Close to Home by Emma Miller

Chapter 6

Mary wished she was anywhere but there. Why was Caleb grinning at her? She couldn't imagine that he could take pleasure in seeing her embarrassed in front of everyone. He'd never been like that when they were growing up. He'd been the sweetest boy, her best friend. Together, they'd climbed trees, dug for fishing worms, raced turtles and told each other all their secrets.

Caleb never teased the girls, and when she and her girlfriends had wanted to play ball at recess, he'd always insisted that the boys let them. He'd been kind in everything he did. Once, Caleb had climbed to the roof of the school to rescue Arny Lapp's kitten, and another time, he'd kept the big boys from stomping on a nest of baby rabbits.

He was smart, too, always one of the best in the class. Not that he was proud. He'd just liked learning, and he hadn't hid it. The two of them had always vied for the best grades in math and reading in the one-room schoolhouse in Blessing Creek.

That was why Caleb was the last one in the world that Mary would have expected to do what he did. She'd never forgiven him for it, and it had ruined their friendship.

Now, here he was in Delaware without his young wife. Doubtless, when he got home to Virginia, he'd tell Susan about running into the tall girl he used to know, the twenty-five year old whose family had sent her across the country to find a husband. She'd be a laughingstock in Virginia, too. She was no better than a Belgian mare on the auction block.

As Caleb stood there with that smug look on his face, her initial embarrassment faded and was slowly replaced with annoyance that bordered on anger. Among the Amish, anger wasn't an emotion that a person was supposed to acknowledge. They were gentle folk, and they were supposed to live according to the Lord's example. Turn the other cheek. Offer good for evil. Be a model for others.

But at this moment, Mary didn't feel very loving. She should have been ashamed of that, but she wasn't. Caleb was nothing more than a cheat and a liar. And she'd never forget it.

"So, Mary, how have you been?" he asked.

"Fine. I've been fine."

"And are you happy?" He arched one brow, the one that had a little scar running through it. The scar she'd given him. A softball she'd thrown had accidently hit him when he was nine. He'd bled so much that his mother had had to put stitches in it. Caleb hadn't cried, but she had. She hadn't meant to hurt him; he'd teased her about it for years.

"Ya. Very happy," she replied.

"You don't look happy."

She tilted her head. "Maybe meeting you has ruined my day."

"Such talk from a nice Amish girl," he said to Menno, still grinning like a fool. "You have to keep an eye on this one." He winked. "Her temper can be dangerous."