Close to Home by Emma Miller

Chapter 5

"So, Mary...you aren't walking out with anybody?" Caleb felt like climbing to the top of the windmill and shouting for joy. Five minutes ago, he'd been so desperate, he was contemplating asking Dorcas to ride home with him from tonight's singing. And now, this gift from his past had walked back into his life. It proved what the preacher had said in last week's sermon was true, "God's plan for each of us is both unknowable and beautiful." 

Mary hadn't said a word in response to his question, but the expression on her face was all the answer he needed. She didn't have a fellow. If she did, she wouldn't be so embarrassed by Dorcas's remark. Suddenly, it was the most important thing in the world to him that Mary wasn't already snatched up.

He hadn't seen her in over ten years, not since he'd left Oregon. He'd thought of her a hundred times, just never as a woman grown—never as a prospective wife. When his family had moved away from Blessing Creek to live near his father's family, Mary had been as slim as a buggy whip, with skinned knees and eyes too big for her face. In his head, she'd remained that saucy neighbor girl with a mind of her own who could pitch a mean softball, put her own bait on a hook and catch more fish than he could. Mary had been his best friend from the time he was six years old until they'd fallen out over that stupid incident at school when they were in the eighth grade. Not long after that, Caleb's family had moved to Virginia.

A few years back, his cousin Andy had told him that his grandmother had read in The Budget that Mary Glick had married a Beachy Amish and moved to Kentucky. Obviously, that wasn't true. So much for the Amish grapevine. Finding Mary still single was his good fortune.

He couldn't stop grinning at her. Her eyes were still that deep, warm brown with little specks of gold in them, and she'd always had the thickest lashes. Just staring into those beautiful eyes made him as giddy as if he'd drunk four-day-old buttermilk.

"Mary," he breathed. "You're the last person I expected to see here."

"Mary Glick!" Martha echoed from the porch. "Other men want coffee. Don't dawdle."

"Ya, Aunt Martha. Coming!" Miriam grasped Dorcas's arm. "We'll take care of the coffee. You catch up on your visiting," she called over her shoulder to Mary as she pulled her protesting cousin away.

Mary hesitated.

"Don't go." Caleb touched her hand. "Miriam's right. We should t/p> 

Mary folded her arms over her chest and looked right at him. "There's nothing you could say that I want to hear."