Huckleberry Hearts (19 page)

Cassie felt a tear roll down her cheek. Dr. Reynolds prayed like someone who knew how but haltingly as if he hadn't done it for a very long time. This was the man who was mad at God? The one who'd lost his faith? She didn't believe it for a minute.

“Amen,” they said together.

Cassie wiped the moisture from her face. She looked at Jamie's. Her eyes were glistening with tears too.

Austin beamed. “Now I know I'll get better.”

Dr. Reynolds studied Cassie's face and gave her a doubtful smile. “That bad, huh?”

She smiled back. He always said that. “It was beautiful. I'm kind of a baby,” Cassie said barely above a whisper. If she tried to talk louder, her voice might crack.

“I reduce women to tears with my sorry attempts to talk to God.”

Jamie reached over and slugged him lightly on the shoulder. “You did fine.”

“Ouch!” he said, rubbing his shoulder as if she'd really hurt him, but it would take a lot more than that to bruise those rock-solid arms.

“Soon you're going to have every patient in this hospital requesting prayers,” Jamie said. “Especially the ladies.”

A nurse tapped lightly on the door and came into the room carrying Austin's breakfast tray. “Good morning, Austin,” she said, in her chipper nurse voice. “Time for breakfast.” She gave Dr. Reynolds a playful smile and a wink. “Good morning, Dr. Reynolds.”

“Hi, Stacey.”

Cassie felt annoyed for no reason whatsoever, except maybe for the fact that the nurse made googly eyes at the doctor. But why should she care about that? It was none of her business how many girls fell at Dr. Reynolds's feet, or what kind of relationship Stacey and the doctor had.

It might not be any of her business, but when Dr. Reynolds smiled back at that nurse, an illogical pang of jealousy stabbed her right in the chest. What had happened to her? She was supposed to be immune to Dr. Reynolds's charms. Wouldn't he still try to jump into bed with her at the first opportunity? Shouldn't his many character flaws keep her safely indifferent to him?

But she wasn't indifferent. Down in the deepest place in her heart, in spite of everything, she liked him, and she rebelled at the thought that he was like the other Englisch guys she'd known in college.

Once she'd refused to go out with him, he'd never pushed her or made her feel guilty for saying no. He hadn't been mad about it either, as if she were an idiot for not wanting to go out with him. She got that a lot from guys.

Rational or not, Cassie found herself seething with jealousy over a wink and a smile. And she didn't like the feeling one little bit.

The nurse pulled the portable table in front of Austin and set the tray on it. “Smells delicious,” she said, as she took the lid off the tray.

Dr. Reynolds set his clipboard on the bed and leaned over to get a better look at Austin's breakfast. French toast, eggs, orange juice, and green Jell-O.

Austin and Dr. Reynolds met eyes. In unison they threw up their hands and screamed. Dr. Reynolds squealed like a little girl, which sent Austin into a fit of laughter.

Cassie and Jamie laughed too.

“I'll save you,” Dr. Reynolds bellowed.

Cassie practically jumped out of her socks when Dr. Reynolds scooped Austin's Jell-O from the tray with his bare hands and ran around the bed to the trash can, holding the green stuff away from his body as if it were toxic. He flipped the Jell-O into the can with a flick of his wrist.

Austin gave him a round of applause.

“Doctor,” Stacey stuttered, “I don't think you're supposed to do that.”

Dr. Reynolds rinsed his hands at the sink and draped an arm over Jamie's shoulder. “It had to be done, Stacey,” he said. “Don't you agree, Miss Fedora?”

Jamie jabbed her elbow into his ribs. He doubled over in mock pain. “It's Miss Stetson,” Jamie said. “And you owe me a dollar. I was going to eat that Jell-O.”

“That was awesome,” Austin said, still giggling.

Stacey only had eyes for the doctor. She smiled and shook her head. “If you say so. You're the doctor.” She gave him one last enticing glance, as if inviting him to follow her, and walked out the door, swinging her hips like a pendulum as she went.

To Cassie's relief, Dr. Reynolds didn't seem to notice. “Call me anytime. I'm not afraid to do battle with evil foods.” He picked up his clipboard. “Cassie and I have to go now. Her grandma just got out of surgery, and she needs to be with her.” His eyes met hers, and he smiled. The look he gave her was so attractive she thought she might faint.

“Okay.” Austin picked up his fork and stabbed at his eggs. “Come back, and we can play FIFA sometime.”

