The Teacher's Bride Read online

  “What? Oh!” She set down the percolator as coffee dripped onto the floor. “Sorry.” Good grief, couldn’t she do anything right?

  Chris quickly grabbed the towel off the hook near the sink at the same time she reached for it. “I can clean it up,” she said.

  “It’s all right,” he replied in Dietsch. “I don’t mind.”

  Before she messed up anything else, she stepped away and let him go to work. He ran the towel across the counter, catching the drips underneath the edge, and then knelt and wiped up the floor. When he was finished, he stood, his gaze taking her in.

  She felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment. Or was it . . . She didn’t know. Why was Chris looking at her so intently? So . . . personally? And why had her heartbeat doubled in time?

  “You splashed kaffee on yer dress.”

  Ruby looked down and saw several brown spots. She cringed. Not only had she made a mess of her dress, but she’d also thought Chris was . . . She shook her head. He was being Chris and noticing a problem or a flaw. That was all, and she’d been irrational to think anything else. She’d had her mind so much on Seth and husband-hunting lately that she wasn’t keeping her thoughts straight.

  Chris wrung the coffee-soaked towel in the sink. Then he opened a drawer and pulled out another small towel. “Here,” he said, handing it to her. “This should suffice. You didn’t burn yerself did you?”

  “Nee.” She dabbed at the spilled coffee, but most of it had soaked through the fabric already. After a few fruitless attempts, she shrugged and handed the towel back to Chris. No use fretting over spilled coffee. “Oh well. Won’t be the first time I stained a dress.”

  She expected him to say something about her remark, such as I believe it or Of course you have. But he remained silent as he turned on the tap, rinsed and wrung both towels, and then draped them neatly over each side of the sink. Then he went to the stove and started pouring coffee without spilling a drop.

  As Ruby watched him, she appreciated that he hadn’t made a sarcastic remark or cruelly edged joke, like some people had in the past when she made a mistake. Usually she made her own self-deprecating remarks to cover up her embarrassment. And although spilling coffee wasn’t exactly high on the list of her humiliating achievements, she desperately wished she could get through at least one social event in Birch Creek without being inept or klutzy.

  He handed her one of the cups as if nothing had happened and he was being the perfect host. “Where’s Selah?”

  “She went to let Martha in.” Ruby glanced in the direction of the living room. “They’ve been gone a while. I don’t know what’s keeping them.”

  Chris took two of the cups over to the table and set them down. “I can’t fathom a guess either.”

  Back to English again. The language flip-flopping didn’t bother her, but she found his constant use of “proper” speech a bit seltsam. Yet it was also kind of charming, in a peculiar way.

  He turned to her, his brow furrowed, a contrast to his normally composed expression. He opened his mouth, and then closed it, and then opened it again. This hesitancy was unlike him. “Ruby . . . I have a slight favor to ask, if I may.”

  “You may.” She sipped her coffee, wondering what he could possibly need from her.

  He rubbed the back of his neck. “I thought maybe you could . . . if the opportunity arises, that is . . .”

  Well, this was painful to listen to. Just spit it out. “Maybe I could what?”

  He dropped his arm to his side. “Tell me what I’m doing wrong?”

  She almost laughed, but then realized he was serious. “About Martha?”

  He nodded and then looked away.

  She hid a smile. His determination to get Martha’s attention was sweetly endearing. “You want a pre-lesson before our lesson?”

  He nodded again, still not looking at her.

  “Of course. I’m happy to help, if I can.”

  She saw Chris lean against the table, a contrast to his normally upright posture. He really was tense. Then he tilted his head and scrutinized her face. “You have a large contusion on your nose.”

  “Contusion?”

  “Bruise.”

  She guessed she’d have to get used to everyone pointing out her injury until it healed a little more. “You’re just noticing this now?”

  “I was distracted by the coffee.” He moved closer to her, focusing on her swollen nose. “Your proboscis is not seriously damaged, is it?”

  “If you’re asking if mei nose is broken, nee. It’s not.”

