Free Breath of Spring by Charlotte Hubbard Page A

food covered in fuzzy green and white mold. Holding his breath, Adam dumped mashed potatoes, creamed corn, stuffing, cranberry sauce . . . what a feast they’d had here, and what a shame that the situation with Hiram had blown up in their faces while they’d been eating it. Ira and Luke had mentioned the scene their former bishop had made, and how every last person around the table had refused to join him in Higher Ground—
    And what’ll Hiram do if he finds out you’ve been in his house, helping his daughter take that sewing machine?
    Adam decided he couldn’t be concerned about that right now. He slid the empty serving dishes into the hot, soapy water to soak, and then scraped the plates . . . keeping himself too busy to consider the consequences of this unexpected evening alone with Annie Mae. He was relieved when she set a box filled with fabric near the back door and then went right to the sink to wash the dishes. No chitchat to get him further involved with her . . . no eye contact to distract him as he dumped the desserts into the barrel and gradually stacked the rest of the dishes and glasses beside her. It seemed like a pretty good system as they worked together in a companionable silence—until Annie Mae flashed him a tremulous smile.
    “This is a big load off my mind, gettin’ rid of this mess,” she said softly. “I’d be havin’ nightmares about mice and maybe even rats gettin’ in here to eat this stuff. You’re a gut man, Adam. A real gut friend . . . Short Stack.”
    As she turned back toward the sink, her giggle made his heart skip like a stone across a pond— jah, and it’ll sink right to the bottom, too, he warned himself. Her nickname should have galled him, yet he fought a smile as he carried the last double handful of silverware to the sink. “Nice of you to remind me of my short comings, Annie Mae. Sets me straight about where I stand.”
    The gurgle of draining water accompanied her look of utter dismay as she gazed down at him. “Oh, Adam, I never meant to make ya feel bad about—”
    “Not a chance,” he insisted as he took up a dish towel. “I am short, compared to you—and most every girl I know. We Amish are to strive for humility, so my height’s a built-in reminder that I’ll always be a lesser man than—”
    “I did not mean it that way!” Annie Mae placed her wet hands on his shoulders and shook him firmly. “You can stop puttin’ yourself down right this minute, too. There’s a difference between humility and whinin’—and I won’t tolerate your whinin’. Get over yourself.”
    As she gazed directly into his eyes, Adam knew it was time to be quiet—not that he could think of a single comeback. He hadn’t meant to whine. He was just stating the obvious—most girls looked right over his head and never really saw him.
    But though there was no escaping Annie Mae’s meaning, he didn’t intend to let her have the last word, either. Matthias’s wife had ruled the roost with her opinions and emotional outbursts, and Adam wasn’t going to fall into that same trap. “While I’m getting over myself, you can get over me, too, Annie Mae,” he said quietly. “If you think you can pick up with me where you left off with Hooley, think again.”
    Her mouth formed a perfect little O , and she looked like she might cry again. But then she took her hands off him and began to run fresh dishwater. “Fair enough. Guess I got my licks in and so did you. Not that I’m keepin’ score.”
    Adam chortled at the way Annie Mae kept coming at him without missing a beat. His chuckle escalated into full-scale laughter when Annie Mae began laughing, too. “Makes us even-up, then. But you women do keep score—”
    “ Jah, and Luke Hooley’s a loser, no matter how ya look at it,” she said in a more serious tone. “Time for me to move on . . . to concentrate on takin’ care of Nellie and me instead of fallin’ for his come-ons. The way I used to.”
    Adam considered this