“Bye, Austin,” Cassie said. “It was nice to meet you.”

“I expect to see you in church on Sunday, Doctor,” Jamie said as they walked out the door.

The doctor shot a mischievous grin over his shoulder and kept walking.

They ambled down the hall and into the stairwell. “Great kid,” Dr. Reynolds said.

“Is he going to be okay?”

His face looked as if it had fallen into shadow. “He's a fighter.”

“I can tell.”

“I'm worried, though. Even though I'm still mad at God, I've said a lot of prayers for Austin, just in case.”

“I'm glad you're not too mad to talk to Him.”

He smiled faintly. “This is the first time we've been alone for more than a week.”

“Is it?”

“On Wednesday after I changed your mammi's foot dressing, your dawdi showed me how to clean the horse's hooves. On Friday, we fixed the water pump and unclogged the toilet.”

“I'm sure you enjoyed that.”

“Immensely,” he said, making her laugh at his teasing grin. What kind of a man volunteered to unclog the toilet just to be nice?

He suddenly became serious and eyed her as if he had something very important on his mind. Was he going to ask her out again?

Her pulse surged with anticipation.

“Miss Coblenz—”

This was not starting out well. A guy didn't call you “Miss” if he was about to ask you out. “Miss Coblenz sounds like an old lady. Please call me Cassie.”

The seriousness vanished, and he seemed like a little kid for a minute. “Are you sure?”

“You come to my house three times a week. You unclogged my toilet. You should call me Cassie. And I didn't mean to interrupt you.”

She might have just given him permission to eat all the snickerdoodles in the cookie jar. “Okay, Cassie.” She loved the way it sounded when he said it, like someone wrapping a warm blanket around her shoulders. He raised his eyebrows. “Can I call you Cassandra when I'm feeling especially fancy?”

She coughed as the embarrassment lodged in her throat. “My . . . my real name isn't Cassandra.”

“Just Cassie, then?”

She coughed again. Was she breaking out in hives? “I'm named after a woman in the Bible, full of good works. She made coats and stuff for people. I think my mamm had hopes I'd be a good quilter when I grew up.”

“I don't remember a Cassie in the Bible.”

Might as well get her shame out in the open. “My name is Dorcas.”

His mouth fell open, and he stammered incoherently for a moment. “Dorcas?”

Her lips twitched upward at the look on his face—a mixture of disbelief, amusement, and sheer panic that he'd have to lie and tell her he liked her name. The laughter bubbled from inside her. “It's okay. I'm as horrified as you are.”

He decided it was safe to laugh. Their mirth echoed off the cement walls of the stairwell. “Cassie it is. Or I could call you Dorcassie. It sounds sort of British.”

She attempted a stern glare. “Don't you dare. I'll never be able to show my face in public again.”

“Dorcas. It's kind of cute.”

“Don't try to smooth things over.” She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “I know how you really feel.”

“Do you?” His piercing gaze held her captive for one breathless moment and then disappeared. He looked down and cleared his throat. “If I call you Cassie or Dorcassie, will you call me Zach? It's short for Zacharias.”

“Really?”

He grinned. “No. I just wanted to make you feel better.”

She made a face at him.

“When you call me Dr. Reynolds, it sounds like you're trying to keep your distance.”

That was exactly what she had been trying to do. “I want to show you the respect that a doctor deserves. You've earned the title.”

He groaned. “I'd rather have your friendship than your respect. I mean, I like to be respected, but respect seems like something you should give to old people.”

“I've seen how good you are to your patients. You have my respect.”

His expression radiated something akin to tenderness. “Can we be friends too?”

She felt warm all over. “I'd like that.”

He slowly reached toward her, and for a breathless second, she thought he might take her hand. Instead, he dropped his arm to his side and took a step back, but he didn't stop looking at her like a kid looks at the tree on Christmas morning. “Cassie.” Saying her first name made him smile. “Cassie, there aren't enough words to tell you how grateful I am for what you did for my mom. She was so worried about those flowers. I can't believe you made a thousand.”

The way he looked at her made her feel as if warm honey flowed through her veins. “It wasn't just me. Mammi took a break from her knitting, and my mamm spent the day helping us too.”

“Your mom?” He raised both eyebrows in surprise. Mamm hadn't exactly made a good impression on him. “Why would she do that for someone she's never met?”

