Free A Hand to Hold by Kathleen Fuller Page A

him in an oppressive, humid cocoon. August and still broiling hot. He’d be glad when October rolled around and cooled things off for a long while.
    When he reached the pump, he took off his hat and dropped it on the ground, then started pressing up and down on the handle. Water gushed out and he stuck his head underneath the flow, wetting his neck and his hair, a thin stream of cold water trailing down his back. His shirt and pants were getting wet, but he didn’t care, it felt so good. Cooled off, he shut off the pump and threw his head back, shaking the excess water out of his hair.
    “Oh!”
    He spun around and saw Ruth standing behind him, her hands up as if she were warding off something dangerous. Drops of water covered her face and the front of her dress.
    “Whoops.”

Chapter 6
    R uth stood beside Zachariah, her mouth wide-open and her face wet with water. When she had come out to the pump to get a drink of water, she had seen him dip his head underneath the flow, but she hadn’t expected him to shake his long, thick hair out like a dog. When she recovered from the shock of the unexpected shower, she closed her mouth and removed her water-spattered glasses.
    “Sorry.” Zachariah slicked back his wet hair with his hand. “Didn’t see you back there.”
    “Obviously.” She tried to dry the lenses of her glasses on her dress, but the polyester blend wasn’t absorbing the moisture; it just smeared it around.
    “Here.” He held out his hand.
    “What?”
    “Let me have your glasses.”
    “Why would I do that?”
    “Just give them to me. I promise I won’t break them.”
    She hesitated. “Your past deeds say otherwise.” The snippy words slipped out, revealing her frustration. When she saw his lips press together, she knew she’d irritated him. “ Ya , but I’m hoping someday folks will stop holding my past against me.” He tilted his head, beads of water sliding down his cheeks, exasperation in his tone. “Look, I just wanted to clean your glasses for you. I didn’t think you’d make such a big deal about it.”
    “I have a napkin inside.” But before she could say anything else, he took the glasses from her. “Hey!”
    He pulled his shirttail out and wiped the lenses with it, then held them up before handing them back. “See? No harm done.”
    She put the glasses back on, the lenses perfectly clear, and actually cleaner than they’d been before he’d splashed water on them. “I wish you wouldn’t have done that.”
    “Why?” He tucked his shirt back in.
    “Because they’re my glasses. I can clean them myself.”
    “Do you always do this?”
    “Do what?”
    “Make things difficult? I’m trying to be nice here. Although it beats me why I even bother.”
    His words gave her pause. He was right. He was being a gentleman, albeit a gentleman out of guilt. Still, she didn’t need to be rude. “ Danki ,” she said. “I appreciate you cleaning my glasses.”
    “That’s better.”
    There was the crooked smile again. She ignored it and stepped past him to the pump, holding the cup she’d brought underneath the stream of water. When she turned around, he was gone.
    She headed back to the schoolhouse and walked inside. Zachariah was already there, munching on a candy bar as he picked up what looked like part of a student desk. She looked at the candy, causing him to glance at it, then back at her. “What?”
    “That’s not very healthy.”
    His eyes widened, his right cheek protruding with food. “You got something against candy bars?”
    She shook her head. “They’re full of sugar and preservatives. You’re better off eating homemade cookies.”
    “Are you offering to make me some?”
    She froze for a moment, surprised.
    “I’ll take that as a nee .” He grinned and licked a small bit of chocolate off his top lip, then threw the empty wrapper on a small pile of trash.
    She wished he’d quit smiling at her. “I’m not a very gut baker.”
    “That’s too bad. Because