Free A Time to Love by Barbara Cameron

drinking her tea, not wanting to leave.
    Hannah returned and said hello, but hurried to her room, saying she was tired. Matthew paused in the act of hanging up a dishcloth and frowned after her, then turned to Jenny. "Can I get you more tea?"
    "No, thanks."
    He poured himself a cup of coffee, then, with a brief glance at the kitchen window, sat at the table again. "I should get you home soon."
    "I could—"
    "No."
    "—walk home," she finished.
    "No," he said more firmly. "Now you remind me of Annie," he laughed as she pretended to pout.
    Jenny grinned. "All your children are precious, but there's something about Annie."
    He nodded. "She's so much like Amelia, and yet she was just a baby when her mother died."
    Jenny's smile faded. "She must have been wonderful. Not that you couldn't have raised such sweet children yourself."
    "Her loving hand is surely on them," Matthew agreed.
    "It must have been so hard to lose her," Jenny said quietly. She wished she knew what Amelia had looked like, but the Amish don't believe in having their pictures taken. "What did she look like?"
    "You have only to look at Mary to know," he said simply.
    "She must have been beautiful."
    Annie ran back into the room. " Daedi, can I go wif you to take Jenny home?"
    He hesitated. "Well, since you did all your chores, I suppose you may if you bundle up."
    Shrieking with happiness, she ran to tell Mary her good news.
    "It's not that she wants you to leave now," Matthew assured Jenny. "She's just afraid she'll miss out if she doesn't ask now. I wouldn't let her come with me to get you because she didn't take her nap."
    "Gee, I was a reward for taking a nap. Now I feel even more special than you all made me feel tonight," Jenny told him, feeling yet another tug on her heartstrings.
    "Jenny? There's something I've been wanting to ask you—"
    "Papa? I—I'm sorry to interrupt."
    "Trouble with homework?" asked Jenny, seeing the paper clutched in her hands.
    "I have to write an essay. I'm stuck. Can you help me?"
    Jenny looked at Matthew as he nodded. "I'm going to look in on Joshua and Annie."
    "Mmm," said Jenny, absorbed in what Mary had written.
    When Matthew returned a few minutes later, Mary was bent over her essay, busily writing.
    "I showed her a trick I use when I get stuck writing," Jenny told him with a smile. "She knew what she wanted to write after that."
    Mary looked up. "I'm almost done." She gave Jenny a shy smile. " Danki." She left them to return to her room.
    "You're sure about the tea?" Matthew asked, pouring himself more coffee and taking his seat again at the table.
    He'd said they should go, but here he was sitting again, drinking more coffee.
    "I'd better not, or I won't sleep tonight."
    "I never have that problem."
    "You work harder than I do." She pushed the sugar toward him. "Matthew, you started to ask me a question before Mary came in. What was it?"
    "Why did you never marry?"

5
     
     
     
    M atthew wondered which of them was more surprised by his question.
    Jenny stared at him. "Well, you don't say much, but when you do, you certainly don't hold back, do you?"
    Feeling color creeping up his neck, Matthew ran a hand through his hair and swallowed. "I shouldn't ask such a personal question."
    "It's okay," she told him. "I've been asked many more personal questions. Sometimes people stare, sometimes they ask about my scars, my difficulty walking. Talking."
    She saw that even though he seemed embarrassed, his eyes were directly on her. All those summers ago she'd had a crush on him, and she'd thought he returned her feelings. But after her father had come for her, Matthew had never answered her letters.
    Whatever his reason for asking, she didn't think that he had any romantic interest in her anymore. She told herself that it was just that he had the same curiosity about her as an Englischer that his children did, that he was seeking to understand her since she was different from the Amish women he knew.
    Fiddling with her empty