The Amish Wedding Promise by Laura V. Hilton

Author:Laura V. Hilton
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
Published: 2019-12-16T16:00:00+00:00

Grace’s body ached from head to toe, but since she could move, albeit slowly and painfully, she figured nothing was broken. Just bruised.

Kind of like her emotions.

She slowly got to her feet, every muscle and joint in her body protesting at the movement. Her cheeks burned, but not as hot as the shame filling her to overflowing, spilling out from her pores. She’d meant to apologize to Zeke for her behavior, and instead she’d made it ten times worse. A hundred times worse. Maybe even a thousand times worse.

Zeke would be ever so glad to return to Indiana and get away from the too-forward Illinois hussy.

But oh, why couldn’t a man like him have noticed her first? Asked her if she wanted to go on a buggy ride? Treated her like she mattered? And instead she got Timothy.

At least Mamm was happy. His parents were happy.

It was just that she suffered from…She sighed heavily. Cold feet.

Icy, cold feet.

Make that frozen feet.

“Does it hurt terribly, dearie?” Erma grasped Grace’s arm and held on as she shuffled her way into the kitchen, slower than the slowest snail would go. But bless her heart—she was doing it for Grace’s benefit, because even on her pokiest day, Erma walked fast. “Maybe it’ll help to put some ice on it.”

She’d pretty much have to pack her body in ice or take a handful of pain pills, but she deserved nothing less after her forward, foolish behavior.

But oh joy, there was still one cinnamon roll, waiting on the metal baking sheet on the table. Grace eyed it and inched closer, reaching out the arm that wasn’t gripped by Erma…

A bearded man grabbed the baked delight and turned away, adding insult to injury as Grace watched the very last melt-in-your-mouth piece of deliciousness get carried out the door. The whole reason why she had been hurrying in the first place.

She could’ve cried.

And that settled it. This whole thing was Erma’s fault. Because if she hadn’t brought cinnamon rolls, Grace wouldn’t have been hurrying; she wouldn’t have run into Zeke and almost fallen down the stairs and then gotten sidetracked enough to try to kiss him. Jah, it was all Erma’s fault.

Erma pulled out a chair and held on to Grace’s arm as Grace lowered herself into it; then Erma bustled to the freezer and pulled out a bag of mixed vegetables. “Where does it hurt most, dearie?”

Um, everywhere? But mostly her pride. And her conscience. But she couldn’t put ice on those. Nor on her bottom, which would likely be black and blue.

Grace waved it away. “I’ll be okay.”

Erma returned the vegetables to the freezer and then poured herself and Grace mugs of coffee and carried them to the table. She added cream and sugar. Sweet, but Grace didn’t like coffee. “Danki,” she murmured and tried not to grimace as she tasted the bitter brew.

The women, who’d arrived early, bustled around, carrying breakfast foods and drinks outside to a table that’d been set up from sawhorses and lumber.

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