  “I’m glad to hear that.” He sat down and folded his hands on the table in front of him, looking straight ahead.

  Ruby sat down in the opposite chair. Instead of following her instincts and engaging him in conversation, she simply looked at him. Unlike her, he sat very still. Stiff, almost. His folded hands were tight, the knuckles almost white. She could tell his mind was elsewhere, especially since he wasn’t really meeting her gaze.

  “Chris?”

  He blinked and then seemed to focus. “Yes?”

  “Are you nervous about seeing Martha tonight?”

  He unfolded his hands and sat back in the chair, although it didn’t look like a natural position for him either. “Of course not. There’s nothing to be nervous about. We’re going to play a game and enjoy each other’s company.”

  “Right. But that will be hard to do if you can’t relax.”

  His shoulders dropped, but then he put his arm awkwardly over the back of the chair next to him. He cocked his head until it looked like he would strain a neck muscle. “See? I’m relaxed.”

  At that moment Selah and Martha walked in. “Sorry we took so long,” Selah said. “I was showing Martha a new book I got at the library.”

  “I read it last year, and it’s really gut,” Martha said. She turned to Ruby. “Hi. I’m glad you could come.” Then her gaze moved to Chris, and she frowned. “Hello?”

  “Hi.” He lifted his hand in what Ruby realized was supposed to be a casual gesture but looked like he’d had a spasm. Not to mention his voice cracking on that one-syllable word. Oh dear. She had her work cut out for her.

  Selah ignored her brother’s strange behavior and gestured for Martha to have a seat. Danki. for setting out the kaffee,” she said to Ruby.

  “Chris did it.”

  When the three women looked at him, he jerked up his hand again. Ruby had to resist the urge to face palm.

  Selah sat down and grabbed a cookie. “What game should we play?”

  “How about horseshoes?” Martha suggested.

  Ruby started to nod, but then she saw Chris almost pop out of his seat, all traces of his awkward posture disappearing. “I thought we were playing a trivia game tonight,” he said in Dietsch.

  “But I love horseshoes.” Martha smiled. “I play with mei schwester all the time.”

  “That’s nice, but there isn’t enough daylight,” Chris said in a strained voice.

  “The sun doesn’t geh down for another hour.” Martha turned to Ruby. “Do you like horseshoes?”

  “I do.” She wasn’t the most graceful player, but she was decent.

  “Great! It’s a pretty evening tonight. Nee need to stay inside when we can enjoy it. Cold weather will be here before we know it.”

  Selah glanced at Chris. “You’re right, but maybe we should—”

  Martha was already getting up from her chair, leaving her coffee behind. “Do you have a horseshoe set? If not, I can run home and get ours.” She tapped her finger against her temple. “I should have thought of this before I came over, but the idea just occurred to me.”

  “We have a set,” Chris said weakly. “It’s in the shed.”

  Martha grinned and turned to Selah. “I can help you set it up.”

  Selah looked at Chris again. When he didn’t say anything, she shrugged and picked up a cookie. “All right. Let’s geh.”

  Ruby watched the girls walk through the mudroom and out the back door.
Why hadn’t Selah asked Ruby to help too? Not that it took a lot of people to set up horseshoes, but it would have been nice to be included, not only in that, but also when Selah was showing Martha the book. She’d hoped that tonight she would make some headway in her friendship with the girls, but that was looking more unlikely by the moment.

  “This isn’t gut.”

  She turned at Chris’s harried whisper. She was stunned when she saw how pale he was. The contrast was so stark she could see the dark stubble on his chin. His eyes were wide as they darted back and forth. It was the most emotion she’d ever seen him reveal, which made her wonder if that was also a bad sign.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  He jumped up from his seat. “Nee. I am not okay.” He started to pace back and forth. “I’m definitely not okay.”

  “Why? It’s just a game of horseshoes.”

  Chris halted and looked at her, wild-eyed. “Exactly.” He started to pace again.

  “I don’t understand.”

  But he ignored her as he paced, and then he stopped and gripped the back of his chair, his head down. She could see him breathing heavily. She hurried to him. “You’re not going to pass out, are you?”

