Page 18 of Fallen

Giggling, Rachael grabbed her hand. “Quiet or someone will hear you.”

Rachael was wearing English clothes. Jeans. Tank top. Fancy sandals that showed her toes—which were painted pink. Suddenly, Loretta felt frumpy. “I look like a bottelhinkel.”

Stepping back, Rachael set her chin on her fingers and gave her a critical look. “At least we can fix your hair.” Without waiting for her assent, Rachael untied the strings of her kapp, and removed it. Tucking it into the bushes so Loretta could pick it up later, she removed the bobby pins from Loretta’s hair, then used her fingertips to muss it.

“There. Now you’re gorgeous!”

“My hair looks like straw.”

“Phooey.” Rachael motioned toward the road. “Come on. We don’t want to be late.”

Only when they were well past the mailbox did Loretta notice the buggy. Her steps faltered as recognition kicked. “Who’s that?” she asked, knowing full well who it was.

“He’s just going to drive us,” Rachael said.

The boy in question leaned against the wheel of his buggy, smoking a cigarette, watching them. “About damn time,” he drawled.

Levi Yoder was twenty years old. A nice-looking Amish boy from a good family. But Loretta had heard the stories. He’d been caught smoking and drinking. Worst of all, he’d been caught going out with loose English girls. Just last Sunday at worship, she’d caught him looking at her. Beneath all that good-Amish-boy charm, he had a dark side.

“You didn’t mention someone driving us,” she whispered.

Before Rachael could respond, Levi tossed the cigarette onto the road and approached them. “Told you she’d chicken out,” he said.

“No one’s chickening out,” Rachael snapped, a challenge in her voice.

He grinned.

Loretta didn’t like him, but she had to admit he looked good in English clothes. Blue jeans. T-shirt. Cowboy boots. He’d let his hair grow and if she wasn’t mistaken, he was sprouting a goatee.

A shiver spread through her when his eyes landed on her. “You going to introduce me to your friend?” he asked Rachael.

“Nope.” Rachael started for the buggy. “She has zero interest and you’re just our ride.”

He pressed his hand to his chest. “Cut a guy off at the knees why don’t you?”

Feeling conspicuous, Loretta followed her friend.

Levi reached into the buggy and tore two cans of beer from a six-pack. He handed one to Rachael, who took it without thanking him as she climbed in.

Loretta reached the buggy and he held out a can of beer. “I remember you now. You’re Rhoda and Dan’s girl. The little skinny thing, never says a word.”

Face burning, she looked down at her dress. She didn’t know what to say or how to react. All she knew was that she didn’t like the way he was looking at her.

“Here you go.” Taking her hand, he helped her into the buggy.

Loretta slid onto the seat beside her friend.

Levi leaned in and eased the beer into her hand. “You grew up nice,” he murmured.

“Cut it out, Levi,” Rachael said. “We need smokes, too.”

Climbing into the buggy, he pulled the pack from his shirt pocket, tapped one out, offered it to Rachael. “You’re wound tight tonight, aren’t you?”

She laughed. “You have no idea, Amish boy. Let’s go. We don’t have much time.”

CHAPTER 9

There’s one bookstore in Painters Mill. Beerman’s Books has been a Main Street fixture for as long as I can remember. The owner, Barbara Beerman, has run the place since I was a kid. When my mamm came into town to pick up fabric at the store next door, I would sneak in to browse the kinds of books my parents didn’t want me to read. I wasn’t exactly a bookworm, but I loved being transported to exotic places. If I could break the rules in the process, all the better.