“I told her how upset you were about it. We all wanted to help.”

“How can I repay your kindness?”

“Repay? After all you've done for my mammi? Believe me, the balance is owing to you.”

He lowered his head. “I'm a doctor. It's my job.”

“No doctor I've ever met would unclog a toilet for one of his patients.”

He flashed a self-effacing smile. “It's a bonus service.”

“You've got some very useful skills. Any Amish mammi would be impressed.”

This seemed to make him disproportionately happy. “You noticed?”

“I've never seen a more eager or faster learner. You could make a go of it as a farmer.”

“Even an Amish farmer?”

“Yes. If you weren't such a good doctor.”

His eyes shone. “I don't think I'll quit my day job just yet, but it's nice to know you think I could be Amish. Maybe I should grow one of those beards.”

She giggled. “Maybe you should.”

“Why does Norman have a beard but Luke doesn't? Can't he grow one?”

“Men don't grow beards until they're married,” Cassie said.

“That's too bad. I thought I'd grow one just to show Norman I could. He probably doesn't think I'm manly enough.”

Cassie shook her head. “Nobody measures up to Norman's standards unless they're Amish and approved by my mother.”

Zach deflated slightly. “Maybe we should tell Norman I unclogged the toilet. That might ramp up my manliness.”

“It's probably as high as it can go already.”

He whipped his head around to look at her. “You think so?”

Cassie's heart skipped a beat as she felt the blush on her cheeks. “You put out fires with your bare hands.”

He grinned. “And I'm manly enough to wear pink.”

“Norman would never even dare attempt that.”

Chapter Sixteen

Cassie's heart did a double flip-flop when she drove up the hill and saw Zach's matching Honda parked in front of Mammi's house. He was early. Last week after surgery, he told her he'd be by today at ten a.m. She parked her car beside his and checked her phone. Only nine o'clock.

She swiveled the rearview mirror to get a look at herself.
Ach, du lieva.
She looked a mess. She had pulled her hair into a clumsy ponytail, and she wasn't wearing any makeup. Not to mention the fact that her workout clothes were damp with sweat, and she probably smelled like a high school gym locker.

After he saw her sorry state, she had no hope he'd ask her out again. The girls Zach dated would probably never dream of sweating.

There was nothing she could do about it. She couldn't very well sit in the car and wait for him to leave. He'd see her anyway when he came out to his car. Groaning, she opened her Honda door and crunched her way through the snow to the house. She went into the house and waited for the people inside to recoil in disgust.

Zach sat on the edge of the sofa next to Mammi with a ball of red yarn at his feet and a pair of knitting needles in his fists. His tongue stuck partway out of his mouth, and his brows were pulled together in concentration. An unrecognizable tangle of yarn hung from his knitting needles.

“Cassie,” Mammi said from her perch on the recliner. “I'm teaching Dr. Reynolds how to knit.”

Zach focused all his attention on his disastrous pile of yarn. “I'm making a pot holder in case I ever own a pot.”

Mammi beamed as if Zach were her prize pupil. “He's giving it a very good try yet.”

Zach held his needles like two tennis rackets and tried to loop the yarn without dropping them. “What she means to say is, ‘I'm really bad at this.' It's the piano teacher secret code.”

Cassie couldn't hold back a smile. Just when she thought the doctor couldn't get any more endearing, he surprised her. His eagerness was as cute as a pet store full of puppies.

A pleasant ache grew in her chest and throbbed through her veins. She suddenly wanted Dr. Reynolds to drop those knitting needles, march across the room, and kiss her silly.

She didn't even care that she was sweaty.

The knitting needles and that concerned, almost grim look on his face made him that much more attractive.

Oh, sis yuscht
. She was in trouble.

“Insert the right needle into the loop on the left needle,” Mammi said, using her own pair to show Zach how to do it. “Good. Now wrap it under and over the right needle. You see? Easy.”

Zach listened to Mammi's every instruction as if he were getting a tutorial on how to do brain surgery. Cassie sincerely hoped he was better at brain surgery, because the knitting looked hopeless.

Cassie hung her coat on the hook, wondering if she should make a beeline for the shower before Zach got a good look at her. Too late. He glanced up, and his face broke into a smile. “Wow,” he said. “You look great.”

“A bigger lie never was told in this house,” Cassie said.

He pinned her with an earnest gaze. “I'm not lying. That green goes great with your eyes.”