  He lifted his head. “That is a distinct possibility.”

  “C’mon, you two.” Selah poked her head into the kitchen. “We’re ready to play.” She looked at Chris, pity in her eyes. “Don’t worry,” she said. “I’m sure everything will be fine.” The screen door bounced shut.

  “It will not be fine,” he muttered. “She knows that.”

  Ruby got up from the table. “It’s just a game.”

  He shook his head. “It’s mei doom.”

  Now he was being ridiculous. “Don’t be so dramatic.” She went into the mudroom and held the door open. When he didn’t follow, she stepped back into the kitchen. “Do you want me to tell Martha you’ve chickened out?”

  He straightened and shook his head. “I never chicken out.” He stood from the table, back to his normal, emotionless self, and pushed past her.

  She shook her head. “It’s just horseshoes,” she mumbled. “How bad can it be?”

  Ten minutes later she saw exactly how bad.

  Selah and Martha were on one team, which left Ruby with Chris. Since the players for each team stood on opposite ends, that meant Chris and Martha were standing next to each other—which would have been perfect except for one thing.

  Chris Ropp was bad at horseshoes, and the word bad was too mild. He was horrendous. Not only did he throw the horseshoes everywhere but close to the stake, but he looked like a newborn colt doing it. As soon as he started to throw, his rigid and controlled body went haywire. To add insult to injury, the result was hilarious.

  “Come on, Chris,” Ruby said after Selah threw a perfect ringer. “You can do this.”

  Chris’s dark eyebrows set in a straight line as his gaze locked on the stake. He yanked his arm backward and the shoe flew behind him.

  “I’ll get it.” Martha picked up the horseshoe from a few feet away and then hurried to hand it to Chris. When he took it from her, he dropped it on his foot.

  “Are you okay?” Ruby called out.

  He nodded and picked up the horseshoe. Then he took aim again. This time the shoe flew straight but hit the ground only halfway to the stake.

  Ruby heard Selah chuckle. She turned to her. “I don’t think it’s funny,” she said.

  Selah stopped chuckling, but she was still smiling. “It is. A little.” She called out to Martha. “Yer turn.”

  “You sound like you want him to be embarrassed.” Which he was. Anyone could plainly see that. She looked at Chris, who was standing as far as he could from Martha while she threw the first horseshoe, his face pinched into a miserable expression.

  Selah faced her, all traces of humor gone. “You have nee idea what I want.” As soon as Martha’s second shoe landed—another ringer—Selah picked up the horseshoes. “Yer turn.” She shoved them at Ruby.

  Ruby took the horseshoes, nearly dropping them. But for once it wasn’t from clumsiness, but confusion. Obviously, she’d said the wrong thing. But why was Selah acting this way? She’d been friendly a few minutes before, and now she seemed to enjoy watching Chris struggle. Or was Ruby reading the situation wrong? She’d done that a time or two.

  If she thought Chris was confusing, Selah was even more so. What a strange set of siblings.

  She looked at Chris. Ruby didn’t know or understand what Selah wanted. What she did know was she didn’t want Chris to be humiliated. Not like this and not in front of Martha. She threw the horseshoe a few feet wide of the stake and followed with the second horseshoe the same way. “Ugh,” she said in an exaggerated yell. “Stupid game!”

  “I thought you liked horseshoes,” Martha called out.

  Time to backtrack. Ruby crossed her arms. “I do. But I never said I was gut at it.” Which wasn’t the complete truth. She wasn’t that bad a player.

  They finished the game, and the score was a blowout since she and Chris hadn’t scored a single point. “That was, um, fun.” Martha held out her hand to Chris. “Gut game. Better luck next time.”

  He stared at her hand as if she’d given him a rattlesnake to shake. When he didn’t take it, she shrugged and went over to Selah, who was heading toward the house, ignoring both Ruby and Chris.

  Ruby frowned, but not at Martha, who was a perfectly nice person and probably completely unaware of the tension between Ruby and Selah. She shook her head as she walked over to Chris. She might think twice before accepting another invitation from Selah Ropp.

