Her Amish Christmas Sweetheart

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 (#u93d1a112-c583-50d3-a821-fbc70f31cb68)

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.”

Peter stiffened. “What do you mean?”

“Not a gut time, bruder. Best if we talk later.” Her impish look reminded him of all of the times during their childhood when she’d teased him.

“Annie...” Peter warned.

Jacob narrowed his gaze on Peter, then looked for an explanation from his wife. “Are you taunting Peter again?”

“With love, Jacob. Only with love,” she murmured, her eyes soft as she regarded her husband, who tenderly shifted their young daughter on his lap, bringing her up to rest her sleepy head on his shoulder.

Peter felt restless. He turned to Agnes and touched her arm. “Want to go for a ride?”

Agnes faced him, her expression brightening. “We can if you’d like.” She stood and pushed back her chair.

Peter hurried to help her. They were outside before she said, “I have an idea.”

She headed toward the house, and he grinned with the thought of the desserts she’d pack for their buggy ride. But Agnes didn’t head toward where the pies, cake and other goodies had been laid out. She went to Meg instead, seated in her wheelchair, finishing the last bite of her meal.

“Meg,” Agnes said in greeting as he stood silently behind her. “We’re going for a ride. Would you like to come?”

Meg appeared stunned by the invitation. Peter studied her, recognizing her surprise and confusion. She looked tired, as if the day had already been too much for her. The bruises on her face were more pronounced than they’d been when she was in the hospital. He should offer to drive her home, but he didn’t think she’d appreciate it any more than she did Agnes’s invitation. He’d known her long enough to read the subtle changes in her gaze that told him when she was overwhelmed and uncomfortable.

“Danki, Agnes,” she said quietly. “It’s kind of you to ask, but I’m not feeling my best, so it would be better if I just stayed here.” Meg managed a smile. Peter couldn’t help but feel relieved.

Agnes frowned. “I don’t like seeing you sitting here alone.”

Meg’s expression made Peter ache. The last thing she wanted, he was sure, was for Agnes to try to change her mind while he watched. He touched Agnes’s arm. “She’s not feeling well, Agnes.”

Agnes shot him a look. “I know.” She turned a sympathetic gaze on Meg. “Rest now. I’m sorry I can’t do anything to help.”

“Danki.” Meg sounded suspiciously close to tears. Peter couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. Despite her bruises, she looked beautiful. The royal blue dress she wore intensified the bright azure of her eyes. Her white prayer kapp was slightly askew, revealing shiny dark hair pulled back in the Amish way. Her gaze fell on him, and he had to glance away before he did something ridiculous like reach over, pick her up and carry her to his buggy to take her home.

Instead he followed Agnes from the room. Once outside, she faced him. “Let’s not go for a ride. Why don’t we go for a walk instead? I’ll ask Alice to join us.”

“The weather is nice enough,” he agreed, as he followed her back toward the barn. Agnes went to talk with her sister. Unable to forget how tired Meg looked, Peter headed toward his sister Annie.