She turned her face slightly so he wouldn't notice the blush. “It's okay, you don't have to—”

“And your hair . . .” He stopped short. “Is it okay to tell you how pretty you are? Some women get offended by that.”

Mammi leaned close to his ear. “Whatever you do, don't tell me I'm pretty. The Amish aren't supposed to notice such things. It makes us proud.”

Zach grinned and nodded. “Okay.”

“But praise my granddaughter all you like. She has lovely hair and nice skin. She gets them from her dawdi.”

Zach peered at Mammi. “She definitely gets her good looks from you, Anna. But don't tell any Amish people I said that.”

“I've always tried to look pretty for Felty's benefit, but save your praise for Cassie. She's the one who's not married yet.”

Zach turned his eyes to Cassie. “I'm just getting started.”

“Not if you want to concentrate on your knitting,” Mammi said.

Zach lifted his hands to show Mammi. He'd somehow gotten his index finger knitted into his pot holder. “I'm afraid Cassie has distracted me.”

Mammi smiled kindly, so as not to discourage him, but even she could see he was a lost cause. “Maybe we should take a break. You can always come back another day and finish. It's going to be a very nice pot holder once you're done with it.”

To his credit, Zach acted as if he were disappointed about not finishing his knitting project. He gave Mammi a slight smile before wrestling his finger out of the middle of the yarn and depositing his needles on the table next to Mammi's recliner.

He stood and clapped his hands together. “Now, what else can I do?”

“Cassie's doing laundry today.” The way Mammi said it made it sound fun.

Zach's eyes lit up. “By hand?”

“Sort of,” Cassie said.

“I'd love to help.”

“Are you sure?” Cassie said. “You've already burned yourself. I'd hate it if you smashed a finger.”

“Sounds exciting. I didn't even know that was possible doing laundry.” Cassie took him to the washroom, a small space next to the bathroom.

“It's better not to let Norman catch me knitting. There'd be no recovering from that,” Zach said as he followed close behind.

“I don't know which is worse to Norman, knitting or laundry. If you're trying to establish your manhood, you'd better not come within ten feet of the washroom.”

“In my world, a real man does laundry, no matter what Norman thinks.” He rolled up his sleeves. “How is it done?”

The washer was little more than a square tub with an agitator in the bottom and a wringer propped on the side. While Zach watched, she turned on the hose that Mammi kept there and started to fill the laundry sink and tub. Once she filled the tub, she measured a capful of soap and let Zach pour it into the water.

He pointed to the gas-powered motor next to the washer. “Is this a lawn mower engine?”

She smiled. “Something like that. The exhaust pipe runs out the window but the motor is very loud. Do you want to start it?”

“It's because I have muscles, isn't it?”

“Yes. That's why I wanted your help with the laundry. I don't know how I will be able to do it without you.”

Zach pulled the starter cord, and the engine roared to life.

“It's noisy,” Cassie said, raising her voice to be heard over the hum of machine.

“Do you see that knob at the front of the washer?” she asked.

“Yep.”

“Pull it out, and the agitator will start.”

He bent over and pulled the knob. The agitator swished the water around and bubbles began to form on the surface. “It's like my washing machine at the apartment,” he said, “except smaller and noisier.”

“I'm glad to know you do laundry.”

He curled one side of his mouth. “Only when I run out of underwear.”

She picked up the laundry basket and propped it on her hip. “The clothes go in one at a time. And be careful not to get your hand caught in some moving part. I'd hate to be responsible for ruining your promising medical career.”

He grinned. “I think I could practice pediatrics with a hook.”

She shook her head. “Kids are scared enough of the doctor as it is.”

Cassie had been very selective about what she'd put in the laundry basket. None of her clothes and positively no underwear, to spare both her and Zach the embarrassment. They put in Mammi's dresses and Dawdi's trousers. The agitator pulled each article under the water as it rotated back and forth.

Cassie placed the lid on the tub. “We have to let it wash for a few minutes.”

“That's a pretty cool invention,” Zach said, then laughed. “I guess they got cooler and cooler through the years.”

“I think this one is older than me.”

“You're nice to let me tag along.”

Cassie ignored the way the butterflies in her stomach fluttered wildly. She'd like to have him tag along more often. “You won't think I'm so nice when we hang these on the line.”

He winced. “Outside?”

“You might get frostbite. It's not too late to back out.”