  She gave Chris an encouraging smile. “I guess we’re left to pick up the—”

  “Why did you do that?”

  Ruby stepped back, stunned by his angry question. “Do what?”

  He moved in front of her, his eyes stormy, which was not only out of character but also alarming. “Why did you make a fool of me in front of Martha?”

  CHAPTER 7

  Christian knew his anger was misplaced. It wasn’t Ruby’s fault he had no athletic ability. He was terrible at all outdoor games and sports, including horseshoes, and he tried to avoid participating at all costs. But he couldn’t refuse this time, not when Martha had suggested the game. Yet what he predicted came to fruition, and he’d embarrassed himself in spectacular fashion.

  Although his atrocious performance had nothing to do with Ruby, she hadn’t helped matters. “You didn’t have to throw the game on my account,” he snapped.

  “I . . .” She looked down. “I thought I was helping.”

  Her contrite tone should have stopped him, but it didn’t. “By making me look bad in front of Martha?”

  Her head snapped up. “You did a gut job of that yerself.”

  He flung off his hat and tossed it aside. It landed perfectly on top of the horseshoe stake.

  “See? You got a ringer after all.”

  Christian glared at her. Her smile was bright, her eyes cheery, her voice sweet. All of it grated on his nerves. He snatched his hat off the stake and charged toward the house.

  She hurried after him. “I’m sorry, Chris. How can I make it up to you?”

  That stopped him. Even after his poor behavior, she still wanted to make amends. She’s a better person than I. He turned and faced her, his anger cooling.

  “You said I embarrassed you. I didn’t mean to.” She clasped her hands. “You’re upset, and I want to make it right.”

  He felt like a complete dolt. “I don’t expect restitution for a horseshoe game,” he said in a quiet voice. He paused and collected himself. This was what happened when he lost control of his emotions. “I made a grave error.” He drew in a breath. “I’m upset with myself, and I took it out on you. It is I who owe you an apology.”

  “Accepted.” She threaded her arm through his.

  He raised an eyebrow and looked at her arm before meeting her gaze. “That’s it?”

  “What do you mean?”

&nbs
p; “You’ve forgiven me that easily?”

  “Of course. Taking the high road is always the wisest decision.”

  True. Although he hadn’t expected her to travel that path so quickly.

  “Let’s geh inside,” she said. “Hopefully we can salvage the rest of the evening with Martha.”

  He pulled her arm from his. “I don’t believe that is possible.”

  “Why? Because you’re not perfect? Here’s a little tip— women like men with a few flaws.”

  Christian scoffed. “Martha didn’t witness a mere flaw.” More like an epic tragedy.

  “So? She had fun anyway, ya? Isn’t that what matters?” She tilted her head in the direction of his house. “I hope Selah made some fresh kaffee. I don’t like to drink it cold.” She headed for the back door.

  Christian watched her. Logically he knew forgiveness was important. It was one of the most important tenets of their faith. But he also knew forgiveness didn’t come instantaneously for most people. His family members were masters at employing the silent treatment, even after presumably offering forgiveness. He remembered a time when his mother didn’t talk to his father for three days. Seeing Ruby brush off his insolence with genuine forgiveness was refreshing. And a little . . . touching.

  Ruby was already in the kitchen by the time Christian arrived inside. She was standing near the door to the mudroom while Selah was emptying the pot of coffee in the sink. The cookies and cups were nowhere in sight. “Where’s Martha?” Ruby asked.

  “She had to leave early. She said to tell you good-bye.” Selah kept her back to them as she turned on the tap.

  Christian had to admit he was relieved. Despite Ruby being right about everything, he wasn’t prepared to face Martha right now.

  “I should geh home too,” Ruby said, looking at her feet.

  Christian might not be the best at reading body language, but he could tell she was uncomfortable. “Do you need a ride home?”

  She shook her head. “I walked. And I brought mei flashlight.” As she pulled it out of her pocket, she dropped it on the floor.

  He bent to get it at the same time she did, and they bumped heads.