Free The Scent of Cherry Blossoms: A Romance from the Heart of Amish Country by Cindy Woodsmall Page B

the iron in his hand, and he wondered if it bothered her. “A tiny fracture can ruin the strongest thing on this planet—be it an element of nature, man-made, or man himself.”
    She removed the new water pump from its opened box and turned it one way and then the other, studying it.
    “Be careful with that.” He removed the last of the four bolts and separated the fan from the water pump. “It may be the last of its kind.”
    “It doesn’t look new.”
    “It’s not. But it’s solid.”
    Once they’d figured out the problem, Ernie’s Englischer mechanic had spent a full day searching the Internet and making calls to find a replacement water pump. After he’d found one, he had FedEx overnight it, and it’d been delivered this morning. Even though it wasn’t new, it was sound and should last for years, giving Ernie time to save enough money to replace the generator.
    She set it on the table. “Things ended on an awkward note the other night.”
    “I know. I was there.”
    “But for the life of me, I can’t figure out what went wrong.”
    Roman scoffed. “It all started when you insisted I come to your place to pick you up.”
    “That’s how dates work.”
    Roman faced her squarely. “Look at me, Marian. I don’t
work
normal.”
    “Then you should have said so,” she snapped. “You balked at coming to get me, and I asked if there was a problem. If you had answered honestly, we would’ve made other plans.”
    “It doesn’t matter now.” He wheeled himself to the far end of the table and picked up the small can of High Tack. “We had an awful time, and you get to blame me. Are you done with your pity dates for the year, or do I have to go through that one more time just to prove that you don’t have the heart for cripple dating?”
    “You know, Roman,”—she grabbed the arm of his wheelchair andturned him to face her—“I had a pretty nice time, but I really appreciate knowing you didn’t.”
    Roman set the can in his lap and leaned away from her. She’d had a nice time? He had, but he’d assumed …
    She released his chair. “The problem isn’t that you were dishonest with me or that you’re in a wheelchair.”
    He didn’t know where she was heading with her argument, and he didn’t want to know. Whether she admitted it today or next month, he knew they had no future. “I’m glad you have me all figured out, Marian, but I’ve got too much to do and no time for your opinion on my problems.”
    He went around her and returned to the generator. He opened the small can and used the attached brush to apply the sealant between the gasket and the mounting surface.
    “Roman.” Marian sounded dismayed. “Is that it? One date that didn’t work out and you’re giving up?”
    “You can’t tell me what I should do, think, or feel. You’re not the one sitting in this chair, needing someone to help get you up in the morning or in and out of rigs or into homes because steps block the way.”
    He grabbed the cast-iron water pump by the shaft. It rotated, pinching his fingers, and he jerked his hand away. The pump fell onto his knee before it crashed to the floor.
    Marian rushed to his side. “Are you hurt?”
    The water pump lay on the concrete floor, a few mounting pieces scattered. Nausea roiled, and he feared he was about to throw up on her. He bent, reaching as far as he could, trying to grab it.
    Marian picked it up and handed it to him. A jagged line ran the length of it, and his heart sank. He brushed his fingers over the fracture. “It’s ruined.”
    Marian jerked straight pins from her apron and took it off. She folded it and held it out to him. “Put this on your leg and press down.”
    He looked where the ten-pound iron pump had banged into his knee and saw blood seeping through his pants. He had diminished feeling in his thighs, but his emotional turmoil was what had kept him from noticing it until now. Instead of taking the apron, he backed away from her. “Just leave.