He gave her a wide grin. “Bring it on.”

“The clothes don't really dry. They freeze. Sometimes you see icicles hanging off pant legs or frost forming on dresses. Once they're frozen solid, we bring them in and hang them to finish drying inside. Unmentionables dry inside all year round.”

“I'm glad you mentioned the unmentionables. I was wondering.”

They gave the washer about ten minutes before removing the lid and examining the clothes. “Okay,” Cassie said, “this is the fun part. But also very perilous.”

“More dangerous than frostbite?”

“Yes. If you get your fingers caught in the wringer, they'll be squished and you'll definitely be wearing a hook.”

He nodded cheerfully. “No fingers in the wringer. Got it.”

She turned off the agitator and turned on the wringer. The two rollers rotated in opposite directions to pull the clothes between them and wring out the water.

“Put clothes the long way in.” Cassie showed him how to feed clothes into the wringer.

“Cool,” Zach said. “I can do that.”

He carefully fed the clothes in one side, while Cassie caught them coming out the other side and dropped them in the laundry sink for a rinse.

Once everything was rinsed, she fed them back the other way through the wringer and Zach caught them on the other side and piled them in the basket.

He insisted on carrying the basket outside to the clothesline. They both bundled in their winter coats, boots, and bright red scarves. She put his beanie on his head and tied the scarf around his neck while he held the basket at the ready. When they walked outside, the sun peeked from behind the clouds and the thermometer on the porch read thirty-two degrees. Nice and warm for a February day.

“It feels like it's almost maple sugaring time,” Cassie said as she gave Zach a handful of clothespins.

“You mean when you collect the sap?”

“It needs to get a little warmer. We usually start at the end of February, first part of March.” The cold stung her fingers as she hung a pair of trousers on the line. “Dawdi gathers the family together and announces that the sap is running. It's very exciting, especially for the children. We do maple syrup and huckleberry jam every year.”

He took another pair of trousers from the basket. “I'd like to see that.”

She glued her gaze to the clothespins but watched him out of the corner of her eye. “I'd like you to be there.”

He smiled so wide she thought his lips might fly off his face. She contained a smile, but couldn't keep her heart from skipping around in her chest.

She showed him how to pull the line and hoist the clothes higher into the air. The clothesline ran through a pulley hanging from the eaves of the house. Many clothes could be hung on the line at once.

“Have you seen Austin this week?” she asked.

“Every day.”

“How's he doing?”

“He's a brave little kid. I think I would have cried uncle a long time ago. The problem now is that Dr. Perez says the antibiotics aren't working. He's got heart valve damage. He'll probably have to have surgery.” He fumbled with one of the clothespins before using it to pin one of Mammi's aprons to the line. “I almost went to church last Sunday, but then I had to admit a patient to the hospital.”

“Jamie finally got to you?”

“Nah. I wanted to check on the three guys who were so eager to ask you out. See if they deserve you or not.”

Even though she could tell he was teasing, Cassie's mouth suddenly felt as dry as one of her aging art professor's lectures. “I'm not . . . they're not . . . You don't need to worry.”

“I guess I feel a little protective of the girl I milk cows with.”

She liked the thought of Zach watching over her, even if he didn't really mean it.

He studied her face. “Is it politically incorrect to say that? Because I'm not implying you can't take care of yourself. I know how guys have treated you before.”

She lowered her eyes. “Church guys are safe.”

“Oh.” For whatever reason, he suddenly seemed to shut down, as if he didn't want to talk to her anymore.

What had she said, and how could she get him to smile at her again? “You . . . you don't need to worry,” she stammered, “because I've already been out with them.”

He looked uncertain and a little ill. “All of them?”

She stretched her lips across her teeth. “After I told Peter I wasn't interested, Brandon kind of swooped in. Then Greg didn't waste any time once I let Brandon down.”

She could tell he tried hard not to smile. He wiped his hand across his mouth and picked up one of Dawdi's shirts. “Well, okay. Good. I guess I don't have to come to church, after all.”

“There was a new guy there last week who hasn't asked me out yet.”

He peered at her suspiciously and narrowed his eyes. “You're making that up.”

“He's from Florida, and he's got the most attractive tan. And really white teeth, like Brad Pitt. And a red Mustang. He just graduated from Florida State. That isn't a party school, is it?” she said, batting her eyelashes and trying to look as blissfully innocent as possible.