Johanna's Bridegroom. Emma Miller

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      “I’ve always been afraid of bees,” he said.

      She licked at the flavored ice. “I know.”

      “J.J. seems fascinated by them. He asks me all kinds of questions—questions I can’t answer.”

      She took another bite, chewed slowly and swallowed. “I think he’s a bee charmer. They won’t hurt him. You don’t have to worry.”

      “I found the biscuits you left for us on the kitchen table Thursday. And the potato soup. They were good, really good.”

      “I’m glad you liked them.” A dribble of strawberry water ran down her hand onto her wrist. She passed the paper cone into her other hand and licked up the stray drop. “Messy,” she murmured.

      “Good stuff is.”

      Silence stretched between them. Shivers ran down her arms. Should she say something to him about what she’d been thinking? About the two of them? Normally, if a girl and a boy wanted to court, there was talk back and forth, between their friends at first, then between the girl and boy themselves. But she and Roland weren’t teens anymore. They didn’t need intermediaries, did they? She looked around. No one was within earshot. If she was going to say something, she had to do it now, before she lost her nerve.

      “Roland?”

      “Ya?”

      “I want to talk to you about—”

      “Johanna! Johanna! Did you see? King David and me! We rode in the blue cart.” Johanna’s sister Susanna appeared in front of them, laughing merrily. “No horse. A dog. A dog pulled the cart! Did you see us ride?”

      David, glued to Susanna’s side, smiled and pointed at Johanna’s snow cone. “Ice cream? I like ice cream.”

      David, like Susanna, had Down’s syndrome but was harder to understand. Johanna could usually follow what he was saying. He was a good-hearted boy, always smiling, and Johanna liked him.

      “Ne,” Susanna said. “Not a ice cream cone. A snow cone.” She stared longingly at Johanna’s. “Can we have one?”

      “I don’t like snow. To eat it,” David said.

      “You’ll like it,” Susanna assured him.

      “I’ll buy you snow cones.” Roland reached into his pocket.

      “You have money, Susanna,” Johanna reminded her. “Mam gave you five dollars. Did you spend it all?”

      Susanna shook her head.

      “It’s nice of Roland to offer, but you need to buy your own. And buy David one, too.”

      Rebecca joined them, with Katy in tow. Katy looked longingly at Johanna’s snow cone.

      “Here,” Johanna said. “Have the rest of mine, Katy. Or get Susanna to buy you one. She and David were just headed to the snow cone booth.”

      Rebecca glanced from Johanna to Roland and back. Johanna could almost see the wheels turning in her sister’s head.

      “Ah,” Rebecca said. “I think we need to find snow cones for Susanna and David. Can you help me, Katy?”

      Johanna’s fingertips tingled and her chest felt tight. Maybe this wasn’t the time. Maybe Susanna and David’s interruption had kept her from doing something she’d regret. “I’ll come with you,” she said.

      Rebecca chuckled. “No need. You two old people sit here in the sun. I think I saw the snow cone stand by the school.”

      Roland pointed. “It’s by the gym doors, but if you don’t have enough—”

      Susanna waved her five-dollar bill. “I have money,” she said. “Come on, King David.” She started off and, again, David followed.

      Rebecca looked back at Johanna. “Have fun, you two,” she teased. “Come on, Katy. Would you like to see the baby lambs?”

      Roland watched the four of them walk away. “Smart, your sisters,” he said. “All of them.”

      Johanna smiled at him. “Ya. All of them,” she agreed. “Susanna, too.”

      He nodded. “I always thought so. A credit to your parents, that girl.”

      Johanna took a deep breath and clasped her hands so that Roland wouldn’t see how they were shaking. “Roland?” she began.

      In his gray eyes, color swirled and deepened. “Yes, Johanna?”

      She took another breath and looked right at him. “Will you marry me?”

      Chapter Four

      Once, when he was eighteen and learning his trade as a farrier, Roland had been kicked by a stallion his uncle was shoeing. The blow had been so quick and hard that Roland was picking himself up off the ground almost before he’d realized that he’d been struck by a flying hoof. He hadn’t lost consciousness, but for what seemed like an eternity, he hadn’t been able to think straight.

      Johanna’s matter-of-fact question had much the same effect. He was stunned. “What did you say?” he stammered. Around him, the laughter and happy shrieks of the children, the red balloon that had come loose from its mooring and was floating skyward, and the sweet smell of ripe strawberries faded. For a long second, Roland’s whole world narrowed to the woman sitting beside him.

      Johanna rolled her eyes. “Are you listening to me? I asked if you would marry me.”

      He swallowed, opened his mouth to speak and then took a big gulp of air. “Did you just ask me to marry you?” he managed.

      She folded her hands gracefully over her starched black apron. “It’s the logical thing for us to do,” she answered.

      He heard what she said, but his attention was fixed on the red-gold curls that had come loose from her severe bun and framed her heart-shaped face, a face so fresh and youthful that it might have belonged to a teenage girl instead of a widow and mother in her late twenties. Johanna’s skin was fair and pink, dusted with a faint trail of golden freckles over the bridge of her nose and across her cheeks. Her eyes were the exact shade of bluebells, and her mouth was... Roland swallowed again. He’d always thought that Johanna Yoder had the prettiest mouth—even when she’d been admonishing him for something he’d done wrong.

      They had a long history, he and Johanna...a history that he’d hoped and prayed would become a future. In the deepest part of his heart, he’d wanted to ask her the very question that she’d just asked him. But now that she’d spoken it first, he was poleaxed.

      “Do I take that as a no?” she asked, as a flush started at her slender throat and spread up over her face. “You don’t want to marry me?”

      He СКАЧАТЬ