door. No one appeared, so he knocked again, and then called out in Deitsch. “Hello? Is anybody to home?” Again, there was only silence except for a bee that had gotten trapped on the screen porch and was buzzing loudly as it attempted to escape.
Joseph’s stomach turned over. Now his head was really hurting. He was hot and sweaty, and he’d crossed his mother and come here hoping to see Ruby again. All for nothing. But he wasn’t ready to give up yet. Maybe they were in the garden and hadn’t heard him. He left the porch and circled around the house. In the side yard, farthest from the drive, was a wooden swing, a brick walk, a fishpond and a fountain. “Hello?” he called again.
And then he stopped short. There was a blanket spread on the clover near the tiny pond. A young woman lay stretched out on her stomach, bare ankles crossed, apparently lost in a book. But the most startling thing to Joseph was her hair. Among the Amish, a woman’s hair was always covered. Little girls wore pigtails with baby caps or student kapps. Teenage girls and women of all ages pinned their hair up in a bun and covered it with a scarf or a prayer kapp.
This woman was clearly Amish because she wore a sky blue dress with a dark apron over it. Black leather shoes stood beside the blanket with black stockings tossed beside them. But the woman’s hair wasn’t pinned up under a kapp or covered with a scarf. It rippled in a thick shimmering mane down the back of her neck and over her shoulders nearly to her waist.
Joseph’s mouth gaped. He clutched the bouquet of flowers so tightly between his hands that he distinctly heard several stems snap. He swallowed, unable to stop staring at her beautiful hair. It was brown, but brown in so many shades...tawny and russet...the color of shiny acorns in winter and the hue of ripe wheat. He knew he shouldn’t be staring. He’d intruded on a private moment, seen what he shouldn’t. He should turn and walk away. But he couldn’t.
He inhaled deeply. “Hello,” he stammered. “I’m sorry, I was looking for—”
“Ach!” The young woman rose on one elbow and twisted to face him. It was Ruby. Her eyes widened in surprise. “Joseph?”
“Ya. It’s me.” He struggled to think of something else sensible to say.
Ruby sat up, dropping her paperback onto the blanket, pulling her knees up and tucking her feet under her skirt. “I was drying my hair,” she said. “I washed it. I still had mud in it from last night.”
Joseph grimaced. “Sorry.”
“Ne.” She shook her head. “It was all my fault.”
“An accident,” he said.
“And you had to get stitches. Are you in pain?”
He shook his head.
“Goot. I was worried about you.”
He tried not to smile, but the thought that she’d worried about him filled him with hope.
“Everyone else went to Byler’s store.” She blushed prettily and covered her face with her hands. “But I stayed home. To wash my hair. What must you think of me without my kapp?” Her words were apologetic, but her tone was mischievous, rather than guilty. Dropping her hands, she chuckled.
She had a merry laugh, Joseph thought, a laugh as beautiful and unique as she was. She was regarding him with definite interest. Her eyes were the shade of cinnamon splashed with swirls of chocolate, large and thickly lashed. His mouth went dry.
She smiled encouragingly.
He shrugged. A dozen thoughts tumbled in his mind: he could comment about the color of her dress or ask her what she was reading or say something about the weather, but nothing seemed like the right thing to say. “I...I never know what to say to pretty girls,” he admitted as he tore his gaze away from hers. “You must think I’m thickheaded.” He shuffled his feet. “I’ll come back another time when—”
“Who are those flowers for?” Ruby asked. “Did you bring them for Sara?”
“Ne, not Sara.” Joseph’s face grew hot. He tried to say “I brought them for you,” but again the words stuck in his throat. Dumbly, he held them out to her. Several of the asters in the bouquet had broken stems and they hung down awkwardly. It took every ounce of his courage not to turn and run.
She scrambled to her feet, her smile as sweet as sunrise on a winter day, her beautiful eyes sparkling with pleasure. “Danki,” she said as she reached for the bouquet. “I love flowers. Nobody ever brought me flowers before.” She clutched them to her. “I think they’re wonderful.”
For a long moment, they stood staring at each other. Ruby’s hair tumbled down around her shoulders, still damp from the washing, the thick locks gleaming in the sunlight. Her hair looked so soft that he wanted to touch it, to feel the curls spring between his fingers.
Joseph stepped back another step and sucked in a breath of air. They were practically strangers. He shouldn’t be here with her without a chaperone. He shouldn’t be looking at her unbound hair. It was scandalous. If anyone found out, there would be talk. He couldn’t do that to Ruby. “I g-guess I should go,” he blurted. “I shouldn’t... We shouldn’t—”
“Ne,” she said. “Don’t go yet. Wait here. No, sit there.” She waved toward the wooden swing. It was fashioned of cedar, suspended on a sturdy frame and shaded by a latticework canopy. “Where it’s cooler. Wait there. I’ll be right back.” She ran several yards, then turned and ran back. “Stay right there,” she repeated before grabbing up everything in the blanket and dashing around the house.
Stunned, Joseph did as she said. Truthfully, it was good to get off his feet and when he gave a small push, the motion of the swing eased the tension in his neck and shoulders. What had he been thinking to come here this afternoon? To bring flowers for Ruby? But he’d had to come. He couldn’t get her off his mind. But he’d never expected her to be so sweet. He closed his eyes and thought about how pretty her unbound hair was.
* * *
Ruby slammed the kitchen door shut behind her. “Ya!” she exclaimed joyfully. “Ya!” Laughing, she spun around in a circle and buried her face in the flowers. Joseph had come back! She’d been certain that knocking him nearly senseless and sending him to the hospital had ruined any chance she might have had of attracting the respectable young mason. But, in spite of her clumsiness, he’d returned and brought her flowers. It was almost too good to be true. She couldn’t wait to tell her mother.
But Joseph had caught her in the yard, sprawled out on a blanket with her hair wet and hanging instead of being decently covered with her kapp, she reminded herself. He’d been shocked. Probably he’d come in search of one of the other girls and only given her the flowers to be kind. But he was kind. And not only good-looking, but sweet natured and clearly in search of a wife. She didn’t dare let herself hope that he might choose her, but neither could she throw away any opportunity she might have.
Her mother’s words of advice came to her as clearly as if her mommi were here in this room with her. You will find someone who will see your inner beauty, Ruby. And he will be the one who deserves you.
Coming to Sara Yoder’s and asking the matchmaker to find her a husband had been an act of desperation. Her parents had believed that the only way for her to find someone was to go to a place where no one knew her. And now Joseph had fallen into her lap. Or, rather, she’d fallen into his. She couldn’t let him slip through her fingers. He might not be someone that she wanted to marry, but she couldn’t know that until they were better acquainted.
Dropping the flowers into the sink, she searched for a container to put them in. Spying an old blue-and-white-speckled bowl and pitcher on a table in the adjoining room, she snatched up the pitcher, dumped the flowers in and filled the pitcher half-full of water. She left the arrangement on the counter and ran upstairs to her bedroom to make herself decent.
Grabbing a brush, she raked it though her damp hair, twisted the mass into a knot and pinned it securely at the back of her head. She snatched up her kapp and took the stairs to the first floor two