from those intense blue eyes. She struggled to regain her composure before she reached the porch steps. How could one man upset her so?
* * *
Bram blinked as Ellie walked away. What happened? One minute her arm was lying warm and sweetly soft under his hand as she leaned toward him while they talked, and then those shutters had slammed tight again.
Matthew stood next to him with a grin on his face, watching him stare toward the house. “I don’t think she likes you. What did you do to her?”
Bram frowned as he turned and checked the buckle on the harness. “Nothing. We were just talking.”
“She’s been widowed for almost two years now.”
“Ja, that’s what her father told me.”
“So when will you ask her to go out with you?”
Bram shot a look at his brother-in-law. Matthew’s smile hadn’t left his face. One thing about married men was that they were usually quick to make sure every other man ended up in the same trap.
“What makes you think I want to go out with her?”
Matthew didn’t respond. He just grinned, waiting for Bram’s answer.
“All right. I just did. She turned me down flat.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that. She’ll come around.”
Bram took the horse’s bridle and started leading him to the hitching rail on the shady side of the barn. “I didn’t say I was giving up, did I?”
The problem was he should give up. He should let that prickly woman go her own way. He didn’t need her. He didn’t want her.
Bram went into the workshop next to the barn and found the broken harness strap Matthew had told him about. He turned the piece over in his hands. It was in good shape other than that one break.
Nothing felt as right as when he worked with harness leather. He loved this peaceful pleasure that came from handling the supple straps and the satisfaction that came with taking something that had been destroyed and making it whole again. Scarred, perhaps, because you could always see the repair, but useful once more and stronger than it had been.
He started in on the harness, first taking his pocketknife and cutting the frayed edges off the broken ends of the leather. As he worked, children’s laughter drifted in through the shop window from the backyard, and he shifted to get a view of the sandbox from his stool at the workbench. Girls’ pastel dresses and boys’ shirts in the same hues filled the yard. Older ones played a game of Duck, Duck, Goose. He looked for Susan, but she wasn’t among them.
How long had it been since he’d heard children playing without traffic noise mingled with their harsh voices?
Almost as long as he had missed the scent of a woman. A real woman, not girls like Babs, with her cloying odor of dying flowers and smoky bourbon. Babs had never looked at him with the cold eyes Ellie Miller used. No, she had been more than willing to press her silken dress against him, batting her heavy black eyelashes.
His eyes narrowed. Babs made sure he knew what she wanted—or what Kavanaugh paid her to provide—and he was glad he had never taken her up on her offer. He had never spent more time with her than an occasional dinner or as a date to one of Kavanaugh’s shin-digs. Something about the girl had turned his stomach. Not just her—black-haired Cindy before her and Madge before her. Kavanaugh kept his boys supplied with women.
He took a deep breath, dispelling the memory.
Thoughts of Ellie swirled into his mind to take its place. She had leaned toward him, coming within inches of his chest. He could have reached out for her, pressing her slight form against him while he kissed her...but that would have ruined everything. A woman like Ellie would never put up with what the girls in Chicago begged for. He pushed the thought away.
Her arm under his hand had felt alive, firm, capable. Taking another deep breath, he tried to recapture the scent of...what? Just soap and water? Whatever it was, the memory clung to him.
Keep focused.
Bram shaved the two ends of the leather strap with his knife, shaping them to overlap each other. If he did find Kavanaugh, the last thing he needed was for someone to get in the way. The last thing he wanted was for someone to get hurt.
Taking the awl from Matthew’s tool bench, he drilled holes through the splices, lining up the shaved ends so they would overlap in a solid, smooth join.
John Stoltzfus was a good man, and he liked Bram. That was a step in the right direction. He should spend more time with him, but that would mean spending more time around Ellie and her children.
Bram rummaged in a jar for a couple rivets and fitted them into the holes.
That Susan—yeah, she was something. The way she looked up at him with those solemn brown eyes as if he was some sort of hero pulled at his heart.
He glanced through the window at the playing children again. Susan had joined the game, her light green dress and white kapp mingling with the other pastels. She laughed as she played, her face sweet and innocent.
A steel band twisted in his gut. What kind of hero could he be to a little girl?
He found Matthew’s tack hammer hanging on the wall. A sharp rap sealed the first rivet. He shifted to the second rivet but stopped.
If Ellie looked at him the way Susan did, what would he do then?
His world tilted for a brief moment, then righted. He gave his head a shake and then drove the hammer home on the second rivet.
Focus. Play the part. Lie low under his cover until his job was done, then maybe he could...what? Court her?
Forget her. That was what he needed to do. God help him if he let himself fall for the woman.
* * *
Ellie took a deep breath as she laid her hand on the knob of the Beacheys’ back door, listening to the
women’s voices on the other side. Facing Bram Lapp would be easier than stepping through this door.
“Ellie, you can do this.”
Ellie turned to see Mam’s eyes filled with understanding. The soft words gave her strength.
The crowd of chatting women parted to welcome them as the door opened. Susan clung to Ellie’s skirts as they stepped in. Ellie wished she had somewhere to hide, but it was too late. Mam had already set her pies on the table and was greeting her friends.
Annie Beachey came over to Ellie as she lingered just inside the door.
“Ellie, I’m so glad you could come!”
Ellie smiled in spite of her churning stomach. Who could resist Annie’s contagious happiness? Although how she could be so merry when she must be uncomfortable with the growing baby most of the time was beyond her.
Annie took her bonnet to the back bedroom, and Ellie stepped farther into the kitchen. Sally, her younger sister,
