the blanket around her waist.
“I will inquire about him in town.”
“It is not your worry, Ezra. Please do not add this burden to your daily tasks. I am sure he left the area last night when we saw him drive past.”
Ezra glanced at her for a long moment before he turned his gaze back to the road. “As focused as he seemed to be to do you harm, Rosie, I do not think he will disappear so easily. Perhaps there is something you are not telling me.”
He glanced at her again and asked, “Are there secrets you must hide?”
Her cheeks burned, but she held his gaze. “You need not burden yourself with my mistakes, Ezra. You have your own past with which to struggle.”
His brow furrowed and his lips drew tight. He glanced back at the road, making her believe the rumors she had heard about Ezra were true. For a period of time, he had forsaken the Amish way and had gotten caught up in the allure of the Englisch.
It was something they had in common.
Still she did not want to discuss her own past with a man who had only yesterday acknowledged her for the first time since she had returned home.
“Let’s talk of something other than the past,” she suggested with a defiant shake of her head.
“Two months ago, I applied for the job at the nursing home,” she shared, needing a neutral topic to fill the silence.
Ezra kept his gaze on the road as she chatted. He did not speak for far too long, as if lost in his own thoughts. Thankfully, his interest seemed to pique when she started to discuss Mr. Calhoun, the delightful older gentleman with whom she had formed a special bond at the nursing home.
“Last night his rheumatoid arthritis was causing him undue pain,” Rosie said. “He asked for medication but none was given. Finally, I went to Nan Smith, the new night nurse. She promised to straighten out the confusion. Mr. Calhoun does not have a family, but he is such a kind man and appreciates anything I do for him.”
“I am sure you brighten his day with your pretty smile.”
Her pulse quickened, and she wondered if she had heard Ezra correctly. No one had ever said she had a pretty smile. She did not need compliments or flattery, yet hearing Ezra’s comment and seeing the sincerity in his gaze brought a smile to her lips.
“You are generous with your words, especially for an Amish man.”
“Amish men speak the truth, Rosie.”
Her heart fluttered with the speed of a hummingbird drawing nectar from a blossom. In an effort to calm the rapid rhythm, she focused on Mr. Calhoun and their special relationship.
“Hopefully, the night nurse cleared up the pain-medicine problem so he got the rest he needed,” she said, as they entered town.
The Christmas decorations added a festive charm to the morning, and in spite of everything that had happened, Rosie’s spirits lifted. Ezra turned onto a side street and pulled Bessie to a stop in front of the nursing home.
The double doors were adorned with two large wreaths tied with shiny red bows. Potted pines, decorated with sparkling white lights and red bows, sat on each side of the double doors.
He pointed to the parking lot.
Rosie pulled her eyes from the twinkling lights and followed his gaze. Her euphoria vanished, replaced with dread as she spied a white sedan identical to the
