own, he just reached into the back of the buggy for her sewing bag and handed it to her.
“I hoped you would come to the frolic.” Bram stood close to her, Susan’s hand in his.
Ellie stared at his clothes—his Plain clothes. His brand-new shirt and plain-cut trousers were exactly like the ones all the men in the district wore, complete with the fabric suspenders and broad-brimmed hat. He didn’t look Englisch anymore, and he didn’t talk Englisch.... Her resolve wavered.
How would she answer him? His nearness was forward and unsettling, but she couldn’t help wishing for more. What would she do if he gave her that secretive grin again? The thought brought on a flurry of butterfly wings in her stomach.
“I forgot you’d be here.” Her face grew hot as soon as the rude words left her mouth. Why couldn’t she talk to him like she would Matthew, or anyone else, for that matter? Every time she spoke with him, her tongue seemed to belong to someone else.
Ellie reached for Susan, but he stopped her with a hand on her arm.
“Have I done something wrong? I know we only met a couple days ago, and you don’t know me, but I’d like to change that.”
His hand warming her skin through the sleeve of her dress prickled her nerves to awareness of just how long it had been since she had felt a man’s touch. She should turn away, let his hand slide off her arm, move to a more appropriate distance, but she was frozen in place.
She glanced up at his face. At her look, a smile spread, flashing the dimple in one cheek and encouraging her own mouth to turn up at the corners. She looked down, her face flushing hot again. What was wrong with her? She was acting like a schoolgirl!
Bram seemed to take her hesitation as an encouraging sign and stepped closer. Ellie found herself leaning toward him to catch the familiar scent of hay mingled with shaving soap, and she breathed in deeply.
Ja, just like a schoolgirl. What must he think of her?
“I’ve bought a farm.” His voice was low, the words for her alone. “It’s the Jackson place, just a couple miles west of your father’s farm. Would you like to see it sometime?”
The Jackson farm? Ellie knew that farm—it was an Englisch farm. A blast of cold reality shoved away all thoughts of dimples and hay and...soap. The telephone lines strung from the road to the house on that farm were the fatal testimony. Her shoulders drew back as her chin lifted, and his hand fell to his side.
“Ne, Denki,” she answered as firmly as she knew how. “I’m already familiar with that farm.”
She took Susan’s hand as Bram stepped away, her face flushing hotter than ever. She couldn’t have been ruder if she had slapped him in the face. How could she be so harsh? But an Englisch farm? Resolve straightened her spine with a snap.
“Come, Susan, it’s time to go in the house.”
Ellie followed Mam up the path to the kitchen door, anxious to get away 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