He faced her. “You see, I’m not supposed to stop along the way, but if I think there could be a problem with the bus...well, that’s a different story. And if, while I’m checking the bus, a passenger was to get off, and if I wasn’t able to talk her into getting back on, there’s nothing I could do about that. And if a particular piece of luggage were to ‘fall’ off, there wouldn’t be anything I could do about that either. Seeing as I wouldn’t notice it until I got to the station.”
She smiled. “I appreciate your kindness.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m just checking on the bus.” He winked. “I believe the problem could be in the back compartment. I’ll need to move a...dark blue roller case?”
She nodded. She shouldn’t encourage this kind of deceptive behavior.
He opened the section and pushed a couple of bags aside before pulling hers free. “You going to be all right by yourself?”
“I’ll be fine.” She felt safer already being here than she’d ever felt being at the university or in any of the hospitals or clinics where she’d worked. “Thank you.” She appreciated him cutting her walk in half.
Giving her a nod, he climbed back into the bus. “False alarm. Everything is as it should be.” He winked at her again, then closed the doors.
She waved in return, and several passengers waved to her. As the bus pulled away, she pressed a hand to her queasy abdomen. Almost home. Regardless of the reception she would receive, she was back in her Elkhart County New Order Amish community. She draped her coat over the top of her suitcase, balanced her medical backpack on top of that, gripped the roller handle and struck out on the very last leg of her fourteen-year journey. Up the off-ramp, down the road, along the country lane, and toward home.
After trudging along for fifteen minutes or so on the edge of the blacktop, she realized this was not at all like walking the halls of a hospital. She was out of shape and shifted her suitcase handle to her other hand.
The familiar reverberation of horse’s hooves clomping on the pavement came from behind her. The comforting sound both thrilled her and caused her unsteady insides to knot. In all her daydreams, she hadn’t pictured seeing any Amish until her family opened the front door. How foolish. Who would this be? Someone she knew? Would anyone still recognize her?
As the horse and buggy drew closer, her midsection twisted tighter and tighter. She dared not turn around though she wanted to know whom it was. But at the same time, she didn’t want to know. Let them pass her by.
First, the horse came alongside her, then the buggy. The driver slowed the horse to her pace. “Hallo.”
She glanced up into the sun and raised her hand to shade her eyes. The bearded face held a kind smile and sparkling brown eyes that sent a small thrill dancing through her. Shame on her. His beard signified he was a married man. Though he seemed familiar, she couldn’t place him. Maybe it was just because he was Amish. And all her emotions, negative and positive, were heightened.
“Hallo.” She stopped, welcoming the respite. Or did she welcome the delay in arriving at her destination?
He reined in the horse and spoke in Deutsch. “Can I give you a ride?”
It had been so long since she’d heard her language. She replied in kind. “That’s very considerate of you.” She was tired, not used to this amount of walking in the late-spring heat. “But I’m fine. Walking is gut.” Nevertheless, she remained rooted in place, not wanting to part company from this man yet for some strange reason.
He set the brake and jumped down. He stood between her and a passing pickup truck as though protecting her from it. His gaze flickered to her suitcase then back to her face. “I’m Noah Lambright.”
No doubt he thought she was running away with her suitcase in tow. “I’m Kathleen Yoder.”
His eyes widened slightly as though her name were familiar. Why wasn’t his? Noah? She had known many Noahs in her youth, both young and old. But now she’d spent nearly as much time away as she had at home. Certainly such a handsome Amish man she would have remembered. “I’m sure my strolling alongside the road with my suitcase must have you confused. I’m not running away, if that’s what you’re thinking.” Quite the opposite. She was finally running home. Home to her family. Home to her community. Home to her Amish way of life. And for some reason, it was important that this man—this Noah—knew that.
“If you were running away, you’d be heading in that direction.” He pointed down the road the way she’d come. He picked up her medical pack and coat in one hand and hoisted her suitcase in the other.
Kathleen reached for them. “What are you doing with my things?”
He put them in the back of his open buggy. “Even if you refuse a ride, I can at least take your belongings to your destination so you don’t have to cart them along behind you.” He held out his hand to her. “Are you sure you don’t want a ride? This is the hottest part of the day.”
“What would your wife say to you picking up a woman you don’t know?”
Pain flickered across his features and left just as quickly. “I’m widowed.”
“Oh. I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it. She passed three years ago.”
“I thought with your beard...” She needed to just stop talking. But why did he still wear one? It wasn’t her place to ask. So he wasn’t married after all. That was gut to know. Ne, it wasn’t. The poor man had lost his wife. And she had no room in her life to consider courting and marriage.
He must have noticed her staring because he rubbed his jaw. “I’ve been meaning to shave this off. Thought about doing so this morning.”
Three years? And he still wore a beard? That was none of her business.
“So what do you say to that ride?” His mouth quirked up on one side.
That caused her insides to dance. Though she didn’t want to hurry her journey along, she certainly wasn’t enjoying the hike. She had wanted this time alone to gather her thoughts. But her hand reached out for his.
Strong, calloused and work worn. Comforting.
He helped her up into the front seat and with him came the distinct aroma of fresh-cut wood and something sweet.
She had rarely ever ridden in the front. This was an open buggy and still daylight, so there wouldn’t be anything inappropriate about accepting his offer. For what she had spent the past fourteen years doing and what she planned to do in the near future, she needed to make sure everything else she did was beyond reproof. She didn’t want to give the church leadership any more reasons than necessary to refuse her offer of help.
He climbed in next to her and set the buggy into motion. Strangely, he didn’t dive into conversation and questions like the English, who felt the need to fill every silence. He just drove. Down one road and then another. Turning here and there. How odd that the silence wasn’t in the least awkward. Sitting next to this man—this stranger—was comfortable.
And honey. He smelled of wood and honey. Very comforting, indeed.
Solar panels winking off a roof caught her attention. An Englisher must have bought that farm. When she’d left, it had belonged to one of the Lehman families. Another house also had solar panels. And then the next one. They couldn’t have all been sold out of the community. Amish liked to keep Amish property in the family, and if not, sell it to another Amish. “Did Englishers buy several of these farms?”
“Ne.”
“But what about the solar panels? They aren’t allowed.”
“They are now.”
She’d thought about how nice this form of electricity would be for the Amish and planned to bring it up to